“What of Brookfield? Did people know him, there? Before now, I mean to say.”
“He tended to some issues in the village, but he also chose to spend time at a practice in London that catered to the less advantaged,” said Lady Jane. “He learned a lot there and, from what I gather, he was quite esteemed and liked by his patients.” Her eyes took on a slightly playful gleam. “You may not see it, now, but he does not tend to speak down to people. I’d imagine that the quality gained him respect.”
Without thinking, Augusta mumbled, “That quality must be in short supply amongst most dukes.”
Lady Jane did not laugh, but she smiled. “You would be correct. But not all of them are terrible to be acquainted with. William is one such example. Mm. Well… after the loss of his brothers, his mother was simply unable to cope. She wasted away.”
Augusta looked at her gravely. Having lost her own mother at an age when she was old enough to feel the loss and understand what she was missing, she could sympathize with Lord Ainsworth. “My own mother said that parents do not really recover from losing their children. It happens so often that people try to make light of it, or accept it as God’s will…” Augusta was compelled to reach for Lady Jane’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “But she told me it ached all the same. She lost the child who was to be my younger brother.”
Squeezing Augusta’s hand back in the same gentle way, Lady Jane inclined her head in consideration. “I would not know personally. But from what I have witnessed, I think she was right. And in turn, William did not take the loss of his mother well.” With the glimmer of tears in her eyes, then, she said, “Archibald did not follow her immediately, but he was so deeply unhappy without her.” Lady Jane released Augusta’s hand.
How alone Lord Ainsworth and Lady Jane must feel, now. “They were a love match?”
“Oh yes.”
“How fortunate.” And unfortunate at the same time.
“I agree. I was never jealous, but I hoped to find the same and never did. My late husband was not a bad man, but we were not in love.” She dabbed lightly at her eyes with her fingers as though she could will the tears away. “But, all of this meant that William found himself the Lord Ainsworth without having really prepared for it. He was always a diligent boy who learned well simply from observing, and he had observed his father and brothers, so he had an idea of the practicalities. The weight of the dukedom pressed on him heavily, though, because he had never been raised to believe he would bear it.
“I am proud of him. He assumed his role well, while still sometimes tending to the villagers… until he was called to serve with the Duke of Wellington in Salamanca. By then, he had nearly reckoned with his new lot in life, and had even entered an engagement with the daughter of an earl from the north.”
Consumed by curiosity for the rest of the story, Augusta found herself leaning more toward Lady Jane as she took pause.
“What happened?”
“More loss,” said Lady Jane, simply. “She would not have him, once she saw what war had done to him. She broke their engagement.”
There were yet more tears in Lady Jane’s eyes. Whoever this earl’s daughter was, Augusta felt that she needed to be soundly chastised. Wasn’t that part of the marriage vows? In sickness and health? While Lord Ainsworth had not endeared himself to Augusta, she could still acknowledge the pain that led him to the state he found himself in.
“Maybe it was just not meant to be, my lady.”
“Perhaps not,” said Lady Jane through a laugh that was clouded by her tears. “I apologize for my display, but where William is concerned, I am quite sentimental.”
Augusta smiled tremulously at her. “Don’t. I don’t think it is a bad quality.”
“William had answered the summons immediately, eager to aid where he could. He wrote me a letter before he departed to tell me what was afoot, and it was filled with delight at the opportunity to serve his fellow men. But it was not long before I received another missive…” Lady Jane took a deep, steeling breath. “And he had suffered a horrendous blow to the face. His friend, Peter, another physician, explained that William had been tending to the wounded in the field when an explosion occurred directly next to him.”
Augusta gasped, her palm coming to cover her mouth. “What awful circumstances,” she said, her words muffled by her hand.
“All Peter and his peers knew was that William would be deformed permanently. They did not know if he would ever see again—though, as you know, he can. It just took time to bear itself out—and Wellington could only send him home.” The duke’s aunt was silent for some minutes. Augusta did not try to hasten her. “It took him weeks to be able to receive his fiancée and, from what he has told me, he was hopeful despite his circumstances that Lady Diana would still go through with their vows. His hope was misplaced.”
A quick, keen fury rose in Augusta’s chest. “That’s so unfair!”
She couldn’t understand why her reaction was so heated, but Lady Jane did not seem ruffled.
“Well, I cannot judge her too harshly, I suppose. But her rejection, I am afraid, was the final thing William could bear. When I received the news of her decision, I wrote to him immediately to say that he was not responsible, and there was no shame in it. Still, he withdrew from society entirely.”
Blinking back angry tears, Augusta sniffed. “No, I suppose we can’t judge her. It must have been shocking to see.”
“Now,” said Lady Jane. “We cannot both be crying, and he would chide us for it.” She was smiling, teasing Augusta a little.
From what little she knew of Lord Ainsworth personally, Augusta did not doubt it. But she wondered if, perhaps, more people showing their true emotions to him… well, their emotions about him… would allow him to express his own more freely. He and Lady Jane seemed to be exceptions to the way those with titles behaved, and Augusta was sure that the rest of the ton most likely did not encourage men to be very vulnerable.
