“Your doctor said nothing of the kind. And that doctor of hers is adamant that she is going to remember.” Bridgitte was incensed.
Priscilla stepped backwards, causing a twig to snap. She clasped a hand over her mouth and peered through the branches. The two were gone. Priscilla ducked down into some bushes as she heard footsteps.
Bridgitte ran along the path toward the house, looking all around as she went. Priscilla cursed herself mentally. If only she had stayed still she might have learned what was going on. Now the two conspirators were fleeing and she might not get another chance.
Priscilla stayed in the bushes for a long while to make sure that they were both gone. Then she crept to the house and up to her room. She sat down on her bed, still trying to work out what was going on.
She had never seen Bridgitte and Philip talk to each other alone. They had never spoken to each other much, even during events where everyone was present. What sort of plan would they have?
All manner of things popped into her mind, but the thought of Bridgitte somehow sabotaging her marriage to Philip seemed most likely. Was it possible that Philip did not really want to marry her? She thought that unlikely, judging by how kind and loving he had been towards her.
Besides, leaving a betrothal was albeit a simpler thing to do than leaving a marriage. Surely he would do that if he needed to? Priscilla knew what Bridgitte would get out of it. She would get to ruin Priscilla’s chance of getting married first.
That had been burning Bridgitte up since the engagement was announced. It made sense that she might try to sway Philip into some sort of scheme to break off their engagement. Priscilla frowned. She did not truly want to marry Philip, but she could not simply let her sister’s actions stand.
She had to be certain that her theory was true, of course. Priscilla settled herself into bed and knew she would get little sleep that night. She simply willed herself to not have nightmares.
Despite her will, when she finally did collapse in exhaustion she fell and fell into nothingness. Priscilla woke up the next morning gripping her blankets as if they might stop her endless fall.
Enough was enough. She would see her sister, Priscilla decided as she got out of bed, ready to put her dreams behind her. She simply could not continue to keep on living with these nightmares and if Bridgitte knew something then Priscilla would start with her.
She had already brushed her hair out by the time Gwen came in. “Oh,” Gwen said in surprise. “You are not usually up so early.”
“I just wanted to go to talk to Bridgitte this morning before breakfast,” Priscilla said with a shrug.
Gwen came over and began to braid Priscilla’s hair. “Ah, what’s the rush?”
“I just hope she can help me remember something that I have forgotten.” Priscilla bit her lip. “I do not truly want to talk about it just yet.”
Gwen nodded but gave Priscila a concerned look in the vanity’s mirror, which Priscilla did her best to avoid. “You still having those nightmares?”
“Yes,” Priscilla admitted. “Can barely sleep. At any rate, I just wanted to talk to her as soon as possible.”
Gwen finished braiding and said, “Well, as long as you promise to eat in the dining hall, I do not suppose there’s any reason to tarry.” She finished buttoning up the top buttons of Priscilla’s dress that she had been unable to reach, before she stepped back out of the way.
“Thank you,” Priscilla said as she rose. “I promise that we will talk soon.”
Gwen gave Priscilla a smile. “I shall hold ya to that.”
Priscilla returned the smile before she left the room. The dress she had tugged on was one of the simple dresses that she wore when she was too busy to worry about frills. The muslin material swished as she walked, and Priscilla thought about what she should say when she reached Bridgitte’s room.
She still was no closer to having any speech worked out by the time she knocked on Bridgitte’s door. “Come in,” Bridgitte called through the sturdy wooden door.
Priscilla entered and found her sister already dressed and ready for the day. “Priscilla,” Bridgitte said in surprise. “What are you doing here so early?”
She glanced around. “Where is your maid?”
“I sent her on her way already,” Bridgitte said with a frown. “Really, what is this all about, Sister?”
Priscilla drew herself up to her full height, which was quite petite, but she still held her chin high. “I overheard you and Lord Ridlington in the garden…last night.”
Priscilla wondered if she just imagined the color coming into her sister’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“Do not play me for a fool, Sister,” Priscilla warned her. “I will have the answers. You must know that I will.”
Bridgitte laughed. “Take your answers then. There is nothing to be learned here.”
The laugh did not fool Priscilla. She had caught Bridgitte off-guard. The laugh was too forced, too nervous. “Then tell me what plan you and Lord Ridlington could possibly have.”
“I cannot tell you that,” Bridgitte said. “It will spoil the surprise.”
