Letitia hunched a shoulder and turned from him. “I will not marry where I cannot trust, nor will I marry where I cannot love. Thus, I will not be marrying Lord Eynsford or Dr. Wolfe,” she said firmly.
“I see that you are far more foolish than I had believed,” said Bainstall. “If you will not marry Eynsford, which I will tell you I believe is a great piece of folly, then you must marry Dr. Wolfe.”
“I do not have to marry anybody,” said Letitia. “I am managing quite well on my own.”
“You will very quickly come to grief if you persist in this way of thinking,” responded Bainstall. “It pleases you to play at being independent, but it is obvious that you are incapable of taking care of your own affairs. Your behavior since your removal from Morgan Park to Kensington has led you from one folly to another. I beg you will allow me to take you in hand and see what I can do to repair your situation.”
“You would repair my situation by selling my son’s inheritance and marrying me to a man I do not care for,” said Letitia. “I do not choose to do either.”
The Baron shrugged. “You are obstinate, Letitia. Obstinate and ungrateful. I have done my best to aid you, by giving you good advice and finding you a suitable husband, to provide you with the elegancies of life, and you thwart me at every turn. Now you have turned down, without consulting me, a proposal of marriage from one of the richest and most eligible men in the kingdom. You should think well on your folly. I will call on you tomorrow; if you have not made up your mind to listen to me I will wash my hands of your affairs. You will not have me to turn to again.”
Letitia raised one hand to her throat. Despite her protestations of confidence and her dislike of her cousin’s meddlesome ways, it was frightening to think that she might be cut off from the only family she possessed. She didn’t want to depend only on Isobel, nor did she wish her children to be raised without knowing their relatives. But the image of Dr. Wolfe arose before her eyes and she was able to say quite levelly, “I am sorry you feel this way, Cousin. While I value you as my kinsman, I cannot take advice that I think would make me unhappy.”
Bainstall gave her a small bow. “I hope you reconsider, Letitia,” he said. “I wish only your well-being.” He turned and walked away while Letitia gazed after him, a worried look in her eyes.
James came running up then and grabbed her hand.
“Mama,” he said, “is Cousin Charles coming back?” he asked.
“He will call on us tomorrow, Jamie,” said Letitia in a calm voice.
“I don’t like him,” said James. “Does he have to call?”
“He is your cousin, and is concerned for you, Jamie,” responded Letitia. “You must try to like him.”
James looked doubtful. “Mama, I don’t think Emily is well,” he said. Letitia looked across the sand to where Emily sat. She did appear very fatigued, and Letty ran over to her. The child smiled at her, but the slight flush Letitia had noticed earlier was greatly heightened and her eyes were very bright. Letitia scooped her up in her arms, frowning as she felt the little girl’s forehead.
“We must get Emily home,” she said to James. “Come along.”
“Will she get better soon?” asked James.
“Of course she will,” said Letitia firmly. “We must get a doctor to come and see that she is properly taken care of.” She hurried back to her rooms, a great deal more concerned than she wished James to know.
By the next morning it was clear that Emily was a very sick child indeed. The doctor had shaken his head over her and spoken of typhus and now Emily burned with fever and nothing would comfort her.
When Bainstall came to call, he was surprised to have to wait some time for Letitia to appear, and even more startled when she entered looking not at all like her usual collected self. She wore an old gown that showed signs of having been considerably crumpled, and her hair was escaping in small wisps from its severe style. It was evident that she had slept little, if at all, for her eyelids were heavy and her eyes touched with red.
“What is this, Letitia?” he asked. “Why is the house in such a furor?”
“Emily has a fever,” she said. “I am sorry, Cousin, but I have no time to debate my future just now. You had best go, especially with the chance of infection so high. You may do as you choose in relation to my situation; I am considering no marriage proposals at all until my daughter is well.”
To Letitia’s surprise, Bainstall showed no outward signs of panic. “The child has a fever? How unfortunate,” he said. “Does it seem to be serious?”
