“I wrote to you weeks ago,” Silas said, maintaining his stony expression. “I suppose you never received my letter.”
“Letters from home can often be lost or misdirected.” Isaac lifted his good shoulder and then rubbed his face with his hand. “Forgive me. The carriage ride has left me quite out of sorts. I need rest and my medicine.”
Cold dread suffused Esther. She sprang up from her seat. “We must see you tended to at once. I will not allow you to be uncomfortable or risk becoming ill. I have already mourned your loss and I do not intend to do so again.” She went to the bell-pull and rang for a servant, her hands shaking in her agitation.
Her brother moved with care, she noticed, as he went back to the hearth. He sighed deeply. “Essie, my man knows what to do. He was my batman the last year. I’m sure I wrote of him to you. The man is a natural nursemaid.” He chuckled, though the sound lacked real humor.
Esther straightened up authoritatively. “Good. Then he can help me keep you healthy and alive.” When her brother opened his mouth as though to argue, she hastily added, “I outrank you, and this is my house, and you will do as I say.”
Isaac’s eyebrows shot up and he rocked back on his heels. He glanced at Silas. “Did becoming a countess make her commanding or has she been like this for a while?”
To his credit, Silas did not smile or joke. He stood and came to put his hand on Isaac’s good shoulder, meeting his gaze squarely. “We are both worried for you. Since the time you walked in our door, your face has lost a lot of color. Rest, man.” He winced. “We can exchange battle stories later, when you have recovered from your journey.”
A footman appeared at the door, bowing. “Yes, my lord? My lady?”
“Please show my brother to his room,” Esther said. “And see to it that his man has everything Sir Isaac needs to be comfortable.”
The footman bowed and motioned for her brother to precede him through the doorway. “This way, Sir Isaac.”
“Very well. Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Inglewood.” He stepped closer to his sister and placed a kiss on her cheek. “And for your domineering commands, Essie.” Then he left the room, the servant closing the door behind them.
Silence hung over them in the study. Esther, facing the door, could not see her husband’s expression, but she could guess at his thoughts. She didn’t speak, but raised a trembling hand to her brow. How had she sent her brother away? She would much rather sit by his side and demand all his stories from him at once, and stare at him with prayerful gratitude. How did it come to pass that they were told of his death, that her heart had broken for him, only for him to stroll right into her house without seeming to think a thing of it?
“Are you well, Esther?” Silas’s voice, though gentle, startled her from her thoughts. He had come up behind her, his hand taking her wrist. “Perhaps you ought to rest, too.”
She needed his steadiness and strength more than rest. Could she admit as much? Turning, Esther took the single step separating them and pressed her cheek against his chest. His arms came up at once, holding her to him in a protective embrace.
“I cannot believe he is home,” Esther whispered. “I want to laugh and cry all at once. But his arm, Silas. An amputation. He should not have travelled. If he falls ill, if there is infection—”
“Hush, my dear. We will not let that happen. I will send for a doctor.” He rubbed her back gently, his chin coming to rest upon her head. “Perhaps you ought to write to your stepbrother and tell him the good news.”
“Yes. Of course.” She did not move away, not yet. She could not. As much as she marveled over her brother’s return from the dead, the haunted look in his eyes, the stiff way he moved, gave her the feeling that he had lost more than an arm to Napoleon’s war.
“Esther.” Silas’s hands left her back to grasp her arms, then he took a step back. When she looked up at him, she could see the tightness around his mouth. The way he held back his emotion and focused on her needs made her give over even more of her heart to him. “We will work together to see that Isaac is cared for and returned to good health. I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “I have letters to write, and you do, too. Would you like to write them in here?”
How did he know, how could he sense, that being alone at the moment would be torturous? Every second her thoughts would be on her brother, her desire to go to him and interrupt the rest Isaac needed. “Yes, if I will not disturb you.”
