The Lady's Disgrace

by Callie Hutton

  The carriage came to a rolling halt. “I suggest you climb down like the lady you are, and not utter a word to my driver. Not that he would help you. He’s much too stupid to understand anything.”

  The door opened, and Lady Durham once again tucked the pistol out of the driver’s sight. Abigail accepted the man’s hand and stepped down, quickly appraising the area. They were on a rather lonely road, with woods on either side. Straight ahead, through the woods, the river raged.

  Lady Durham linked her arm into Abigail’s. “Let’s take a stroll, shall we?”

  If the driver saw anything odd about his mistress and her guest walking through the woods toward the river in the pouring rain, he never presented an inkling of curiosity. He faced forward, with the water dripping from the brim of his hat, not acknowledging them at all.

  Chilled to the bone, Abigail shook from the combination of cold and fear. She could bolt and run, but she had a suspicion Lady Durham knew how to use that gun. Of course, if she immediately dodged behind trees, she might avoid being killed, but with her gown dragging in the mud, sopping wet, she probably wouldn’t be able to move very fast, anyway.

  “Well, my dear, here we are.”

  They’d stopped at the edge of the river. Abigail’s stomach dropped as she viewed the angry, swollen water racing past them. She didn’t want to die. Even though Joseph had accused her of terrible things, they could settle their differences. She loved him, and despite this recent dispute, she knew he loved her.

  “Lady Durham, you don’t want to do this.”

  Edith’s eyes rose in apparent genuine surprise. Was she truly so without conscience? “Whyever not?”

  “Because Joseph already knows someone is trying to kill me. He won’t view another accident as such. He will hire someone. They will find you.”

  Edith smiled sweetly. “Not when I show up as the grieving friend, crying my heart out for my dear, dear friend, Lady Abigail. So sad. So young, and lovely. Tsk, tsk.”

  Before Abigail could say another word, her head exploded with pain, and everything went black.

  …

  Joseph was sick to his soul. It had been three hours since Abigail had left, and he had no idea where she was. After returning from his search of the village, he’d dried off, changed his clothing and paced until he could stand it no longer, then he left again. He’d scoured the countryside with no results.

  Of course, had she been angry enough, she could have taken refuge in one of the abandoned cottages strewn throughout the wooded area. He glanced out the window. The rain had not eased up. If she didn’t return soon, she’d likely develop a lung fever which would take her life as easy as any of the accidents she’d had.

  Twice he’d gone to the side table and poured himself a brandy, and both times he’d left it sitting. As much as the liquor would calm his nerves, he needed to stay alert. Chances were something serious had happened to her. Once more, his muscles clenched and he cursed the foolish words he’d flung at her.

  A pounding at the front door had him racing from the library to the entrance hall. Manning had already opened the door when he arrived. Jake McCray, a local farmer, stood on his doorstep, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. Muddy water pooled at his feet as he hovered in the doorway. In his arms, he held a pale, soaking wet, still as death, Abigail.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “My God, Abigail!” Joseph rushed forward and took her limp body from the farmer’s arms. “What happened? Where did you find her?”

  McCray stayed on the doorstep. “Sir, I don’t want to wet your floor, and I’m pretty muddy besides.”

  “I don’t care,” Joseph panted as he shifted Abigail against him. She was cold as marble, her face blanched white. Unsure at this point if she was even alive, he was anxious to get her upstairs and warmed. “Please, come in anyway.”

  Manning sent one of the footmen for towels.

  “Please follow me,” Joseph said as he bounded up the stairs. One of the maids jumped when he gained the first floor, then hurried in front of him to open the bedchamber door. “Thank you. Please have the footmen start a fire in here immediately. Then send Sanders to me after you arrange for hot water to be brought up for her ladyship.”

  Out of breath after the race up the stairs and rapid instructions to the maid, he struggled to gulp in air as he laid Abigail gently on the bed.

  “Are you sure you want me in her ladyship’s bedroom, sir?” McCray asked from outside the door, his hat crushed in his beefy hands.