But then, it is the same for common folk, she noted. Throughout her childhood, she had been around boys and men who cared very little to tell the truth about what they felt for fear they would be judged for weakness.
“How did you come to be with him?” Augusta asked. “He is so fond of you. Even I can see that.”
“If you come around to speaking with him, you must not repeat what I have told you. He will feel incredibly guilty, even if he never owns up to it.” Suddenly shifty, Lady Jane glanced away from her.
“You’ve my word.”
“Around the same time he had come home, I had been entertaining a courtship with a widower. Things were progressing very nicely, and I was feeling more affection for Max than I had for my late husband,” said Lady Jane with an almost detached frankness. “But I could not bear the thought of William being left alone, once I inferred how isolated and miserable he had become. And I do not need to marry, so it is not at all imperative that I do. What a strange luxury getting older brings.”
“Do you think that this suitor will wait for you?”
“I hope so. He is not a young man who will give in to selfish impulses, at the very least,” she replied wryly. “We still correspond. He seems to understand the gravity of William’s plight, and does not fault me for coming to spend my time with him. If William ever decides that he will have guests again, I hope that I may invite Max to meet him.”
Impressed by her love for Lord Ainsworth, Augusta mused on the idea of what she might have given up. Lady Jane did not need to marry for money, and she said already that she’d always wanted a love match. The woman is a romantic.
“I’m sure he will wait, if he says so and you trust his word.”
“I do.”
Augusta took in the short, firm words before saying, “I am glad that Lord Ainsworth has you. You seem better than an entire family, if I can be so bold to say it.”
They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes before Lady Jane spoke again. “It seems impossible, but I wish that Wil
liam would find it in himself to venture out amongst people and discover that he is still worthy of friends and, perhaps, even a wife.”
It seemed like an odd thing to say to a strange woman who had just turned up in her life, but then, their entire conversation had taken an intimate turn. Augusta said, “If I have learned anything these last few days, it is that nothing is impossible. I never thought I would end up in the Duke of Ravenwood’s manor with his kindly aunt doting upon me and being so forthright, for example.”
She knew that she was taking the subject very close to why she’d needed a rescue in the first place. But, to be fair, if she was the one controlling it, she did feel a little better about the thought of explaining her father’s brutish tendencies to Lady Jane.
“Where did you think you would end up?”
Augusta did not want to say, At the time, I wondered if I might end up dead, so she just shrugged. It would be a terribly gauche thing to say. “I don’t think it matters, my lady. I just never would have dreamed I would be taken in, here.”
“Yet more evidence that William is not a monster.”
“It would seem so,” said Augusta carefully. “And I am sure that there are both friends and a wife for him, even now.”
“Ah, are you a romantic, Miss Brooke?”
No, but you are. “I have not had the opportunity to nurse the tendency, really.” Augusta’s eyes fell to her lap. Her life felt like one endless rotation of working and being beaten. It had not always been so, but it had been for long enough that she was starting to become almost used to it. Almost.
Lady Jane must have sensed her disquiet, for she said, “Perhaps you could while you regain your health. I have many novels that you could borrow, should you wish.”
“I shall borrow them if you coax Lord Ainsworth back into society.” It was the only thing she could think of that would help the poor man. She and his aunt were hardly enough company to see him get any better, especially after all that Lady Jane had just related. “If you do, I will need something to occupy myself.”
“I have been trying, but if you believe you can help, then… by all means.”
“Perhaps…” Augusta’s eyes flitted around the parlor as she thought, going from beautiful object to beautiful object, from curio to unique curio. “Would he prefer to take up his practice, again?”
“I suspect he would find it more amenable than trotting around a ball.”
“But he is ashamed of his face.” Augusta played idly with the ends of her hair that were trailing out of her braid. “And it stops him from doing what he has wanted to do all his life.”
“More or less.”
“There are men of worse appearance and bearing who strut about in pride and vanity.”
With distaste, Augusta thought of the many men she had come across in her life, including her father, whom she considered to be far uglier than Lord Ainsworth because they were cruel and entitled. Unlike many of her friends, she had not suffered any cruelty within bedsport. But she was still aware of the myriad of bad behaviors that men of any status could embrace if they were clever enough to hide them behind a pleasing face or pretty words.
“He would not admit it, but his confidence suffered a terrible blow at Lady Diana’s rejection,” said Lady Jane. “He scarcely talks to anyone because he is afraid that they think poorly of him. His sight still suffers a little—though not badly—so he refuses to tend patients because he is terrified that he will make a mistake. You are the very first he has taken on since Salamanca, Miss Brooke. You must have noticed how careful he is when he touches you.” Sounding infinitely tired, she added, “I am afraid that he will succumb to his own demon. Fear.”
Augusta reflected on this bit of intelligence for a brief moment. She knew fear quite well. Wasn’t it what had kept her from running away from her father all these years, until now?
And wasn’t it what kept her from telling the duke the truth?
“I know,” she said at last. “If Lord Ainsworth consents, you could hold a dance here.”
