He was a master of detachment, as Pascoe had alleged. What on earth was wrong with him today? Will loped off, found a servant, and passed on the requests. He needed to take the deerhounds out for a run, not play handmaid to a duke’s daughter.
He needed to return to the castle and finish training Ajax while the lady wasn’t there, he concluded a while later when he noticed a contingent of city people riding for the abbey—and the first thing he did was worry about their effect on the fairy princess. He couldn’t afford to lose his direction when he was this close to buying land to house his kennel. Perhaps he ought to write Miranda. . . Well, writing wasn’t his strength. He’d ride to see her first.
Time to tell Pascoe that he was leaving.
Crossing the courtyard, Aurelia winced at the shouting carrying from the main residence. It had been so beautifully peaceful here, she’d been hoping she could stay and learn to be useful. She couldn’t imagine how since she had no medical training, no bookkeeping skills, and a gift that was worse than useless, but she was pondering possibilities as hard and fast as she could.
The shouting prevented any thought at all.
YOU ARE NOT A MEDICAL HOSPITAL. YOU CANNOT. . .
We’ll see you in court if you. . .
Shh, we’ll be quiet like little mice. . .
Arf, arf, arf. . .
Shh, Rascal, go away. . .
Where’s my daughter?
How did normal people deal with people talking all at once? Did she run to the infirmary to see what Mrs. Crockett needed? Look for Rose? Find out what the twins were up to? Or see if she could help Bridey with her shouting visitors?
Or just hide in the library, because realistically, she could do nothing except feel her head spin.
Since she had just left the schoolroom where she’d been helping Bridey’s secretary prepare lesson booklets for the would-be midwives arriving the next week, Aurelia stopped at the infirmary first.
The young wet nurse Bridey had left with her patient looked up with relief at her arrival. “I don’t know what to do with her, m’lady.”
Mrs. Crockett struggled to sit, anxiously picking at her blanket, and watching the door. Emilia’s gift had really and truly facilitated healing. Aurelia thrilled with the knowledge that for once in her life, she had been able to help someone, in however small a way.
She assisted the patient to sit up against the pillows. “Rose is fine. I’ll fetch her. Do you have a name for your baby boy?” She gestured for the wet nurse to bring the babe over.
The patient touched the swaddled infant uncertainly. “He lives?”
“You are a heroine,” Aurelia assured her. “You delivered a healthy infant all alone and kept him warm until help came.”
Wonder crossed her face as she admired tiny wriggling fingers. Then immense sadness took its place, and she said urgently, “You must find him a home.”
Aurelia exchanged an appalled look with the wet nurse. What did one say to that?
With the argument in the main house escalating, she couldn’t think of any good response. In her head, Bridey’s replies were growing increasingly angry, blending with irate males and the overall household cacophony. Aurelia resolved not to run and hide, even if she didn’t know what to do.
Giving up on thinking, she acted on instinct. Taking the well-fed infant, she walked out of the infirmary. She discovered Rose hovering at the back entrance to the residence, one hand holding her doll and the other holding her puppy. The little girl smiled up at Aurelia’s arrival and happily followed her. She must feel as lost here as Aurelia did. She would send the child to her mother shortly. Right now, she had to focus on the argument in the library.
It had grown so loud that she wondered if Rose could hear it. From the pucker on the child’s brow, she thought maybe the child heard the vibrations, although she most likely didn’t understand the words. The child tucked her doll under her arm and clasped Aurelia’s hand, tugging her back with fear as they drew closer.
Understanding from the rising argument that Bridey’s visitors were from the hospital in Harrogate, Aurelia entered the library carrying an infant and dragging a deaf child with a wriggly puppy. She might not entirely understand the dispute, but she knew when men were harassing women.
She had learned as a toddler how to diffuse angry men. She offered a blinding smile.
The dark-coated gentlemen stood intimidatingly around the bookshelf walls, holding their hats and yelling, but as each one noted her entrance, they fell silent.
