by Adele Clee
With one last glance at the upstairs windows of the inn, she stepped back until out on the lane. It took every ounce of strength she possessed to walk away. But the invisible thread tying her to Everleigh proved hard to ignore.
Head down she hurried along the road, ignoring the carts and carriages passing by on their way to the city. At the crossroads, she turned left towards Everleigh. Lost in her thoughts, she failed to see the rider approaching until the horse slowed to a trot and stopped beside her.
“Rose?”
She looked up, directly into the handsome face of Dr Taylor. Noting the cut of his coat and the height of his top hat, the doctor clearly kept abreast of the latest fashions.
“It is you.” The doctor raised a critical brow. “Did I not confine you to your bed?”
Rose forced a smile. After her experience at the manor, she’d be no one’s prisoner again. “Surely a dose of fresh air is exactly what you’d prescribe.”
“Perhaps. Had you not fallen into the lake or inhaled so much smoke.” He frowned. “Is Lord Farleigh aware that you’ve left your bed?”
“I have not left my bed. But merely come out for a stroll.” She bit back a groan for making such a foolish comment.
A smile touched the doctor’s lips. “There is no need to be so defensive. It’s just that he seemed overly concerned for your welfare.”
What was the doctor implying?
“Like any respectable employer, Lord Farleigh treats all his staff with due care and attention.” Heat rose to her cheeks when she considered the less than gentle way he’d devoured her mouth.
“Indeed, he does. Now, allow me to give you a ride.” He glanced up at the dark clouds forming overhead. “It’s a good thirty-minute walk back to Everleigh, and the last thing you need is to get caught in a rainstorm.”
“That’s kind, but I would not want to cause you any inconvenience.” She struggled to hold his gaze. While his eyes were a piercing shade of blue, there was a coldness about them that worked in opposition to his warm, friendly countenance. “No doubt you’re heading to the inn. I hear the patient there is in need of your services much more than I.”
“In point of fact, I’ve just left a patient and am not due at the Talbot for three hours.” The doctor shuffled back in the saddle. “I can’t promise it will be a comfortable ride but the most important thing for you is to miss the storm.”
How could she refuse?
Perhaps sensing her hesitation, he added, “While you may frown at the thought of riding with a gentleman in such close proximity, may I remind you I’m a doctor and have ferried many patients back to their homes. Besides, Lord Farleigh would be most displeased to know I rode by.”
With no choice but to accept, she nodded and offered her hand. Placing one foot in the stirrup for leverage, the doctor hauled her up to sit sidesaddle in front of him. Two strong arms hemmed her in as he gripped the reins and turned the horse.
The feel of his icy breath against her cheek sent a shiver all the way to her toes. She expected him to canter away, to ensure she made it home before the weather broke. But he appeared to be in no rush and so they simply trotted up the lane.
“I find it rather distressing that a woman of your good breeding must resort to minding the children of the aristocracy,” he said absently. “A woman with such a pretty countenance should have a husband to protect her, have her own house and family to mind.”
To quell the nervous pang in her stomach, she laughed. “You should be careful. Some women would take your comment as a proposal.”
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. His strong arms held her trapped, and she could feel the heat of his gaze boring into her. Despite being outdoors, she found it difficult to breathe.
“Perhaps it is a proposal,” he said, though his tone held not the slightest hint of affection. “There are few women of your looks and education living in Abberton.”
Well, clearly the doctor lacked the time and energy to bandy words. “Had I any intention of remaining in Abberton, I might give the matter some thought.” It was better to be polite. When she thought of marriage, only one man’s face appeared in her mind.
“You intend to leave Everleigh?” He sounded surprised. “Lord Farleigh will be most distressed to lose another member of his household staff.”
Guilt flared. But the sudden shift in topic gave her an opportunity to press the doctor for more information.
“Does it not frustrate you that, despite years of studying medicine, you cannot find the cure for the mysterious illness at Everleigh?”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard it said that sometimes you can be too close to a case to see what is obvious to others?”
No doubt it was his justification as to why he’d failed to solve the problem despite weekly visits.
“As someone newly arrived,” the doctor continued, “I wonder if you have a theory regarding the continual reinfection. Does anything strike you as odd?”
“I am not a doctor,” she said with a snort. “Indeed, neither am I a very good maid.”
“Lord Farleigh appears to have no complaints. But I digress. Everyone can make a judgement regardless of their station. And so what is yours?”
Rose pondered his comment. Perhaps it was unwise to reveal her suspicions. Then again, solving the problem of the illness would help ease Christian’s burden.
“It is not so much a theory but more a question.”
“Go on.”
“If the illness is supposedly caused by a plant in the garden, why is it the staff have been ill these last two years? The shrubs and plants are mature and have been a constant fixture since its design.” She knew enough about vast country estates to give an informed view.
“Hmm. You have a valid point.”
“And the staff are far too busy to roam idly in the woods.”
“So, where would you suggest I look?”
Rose fell silent. It struck her what one deemed a coincidence often amounted to more than chance. “If I had trouble solving a conundrum, I would return to the beginning and start again.”