  “Absolutely. I need to hear what happened.” The very last thing he was concerned about right now was any mess the man might leave behind.

  Joseph placed his hand on Abigail’s chest and closed his eyes with relief at her steady breathing.

  “Oh my, sir. What has happened this time?” Sanders bustled into the room, her hands clutching her throat.

  “I’m about to find out, Sanders. Right now I want you to remove all of these wet clothes and dry your lady off. I’m afraid I’ve wet the bed linens, as well. Just get her cleaned up and dry.” He smoothed back the hair from her forehead. “We need to send for the doctor, once again.”

  “I already sent for the doctor when Manning told me about my lady’s condition.”

  “Thank you.” Joseph turned to the farmer still hovering in the doorway. “I’m sorry to be so muddle-headed, but perhaps it is best if we retire to the library while her ladyship’s maid attends her.”

  Once they descended the stairs, Joseph instructed Manning to bring some dry clothes for McCray to the library.

  He poured them both a glass of brandy and handed it to the man, noticing how his own hand shook. “This will help.” Joseph swirled the liquid, then spoke. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was out in my field, right by the river there, when I looked up to see something floating in the water. I thought my eyes deceived me that it was a woman, face up, being bumped along.”

  Joseph cringed at the vision. “Go on.”

  “I ran alongside her for a bit, then grabbed onto a low hanging branch and made my way out to the water. It was moving quickly, so I had to hurry. I grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward me. Once I had her out of the water, I noticed the back of her head was bleeding.”

  Joseph’s head jerked up from where he had been studying the pattern in the carpet as he listened to the man’s tale.

  “Bleeding?”

  “Yes, sir. It looked to me like she got a good whack on the back of her head. Either before she fell in the water or from a rock in the river.” McCray took a sip of his brandy. “After I pulled her out of the water, I recognized her right away as your wife. So I fetched my wagon and brought her here.”

  “I am eternally grateful to you, McCray. If there is anything I can do for you, please just ask.”

  “Sir, the doctor is on his way, and a hot bath has been set up in the blue guest room for Mr. McCray to clean up and change into dry clothes,” Manning said as he entered the room.

  “Thank you, Manning.”

  “There’s no need to do that, sir. I’ll just be on my way. I’m glad the missus is home where she belongs.” McCray placed his glass on the table and said, “I can’t imagine why she was floating in the river, but it looks like some bad things to me, sir.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.” Joseph shook the man’s hand, and accompanied him to the door. Once he’d taken his leave, Joseph climbed the stairs, once again chastising himself for taking such poor care of his wife.

  Their bedchamber was warm and dimly lit. Abigail lay on the bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. Her stillness shattered him, and in that instant he decided to leave Addysby End. As soon as Abigail was recovered, he would send a missive to the Archbishop and request a replacement. Then they would move the household to Cornwall. Far away from all the misery and pain that had plagued her since her arrival.

  “Has there been any word from the doctor?”

  “Not yet, sir,” Sanders whispered.


  Joseph sat alongside Abigail, memories of previous vigils all too fresh. Never again. They would move from here, and she would be safe even if he had to return her to her family. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’ve failed you again. Not only failed you, but drove you from your own home and right into danger once more with my ridiculous accusations.” He brought her cold hand to his cheek.

  Whatever it took he would gain Abigail’s forgiveness. Even if she had written to Redgrave, which was becoming more uncertain since he had time to think about it, that no longer mattered. Redgrave was no longer a threat. Joseph would build their love…after he got on his knees to beg her forgiveness.

  “The doctor has arrived,” Manning said walking up quietly to the bedside.

  Giving her one last glance, Joseph left the room, determination in his every step.

  Later, he sat in front of the fire in the library, studying the dancing flames. Orange, red and blue tongues of heat engulfed the coals like guilt consumed his person. His clasped hands dangled between his spread legs. Why did love have to hurt so much?

  Not love, lackwit, but well-deserved guilt at your mistrust.

