Dreaming of You

by Jennifer McNare

  You are to tell no one aside from your immediate family of his abduction. Anyone who inquires about his whereabouts should be told that he is traveling abroad and is expected to return before the year’s end. You will not involve the authorities in any way, nor will you illicit the aid of a private investigator or any other method in an attempt to discover your son’s whereabouts.

  If you fail to follow these instructions, you will never see your son again. You are being watched.

  Gavin stared at the letter, written in the same elegant script as the one he’d been given by Sam after he’d awakened in the cottage, his mind reeling as he struggled to make sense of it all. Thinking it through, he began to understand his father’s behavior. Apparently, aside from his immediate family, no one knew of his abduction. He felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief. There would be no scandal, no gossip, and no probing questions from those eager to learn the sordid details of his disappearance. For that at least, he was grateful.

  Tossing the letter atop his father’s desk, Gavin turned and made his way back to the sofa. Once he was seated he allowed his head to fall backward and rest against the cool leather and then stared up at the ceiling. His thoughts continued to spin wildly as his father moved toward him and regained his own seat.

  “What on earth was this all about, Gavin? Why were you taken?”

  He considered telling his father the truth, but after a moment’s hesitation he decided against it. What purpose would it serve to reveal the true depravity of what he had endured, that his own flesh and blood had been stolen from him? Surely it would only cause his family pain, even more than they had already suffered. Raising his head, he turned and met his father’s concerned gaze. “I’m sorry father, but for reasons that I cannot explain, I think it is best that I say nothing of the purpose of my abduction or of what was required of me while I was gone.”

  The duke appeared utterly bewildered. “Were you harmed?” he asked after a moment.

  “No.” Gavin shook his head. Not physically anyhow, he silently clarified.

  His father looked as if he was about to demand an explanation, but after studying Gavin’s face, he then sighed in resignation. “Fine, if you are certain that it is for the best then I will not question you further.”

  “I am. Thank you, Father.”

  “Well then, I had best send word to your mother that you are safely home. She has been distraught since your disappearance, and trying not to show it has become increasingly difficult for her, as it has been for all of us.” Rising from his chair, he walked over to his desk, sat down and began to write.

  Leaning his head back against the sofa Gavin closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift. Within seconds they had settled once again upon her.

  Chapter 10

  As Melody made her way to the breakfast room, she felt a tiny flutter within her abdomen. She stopped, standing still, smiling as she placed her hand atop her expanding belly, waiting for another sign of movement. She was five months into her pregnancy and the increasing signs of life within her rapidly enlarging abdomen were becoming more and more frequent. She loved the feel of the tiny movements and her smile widened when she felt a second faint flutter a moment later.

  She was still smiling when she entered the breakfast room and settled into her chair a couple of minutes later. “Has the earl already eaten?” she asked the bright-eyed serving girl who stepped forward to pour her tea, glancing toward the empty seat at the head of the table.

  “No, My Lady. The earl hasn’t come down yet.”

  That was odd. Charles was an early riser, always up before she was. “Has he summoned Monsieur Theroux?” she asked, referring to his French valet.

  “I do not know, My Lady. Shall I send one of the footmen to inquire?”

  “No, Emma, that won’t be necessary. I am sure he will be down shortly.” She tried not to look pleased by his absence, though she was. She might actually be able to enjoy her breakfast for once, without the uncomfortable weight of her husband’s watchful stare. Ever since the local physician had confirmed her condition, Charles’ gaze seemed to fall upon her with increasing frequency. She could almost see him counting down the days in his head as he waited for his highly-coveted heir to be born. She found his self-satisfaction loathsome, but at least now that her condition was obvious for all to see, Charles no longer felt the need to come to her chamber each night, and for that welcome reprieve she was inordinately grateful.