Standing behind a library table, refusing to sit so the gentlemen couldn’t, Bridey glanced up to see what had silenced them. Aurelia thought her cousin winked, even though she was evidently in warrior goddess role.
“Cousin, these gentlemen were just leaving,” Bridey said with a dismissive wave. “They are from the hospital in Harrogate and seem under the misapprehension that I am competing with them.”
She turned to the black suit-coated gentlemen. “Sirs, this is my cousin, Lady Aurelia Winchester, the eldest daughter of the duke of Sommersville. She is holding two of our so-called patients. Lela, they think our patients belong in their facility, that we are unqualified to care for them.”
Aurelia continued smiling mindlessly. Now that the argument had stopped, she could think a little more clearly—and maliciously. Her father and brother were true physicians, ones who cared about their patients. They would have immediately checked on the infant and child first. These men merely looked nervous and angry, without once looking at the children. Fine then.
“You have a charity hospital?” she asked in her sunniest voice. “That is so wonderfully progressive of you! I commend your good work, sirs. The babe has no name and is in need of a wet nurse.” She plunked the newly-soggy babe into the arms of a tubby man of middle age.
She turned to a younger gentleman with side whiskers who could barely keep his eyes in his head as he watched her. Merrily, she shoved Rose in his direction. “This is Rose Crockett. She is a deaf mute. She would benefit from a full examination. Her mother is deathly ill at the moment and cannot care for her.”
The third gentleman was older and frowning ferociously. Beaming, she curtsied before him, fluttered her eyelashes a little, unsettling even his wary cynicism. “Mrs. Crockett has no husband and no funds. She is recovering from childbirth and serious injuries from being very badly beaten. If you deem it safe for her to be transported to your facility, we’ll provide a carriage. Bridey is really not set up to be a hospital and only took my guests in as a service to me.”
“Your father supports this. . . this consorting with the lower sorts?” the older gentleman demanded with incredulity.
The lower sorts. If he wasn’t twice her size, she’d smack the hair off his face.
“My father is in London, but he supports my cousin’s good works,” Aurelia replied, hiding her ire. “As I am sure she has told you. He will be pleased to hear you have opened a charity hospital. He will most likely wish to visit when he returns.”
“We are not operating a charity,” the older man said curtly. He tore his gaze from Aurelia to glare at Bridey. “Had you simply told us the circumstances, we would not have bothered you, Lady Pascoe. You may keep your. . . your. . .” He wrinkled his nose at terrified Rose and the infant, who now smelled of dirty linen. “Your beggars. But under no circumstances are you to set yourself up as a physician or a hospital for women or we will take you to court.”
“Oh, my, how very rude,” Aurelia said in her sweetest voice. “I shall have to tell Papa you said that. He is most fond of Bridey, you know.” She removed the smelly, soggy infant from the startled physician while Bridey took Rose’s hand.
“Good day to you, sirs,” Bridey told them. “My servants will see you out. I must see to my. . . beggars.”
Tall and strong, with a glorious head of auburn hair, Bridey looked like a Viking sweeping from the room. Aurelia felt like a child in her wake—but at least the shouting had stopped. The angry grumbles continued a
s the gentlemen left, but for a change, the argument had not left her head pounding.
Bridey was laughing by the time they reached the courtyard. “You were marvelous! I never thought you had it in you. I’m so sorry I underestimated you. You look like a piece of delicate china but my word. . . You felled them like a lumberjack. I’m not certain they know what hit them.”
“I am glad that I have helped, but truly, I did nothing. Men live with overblown philosophies blocking reason. They need to be reminded of reality with simple gestures.” Entering the infirmary, Aurelia happily handed the now-crying babe over to the wet nurse.
Emilia had returned to hover over her unconscious patient with concern. “She really should be awake by now. Her fever has fallen.”
Having seen the woman awake and surmising her to be faking, Aurelia lifted Rose onto her mother’s bed.