Everleigh’s elaborate gates appeared in the distance. Dr Taylor tutted and muttered something under his breath. Evidently, he found the conversation useful.
“Perhaps it all comes back to Lady Farleigh,” she continued. “Things went awry shortly after her death. And then there is the case of the other woman found in the woods.”
The rumble of thunder in the distance distracted them momentarily.
“You speak of Miss Stoneway?” Despite the evident threat of a storm, he slowed the horse to a walking pace.
“I do.”
“There is nothing mysterious about her death. The woman suffered from what I would call an identity disorder. In the end, it became too much for her to bear. I attended her on a number of occasions at Morton Manor. She attacked the reverend during one of his attempts to save her soul.”
Rose considered his comments. No one would argue that people in an asylum were sick. By all accounts, Lady Farleigh’s troubled mind was to blame for her demise. Nor did Rose doubt that evil lingered in the air around Morton Manor. Still, she felt a nagging need to probe further.
“I hear both you and the reverend also saw Lady Farleigh during her weekly visits to the manor.” Did the doctor know of Lady Farleigh’s affair with the warden? Surely he must have had an inkling.
“You know about Lady Farleigh’s condition?”
“Only that she suffered with her nerves.”
A chuckle left his lips although the sound failed to convey amusement. “Her nerves? The lady’s problem stemmed more from her desire to behave like a spoilt child. And as I’m sure you’re aware, children thrive on attention and will often go to great lengths to satisfy their needs.”
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t imagine Christian marrying a woman deemed so shallow and uncaring. How could a man with such a noble character live with a woman with such loose morals? Rose sighed
inwardly. Perhaps part of her problem stemmed from jealousy. The thought of Christian sharing intimate moments with any other woman sent a stabbing pain straight through her heart.
“Lord Farleigh is a good man, and he deserved better,” Dr Taylor continued. “It is part of the reason I continue to visit Everleigh, despite getting no further with the cause of his troubles.”
They reached Everleigh’s impressive roman-inspired entrance, and Dr Taylor tugged on the reins and brought the horse to a stop. Did his reluctance to enter the premises stem from the heated discussion he’d had with Christian?
“Are you not coming up to the house?” she asked, eager to test her theory.
“I’m afraid Lord Farleigh is a little frustrated with me at the moment,” he said honestly as he assisted her to the ground, “and rightfully so. Then again, Reverend Wilmslow’s insistence he search the house only hinders those who feel a genuine need to help.”
“What does he hope to find?” Her thoughts flicked back to the children’s comments. Had the reverend been searching their drawers and cupboards looking for something specific? “Surely not a poisonous plant lurking in the linen cupboard.”
Dr Taylor’s blue eyes flashed with amusement. “That is a question I’ve often asked myself. But who are we to question the morals of a man of God?”
Morals? What a strange word to use? It implied Reverend Wilmslow had strayed from the one true path to enlightenment.
“The righteous often have their own agenda,” she said.
“Indeed.” That one simple word brimmed with cynicism. The doctor’s eyes scanned her from head to toe. “I’m sure we’ll have an opportunity to speak again. Indeed, I shall look forward to the event.” He tipped his hat. “But for now, you should do as your doctor instructed and return to your bed and lock the door. One never knows when the dreaded fever will strike.”
Rose wasn’t sure how to take the last comment. Was the doctor trying to warn her about something?
He left her at the gate and turned towards the lane but then looked back over his shoulder and called, “Good day to you … my lady.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rose hurried to her room, her heart battering her ribcage. Thankfully, she’d made it back before Christian returned from Abberton. But that was not the cause of her distress.
Dr Taylor knew her identity. Why else would he call her my lady whilst wearing an arrogant grin? During the doctor’s visits to The Talbot Inn, Oliver must have mentioned her.
She sat on the edge of her bed and recalled the conversation she’d had with Dr Taylor. If she followed her own advice, then the strange incidents all came back to Lady Farleigh.
Believing the letters might hold more information, she lifted the board and retrieved them from their hiding place. After wiping away the cobwebs, she sat on the floor, opened the letters one by one and laid them out in front of her.
None of them were dated. None of them were signed.
That in itself posed two questions. How could they be certain Mr Watson sent them? What evidence did Christian have to suspect Mr Watson and his wife were lovers?
Whoever wrote the letters deliberately used vulgar words, sexually explicit language. So much so, her cheeks flamed as she scanned the pages. Dr Taylor had been pretty blunt when he’d suggested marriage. And doctors certainly knew graphic terminology when it came to discussing the anatomy.
Return to bed … lock your door … one never knows when the dreaded fever will strike.
Was the doctor mocking her or warning her?
Was his subtle hint about Reverend Wilmslow’s slip from the wheel of morality a clue?
She turned to the blue notebook.
One notable thing stood out. The writing in the ledger proved vastly different in style to the penmanship shown in the letters. She flicked through the pages of twenty or so names. Bar the odd few the rest were women. Married, unmarried, it didn’t matter. The ink had faded, and the writing was too small, illegible in places. In the back, were pages of addresses, mostly places in London: Holborn, Charing Cross, one in Bloomsbury.