“The doctor is not certain,” said Letitia. “We hope for the best, of course, but she is very ill, and being so young she cannot tell us what the problem is.”
“The boy cannot stay here,” observed Bainstall, “or he may become ill as well. He must come and stay with me at the inn.”
“I thought you were leaving Ramsgate today,” said Letitia. “I cannot ask you to stay because of me.”
“I had intended to return home,” replied Bainstall, “but I cannot abandon my relatives at such a time. A very pretty notion you seem to have of me, Letitia.”
Letitia colored. She realized that her cousin’s interfering and sanctimonious manner didn’t mean he did not sincerely have her welfare at heart. It was unfortunate that he demonstrated his concern for her in ways she found excessively unattractive.
She bit her lip. “You would be doing me a great service if you were to keep him with you,” she admitted. “I own I have been most concerned about his health. I am already so worried about Emily...” her voice trailed off.
“As well you should be,” said the Baron. “A fever can be dangerous. I only hope she didn’t contract it through some carelessness of yours. You should not take the child to common places, where these diseases are all too frequently contracted.”
A great deal of Letitia’s new found goodwill for her cousin evaporated with this speech. “I will have James readied,” she said. “Please wait here.”
A short time later she returned with James in tow. The child had been less than willing to leave his mother and accompany his cousin, who he disliked. He had acquiesced, however, when Letitia explained to him how worried she was about his sister. He walked solemnly over to the Baron, and took his hand rather self-consciously.
“I have explained to James that he must be very good,” said Letitia. “I do thank you again, Cousin, for your concern.”
“It is of no matter,” said the Baron. “Tell me, Letitia, do you have enough money to pay the doctor?”
“I have enough for some time,” she replied. “I am sure I will manage.”
“Do not stand on your pride, but apply to me if you have need of further funds,” instructed Bainstall. “It will not do to have you worrying about such matters while the child is ill. There will be enough time later to settle our differences.”
“I thank you,” said Letitia. It cost her something to do so, but she had been desperately afraid that she would not be able to retain a good doctor's services for long. She realized that her pride had no place beside Emily's health, which was steadily deteriorating.
To Letitia's alarm and horror, it became obvious that the sickness was going to run its course and that it would be a long time, if ever, before Emily was well again. The child was fretful and uncomfortable, tossing and turning in her bed and unable to find a comfortable position. She did not want to take the medicine the doctor had prescribed for her, and was reluctant to drink the milk Letitia urged on her. She wasted away at an alarming rate, until the chubby child seemed reduced, in Letitia's terrified eyes, to skin and bones. Despite the doctor's assurances that Emily would almost surely recover, Letitia began to fear that she was going to lose her child.
Bainstall wrote daily, missives full of detailed medical advice and admonitions to prepare herself for the worst while hoping for the best. He stopped at the house on occasion, but as James was not allowed inside he did not stay for long, which Letitia could only consider to be
a blessing. He assured his cousin that James showed no signs of contracting his sister's illness and was benefiting from the company of a sober gentleman. Letitia had a small smile for the knowledge that James was well, and could only hope that he was not suffering excessively in his cousin's company.
Time passed slowly for Letitia. Her days and nights were spent with Emily, for the child was restless when only her nurse was present. Only her mother, it seemed, could coax the little girl into swallowing her medicine, or convince her to lie still with a compress on her forehead.
Chapter 36
Several days into Emily’s illness, a letter arrived from Isobel that seemed to Letitia to represent a world wholly apart from her own. It spoke of picnics and dances and Isobel’s archaeological work. Not once did Isobel reproach her friend for not coming to Scotland, but she did say that if she chose to visit them, she would be most welcome.
“Perhaps it was wise of you not to come,” the letter continued, “for Eynsford has arrived to stay with us for some little time. Brighton, it appears, palls on him and he can find no enjoyment there. I own, my dear, that I think he still loves you, though it is a matter we never discuss. He has asked after your well-being in a polite way, but never mentions your name otherwise. I wish you may forgive him for his foolish behavior and find happiness with him. He is a very kind man.”
Letitia sat for some moments after reading the letter, pondering its contents. Emily’s sickness had quite driven other thoughts out of her head, but now she thought how wonderful it would be if Mr. Markham were present and she could confide her worries in him. He, she felt sure, would support her without moralizing, and she knew James would have been delighted to stay some time with his good friend. She lost herself for a moment in a reverie, picturing herself, Mr. Markham and the children strolling at the seashore in perfect companionship.
Her daydream was interrupted by the entrance of the maid, who informed her that the doctor had come for his daily visit. She arose, flustered. “Tell him I will be with him directly,” she said and turned away, her hands pressed to her cheeks. Her child was at death’s door and she was dreaming of a man who had cruelly deceived her. Better, she thought, to accept Bainstall’s uncomfortable brand of help; at least she knew exactly who he was.
She sat down and scribbled a hasty note to Isobel, informing her of Emily’s illness. “As for Lord Eynsford, I no longer think of him at all,” she added, heavily underscoring the last two words. “It would be gross folly on my part to pretend that we could ever have feelings in common. He would do best to forget we ever met, as indeed I have.” She sealed the letter and gave it to the maid to post and then marched upstairs, prepared to devote all her thoughts to Emily.
The next afternoon Letitia was catching a few moments of sleep on the settee in the sitting room, when the door opened and a gentleman entered the room. Letitia sat up with a start and then sank back with a sigh when she saw exactly who her visitor was.
“My dear Lady Morgan!” exclaimed the Bishop of Mainwaring. “Surely you are not surprised to see me? When Bainstall apprised me of young Miss Winwood's condition, I came as soon as the business of my diocese permitted.”
“How thoughtful of you,” said Letitia, “but it really is not necessary. There is little you can do in a situation such as this, I am afraid.”
“On the contrary,” observed the Bishop, “There is much I can do to aid you. You need companionship to keep your spirits up during this time of travail, and as your cousin, who I am sure would be glad to brighten your days, is much occupied with the boy, I am willing to take on this task. I hope, of course, that you look on me as more than a mere friend, Lady Morgan.”
Despite her aggravation with the Bishop and her fears for Emily’s health, Letitia was hard put not to laugh at Dr. Wolfe’s apparent belief that his presence would soothe her mind.
“I thank you for your concern, Dr. Wolfe,” she said solemnly, “but I cannot ask you to put yourself out. There is, of course the risk of infection involved in your presence here, and I myself am so very busy that I fear I have no time to entertain.”
“As a man of God, I have no fear of infection, Lady Morgan,” said the bishop. “And in the matter of the child’s care you must allow your servants to shoulder more of the burden. Emily must not think that you will come at her beck and call; that is not the correct lesson for a child to learn. When Margaret and Druscilla are ill I ration my visits to them carefully so that they will not think of illness as something to be rewarded.”
Letitia controlled her temper with an effort. “Emily does not have a mere cold, Dr. Wolfe,” she said. “She is extremely ill and may...may die. I do not feel that giving my time to her is indulging her whims.”
“A mother’s love is a wonderful thing,” intoned the bishop. “It does my soul good to see you sacrificing yourself so freely for your child. This is what women are intended for, I believe.”
Letitia hesitated, but reflected that it was not the time for a debate on the nature of parental love and said, “Thank you for your concern Dr. Wolfe, but I fear that I will not be able to spend much time with you.”
“I shall call daily,” declared the bishop. “I’m sure that you will come to look forward to the diversion. It will take your mind off your troubles.”
Letitia marveled at the remarkable degree of obtuseness that Dr. Wolfe managed to achieve, which seemed far beyond the realm of normal men.
“I must return to Emily,” she said. “Thank you for your concern.”