Mrs. Crockett immediately opened her eyes and smiled at her daughter, who flung herself into her mother’s arms.
“Simple gestures,” Bridey said with interest, nodding at their patient. “Like that one? What made you bring the children to the library?”
“I couldn’t cope with the shouting. It’s been so lovely and relaxing here, and they were hurting my head.”
“Who hurt your head?” Mr. Madden demanded from the doorway. “Those would-be nabobs? I thought Pascoe meant to heave them into the cistern.”
He was dressed for travel, with his valise in one hand and the deerhound puppy in a canvas carrier over his shoulder.
While Aurelia stared at him in dismay, Bridey laughed. “I told Pascoe he would do no such thing, that I would manage my own business. I’ll let you know if I need help.”
Mr. Madden didn’t look at Bridey but at Aurelia. He frowned, then apparently accepted what was done, since he didn’t argue. “I need to finish Ajax’s training. Let me know if there is more I can do for Mrs. Crockett.”
“You could not wait another day or two until we decide what to do with her?” Aurelia asked, trying to hide her dismay. Returning home alone, without Mr. Madden’s presence at the inns. . . She really needed to stand on her own, but the thought was dismaying.
“I want to be certain Mr. Crockett hasn’t returned, in case she must go back there.” Mr. Madden said.
“I cannot go back,” their patient said adamantly, startling them all. “I am a danger to everyone.”
“Do you have a place to go?” Mr. Madden’s tone displayed anger more than comfort.
Aurelia glared at him, but Mrs. Crockett spoke before she could.
“Nowhere, or I would not have let him find me a place,” she said wearily, but also with ire. “Even if I go to the workhouse, he will find me because of Rose. But if you hide the babe, he’ll leave us alone. He has what he wants.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks. Rose patted them, looking worried.
“Explain.” Will entered the low-ceilinged infirmary, filling it with his masculine presence.
The woman shook her head. “I will not return your favor with evil. Please, can you find a place for the babe? He will be better off anywhere else than with his family.”
Emilia lifted the now-dry babe from the wet nurse and hugged him, looking appalled. “I’m sure we can find an unfortunate couple who cannot have children who would love him, but. . . to give up a child after you did so much to save him. . . You must think on it while you recover.”
The patient’s dark hair whipped back and forth as she vehemently shook her head. “No, take him away now, please, before I become too attached. It is the only way he has a chance to live. And if anyone should inquire, say I died and the child with me.”
Aurelia jumped when Mr. Madden placed his big hand at her back and shoved her in the direction of the door. “Leave. All of you leave. I would have a word with Mrs. Crockett.”
Mr. Madden’s hand on her back so startled her that she forgot to protest. And when she caught the look Bridey sent her, Aurelia realized—Oh, yes, if she concentrated hard enough, she could hear everything they said. She didn’t need to be in the same room.
Chapter 8
When the stubborn termagants packed up and left without argument, taking the wet nurse and babe with them, Will knew they’d understood his command. Were he a religious man, he’d worry that he’d just fallen under the spell of a coven of witches, but he was a pragmatist. And so were the Malcolm cousins, when it came right down to it. They needed knowledge to help their patient, and they would take it any way they could.
The invalid looked wary and buried her face in Rose’s cloud of dark hair.
“I gather that your name is not actually Crockett, and the man who rented the cottage was not your husband,” Will said, pulling up a stool so he didn’t tower as intimidatingly.
When the woman said nothing, he continued. “I appreciate that you are protecting the ladies by concealing your identity. They are strong, but they are part of my family, and we dislike seeing them in danger.”
He preferred that other men hold this part of the conversation. He probably ought to summon Pascoe, who was far better at explaining and pacifying. But Will had the uncomfortable notion that this badly mistreated woman would not respond well to Pascoe’s particular brand of elegant diplomacy. She needed blunt honesty.
He thought the woman looked a little relieved. It was a pity he couldn’t read her mind as he read a dog’s because she still didn’t speak. He hunted for words. “Is there any chance that the man who beat you might beat other women?”
