She congratulated herself on getting quite good at the art of looking as if she were having a wonderful time even when she felt like she was dying inside.
Two days later their coach pulled up into the drive of what would eventually be Blake's new home. Jerome Manor was quite a modern house in the Gothic style, with several small crennellated towers and high vaulted ceilings. The ground floor was a veritable maze of public rooms, from the grand hall and drawing room, to the ballroom and chapel.
Arabella thought it was something straight out of Mr. Walpole's or Mrs. Radcliffe's novels, but the room furnishings were lighter brocades and silks, so the feel was one of comfort and fashion rather than oppression.
Arabella was given a sunny room with her own bath and dressing room, situated on the first floor and overlooking the topiary gardens. The décor was sumtuous peacock blue and gold. She considered it one of the most splendid rooms she had ever seen.
The elderly mama and papa were the souls of kindness, taking her in like a long-lost daughter, and never asking any awkward questions. Like the rest of the friends in Blake's set, they minded their own business, nor did they gossip about anyone in the district.
There were two younger Jerome siblings remaining in the house, Ellen and Georgina, sixteen and fifteen respectively, and angelic with blonde hair and blue eyes. Then there was their eldest sister Josephine Stone, Henry's wife, who was a modest and quiet woman a few years older than herself, and very devoted to the Jerome family.
There were also two cousins visiting from the next County, including one tall dashing army officer introduced to her as Samuel Jerome, and his gaunt and grim older brother Martin, who kept to himself most of the time and was obviously ill. He looked as though he were perpetually haunted by some unseen horror.
It was a novelty for Arabella to be in such a large family set, and she was a bit overwhelmed at first. She had enjoyed the peace and quiet and congenial company at Michael Avenel's and the Elthams'. The mood at the Jeromes was one of almost forced hilarity at times. She knew grief took different people in different ways. The family had experienced a great deal of tragedy in a short time, and she did her best to be kind to them all.
Arabella had not expected to feel so at home immediately, but they were good-hearted people. The girls were so close to her own age that it was hard not to be swept up in their fun. They enjoyed walking, riding, hunting and fishing. Though Arabella did not believe in the latter two simply for sport, she was more than happy to contribute to the dinner table.
Blake saw a whole new side to Arabella as she reveled in the outdoors. The more he got to know Arabella, the more in love with he became. He could see how much in her element she was in Somerset.
He had always been a town dweller, but he had had some chances to hunt, shoot and fish when he had stayed with school friends, and also in the Peninsula, so he acquitted himself well. He also agreed with her that hunting should not be a wholesale slaughter for the so-called entertainment of house guests.
Though Blake began to see just how much he and Arabella had in common, there were so many rivals for her hand, with her friends from London and now the new local men she was introduced to, that it was nearly impossible for him to be alone with her. He had to restrain himself at times from simply throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off to his bedroom.
"Are you happy here, my dear?" he asked her quietly one day when he came over to admire some embroidery she was working on what he suspected had to be one of his own shirts.
She was in her gold dress with the black print. He had seldom seen her looking so lovely, and allowed himself the liberty of sitting closely to her.
"It's wonderful. A lovely place to live, some day, of course. Not that I would ever wish anything bad to befall Mr. Jerome, of course. But it's a fine home and they're a good family, wonderful companions."
"They like you a great deal too. As do most of the men in the neighborhood, and beyond," he added.
She stiffened, recalling the scene at Bath before they had arrived here. "I know I've been the center of attention here, but the novelty will soon wear off. It can be no bad thing for the girls either to widen their circle of acquaintance, though they are still young yet. But then, many women marry at sixteen, even younger sometimes."
"And yet you never came close? I mean, before you came to me?"
She shook her head. "I never even considered men until I met you. I mean, you became my guardian." She blushed. "My life was very quiet at home with Father. I had no wish for beaux. Even now-" She halted before she said anything she would regret.
"Yes, even now?" he prompted.
But as always, someone approached to join in the conversation, and their privacy was lost.
Adam Neville, who had soon followed on from Bath and insinuated himself into the family circle, had come over to admire her handiwork as well.
"The man who wins you for a wife will be a most fortune one," he said with his suavest smile.
She sparkled at the compliment, and hoped it was one which Blake would take note of. Surely no one would say the same of Leonore. But then, he wasn't interested in her skill with a needle, now was he.
Blake stood up and allowed Adam to sit. He was in agony. He was no fool-he could see the way things were tending. He had made all of the appropriate inquiries into Adam's affairs and his brother's and found nothing objectionable. He had been a bit premature perhaps, but he had thought it best to discover all he needed to know about Adam now rather than run the risk of Arabella getting in too deeply and then finding out he was not suitable for some reason.
He had watched Adam's assiduous attentions towards Arabella the past couple of weeks with a mixture of furious jealousy and relief. He would lose her, it was true. But there were some compensations. He would never need to know what sort of husband he would turn out to be. Whether he could keep her happy or he would end up miserable and heart-broken as his own father had done….
Blake sighed. He was being a coward, he knew full well. But he had had such a narrow escape with Rosalie that he hardly dared risk taking a chance on love, even though he longed for Arabella so badly that he could practically taste her.
His dreams had been growing more and more haunted by the memory of the one time she had been under him- He quailed at the recollection. What would their lives have been like if he had dared….
Life was made up of hundred of such moments-if he had left an hour sooner or later, he might not have rescued her and the hapless Mr. Greengage, and James the coach driver… He might have found her frozen or crushed to death.
The thought of Arabella not being in his life was so painful he had to sit down.
"What is it? Are you ill?" she asked in alarm, for he had groaned aloud without even realising it.
"Fine, fine. I just recalled an unpleasant task I had to perform. Pray excuse me." He ignored her worried look and fled.
Blake needed to be alone. He had also told her he had business to attend to. So he dutifully went in the library and sat with his head in his hands for a time, trying to tell himself it was all for the best.
He loved Arabella, but he could never keep her. He hadn't kept Rosalie, after all. Not that she had been worth keeping, but still. It did not bode well for future fidelity.
When he began to feel a bit better, Blake sighed and picked up the pile of letters he had been neglecting. He sorted through all the correspondence, which included several letters from London, some just keeping him abreast of the ordinary day to day events which concerned him at his three main addresses in London.
But the earliest one from the clinic piqued his interest. After a couple of more cases, there had been no more women dying of the cantharides poisoning. But one poor woman in Islington had been subjected to it, then suffocated. Murdered.
Islington… He wondered what the address could have been, for his other house-
He started as he opened the second letter from Dr. Herriot. Another woman had been found in Re
ading and another in Winchester. And one in Bristol and one in Bath. All prostitutes, all found abandoned, and all dying in the most painful agony. And all describing a tall, dark-haired man before they died….
The authorities, at the suggestion of the Bow Street magistrates, had contacted his clinic in London to see if they could shed any light on what had killed the girls, or who….
So close, right in this neighbourhood. And the dates. He checked, and checked again.
No. Surely it wasn't possible…
It was a coincidence. It had to be. He wrote back and asked Dr. Herriot to find out from any of the other large free clinics around London if they had had any cases, and to warn doctors in the meantime of the deadly poisoning. He could only hope whoever was doing this either ran out of the drug, or poisoned himself first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A messenger at the library door a few moments later interrupted Blake's alarmed cogitations. "If you please, sir, Mrs. Davenport says it's time."
"Time?" he repeated blankly. A moment later his eyes widened. He had only just seen her yesterday…. "Time! Oh Lord, it's time!"
He ran to find Arabella. "Sarah's sent for me, my dear. I have to go," he told her hurriedly as he flung on his coat to protect him from the bitter February winds.
She ran after him. "I'm coming with you."
"Oh, no-"
"I want to. You might need me, and I admit to being, well, curious. I want to help. Please."
Blake threw one arm around her and hugged her, relieved she wanted to be with him, and had not had her head turned completely by the endless round of pleasure she had been engaged in ever since they had left London. "Thank you."
She loved the feel of his arms around her, his hard body pressing into hers. Unable to resist, she turned her head.
Before he knew it, they were kissing so passionately he grasped her around the waist and began to slide his hips against hers…
He yanked his lips away from her, his eyes wide, appalled at what he had done, yet longing to see an answering response in her gaze.
"Arabella," he groaned.
Before she could say a word, the coachman shouted through the portico that he was ready.
Blake grabbed her cloak, thrust it at her, and hoisted her into the vehicle, all business once more. They hardly dared look at each other on their trip to Brimley, shaken to the core by the ardour of each other's response.
Sarah was in full labour by the time they got there, and they had a busy ten hours with little leisure to reflect upon the kiss and what it presaged for their relationship.
Sarah was very stoic, and her husband Alexander never left her side. Her brother Jonathan and his wife Pamela were in the next room, ever at the ready should they need help.
Arabella could hear the vicar praying incessantly. She was glad of the words of comfort, for she was frightened for her new-found friend. She knew how high the mortality rate was for women in child-birth. Even if all went well with the labour and delivery, there was still the aftermath of the birth to cope with.
Once again Arabella found herself wondering about her own future as a wife and mother. The thought had frightened her when she had first contemplated it, when she had observed Blake being so solicitous of the Elthams' infant.
But if Blake loved her, he would never let anything happen to her. He was a doctor, for heaven's sake. He had saved her life ten times over the night of the coach accident. If she wasn't safe with a man who knew all about women's health, who could she be safe with?
Rosalie's accusations still stung though, even after all this time, even knowing that she was so vindictive she would say anything to damage Blake.
Love was all about trust. He had kissed her this afternoon. The raw desire that he had shown her demonstrated that he'd been lying to her all the time. Wanting only to be her guardian indeed. The feelings which had sprung to the fore at the inn were still there. Why then had he allowed her to spend so much time with other men? Why had he never spoken up?
She sighed. It was all too confusing. And not likely to be resolved at the moment.
Arabella turned her attention to the more practical matters of daily life. The Jeromes had decided to have a ball in their honour; it was rather too soon after their grievous loss, but Mr. Jerome had insisted that he wanted to introduce his new heir to all their friends, and so it had been set for tomorrow, the first of March.
It had been a little over two months since she had met Blake. Yet her feelings for him had only grown, not diminished. Perhaps tomorrow night might be the best chance she would ever have to tell him how she really felt.
She went over her wardrobe in her mind as she sat holding Sarah's other hand. She felt as if she were being selfish, but in truth she wanted to take her mind off her friend's suffering.
Sarah's face was pasty and covered in perspiration. She lifted her cool compress and bathed her brow with it, and then turned back to her niggling little concerns.
It was a pity she didn't have the black and silver gown with her, but she did possess one special gown here, a white jaconet shot through with gold threads and a matching shot silk shawl. Blake had never seen the gown before, and she looked forward to surprising him. She had brought her pearls with her, and so had all she needed. She would look elegant, seductive. If she couldn't convince Blake tomorrow that she was the woman he wanted to marry, she never would.
But if not, then what? Remain as his ward? Unthinkable. Marry Adam or Philip? He had said Philip was not a suitable match. While he had proven to be a good friend, he was not interested in her hand in marriage. He had told her that himself.
But Adam? Well, he was a cousin. It was commonly done. It would not be a love match, but it would be an equal one….
Sarah shrieked suddenly, "Don't do it!"
Arabella jumped. "Do what?" she stammered, for no one had so much as moved in the room.
Who had Sarah been speaking to?
She turned to her husband. "I love you so much. Nothing can ever mean as much to me as the miracle of your love, except the children we're blessed with."
Alexander kissed her tenderly on the brow. "I know it, dearest. I feel the same."
"All the Rakehells thus far have been so blessed with love matches. I hope the rest of our friends will be as well."
Arabella and Blake both started as she looked from one to the other.
"Oh, God, it's close now," Sarah groaned suddenly.
Arabella could see the veins in her neck bulge as she bore down.
"She's crowning," Blake gasped. "Arabella, the towels, quickly!"
She leapt up to do his bidding.
The baby slid out into his hands a moment later. Blake tied off the umblical cord, cut it, and then thwacked the infant on the rump.
The boy let out a small outraged howl.
Blake smile, and handed the baby to Arabella to clean it off.
She was sure she had just witnessed a miracle.
Blake kissed her tenderly on the brow. "Thank you for your help. You were wonderful."
"It was wonderful."
"Arabella, we need to talk-" he began impetuously.
"Can we see him yet?" Alexander asked worriedly.
Arabella finished cleaning him off, whilst Blake went to check his patient. Soon he told the proud Papa that he could hand the baby to his equally proud Mama.
"Is it all over?" Jonathan asked eagerly from the doorway.
"It is," Sarah said with a smile. "Come in and see him. Baby Jonathan, Little John for short."
Jonathan and Pamela practically ran into the room hand in hand. "Little John, eh? Gadzookers." He gave his sister a huge kiss, and there wasn't a dry eye in the room as he went around and hugged everyone.
Alexander, not to be outdone by his extroverted brother-in-law, followed suit, starting with his wife and finishing with Blake.
"I'm so grateful. Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Glad to help. And now, this young lady and young man ne
ed some rest."
"So do you and Arabella."
Blake nodded. "Arabella can go lie down. I'm going to sit up with Sarah a little while longer, just to make sure."
"I can stay," she offered.
"No, my dear. You've not had any sleep for hours, and there is the Jeromes' ball tonight in our honour. Normally I wouldn't care, but they've gone to so much trouble. So you go with Pamela now, and I'll call you when it's time to leave."
She hesitated, but he gave her a warm smile. "Go on, love. We'll talk later. I promise."
Noting his earnest expression, she nodded. Stretching up on tiptoe, she kissed his now-bristled cheek, and stroked his shoulder. "Make sure you rest too."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 85