  Nothing had happened between him and Abigail to warrant his suspicions. Despite the note, it was beyond the pale to assume Abigail, who had never given him leave to distrust her, would betray her vows. He would get to the bottom of it as soon as he was assured she would recover from this latest trouble. Despite not understanding why, all of his instincts cried out that her accidents were somehow tied to the note.

  He checked his pocket watch, amazed that barely forty minutes had passed since he’d left the doctor with Abigail. Each minute was an agony of self-torture.

  The doctor entered the room at a brisk pace. “Mr. Fox, I’ve determined there is no major damage to your wife’s lungs. Apparently the man who rescued her from the river had enough knowledge to press on her back to release whatever water she might have inhaled.”

  Joseph nodded his wish for the doctor to continue.

  “However, she is not yet awake, most likely due to a blow to the head when she fell.”

  “Or was pushed.”

  The doctor frowned, obviously taken aback. “Have you any reason to believe Lady Abigail was the victim of an assault?”

  “Every reason in the world, only I cannot prove it. Either my wife is the clumsiest, most inept woman in all of England, or someone wishes her harm.”

  The doctor thought for a moment. “Have you reported your concerns to the constabulary?”

  “Yes. As well as engaging the services of a man from London to investigate.” Joseph paused to run his fingers through his hair. “How soon can she be moved?”

  “It is hard to say. I will tell you she should not be moved until she has awakened. Were you planning a trip?”

  “My household will be moving to Cornwall as soon as she has recovered sufficiently.”

  The doctor shook his head slightly. “We will certainly hate to see you leave, Mr. Fox. Addysby End will be a lesser place with your absence. However, in light of what you have just told me, I understand your desire to move your wife to safety.” The doctor gripped his medical bag and headed toward the door. “I will check on her tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. Can I offer you a bit of brandy before you leave?”

  “No. It has been a rather long day for me, and I feel the need to seek my bed. I’m afraid brandy will have me falling asleep on my horse.”

  “I’m happy to send you home in our carriage.”

  “Thank you, but I will be fine.” The doctor nodded. “Good night.”

  …

  Abigail’s eyelashes fluttered, the pain at even that small movement shooting from the back of her head to her jaw. Easing her lids closed again, she tried very hard to focus on where she was, and why she hurt so. Her atempt to determine what had happened produced an agony so sharp she welcomed the return of the darkness that shrouded her. She would solve the riddle of her pain later.

  Unaware of how much time had passed since she’d last awakened, Abigail tried once more to open her eyes. The pain was still there, but not quite as sharp as before, more of a throbbing ache. Moonlight confirmed it was the middle of the night. Slowly, she eased her head to the side. Joseph sat slumped in a chair next to the bed. A smile teased her lips at his disheveled state.

  His was in disarray, apparently from having run his fingers through his hair numerous times. It had been a while since he’d shaved, his cravat was missing, and his shirt winkled beyond relief. The familiar sound of his soft snores comforted her.

  A wave of sadness washed over her as she watched him. A thought tickled the edge of her mind, an important issue between them. Did that have something to do with her head aching? If only she could persuade her hand to reach out and touch him, gain his attention. There was an important matter she needed to discuss with him, but she couldn’t recall what it was. Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes.

  Not wanting to tax her brain further, she once more welcomed the darkness.

  …

  Joseph awoke with a start. His heart sped up as his eyes riveted on Abigail. She lay as still as death, apparently not having awakened. He laid his hand gently on her chest, the slight movement assuring him she hadn’t died in the night. Grasping her cool, limp hand in his, he kissed her knuckles, hoping somewhere inside her she felt his love.

  Love that he had yet to admit. But no more. She would know of his love, and if she continued to insist that she didn’t want love in their marriage, despite her scribbles to the contrary, he would do whatever it took to change her mind. After all, they had the rest of their lives.

  Perhaps a trip to the continent before they settled in Cornwall. Time to just be together, make love all day, attend the theater, enjoy some of the finer foods of France. Now that Napoleon had been defeated, they could travel freely.

  Manning approached Abigail’s bedside, his usual respectful demeanor more troubled.

  “Sir, