‘You are…generous.’ Her eyes dropped before Rosalyn’s clear gaze. ‘I am sorry…’ She turned away to press a handkerchief to her mouth. ‘Forgive me. I feel sick again.’
Rosalyn reached for a small china bowl and held it for her; she waited patiently as she vomited several times, then handed her a damp cloth to wipe her mouth.
‘I shall leave you to rest, ma’am,’ she said after emptying the bowl into the waste bucket in the pot cupboard and fetching a glass of water. ‘A sip or two of this may help. But I think we should have the doctor. He may be able to give you some different powders, which will ease the nausea.’
Mrs Jenkins was too demoralised to protest. The woman she had treated as an enemy, had insulted and threatened, had just shown her more compassion than she could have expected. She felt embarrassed and slightly ashamed, turning her head away as the tears filled her eyes.
In all her life, Patricia Jenkins had only ever loved one person: her brother Roderick. She had done her best to love Bernard. God knew, she had paid enough of his debts—but she could not love him as she had her beloved Roderick. His death at such a young age had almost killed her, turning her into the sour woman she now was.
Rosalyn could, of course, know nothing of the older woman’s thoughts. Her sympathy had been aroused when she’d seen how unwell Mrs Jenkins was, and she had acted instinctively. She did not consider herself to have been particularly kind. Indeed, she had given no thought to anything other than her guest’s comfort.
The stable lad was sent to fetch a doctor. Mrs Simmons was instructed to give every attention to the invalid, and Beatrice was told not to worry.
‘It is probably best that you do not go up to Mrs Jenkins for the moment,’ Rosalyn advised. ‘I do not believe your aunt’s illness is infectious, but we must be careful. You would not want to take an infection so close to your wedding.’
‘No, of course not.’ Beatrice looked anxious. Her face was pale and Rosalyn suspected she might have shed a few tears. ‘Have you seen Freddie? He—he was so cross with me earlier. I have been looking for him, but I cannot find him. He is not in the house, or the gardens. Where can he have gone?’
‘Maria said he went off earlier. He may have taken one of the horses out.’ Rosalyn saw the girl was in a state of acute distress and frowned. What could have happened to make her so upset? ‘She said he was in a temper—surely he did not quarrel with you?’
‘He…asked me about Bernard,’ Beatrice said in a faltering voice. She bit her lip and tears started to her eyes. ‘He does not like the way Bernard looks at me…so I told him.’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘I told him everything, Rosalyn. It was terrible! I was so embarrassed and Freddie was furious. He shouted at me. He has never done that before. He said I ought to have told him all this at once—and that he would not have such a vile creature in his house.’
‘I am afraid it is my fault,’ Rosalyn said regretfully. ‘He said something particular to me last night, and I felt obliged to tell him you were nervous of Mr Harrington, but not why. Indeed, I do not know, for you have never said exactly what he did to upset you.’
Beatrice told her in a shame-faced whisper. The words came out haltingly and obviously caused her pain in the telling.
When she had heard the girl’s story to its end, Rosalyn was not surprised her brother had flown into a temper: it was far worse than she could ever have imagined. How could Mr Harrington have behaved so badly towards a girl who was a guest in his own sister’s home? Yet had he not done something far worse to another young girl? Perhaps Beatrice had been lucky to escape with a fright.
‘He actually came into your bedroom and tried to get into bed with you? He put his hands on you? Oh, Beatrice, my dear! That must have been a terrible shock. What did you do?’
‘I called for my maid. I had asked her to sleep in my dressing room because I was afraid he might…’ Beatrice blushed for shame. ‘Alice rushed in and hit him on the shoulder with a hairbrush. He ran off then, but the next day he threatened to tell Aunt Patricia that I had enticed him. He said she would believe him instead of me and I think…I think perhaps she would have.’
‘Oh, my dearest girl,’ Rosalyn said. ‘Surely she could not be so prejudiced—or so stupid? It was a terrible experience for you. And you had no one you could tell, no one to comfort you. No wonder you cannot bear to be near him.’
