Aubree glared at him coldly. “I know nothing of what happened before I came, but sheep can’t fly and wheat can’t play with fire. I thank you for your kindness, sir, but I must be going.”
She was every inch the regal countess as she swept from the room, despite the fact that curls escaped her chignon in unruly order and a kitten trailed at her heels. Harley accepted his dismissal, but she had given him food for thought. If Heath had actually been innocent all these years, the Sotheby family owed him a great deal, indeed.
As the next day wore on with no signs of improvement, Aubree seldom stirred from Austin’s bedside. For lack of any proper staff structure, John and Matilda, their personal servants, were left in charge of running the house and estate. They struggled with the day-to-day problems and delegated all else to the dowager and Aubree, neither of whom paid great attention to detail.
Aubree sent back down a stack of mail, unopened, including several official-looking sealed letters and an assortment of personal notes. Matilda studied them in dismay. If the lady only had a proper secretary. . . but there again, a house with no butler could scarcely be expected to have a secretary.
The plump lady’s maid left the letters in the study and sailed into the kitchen. At least a scullery maid and a cook had been acquired, though they spent more time gossiping than working, it appeared. They jumped guiltily as Matilda soared in.
“How is his lordship?” the young scullery maid asked, too inexperienced to treat her betters with deference.
“No change that I see,” Mattie replied. “Can you fix me something light for her ladyship? She doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.”
“The poor, wee bit of a thing. It was lovely watching the two of them together, just like in the stories. Anyone with half an eye could see how they adored each other,” the new cook declared.
“And to think me mum said he’d beat her,” exclaimed the maid. “Why, his lordship would no more lift his hand to her than to these pots.” She shook the blackened skillet she had been scrubbing for emphasis.
“Fools people be,” Mattie grumbled as she set napkins and utensils on a tray for Aubree. “There’s those who ain’t no better than they should be, but where are those who raised him up from a lad? Why don’t they step forward and say it’s all brazen lies, that his lordship could not hurt a lady, and put a halt to this nastiness? That’s what I want to know.” She slammed the tray down on the table, set the bowl of broth on it that Cook gave to her, and sailed out of the kitchen again.
The kitchen servants gazed at one another guiltily. They all knew people who had worked at the abbey in the past, and never once had any of those former servants had anything hard to say about the present earl. Yet none of them had stepped forward to defend him, either. Maybe it was about time.
Aubree clenched her teeth and using only a small set of twitchers, grasped the stubborn sliver of metal in Heath’s knee. Telling herself it worked on the same principle as a splinter, she tried to ease the shrapnel from the wound. He groaned, but she ignored the sound, knowing he was not conscious.
The metal gave way with difficulty, and she felt sick to her stomach when it seemed to saw through tissue. But at last, it came free, and she stared at the sliver in disgust and satisfaction. This scrap of iron could have naught to do with a fall from a cliff, but much to do with his lameness. She wondered how many more of the nasty pieces lay embedded in that swollen mass of flesh?
The wound began to drain and she hastily set to cleansing it. So far, she could find no signs of the infection spreading, but she lived in dread of the day when she might. If Heath harbored doubts about taking a wife under present circumstances, he would most certainly refute their marriage if he should lose a leg. For her sake, as well as his, the leg must be saved. She prayed the doctor would hurry.
It was late afternoon of the third day before an exhausted Jamie rode into the courtyard, trailing an equally fatigued gentleman on a blooded stallion. The gentleman’s hat was dust grimed, and a layer of topsoil appeared to coat his elegant riding coat and buff breeches. As he swung down from his mount, a flurry of youngsters flocked to take his reins and help him with his instrument bag.
Alarmed by this ragtag reception instead of the usual liveried footmen, the physician scanned the worn stone walls of Atwood Abbey’s impressive facade. It was no doubt the residence of nobility, but the broken panes and boarded openings of the rambling structure told a tale of lost wealth. Remembering the comfortable mansion he had just left, the physician made a mental note of this decay.
A harried maid answered his knock and greeted his card with relief. His short strides could scarcely keep pace with the maid’s quick ones as she led him up the stairs, without so much as an offer of a rest or washcloth.
He understood why when he came face to face with the lovely Lady Aubree. He had known her as a child, watched in admiration as she grew up through adolescence. The woman who stood before him now was even more lovely than her youth had promised, but all trace of the lively spirit that had set her apart had disappeared. He noted the black circles beneath her eyes and contemplated sending for a carriage to return her where she belonged.
But Aubree recognized her childhood friend and her eyes lit with a glow of relief and delight. “Dr. Jennings! Oh, thank goodness. You will know what to do. I am so grateful to you for coming. I hope it has not been a serious intrusion.”
She turned to Mattie without giving her guest a chance to comment. “We must give Dr. Jennings time to rest. It’s an abominable journey and he must have made it in incredible time. Did you have one of the bedrooms cleaned as I asked?”
Mattie nodded and turned to lead the doctor from the room, but he set his bag upon the chair and stopped to wash his hands in the basin.
“Actually, I was in Hampshire when the message arrived. Luckily, the lad stopped at Lady Clara’s to rest and caught me before I left. Your father and aunt send their regards. There are other messages, but they can wait. Let me take a look at the patient first.”