Silas’s hands ran up and down her arms, his eyes losing focus. “I would prefer to have you here, actually. We have a delicate work ahead of us, informing others of the news that has shocked us today.” He released her at last. “Come. We will pull another chair up to my desk.”
He began the work of arranging the things she would need. A chair, papers, ink, pen, and blotter. Esther moved in a daze to take the seat he offered across from his. Then he started sharpening a pen for her.
They passed an hour in near quiet. Occasionally they consulted each other on the wording of a letter, and who ought to be informed next, but the only sound in the room besides the crackling of the fire was the scratching of their pens. Giving her mind an occupation also gave Esther a great deal of relief. The more she wrote the news, the more firmly it settled in her mind.
Sir Isaac Fox, her brother, lived.
Chapter Twenty-three
Esther stayed near Silas, even after they completed their letter writing and messengers were sent to deliver notes and post the news to those at greater distances. She tucked herself into a comfortable chair with a book of poetry. Attempting to keep her thoughts from running wild, Esther bent her mind upon understanding each and every verse she read.
Behind his desk, Silas worked on estate matters and answering correspondence with his political allies.
It felt like the whole of the day passed, but three hours after Isaac’s disappearance to his room the door to the study opened again.
Silas came to his feet, that look of painful concern twisting his features for an instant, then his face resumed its emotionless facade. Why did he feel the need to wear such a thing with one of his oldest friends present? As used to his open expression as she was, Esther could not help wondering if he did it on purpose.
She rose more slowly, taking in her brother’s appearance. The rest, short as it had been, had restored some of his color. He wore a clean suit of clothes rather than the uniform, the sleeve to his coat pinned up as before.
“Isaac. Please, come in. I will send for some tea and food.” She hurried to step outside, knowing there would be a footman in the hall. After relaying her request, she stepped back into the study to see Isaac and Silas standing close, eyeing one another.
“You married my sister,” Isaac said, bending slightly toward his friend. “Without my permission.” Though the words were said in an even tone, they were hardly encouraging. Esther looked from her brother to her husband, a new knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
“It is something of a complicated story.” Silas shrugged, to all appearances not concerned with Isaac’s words. “Please, sit down. We will tell you the whole of it.”
Esther bit her bottom lip and moved to close the door behind her.
A sudden crash in the front entryway made her jump, and a flood of voices came at the same moment.
“Where is he?” a feminine voice demanded. “For Heaven’s sake, Bailey.”
“Hope, have a care,” another answered.
“I apologize, Bailey, but we just received the notes.” The last voice was Jacob Barnes’s.
Hope, Grace, and Jacob. Of course they would come the moment they knew Isaac lived. Esther took a steadying breath and looked to her husband. Silas stood frozen, his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline, and Isaac was pushing himself back to his feet from the chair he had barely begun to occupy.
It seemed catching up with her brother would have to wait. His friends had come to rejoice with him at his return. Esther tipped her chin up and glided out of
the room.
“Good afternoon,” she called to the group, sweeping into the entryway. Poor Bailey had his arms full of their wraps, gloves, a hat, and bonnets. It appeared they would be staying for a while.
“Esther,” Hope called out, moving with such speed that for a moment Esther worried she would be run over. “Your brother—he is here?” She stared at Esther, her gaze somewhat wild. The other two approached more calmly.
Taking Hope’s hands and removing them gently, Esther spoke the harsh news as gently as she was able. “He is. But there is something you should know, so it is not a shock.” She looked to Jacob and Grace, thankful for their calmer natures. “He is not whole. Isaac lost his left arm in battle.”
They stilled, even Hope, faces turned pale.
Esther forced a smile. “Isaac is alive, and he is in the study, should you wish to see him. Please, be gentle in your welcomes. He is still recovering.”
“Of course.” Jacob answered for the group, his eyes shining while he bowed. “And congratulations, my lady, on his return.”
What could she do other than lead them to the study? They were Isaac’s dearest and oldest friends. They knew him intimately, had shed tears over his supposed death. It was right that they come and share in the miracle of Isaac’s survival as well. He had likely missed them terribly. The whole neighborhood would learn of this event soon enough. Perhaps she ought to arrange some sort of gathering to celebrate.
She opened the study door and entered the room, then gestured for her guests to do the same. Hope and Grace held hands, Jacob strode in with confidence.
There could be no more wonderful thing, Esther decided, than to see a man greeted by his friends as Isaac was. The love the group shared was unmistakable. There were embraces, not handshakes and bows. The twins kissed her brother upon his cheeks. Jacob dashed at his eyes. Silas stood stalwart and tall, overseeing it all with a smile and his marble mask nowhere to be seen. They laughed while they cried, and Esther watched it all from the doorway, her arms wrapped about her middle.
“You gave us a fright, Isaac,” Hope said.
“Thank the good Lord you are well.” Jacob’s voice sounded choked with his emotion. “I have missed you.”
Grace remained quiet, but Esther did not miss the way she reached out to take Isaac’s hand.
Isaac looked about him at their faces and she saw, for the first time since their mother’s death, tears in his eyes. “My dear friends. Now I am at home, at last.”
The words were bittersweet for Esther. Her heart burst for her brother’s joy, yet ached to hear that, once again, she had not been enough.
Silas moved across the room to her side, causing her to blink out of her thoughts. He took her hand in his, evidence of tears upon his cheeks. “I think we had better take our guests to the parlor. My study does not have enough seating for all of us.”
“Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Pardon me,” she said, loudly enough to draw attention to herself. “Let us go across the hall to the parlor. I think we shall be more comfortable speaking there.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed at her, and one corner of his mouth crept upward. “You are a fine hostess, Lady Inglewood.” He offered Hope his arm, Jacob quickly mirrored the gesture for Grace, and then their little procession went from one room to the next. Everyone kept talking, kept exclaiming over how good it was to be together again.
Except Silas. He pulled Esther closer than his escort necessitated and whispered near her ear. “Thank you for sharing him with us.”
Though she could have retorted that she had little choice, Esther took in a deep breath and nodded. How could she be selfish at this moment? Her brother was alive, though he had not remained unharmed. The joy radiating from him and his friends was right and good, exactly what he needed after the trials and battles he had faced.
Never, ever would she resent his friendships again. The people who surrounded him at present had been the first to see to her care when they thought him lost. Their love for him meant they extended compassion and their friendship to her. Though she could not be part of what the five of them had together, she might find contentment in being given their consideration and concern.
They were soon seated in the parlor, refreshment brought in by the servants and more food sent for. Isaac took a large chair and the others hastily moved about so their chosen seats faced his. The couch was moved for the twins, two chairs drawn closer for Isaac and Silas, and the last chair for Esther put at Isaac’s right hand side. Silas did that for her, smiling over the back of the furniture as he moved it. “Esther, the place of honor. The right hand of our Lazarus.”
“Lazarus?” Isaac asked with a chuckle. “Am I that much of a miracle?”
“The vicar was prepared to eulogize you with a text from the raising of Lazarus,” Silas answered. “He told me about it this very morning.”
Esther shook her head, the irony of the moment nearly making her laugh. “The story is even more appropriate now.”
Jacob chuckled and sat back in his chair. “I do hope someone told the vicar about the reversal in the situation.”
“We spent a few hours writing letters, as you must know.” Silas sat at his ease, in command of the room though they had all come to see Isaac. As the leader of their group, Esther supposed it natural for them to look to him still. He was the oldest, held the highest rank, yet it was more than that which set Silas in such a position. He had a confidence about him, a strength of character that she had always admired.
“I went to the Everly home the moment I received mine,” Jacob admitted with his customary broad smile. “Hope and Grace were already climbing into a phaeton, pulling bonnets on as they went.”
Isaac shifted in his chair, looking at each of them in turn. “You need not all have rushed here. Though I am glad you did.”
Hope gasped from her seat. “Need not have rushed? Isaac, you terrible man, what should we have done? Sipped at our tea and discussed the matter calmly? We mourned you for an eternity!”
“It felt like an eternity,” Grace corrected. Her gentle happiness was such a contrast to her sister’s more dramatic words. “We could not wait to see you for ourselves, to be sure it was the truth.”
“I think Hope ought to enter herself into the races,” Jacob said suddenly. “I was hard-pressed to keep up with her, driving her pony, and I upon my horse.”
The group laughed at that, Hope the loudest of all.
“But you must tell us,” Silas said, commanding the room once more. “How was it we were informed of your death? It is such a gross error in communication. I have no doubt your heir has already been told of his fortune. The poor man will now have to be told he is not a baronet. All the grief that has come from this.” Silas shook his head, his expression darkening slightly when he met Esther’s gaze.
“I cannot tell how it happened. I know I was misidentified when they brought me in from the field.” He grew somber, looking around the circle of his friends, meeting each gaze for a moment before he continued. “I was not where I should have been, which contributed to the error. My horse had been shot out from under me, my men scattered to another command. I joined them, trying to bring order to the situation. There was an explosion. Shrapnel flew everywhere. I raised my left arm—” He gestured with his right. “It took the brunt of it. But the man standing next to me at the time, Sergeant Farrow, was badly injured.”
Isaac swallowed and his hand fell to the arm of his chair, forming a tight fist. “His face was damaged. I set about trying to help him, right there. I will spare you the more horrible details. I stayed with him for some time.” He grew quiet, sitting back in his chair and raising his eyes to the ceiling. He swallowed several times, obviously trying to regain control.
Esther reached out and covered her brother’s fist with her hand. He opened his fingers and accepted hers, squeezing tightly enough that it hurt.
“When they came collecting bodies, the sergeant had already died. I was hurt, but I want
ed to stay in the field as long as I could. I told the collectors my name and commanded they take the sergeant. That may have started the trouble. Perhaps they passed my name to another, and it was attached to the sergeant’s remains rather than the person who identified him. I do not know.” Isaac let out a sharp breath. “I fainted. From blood loss, the doctor said. They took me to a hospital tent, and I do not remember what came next. Only that I was in pain. Agony. And then I woke with one less arm than I had the day before.”
He said the last wryly, his smile pained as though he knew he could not make a joke of the situation and tried anyway. “Silas, do you remember the stories of Admiral Nelson?” he asked.
“I do. Rose up right after his amputation and continued to command his sailors.” Silas’s gaze had grown somber as Isaac spoke.
“I always hoped to be like him, brave and determined. Unshakable. But I have to confess, in that moment, I was not. All I could do was weep.” Isaac released Esther’s hand and rubbed at his forehead, the room silent. “For myself, for the men under my command.”
Grace spoke, rather surprising Esther. “It is natural to experience sorrow, Isaac. We do not think less of you for having a heart.”
He nodded, pulling in a shaky breath. “Thank you, Grace.” He did not speak with even a degree of acceptance. But he kept talking before more could be said of the situation. “I admit I thought of all of you, almost constantly. I wondered what everyone got up to in my absence. Thank you for your letters. They gave me hope and cheer these last three years.”
“You are most welcome,” Hope said cheerily. “I am glad Papa agreed we could write to you.”
Esther had not known they all wrote her brother. She had written faithfully, every week that her brother had been gone. He never mentioned his friends or their doings in his letters back to her. He must have guessed they never saw one another.
“I had several jealous friends.” The smile he wore was sad again. “I always had the most mail. The four of you, Esther, Hugh’s usual missives about the estate. Receiving post was always my favorite moment of the day. Sometimes we had daily mail, other times it would arrive in batches.” He glanced at Esther, then turned pointedly to Silas. “And I somehow never received the letter announcing your betrothal to my sister.”
Rescuing Lord Inglewood: A Regency Romance Page 21