Priscilla hesitated. “Surprise?”
“Yes,” Bridgitte said quickly, too quickly. Was it too quickly?
Priscilla shook her head. “Do not toy with me. What surprise?”
“Do you not know what surprise means, Priss?” Bridgitte shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, what sort of surprise could it be?”
Priscilla hesitated to believe Bridgitte. Yet there was no reason not to, so why was she reluctant to do so? Something clawed at her, whispered doubt.
“Yes,” Priscilla whispered. “I suppose I can gather what surprise it might be. A wedding present of some sort, or some joke of yours.”
Bridgitte admitted, “I do like jokes, especially those on you.”
“Only, I do not,” Priscilla reminded her. She started to press but did not see Bridgitte saying anything more than she already had. “I apologise for bothering you so early. I should get to breakfast”
She waved off Priscilla’s concern. “Not at all, Priss. I’m glad you came to me and asked. I would hate you to think the wrong things about our plan.”
Priscilla nodded. “Yes.” She left her sister’s room with the feeling of unease still lingering in her heart. She knew that something was not right. Her sister’s answers had been answers, sure, but that did not make them truthful.
Bridgitte’s answers were vague and while they could technically be truthful, they did not feel genuine. The look on Bridgitte’s face when Priscilla had mentioned the conversation in the garden had not seemed like it was something so simple.
Priscilla changed her mind suddenly about going to the dining hall and doubled back to her room. She entered the room so swiftly she startled Gwen, who was making up the bed.
“Thought ya were going to the dining hall?” Gwen straightened up and then asked in a worried voice, “Is everything well? You look like you’ve had a terrible time.”
Priscilla shook her head. “I do not know if everything is well or not, Gwen.”
Gwen came over and guided Priscilla to the bed, clucking as a mother would do more than like someone who was nearly the same age as Priscilla. “You sit down and tell me what that brat has done. I’ll take her to task for it.”
Priscilla gave Gwen a smile as the woman settled down onto the bed beside her. “I will tell you if you promise not to tell anyone, and do not go to Bridgitte about it.”
“You are tying my hands something terrible, but I suppose it is a small price to pay to know what is going on,” Gwen grumbled. “I promise not to tell anyone.”
Priscilla gave her a look, and when she was sure that Gwen meant it she said, “I overheard my sister and Philip talking. They seemed to be talking about something that had to do with me and my memory. Only Bridgitte told me this morning that it was about the wedding, that it was about some surprise they have planned.”
Gwen frowned. “And this upset ya?”
“It would not if it were true, but it does not ring that way to me, Gwen.” Priscilla shook her head. “What if Bridgitte is up to something? You know how angry is that I am getting married first.”
Gwen sighed. “That is quite a lot of anger to go to your fiancé and try to get in your way. Do you think it is about her trying to convince him that you won’t regain your memory?”
“No,” Priscilla said. “They seemed concerned that I would remember something. Truth is that whatever I cannot remember has been clawing at me. There is something wrong and I just cannot place it.”
Gwen frowned and put her arm around Priscilla’s shoulders. “His Grace seems rather smitten with you. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I am not worried about losing Lord Ridlington,” Priscilla confessed. “I am more worried that something happened to me, something I cannot remember and that my sister is hiding it from me. Not only that, but she has drawn Lord Ridlington into it.”
Gwen shook her head. “Maybe it is him instead of her. You said yourself that you felt something was off with him, but you didn’t say that about Bridgitte. What if he saw what happened that night and he’s blackmailing her?”
Priscilla bit her lip. She had not thought of that. “Oh Lord, I do hope that is not it.”
“Aye,” Gwen said with a nod. “Say, why are you not worried about losing Lord Ridlington?”
Priscilla whispered, “Can you keep another secret?”
“I was made for keeping secrets,” Gwen assured her with a grin.
Priscilla smiled at her friend. “I am afraid I have fallen for our good doctor. I cannot even entertain the idea of marrying Lord Ridlington. I merely want to know the truth.”
Gwen stared at her for a brief moment then she stood up and declared, “I knew it!”
“You knew no such thing,” Priscilla chided.
Gwen scoffed. “Are you jesting? The way you two were always so moony-eyed around each other? He does share your affections, does he not?”
“He does,” Priscilla assured her. Gwen slapped her thigh and laughed. Priscilla shushed her. “Keep it down. It is supposed to remain a secret.”