‘I was too ashamed to speak of it,’ Beatrice said, smothering a sob. ‘I felt that I must have done something wrong, though I could not think what. I never once gave him cause to think me willing, I swear it. It has hung over me like a black cloud—and now Freddie is angry with me.’
‘Leave him to mull things over,’ Rosalyn advised. ‘You have done nothing of which to be ashamed, Beatrice. Freddie is angry because he unwittingly allowed you to be exposed to danger and he feels guilty. He does not blame you, I am sure of it.’
‘I really did not give Bernard encouragement to think I might welcome his advances,’ the girl said, her lip trembling. ‘Not ever. You must believe me. You must!’
‘I do,’ Rosalyn replied and smiled at her encouragingly. ‘I have no idea where Freddie has gone, but when he returns I shall tell him something he ought to know.’
‘Good God! I can scarcely believe it.’ There was revulsion in Freddie’s eyes as he looked at Damian across the drum table in the library of Orford Hall. Beatrice’s story had shocked and angered him. Furious, and afraid of doing something he might regret, he had rushed out of the house and ridden hell for leather to the Orfords’ house, knowing that one person could tell him for certain what he needed to know. ‘Do you mean to tell me that I have been harbouring a rapist in my house? And no one told me!’ He banged the table with his fist. ‘This is monstrous. I had a right to know! Rosalyn should not have kept this from me.’
‘You have no reason to blame your sister,’ Damian said, frowning. ‘Rosalyn did not know herself until the night before your dance. She was shocked and distressed herself. I imagine she wanted to tell you—but was not sure of your reaction.’
‘What do you mean? Not sure of my reaction…’ Freddie glared at him, expressions of anger and shame warring for supremacy in his face. ‘You are thinking that I would have ignored this for the sake of peace? Damn it, Wrexham! I am not such a fool. This cannot be brushed under the carpet. It is too serious, too dangerous. Besides, no matter what her aunt does, Beatrice will marry me. Even if we have to elope. She has assured me of it several times.’
‘I am very glad to hear it.’ Damian allowed himself a smile. ‘You would soon have found Mrs Jenkins had too much influence in your matrimonial affairs had you let her continually have her way.’
‘I was concerned for Beatrice’s inheritance,’ Freddie admitted, looking ashamed. ‘But she does not care a fig for it and nor do I. All I want is to be left in peace with her. I’m damned if I’ll have that fellow in my home another night. To think that Beatrice has been forced to be polite to him! I can tell you, it turns my stomach, Wrexham. The man ain’t fit to live. If I had my way I would take a horse whip to him.’
‘He will be punished, you may rest easy on that—but perhaps not in quite the way you suggest.’
‘I don’t care what happens to him once he’s out of my house!’
‘I confess I shall feel easier in my mind if he has gone,’ Damian said. ‘It is my intention to meet Rosalyn in…’ he glanced at the gold pocket watch which hung from a chain attached to his waistcoat ‘…just about an hour’s time. After that I shall not be able to see her for some days. The attack on Jared makes it important that I move him to another location—but when I return I shall claim your sister. We shall be married, but not until we have reached our destination. You have my word that my intentions are honourable, and that I shall do my best to make her life as comfortable and happy as possible.’
‘And where will you live?’ Freddie looked sceptical. ‘Some outlandish place abroad, I suppose? Why can you not wait and marry her here? A proper
wedding with all her friends about her. Do the decent thing, Wrexham. You cannot expect her to give up everything she knows and loves for your sake?’
Damian hesitated before he answered. ‘I believe Rosalyn is well able to make her own decision, Eastleigh. I have a duty to Jared and it may be some years before I could return to this country to live. I do not imagine it would suit her to be kept waiting that long. Indeed, she has told me that she has often longed to travel.’
‘I suppose if it is what she wants…’ Freddie reluctantly offered his hand ‘…then of course you have my blessing. But I do not like it. I tell you frankly, sir, it ain’t what I want for my sister. She belongs here amongst her friends and family.’