  At night, alone in her bed, she was free to fantasize and to dream of the man she loved, the man whose baby grew within her womb each and every day. She already loved their child so much and could hardly wait until the day she would be able to hold it in her arms. The only thing that continued to trouble her was Charles’ expectation that the baby would be a boy. He was completely convinced that the child she carried was the male heir he so desperately craved. But what if it was a girl? Although she would be just as happy if the baby was a girl, she was terrified of what her husband’s reaction would be if she gave birth to a daughter. Would he expect her to try again? Would he think to reenact his original scheme, abducting someone else and then expecting her to return to the cottage and steal yet another man’s child? Just the thought of it made her feel sick to her very core. She couldn’t do it, she wouldn’t do it! No matter what Charles threatened, she knew she could never allow him to do something so heinous again, not to her or to anyone else.

  However, she was honest enough with herself to admit that there was another reason the thought was so utterly repellant. Him. After being with him, falling in love with him, she couldn’t even fathom another man’s touch. Instinctively she knew that it would never be the same with anyone else; what they’d had was special. She believed that with all of her heart. In the meantime, she could only hope and pray that she carried a son, for at this point there was little else she could do. For the moment however, the low rumbling in her stomach managed to temporarily pull her from her silent musing, and with a low sigh Melody turned her attention to her breakfast.

  Several minutes later, when she had finished her fully-laden platter of ham, eggs and jellied-toast, favorites during the past weeks of her pregnancy, she was surprised that Charles still hadn’t made an appearance. Despite the pleasant reprieve, her curiosity was piqued. What on earth was keeping him this morning, she wondered? She had learned early on that Charles was the type of person who adhered to a strict daily routine. It wasn’t like him to deviate from his long-established schedule.

  Rising from her chair, Melody motioned to one of the ever-present footmen who stood at his nearby post.

  “Yes, My Lady?” he asked, his expression accommodating.

  “Will you obtain Monsieur Theroux’s whereabouts please?”

  “Of course, My Lady, I shall see to it at once.” He turned, but stopped short at the sudden appearance of Monsieur Theroux on the threshold of the breakfast room.

  “Oh, good morning, Monsieur Theroux. I was just sending Henry to find you,” Melody said. “Have you attended the earl this morning?”

  “No, My Lady. The earl has yet to summon me,” he replied in his heavily accented voice. His expression was somewhat anxious as he looked at her questioningly. Obviously he was concerned and had come to seek her instruction, unwilling to disturb Charles without good cause.

  “I see. Well, perhaps he merely required a bit of extra sleep this morning.” It seemed unlikely, but Charles was getting on in years. Perhaps his advanced age was no longer compatible with his stringent routine. “If he hasn’t summoned you within the next quarter hour please let me know. I shall be in the library.”

  Nodding, Monsieur Theroux quietly left the room.

  Fifteen minutes later, Melody was seated in her favorite overstuffed chair reading a worn copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream when Monsieur Theroux appeared in the doorway of the library. Glancing up, she met his troubled expression. Evidently Charles had yet to summon him. Placing the book on a nearby table, Melody stood up.
“Perhaps we should find out what is keeping him.”

  The petite, olive-skinned Frenchman nodded in agreement, stepping to the side to allow her to pass. He said nothing as they exited the room, merely following a few steps behind her as they moved down the hall and up the front staircase in the direction of Charles’ room.

  Stopping outside of her husband’s door, Melody hesitated for a moment and then lifted her hand to knock softly upon the heavy wooden panel. When there was no answer she knocked a second time, more loudly this time. Once again she was met with silence. She turned toward Monsieur Theroux, and for a moment their eyes met in silent speculation. He nodded his head, the movement barely discernible. Turning back to the door she grasped the handle and pushed it open.

  Melody’s hand flew to her mouth at the sight of Charles lying on the floor a few feet from his bed, his nightshirt twisted around his bony frame, his vacant, unseeing eyes open and staring into nothingness. She wavered for a moment and quickly pressed her other hand against the doorframe to steady herself. In the next instant, she heard the valet’s sharp indrawn breath behind her. Recovering herself, she stepped forward, calling to Monsieur Theroux over her shoulder as she swayed slightly and then moved toward Charles on unsteady legs. “Send someone to the village to fetch Dr. Blackburn at once.”