Gwen gave her a wink but did quiet down her laughter. “I promise that it will not go beyond this room. What will you do about your marriage though?”
“Well, I should like to see how this situation with Bridgitte and Lord Ridlington plays out before I have to answer that.” Priscilla drew in a breath and shook her head. “I can only handle so much at one time.”
Gwen hummed. “I can agree with that. So, what shall you do about your sister then?”
“I think the only thing I really can do is to follow her discreetly and see if I can learn more,” Priscilla said with a helpless gesture of her hands. “I do not know what else I can do.”
Gwen pushed her lips out as she thought. “That actually isn’t a bad plan. But what if you get caught?”
“I have a right to be in my own house,” Priscilla said haughtily. “Besides, there is no reason for them to be talking.”
Gwen shrugged. “True. Still, I wish I could help ya more than by simply staying dumb on the subject.”
“I am sure that eventually, I will need your aid. Right now though, I just want to get some food.” Priscilla laughed as her stomach grumbled. “See, it agrees.”
Gwen shook her head. “I’ll go get you a tray.”
“Thank you,” Priscilla said with feeling.
Gwen assured her, “It’s in my job description.”
***
George’s body might have been at the Tate residence, but his mind was on Miss Morton. He wondered what the woman was doing just then. It would likely be later on over in the evening if he even got back to the Chaplin estate today.
There was nothing he could do about it though. He had to see to his other patients. Speaking of other patients, George looked up to find an amused Mrs. Tate watching him. “Am I amusing?”
“You seem elsewhere,” Mrs. Tate told him. “You are normally a very focused young man. What has you so distracted?”
George laughed. He did not think admitting to loving Miss Morton would be a good move. He shrugged. “I suppose it must be the changing of seasons.”
She tutted. “And here I thought it was going to be something scandalous. I should have known better than to think that of you, Doctor Rowley.”
“Yes, I suppose that I am quite boring,” he told her with a smile. “Speaking of the mundane, I am glad to report that all your vitals have returned to normal.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “I know that you thought this visit unnecessary, but it relieves me very much to hear you say that.”
“If it helps you rest and relax then it was worth the trip,” he assured her. Although, he honestly knew there was no need for the visit. Still, it was a paycheck and he could not be so foolish as to turn that down.
Mrs. Tate stood up as he put his equipment back into his bag. “How is Miss Morton?” George had to stop himself from reacting to her question. It was a normal question. After all, Mrs. Tate knew the family. “I have not seen her mother and I did not want to intrude.”
“She is well physically,” George said. “Her memories are returning slowly, and I think once they do that she will be her old self again.”
Mrs. Tate beamed at the news. “I knew you would sort her out straight away. You really are a wonderful doctor.”
“And you are too kind,” George told her. “Now, I do not mean to rush off, but I have other patients to see.”
Mrs. Tate nodded. “I will not keep you then. Godspeed, Doctor Rowley.”
“As he is willing, Mrs. Tate,” George replied and gave her a quick bow of his shoulders and head. He slipped out of the door and onto the streets to prevent the woman from luring him into any other conversations.
The seasons might be changing, but the errant warm breeze that swept up the cobblestoned street seemed to not have taken notice. George tapped his hat to make sure that the dull grey bowler was in place. Nathaniel had gifted him with the hat some two years back. It still remained one of George’s favorite hats.
There was something very nice about being out in London. His mind left Miss Morton and the woes of his heart. It traveled to the docks as his eyes caught sight of the river when he crested a hill.
The river always put a smile on his face. No matter what mood George was in, it was hard to catch a glimpse of the Thames without at least giving her an admiring smile. She was a wonderful mistress, if one had to have such.
A man, a dock worker judging by his clothes and the smell of fish that wafted from him, trudged up the road toward George. George and the man exchanged nods. The man looked tired; George could understand that quite clearly. He felt rather tired suddenly too.
How many more houses did he need to visit? George hummed to himself as he tried to picture the neighborhoods before him. Timmy was not due for a visit. No, he would go to the Stanton household and deliver that cough syrup.
George turned down the next street on the right, away from the Thames and her rushing waters. He walked toward the slums, where tenants and landlords rarely collided. The ill-repaired walls of the buildings did not bode well for the coming cooler temperatures.
The Awakening 0f A Forbidden Passion (Historical Regency Romance) Page 23