“I will call again tomorrow,” promised the bishop, and Letitia could only hope that he would not be as good as his word.
But Dr. Wolfe proved to be a singularly punctual visitor. He arrived at Letitia's rooms at two o’clock each day, usually bearing a gift that proved to be utterly useless. There was a book of improving sermons, which Letitia had no time to read even had she been so inclined, a potion which he assured her had been made by his own mother but which the doctor greeted with scorn, and, one day when Emily was particularly fretful, an extremely complicated puzzle which would have been far beyond the child's capabilities had she been healthy. Letitia accepted these gifts solemnly and, while Dr. Wolfe's presence could be very aggravating, she at times looked forwards to the visits for their occasional humorous aspects. There was little enough else for her to smile about, for Emily was entering the third week and the worst phase of her illness.
The doctor attempted to reassure Letitia that her daughter would recover, but he could not hide the concern on his face when he examined the child. Letitia had to school herself not to burst into tears at the sight of the flushed and emaciated girl, nothing at all like the rosy child of just a few weeks before. She was touched, however, when Bainstall hired a nurse and sent her to Letitia with a note saying he was aware of how tired she must be and that she would need to be rested and prepared should the worst happen. It was a kind gesture, despite the note, and she received the nurse thankfully, though it did not appreciably reduce the number of hours she spent with Emily.
One day the post brought a letter from Isobel. Letitia opened it when she was deeply fatigued, and the words of her friend almost reduced her to tears. Isobel was horrified to hear Emily was so ill, and desperate to aid her friend. Only Francis' representation that guests were very likely the last thing Letitia needed at the moment had prevented Isobel from flying to her side. But, she promised, at the slightest sign from Letitia she would be immediately on her way.
She assured Letty that if she had any needs that exceeded her abilities to meet, she and Francis would be only too glad to help her in any way. James was most welcome to come to stay with them if Letitia wished; a carriage would be sent at her word. Lord Eynsford also sent his hopes for a full recovery and begged Lady Morgan to remember him to Emily, of whom he was very fond. Isobel assured her friend that their thoughts were with her, and, if she should have need, they would come to her as quickly as they might.
Letitia put the letter down with tear
s in her eyes. She was desperately tired from weeks with little sleep and her nerves were much shaken by Emily's still dangerous condition. It warmed her to know that Isobel, Lord Exencour and even Lord Eynsford felt for her, but she was determined not to take their help. She could not be forever turning to others for aid, or she would surely drive them away.
That very afternoon a carriage pulled up and a delivery was made to Lady Morgan's rooms. It came during Dr. Wolfe's afternoon visit, and Letitia was amazed when the maid entered with a basket containing some very fine pears. A note tucked into them revealed that they came from the pinery at Lord Eynsford’s country estate. Letitia read the note and folded it away before turning back to Dr. Wolfe.
“Very fine, very fine indeed,” said the Bishop. “Doubtless they are a gift from one of your tonnish friends. I find the fashion among the nobility of forcing fruits to ripen at unnatural times to be contrary to the laws of nature, but they are still very fine fruits.”
“Emily will enjoy them very much,” said Letitia. “It has been difficult to tempt her appetite these past days.”
“You spoil the child,” said Dr. Wolfe. “A thin gruel might be better for her than these pears.”
“She will not eat gruel,” observed Letitia. “If she will eat these it will do her more good than eating nothing.”
“You shall do as you think best,” said the bishop. “But it would be a great shame to give them all to a sick child, who will not truly appreciate them.”
“Then perhaps I will save one for James, as he is a well child,” said Letitia, a touch of anger creeping into her voice.
“You will forgive me for being so blunt and revealing that I think you are too indulgent,” said Dr. Wolfe. “But I believe that is a good quality in a woman; the mother may spoil the children and the father must discipline them. That is the way of the world. When your children have a new father, they will be much happier. Bainstall attempts to perform this service, of course, but he lives too far from you and your children's exposure to him is infrequent.
An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance Page 22