  “It isn’t necessary, Mrs. Grimes. Truly I’m fine,” Melody insisted, though her voice seemed weak, even to her own ears. She felt fine physically, but mentally she felt drained. She had spent the better part of the past hour, as they’d waited for the arrival of the local physician, in a state of relative shock, trying to get her mind around the fact that Charles Cavendish, her husband of less than a year, had just died. And now that Dr. Blackburn had arrived, and officially pronounced her husband dead, the enormity of the situation seemed to have finally hit her. “There is so much to be done. I have to notify Charles’ family, and-”

  “Nonsense,” the older woman interrupted, her expression uncompromising as she determinedly steered Melody toward the bed. “The first thing you need to do is to allow Dr. Blackburn to examine you.”

  Elizabeth, standing a few feet behind Mrs. Grimes, bobbed her head in agreement as the kindly housekeeper continued to guide her toward the bed.

  “You have suffered a terrible shock, My Lady, and Monsieur Theroux said that you very nearly fainted when you found…that is…err…earlier.”

  Of course she’d nearly fainted. She had found Charles lying dead on his bedroom floor. It didn’t seem like such a shocking, and certainly not an alarming response to her, despite her aversion toward her now late husband, but apparently Mrs. Grimes felt otherwise. She might have continued to argue, but a soft knock sounded on the connecting door between Charles’ room and her own, diverting her attention.

  “Come in doctor,” Mrs. Grimes called out, continuing to ignore Melody’s feeble resistance as she pushed her gently toward the edge of the bed.

  Dr. Blackburn entered the room a moment later, his dark leather medical bag in hand. “I am finished with my examination, Lady Edgington,” he said, his tone solemn. “It appears to have been his heart. Please accept my condolences.”

  “I see,” she nodded, sitting down with a weary sigh on the edge of the mattress. “Thank you, Dr. Blackburn.

  He studied her for a moment. “How are you feeling, dear?” he asked, quickly slipping into a more familiar address, his expression concerned.

  “I’m fine,” she said, managing a weak smile for the kindhearted physician she’d known since childhood. “It’s just, such a shock, that is all.”

  “Of course, of course,” he nodded.

  “She nearly fainted earlier,” Mrs. Grimes piped in with a dogged look at Dr. Blackburn.

  Melody suppressed a groan of frustration. Mrs. Grimes, bless her heart, had become her self-appointed caretaker since Dr. Blackburn had confirmed her pregnancy several months earlier, always watching over her and fretting about her delicate condition. Arguing was sure to prove pointless, she realized. She might as well give in and allow the doctor to check her over.

  “Did she now?” Dr. Blackburn said, looking to the concerned housekeeper, and then to Elizabeth who was once again nodding her head in confirmation. “Well then, perhaps we had best take a look at you, dear.” He turned his attention back to Melody with a gentle, yet determined look on his face.

  “Fine.” Melody fought the urge to roll her eyes and relented without further argument.

  With Mrs. Grimes and Elizabeth hovering anxiously nearby, Dr. Blackburn methodically checked her heartbeat, temperature and other vital statistics, before moving the tube-like instrument he referred to as a stethoscope, to her enlarged abdomen.

  After several minutes of watching him as he listened intently through the earpiece, and intermittently pressed his hands with varying degrees of pressure along the rounded planes of her stomach, Melody was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. His expression, decidedly more intent than it had been during her previous examinations, was making her nervous. “Is… something wrong?” she asked hesitantly.

  Dr. Blackburn looked up, seeming surprised by her question. “No, dear, nothing at all,” he said, pulling the listening piece from his ear. “Everything is fine.” He smiled reassuringly. “It’s just that… well…I believe that I may have a bit of a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?” What on earth was he talking about?

  “Your mother has a twin sister, does she not?”

  “Yes, my aunt Esther,” Melody answered haltingly, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

  “I thought I recalled your mother mentioning it once before.” He nodded knowingly, as if her answer had confirmed something for him. “Did you know that twins have a tendency to occur more often in families whose members have had twins previously?”

  “Twins?” She regarded Dr. Blackburn searchingly as understanding slowly began to dawn.

  “If I am not mistaken, and I do not think that I am,” he said, smiling warmly now, “you are carrying twins, my dear.”

  Twins. Two babies! Good heavens, she certainly hadn’t expected that. “Oh my.” She raised her hands, placing one on each side of her stomach, her eyes wide with wonder.

  “The timing is unfortunate of course,” he said, his tone growing somber once again, “discovering it only now, when the earl has just passed.”

  “What? Oh yes, of course,” she agreed quickly, having completely forgotten about Charles for a moment. “I am sure he would have been most pleased.” In truth, she wasn’t so sure that Charles would have been pleased at all. But for her, it was as if she had just received the most amazing gift, another child, another part of him for her to cherish and love.

  Unaware of the sudden joy that soared within her, Dr. Blackburn nodded solemnly, patting her hand in a sympathetic gesture.

  Chapter 11

  “To my sister, Lavinia Bingham, I leave a lump sum of twenty thousand pounds,” Mr. Stewart, Charles’ solicitor for the past twenty years, read from the document he held in front of him. He lifted his eyes then, directing his gaze briefly toward the grey-haired woman seated to Melody’s right.

  Melody glanced at Charles’ sister from the corner of her eye, noting the look of satisfaction upon the older woman’s face. They had met for the first time the day before, when she and her son had arrived at Edgington for Charles’ funeral. The meeting had been awkward to say the least. On the surface, Lavinia had been coolly polite, but there had been a definite undertone of dislike, perhaps even contempt, that Melody had not failed to miss. Her son Nelson Bingham, Viscount Hattford’s attitude however, had been blatantly hostile. He’d glanced at her enlarged midsection with loathing in his eyes before the introductions had even been made. He sat now, on the other side of Lavinia, leaning slightly forward, his expression anxious as he waited for Mr. Stewart to continue. Mr. Stewart however, turned his attention back to her.

  “To my wife, Melody Cavendish, I leave my estate in Lancashire and a lump sum of forty th
ousand pounds.”

  Melody’s mouth fell open in shock. Charles had left her a home and more than enough money to support herself and her family in comfort for as long as they all lived. Even if it were only a fraction of her husband’s immense fortune, it was still an enormous sum and much more than she had ever expected to receive.

  Turning his gaze back to the document, Mr. Stewart continued to read. “The remainder of my estate shall be held in trust for my son and heir, accessible to him on his twenty-first birthday.”

  Melody had no time to absorb that shocking revelation, as a sharp indrawn breath immediately drew all eyes toward Nelson. His expression was livid. It appeared that he had been cut out of Charles’ will completely. He opened his mouth to speak, but his mother quickly placed a calming hand upon his arm.

  “And if Lady Edgington fails to produce a son?” she asked, directing her question to Mr. Stewart, her voice cool and businesslike. “What then?”

  Mr. Stewart didn’t seem surprised by Lavinia’s interruption. He met her cool regard for a moment, and then turned toward Melody. “As per the earl’s instructions, if Lady Edgington produces a daughter, the child will receive a sum of twenty thousand pounds to be held in trust until her twenty-first birthday, or upon her marriage, whichever comes first.”

  Melody’s mouth fell open. She had never expected Charles to be so generous. But then again, she supposed it would seem quite odd if he had left the child nothing. Even if the child was a girl, he wouldn’t want anyone to suspect that it wasn’t his. It only stood to reason that he would continue to protect his pride even after his death. But whatever his reason, she didn’t care. Her children’s futures were secure regardless of their genders, and that was all that mattered to her.

  Mr. Stewart cleared his throat, his expression suddenly uneasy. “His title, all entailed assets, and a sum of one-hundred pounds would then pass to Lord Hattford,” he continued, glancing briefly at Nelson and then back to Lavinia, “and the remainder of the estate would be divided equally among the afore mentioned charitable organizations.”