Damian inclined his head, accepting his hand. Sir Frederick was right, of course; what he had to offer was not good enough for a woman like Rosalyn, but he believed he could make her happy. She would have his name, his fortune and his love. It was all he could give her.
Would it be enough? Only time would tell.
Chapter Nine
Rosalyn was detained by her aunt just as she was about to slip away from the house to meet Damian. Mrs Buckley was in high spirits and kept her talking for several minutes, so it was almost a quarter past the hour when she reached the orchard. She had hurried, fearing that Damian might be gone, and was breathless. When she saw him leaning against an apple tree, waiting for her, her heart took a flying leap. How handsome he was—and how very much she had come to love him!
‘I am late,’ she said as he reached for her hands, holding them and gazing into her face, before bending his head to kiss her lips. Her pulses raced with excitement as he caught her to him. She smiled, looking up at him. ‘Forgive me? My aunt had so much to say that I thought I should never manage to get away.’
‘Did you not know I would wait?’ His eyes teased and challenged her. ‘Did you think I should fly into a temper because you were a few minutes late and leave without seeing you?’
‘I was not sure. No, of course I did not think that, but you might have been in a hurry to start on your journey.’ Rosalyn recovered her breath and laughed at herself. ‘I should have known—but I was eager to see you. No, do not laugh at me! You must know I have been longing to see you—that my haste was because I was eager to be with you.’
‘No more eager than I to see you,’ Damian said, looking deep into her eyes as if he sought her very soul. His wicked smile had gone and now he was serious. ‘It will be the last time for a few days. I wish I did not have to leave you, my love—but I fear I must. Jared grows impatient at being almost a prisoner in the house, and who can blame him?’
‘No one. Of course you must think of his safety first. It must be almost unbearable for him to stay closed in—especially when the weather is so fine,’ she said. ‘Where will you take him?’
‘To France for the time being—and perhaps we shall all travel on to Spain in a few weeks. Jared will be happiest in a warmer climate. I too have grown accustomed to the heat from my years in India…’
‘And I have always loved the sunshine,’ Rosalyn said, answering the question in his eyes. ‘How exciting it will be, Damian. To see places I have only read of in books, to experience new cultures and meet new people. I have often thought I should enjoy travelling.’
‘I believe it will suit you,’ he replied with a strange little twist of his lips. ‘You are no pale English rose to wilt in the heat of summer, but a more exotic bloom—one best suited to growing wild.’
‘How well you know me! Perhaps too well. I shall never be able to have secrets from you.’
Rosalyn’s laughter rang out. She went into his arms willingly, lifting her face for his kiss. It felt so right, being held close to him. She had never known such sweetness, such content. Her body swayed into his, melding with his in the heat of their desire.
‘I want you so much, my darling,’ he whispered huskily into the softness of her fragrant hair. ‘I shall always love you. Always want and need you.’
‘And I long to be yours.’
Rosalyn felt as if her heart was being drawn from her body as they kissed. She was no longer a separate being, but a part of Damian: without him, she would wither and die like a vine in arid soil.
‘You will come back soon?’
‘The journey there and back should take me no more than a week,’ Damian promised, his thumb smoothing the lips he had just kissed so thoroughly. ‘Look for me in the gardens on the eve of your brother’s wedding. If I do not come then, I shall the following night or without fail the next.’
‘It does not matter. I shall be ready when you come,’ she promised. ‘Once Freddie is married, there will be nothing to hold me here. We can leave the moment you are ready.’
‘It cannot be soon enough for me,’ Damian said, drawing her into his arms once more. ‘Take care of yourself, my dearest. And remember, I love you. No matter what anyone says to you—I love you and I believe we shall be happy together.’
What did he mean—no matter what anyone said to her? Rosalyn would have asked, but he was kissing her again, kissing her with such tender passion that she let it go. Damian must know that no one could say anything which would make her change her mind about him.
‘And now you must go,’ he said as he released her. ‘You will be missed—and I have work to do if we are to leave this evening.’
‘This evening? You mean to travel by night?’
‘Jared and I leave on horseback after sunset,’ he replied. ‘Rajib and Nessa will follow by coach in the morning—that way I hope to avoid being seen and followed by anyone who might try to harm Jared.’
‘Do you think the men who attacked him are still around, waiting for another chance?’
‘No, I think they have been frightened off—but it is best to be careful. There may be others willing to take their place.’ He smiled as he saw her anxious look. ‘Do not worry, my love. Nothing will happen to us, I promise you. Jared was attacked because I was not there to protect him. In India I was known for the accuracy of my shooting—a skill much appreciated by villagers being attacked by renegade tigers, I assure you. You need have no fear for my safety.’
‘No, of course not.’ She smiled at the picture his words conjured up, realising there was so much she did not know of him or the life he had led in India. She reached up to brush her lips over his in a farewell kiss. ‘I must go now, but I shall be thinking of you until we meet again.’
From somewhere high above in the branches of an apple tree, a blackbird trilled its song. Rosalyn stood back, gazing at him for a moment longer, then turned resolutely.
She began to walk away, looking round to wave once more before leaving the orchard. Damian was still standing there, feet apart, eyes intent, watching her—as if he were reluctant to leave even though they had said their farewells.
Rosalyn knew an urgent longing to run back to him, to tell him she did not care about her brother’s wedding and would go with him that very moment. She fought the urge down, telling herself that she was being very foolish. In a week, Damian would return to her. She could not break her promise to Freddie, nor must she do anything that might spoil Beatrice’s wedding day. That would be extremely selfish of her, and might lay heavy on her conscience. No, no, she must be patient a little longer.
Lost in her own thoughts, Rosalyn walked slowly through the shrubbery that led towards the back lawn which in turn led up to her parlour. If she could gain the house without being seen, she might be able to snatch a little time for herself…time to dream, to think of Damian and remember what it felt like to be in his arms, what it would be like when they were married.
Because she was wrapped up in her plans for the future, she was completely unaware of Bernard Harrington until he suddenly stepped out in front of her, blocking her path.
‘Oh!’ She was startled to see him. ‘Mr Harrington. Where did you come from?’
There was such an odd expression in his eyes! It made her uncomfortable. Why did he look so very ple
ased with himself?
‘I have been watching you,’ he said, a sneer of mockery on his lips. ‘I saw you meeting your lover in the orchard…’
‘You have been spying on me!’ Rosalyn was shocked, a feeling of unease going through her as she looked into those cold, merciless eyes. He was so evil! ‘That was impertinent of you, sir. What gives you the right to follow me?’
‘I saw you alone in the gardens the other night,’ he said. ‘I guessed then that you had a lover—and so I followed you this afternoon when I saw you slip away. I saw you meet him. Who is he…the husband of one of your neighbours? What a deceitful little slut you are to be sure, the haughty Miss Eastleigh throwing herself into the arms of a man like any common bitch on heat.’
‘How dare you!’ Rosalyn’s hand shot out, striking him across the face. ‘How dare you insult me, sir?’
‘Whore!’ he snarled, catching her wrist. ‘I’ll teach you to respect your betters! You looked down your nose at me. I saw the disgust in your eyes, as if I were beneath you, some kind of filth from the gutters—and all the time you were sneaking out to meet a lover.’
‘You had no right to follow me,’ Rosalyn cried, twisting and turning furiously as she tried to break free of his grasp. ‘Take your hand off me, sir. What I do is not your affair.’
‘I have made it so,’ he said, his grip tightening on her wrist, bruising and hurting her as he swung Rosalyn round so that her back was to him. She cried out as he twisted her arm, pressing it hard up against her shoulder blade. He put his other arm about Rosalyn’s waist, so that she could not move as he pressed his face close to her ear, spewing out his spiteful threats. ‘I have decided you will make me a fine wife. I like women with spirit—and I need your inheritance, my dear. Marry me, and you need never reveal your shame—refuse me and I’ll ruin you.’
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