That brought a reaction. She pushed up against the pillow and hugged Rose tighter. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “He hates me. He has no reason to hate other women.” She looked a bit frightened, as if she’d realized she hadn’t thought that through.
“People who hate are generous with their vitriol,” Will warned. “I have fished a woman out of a pond who did no more than disagree with her husband over dinner. I have tracked a man who beat his children for speaking when they’d been told not to. One of the children died.”
She looked horrified, then bewildered. “No, I am the one. . . Crockett. . . wants gone. He won’t harm a lady without reason.”
Will heard her hesitation and began to doubt anything she said. She was hiding more than the man’s name. “Real men do not beat women, ever, lady or not. Anyone who would do what this brute did to you cannot be trusted with so much as a small animal.”
He cast a meaningful glance at the puppy who still limped, most likely from having been kicked by a brute. “I don’t want this Crockett around any woman I know.”
Troubled, the woman glanced at the puppy in Rose’s arm. “The man who wants me gone is my brother-in-law,” she said with the hesitance of one sorting through words to find safe ones. “He will have no interest in us once he thinks my son is dead. If you could hide us, then perhaps. . .” She let the promise trail off into uncertainty.
Will didn’t need an imagination to grasp the problem. The babe was heir to someone or something, and the villain wanted him out of the way. “I assume Crockett is not your real name.”
She bit her bottom lip.
Will wanted to shake her. Instead, he said calmly, “Tell me who beat you. It will take me longer if I must track him, but I will find him. My family covers the breadth of the kingdom. There is nothing we can’t uncover. We’ll not let an abuser of women go free.”
She was back to looking alarmed, damn it. He’d have to call in Pascoe.
Rose wiggled out of her mother’s hold, leapt down from the bed, and handed her puppy to Will. Then the child clung to Will’s leg. He was amazed that she had overcome her fear of him and had no idea what she expected him to do now. He scratched the puppy’s head, but a dog couldn’t give him names or even a clear picture of the man who had kicked him. Maybe he could have the ladies question Rose in writing, but how much could a child know?
“She trusts you,” the patient said in wonder. “She has not trusted any man since. . .” Again, she bit off what she meant to say.
Another piece of the puzzle confirmed. “She didn’t trust me at first. Children learn from example. You will teach her to grow up in fear.”
She bit her lip but shook her head. “If you will just let us go, we will not use my husband’s name in the workhouse. Under any circumstance, Rose will have a hard time. She must learn to fight back. You cannot change that. Once we are well away, I will send you Crockett’s real name.”
The lady was a damned good negotiator. She was telling him that the sooner he found her a safe place, the faster he could have the name. He didn’t like it, but he stood up.
“I have no idea how long that will take,” he said. “He could be out there courting some young innocent now, while beating any other woman who crosses him. That will be on your head.”
She continued to look defiant. He hoped that meant the scoundrel wasn’t after women, just the inheritance. But he wouldn’t be happy until he knew.
He handed Rose the puppy and picked up the child. “I’ll take this one back to the nursery. If you could return openly to your family, would they help her?”
She didn’t answer, and he left her to think on it.
The women were waiting for him as soon as he entered the house. As he suspected, they didn’t even bother questioning him—because Lady Aurelia had conveyed every word. She looked at him as if he’d set the moon and stars in the heavens—making him itch under the collar.
That was the problem with women—they wanted heroes. He was just a man who did what he had to do, then went his own way.
And now that he knew Lady Aurelia and her cousin could be in danger, he would be sucked deeper into Malcolm coils than was good for his sanity.
He wished he’d escaped the abbey when he had the chance.
“Surely no gentleman would have hidden a woman with child and beat her, even if she was just his mistress,” Aurelia said in horror as they gathered in the parlor after settling Rose in the nursery. “It has to be some brute from the village. Why else would he have hidden her in that pathetic hut?”
No Perfect Magic Page 9