He moved swiftly and efficiently, examining the wound on Austin’s head, looking into his eyes, searching out the damaged ribs, before uncovering the swollen leg. Aubree hovered near at hand, praying silently.
Heath groaned and shifted restlessly, but he did not regain consciousness. Finally, Dr. Jennings shook his head and covered the leg.
Panic-stricken, Aubree confronted him. “Is there no hope, Dr. Jennings? Can we not do something? He has fought so hard to save that leg. . .”
The doctor was of no great stature, and his eyes met Aubree’s on an even level. He regarded her with sympathy. “I will do what I can, my lady, but I make no promises. He must have suffered much to carry such wounds with him for so long. There are very few doctors on battlefields, and they cannot have time to remove all the debris that is lodged in a wound. Generally, it is easier to amputate. Your husband must have fought as well off the field as on to come away with that leg whole. Those pieces of shrapnel must be removed, however, if we are to stop the infection. Let me wash and change, and then I shall see what I can do.”
Aubree gestured for Mattie to take the physician to the room prepared for him.
Then she sat on the chair beside the bed, folded her arms on Heath’s pillow, and buried her face against them. She prayed as she had never prayed before. She did not pray for herself, but for Heath. If only he could recover, she would accept whatever fate brought her, but she could not bear the thought of a world without this gentle, cynical man. He had to live. There were too few men like him. He deserved life, a healthy life, some happiness from the poor lot he had been given. Somewhere, Someone had to hear prayers.
By the time Dr. Jennings returned to the earl’s chambers, she had restored herself to respectability and tried to look relaxed and confident.
He hesitated when she made it evident she intended to stay. “I would prefer it if you would send his lordship’s valet or a footman or someone with a strong stomach, my lady. I cannot recomm
end an operation such as this to one of your gentle nature. I will not have time to hunt for smelling salts should you faint.”
“Then I would recommend my services over the others you named,” Aubree replied. “Not one of them has had the courage to remove the slivers that have come to the surface. They have left that task to me.”
He looked dubious, but consented to her unusual demand.
Aubree worked at Dr. Jennings’ side as he probed and located the debris forced to the surface by Austin’s fall. More still lay embedded close to the bone, but these, too, were removed with tedious meticulousness. The water in the basin grew stained with red and had to be replaced, but Austin lay unconscious throughout the proceedings.
They worked by candlelight as the last piece of metal was removed from the gaping wound. Aubree felt her hands shaking with weariness and horror, but a ray of hope kept her going. Heath lay peacefully as the wound was neatly stitched and Dr. Jennings rigged some ingenious invention to drain the remaining fluid.
“What are the chances of saving his leg?” Aubree inquired, admiring the physician’s skill.
“I cannot say, my lady. Such a wound invites putrefaction. You must be very careful in tending it. He must not move it until it begins to heal, and then only a little at a time. It would not do if the wound reopened.”
Aubree suspected the worst of the ordeal lay ahead, when Heath regained consciousness but could not be allowed out of bed. He was too active to lay still long.
She made mental notes of the doctor’s instructions as he finished and they cleaned up. But now that the worst was over, she recalled the doctor’s words upon his arrival. “You said my father sent his regards? Was he in Hampshire, too?”
The physician continued his methodical ablutions. “Visiting your Aunt Clara. He had a busy summer and was in need of a rest.” He reached for a towel and diverted the subject. “Your cousin’s child is due any day now. They were hoping you would return for the lying-in.”
Aubree was still trying to deal with the thought of her father needing a rest. Her father never rested. There had been times when she wondered if he ever slept. And the fact that Dr. Jennings had been there with him created further suspicions.
“My father is not ill?” she demanded.
“I recommended that he rest. He will not listen to me for above a week, but that is sufficient time for him to worry your Aunt Clara to death. I may have to send her somewhere to recuperate afterward. They were hoping they might persuade you to accompany me back to London for the remainder of the Season.”
Aubree dismissed the suggestion with a brief gesture. “You must explain the seriousness of Heath’s accident and give them my apologies. I would dearly love to see Emery’s babe when Heath is better. But if my father is ill, I would like to know about it.”
“My lady, if I think you should be notified, I will, but you have a husband to look after now. Let someone else worry about the rest of the world.”
That did not satisfy her, but Aubree saw the wisdom of his reminder. Even if her father were ill, she could do nothing. And he obviously wanted her to do nothing. Feeling sick with grief that she and her father had grown so estranged, she nodded her understanding.
“I thank you, Dr. Jennings, and I will trust you to keep your word. My father is a stubborn man, but I love him. Perhaps I have not shown it in the past, but I am trying to mend my ways. As soon as Heath is well, we will go to see him.”
Dr. Jennings nodded. “You must get some rest now. Shall I call for one of the maids?”
Aubree glanced at her husband’s still figure and felt the weight of weariness dragging her down. But the dowager and all the servants waited for news, and she could not let them down.
“John will be waiting outside. He will sit with Austin while I go below. I don’t know what we would have done without you, Doctor.”