“I have very tentatively thought about it,” said Lady Jane. “I think it could be a good idea, if it could be managed.”
“You think he would deny you the request?”
“Oh, I know he would. He views this place as his protection.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Still, my birthday is only two months away. Do you know, I shall be seeing sixty years? I could obtain permission to have a small gathering. Even from William. He would not deny me such a request. He may prevaricate. But in the end, he would not deny me that pleasure.”
The two women exchanged a look. Augusta smiled at Lady Jane’s wicked smirk.
“And what if the small gathering was not so small as originally thought, my lady?”
Innocently, Lady Jane said, “Why, Miss Brooke, whatever do you mean?”
“Nothing at all, Lady Jane,” she said, pleased that they saw the same potential in the thought of a birthday celebration.
As the clock struck nine, Lady Jane rose and said, “You should get your rest. You are still healing and no doubt are badly shaken.”
Though Augusta wanted to protest, as she could have listened to Lady Jane tell stories all night, she admitted to herself that she was exhausted. “Good night, Lady Jane.”
“Oh, how thoughtless of me,” she said abruptly. “Will you need assistance to get back to the other parlor?”
“Rather than risk knocking things over… yes,” said Augusta ruefully. She could hobble, but that didn’t mean she wanted any of the fine furnishings to be ruined should she crash into them.
“I shall send Lucy down to help you. My knees are a disaster.”
Left to the solitude of her own thoughts, Augusta reflected on everything that had just been disclosed to her. She could not help but feel some softness toward Lord Ainsworth. She wished that she could become his friend, and that she could, in time, tell him that he did not need to hide himself away. If half of what Lady Jane had said was true, he was truehearted and kind. It was a shame to see that wrested away from him by cold circumstance.
And as for his face—well, as she had already thought, she had seen uglier men with beautiful countenances. Besides that, even beautiful men become old and shriveled. Lord Ainsworth simply has a leg-up on them, there.
But it was still another shame: she could imagine that before his misfortune in war that the duke was once very handsome. He cut a trim but pleasing figure, and his jaw, chin, and mouth, being unscathed, were well-defined, suggesting what he used to be. On a woman, she might call them feminine, but they seemed to suit his lithe body. Which decidedly belonged to a man.
She almost wanted to run upstairs and tell him that she now knew he hid a good soul beneath a well-cultivated veneer of gruffness.
If she could run and he would listen, she would tell him that he could not always live his life being hampered by fear, and that he had to resist caging himself in his manor forever. That was no way to live a life, especially when his had begun in such a promising way.
He knew what he wanted to do with himself and he succeeded in being able to do it, which was more than many could claim. He had a zeal and aptitude for healing. So he became a physician and, evidently, he was a good one. Denying the world his talents was wrong.
But she was only the daughter of a drunk, nasty gambler who, by her mother’s sheer willpower, had a decent vocabulary, good elocution, and a wider understanding of the world than other women of her station. That was a very small achievement in comparison to all of Lord Ainsworth’s. To her mind, he had done the most heroic thing one could do on the battlefield in tending to the wounded.
What could you possibly offer the Duke of Ravenwood?
Chapter Five
In the days that followed, Augusta continued to mend and she felt capable of taking a turn in the room for the first time since her arrival. Her fever had completely disappeared and her body no longer ached.
Her ankle only hurt when she walked through the parlor and
out to the hall beyond and, even then, it did not pain her much. By the end of the ninth day in the manor, she had ventured all the way into the foyer, marveling at the finery that surrounded her. It was clear that Lord Ainsworth’s abode had been a family home despite its grandeur, for it seemed that every family member within its walls had contributed some aesthetic choice. She felt that Lord Ainsworth’s mother must have decorated the parlor she was residing in, for example, because it was an overtly feminine space populated with lace and gleaming, delicate, silver candlesticks. The halls and the foyer, however, were such a mishmash of influences that one almost had the impression of being within another country altogether. Not that Augusta had ever been anywhere but England. She just imagined that the eccentric collection of decor and furnishings would not have been out of place at a bazaar.
The maids, whom she did not recognize by sight, seemed flustered that she was taking a little wander. She almost literally ran into Marcus, the great mountain of a man, who merely winked at her and said that she should not try the stairs until she was ready.
“Why would I go upstairs, Marcus?” Augusta asked. “My eyes are hardly used to what’s down here… I’d think above stairs would be even more overwhelming.”
In general, she saw the duke once each evening. It became a strange, if welcome, custom. He would look at her ankle and examine the welts that had been most severe. He would ask after her. Was she getting sufficient rest? Was Lady Jane providing her with enough diversions?
His ire at her refusal to disclose her identity continued, and he remained quite formal in her presence because she refused to expand on her origins. His treatment of her was a strong contrast to Lady Jane’s engaging behavior.
Augusta soon wearied of this and reasoned that she could try her hand at drawing him out of his taciturn ways and stiffness.
The truth was, he was definitely beginning to grow on her and she wanted to hear him speak of more than pleasantries and banalities.
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