Rose stood and moved to the window. She flicked back to the names and held the book up to the light.
“Good Lord.” The words burst from her lips. “Miss Charlotte Stoneway.” All four columns next to the name contained the figure of two hundred pounds. She tried to recall the name of the other woman who’d gone missing but to no avail.
Perhaps she should find the courage to speak to Christian. Together they might make sense of it all. And if she had any hope of helping him, she had to tackle the matter before Dr Taylor revealed her identity.
The first spots of rain hit the glass pane to draw her mind back to the present. Black clouds amassed overhead, and the light patter soon became a torrential downpour.
Her thoughts turned to Christian. She imagined him sheltering beneath a tree. A lonely, solitary figure whose shoulders sagged with the weight of his burden. Her heart went out to him. And yet here she was, adding to his pain by lying to him, keeping secrets.
It had to stop, for both their sakes.
She moved away from the window, gathered the letters together, placed them inside the book and went downstairs to wait for his return.
She’d paced back and forth outside his study for an hour before taking the book back to her room and going in search of Mrs Hibbet.
An afternoon spent entertaining the children during the storm, distracted her from the dreaded moment when she would tell Christian the truth. She ate an early dinner, tucked the children in their beds and still he wasn’t home.
“Happen he’s taken refuge from the storm.” Mrs Hibbet did not share her concern.
But Rose couldn’t settle.
How would it be when she returned to London, to live with her brother and parade the ballrooms with a fake smile and more lies to account for her absence? Would she think of Christian then?
“But the rain stopped an hour ago.” Indeed, daylight had given way to a clear sky littered with stars.
“The road to Abberton is a quagmire when the rain comes. But his lordship is capable of dealing with most things.”
Except for an unruly son and someone who sought to cause him untold misery?
Guilt flared again.
Another hour passed before Joseph’s cry rang through the corridor of the servants’ quarters. “His lordship’s home and has requested a hot bath.”
Mrs Hibbet set to work organising the household, dashing here and there barking orders. Never had Rose been party to the flurry of activity going on below stairs. Above stairs, the staff always conveyed an air of order and control.
Rose returned to her room, to wait while Christian bathed and ate his dinner in peace. Curiosity burned. Where had he been? What had kept him in the village for most of the day?
As she passed the children’s room, she took a moment to peek inside. They both slept soundly, unaware of the mayhem happening around them.
The sound of footsteps taking the stairs two at a time forced her to close the door quickly and turn around.
“My lord,” her heart fluttered in her throat, “you’re back.”
Mud splashes stained his beige breeches. A dark shadow of bristles covered his sculpted chin and jaw. His damp hair curled at the ends, just how she liked it. His equally damp coat clung to his muscular arms. He appeared the epitome of rugged masculinity, a feast for the eyes of any lonely woman with a soft heart.
“Rose.” He stopped short, brushed his hand down the front of his waistcoat as if that made him more presentable. “Should you not be in bed?”
“I’m feeling much better. Indeed, when you can spare a moment there is something important I wish to discuss.”
His curious gaze searched her face. “I have news too, and would be grateful if you’d join me in the study a little later.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Had he learnt of her deception? Surely not. Those intriguing green eyes held no hint of pain or disappointment. The s
mooth, rich tone of his voice carried an element of warmth and affection.
“And I wish an intelligent ear to listen to my musings,” he continued.
The compliment struck a chord deep within. Oh, in the ballrooms she’d received praise for her elegance and beauty. Lord Cunningham commended her for her kind, forgiving nature. No man had ever cared for her opinion.
The trust Christian placed in her was without warrant.
“I must say, I am intrigued to know where you’ve been all day.” Lord, she sounded like a wife, not a governess.
“Did you miss me?” A mischievous smile touched his lips.
In truth, she’d missed him more than he could know. She’d given up an opportunity to reunite with her brother in order to examine the powerful attraction that existed between them.
“It’s just that I’ve not thanked you for taking me to bed last … the other night.” According to Mrs Hibbet, he’d scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her room. If only she could remember him holding her close. “I’m afraid my memory of the event is a little hazy.”
His smile turned into a smirk. “Should you have any questions, every second is ingrained in my memory.”
Their gazes locked, and the air vibrated around them.
The heavy trudge of footsteps on the stairs caught their attention and Joseph appeared carrying two wooden buckets of steaming hot water.
“Forgive me, Rose,” Christian inclined his. “I must bathe. But I shall be with you shortly.”
She thought to ask if he needed any assistance. The vision in her mind’s eye proved almost as scandalous as the contents of Lady Farleigh’s letters.
“Is there something else you wish to say?” he asked, and she realised her mouth hung open.
“No. I shall be in my room when you’re ready.”
He arched a brow. “Then I shall not keep you waiting long.”
Before she crumpled to the floor in a love-sick heap, she walked away. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor proved eventful when one lacked all feeling in their legs. Christian did not retire to his room immediately but watched her until she disappeared from view.