That wasn’t the answer he had wanted, but he had no authority to overrule a countess. He watched her descend the marble staircase and shook his head in dismay. The duke had his heir right there. ’Twas a pity the courts and society did not recognize a woman.
Chapter 23
The next morning, Dr. Jennings removed the bandage on Heath’s leg and nodded encouragingly. “The swelling has gone down and there is no new sign of infection. I shall give it one more day, then I will carry the news to your father. He has been most concerned about the two of you.”
Aubree handed him a clean bandage in silence. She began to understand better why one of the country’s best surgeons had traipsed to this wilderness at her plea for help. Her father had paid him well to carry news of her well-being and to spy on Heath. She could not complain if it resulted in her husband being able to walk again, but she wondered how high a price she would have to pay in return.
After Dr. Jennings left the chamber, Matilda brought up the latest collection of notes and letters. Aubree found notes of sympathy and concern from neighbors she had never met. For all she knew, they thought Heath on his deathbed and wished to impress his widow-to-be. She had grown as cynical as he in this respect.
She recognized Geoffrey’s handwriting and discarded those letters without opening. He could have nothing to say that would interest her anymore.
Heath stirred, and she dumped the remainder of the stack on the tray for Matilda to take back. She had no time for answering letters or invitations.
Another intrusion later in the day could not be so easily dismissed. Joan came to the bedchamber door, nervously twisting her fingers. “H’it’s the sheriff, milady. ’E wishes to speak to ’is lordship and ’e won’t go away, milady.”
Aubree continued fitting the cold compress to Heath’s brow, but she frowned. “Whatever on earth could the sheriff want? Surely he must know Lord Heathmont is not well.”
“I told ’im, milady, but ’e don’t believe me. ’E ’as to see for ’imself.”
Joan’s grammar had a tendency to slide under pressure. The maid would be of little use in this situation. Sighing, Aubree handed over nursing duties to the girl. “Keep the compress cold. I will go down and speak to the man.”
Checking her hair and gown in the mirror to be certain she had not let herself become too disreputable, Aubree impatiently departed the sickroom.
Joan had left the sheriff standing in the gloomy hallway, and judging by the muddy state of his boots, that was better than he deserved. Aubree threw the abominations a disdainful glance before turning her haughty glare on this arrogant intruder. She knew well how to intimidate when necessary.
Not bothering to introduce herself, she jumped into the fray fighting. “Joan tells me you wish to speak with my husband. That is quite impossible, under the circumstances. If there is a business matter that must be discussed, you will have to deal with me.”
The sheriff was a well-built man of middle age, and he looked down upon her with astonishment.
She had only pinned her hair in a chignon and wore a simple blue muslin, but she did not lack confidence that her bearing clarified the distance between their places. She assumed he took objection to her age, and she stiffened her spine even more.
“It is a legal matter, milady, and it must be to his lordship that I speak. I have heard that there has been an accident, and he is resting, but I will gladly wait until he wakes.”
Aubree regarded him coldly. “Then you may wait until he is six feet under, sir. The chances of that are as good as of his waking.”
The sheriff’s ruddy color paled. He had obviously considered the rumors of the earl’s accident as not serious. “I apologize, milady,” he said humbly. “I had no idea it was so serious. But they say the maid that died was used to work here. . .”
Aubree grew still. “What maid?” she demanded.
“Blanche Shaughnessy, milady. Her brother’s been with you as a stable lad, they say. She was found dead in yon quarry.”
Aubree felt a sharp pain in her midsection. Michael’s sister had been a liar and no better than he should be, but she and
her unborn child deserved better than to end up at the bottom of a terrifying crevasse. But she recognized the reason for the sheriff’s visit.
Gathering up her courage, she replied coolly, “I doubt if my husband can help you. The girl was sent from here well over a year ago. And since my husband has been bedridden for some days, I can assure you that he can provide no details of her death. He nearly lost his own life in that same quarry. It is a dangerous spot, but there are those who insist on destroying the fences and ignoring the warnings. Perhaps you would do better to go after those, Sheriff.”
“I made certain of the dates, milady. His lordship’s accident was four days hence. Blanche died the night before.”
Aubree paled. The night before the accident, Heath had never come home. But there was no reason this man need know that. “I do not see how that affects my husband. In any case, he is in no position to talk with anyone at the moment. You may find Michael in the stable, if you care to speak with him. He is a good lad, perhaps he knows more about his sister than I. I bid you good day, sir.”
She swung around and nearly walked into the short, stout figure standing behind her. Nodding a greeting to the doctor, Aubree skirted around him and walked blindly toward the stairs.
Behind her, Dr. Jennings spoke gruffly. “The lady has asked you to leave, sir. I would advise you to do as bid.”
The sheriff was nearly twice the physician’s size, but he knew when he was beaten. Grudgingly, he turned his muddy boots out the door.
The doctor watched him go with growing qualms. What kind of household had the duke sent his gently bred daughter to? Had the powerful Duke of Ashbrook been bested by a country earl? Or had he lost his keen sense of character judgment? Surely he could not know the conditions under which Aubree must live. To think that a country-bumpkin sheriff dared confront a countess with his gory tales! It showed a singular lack of respect. The duke needed to be told.
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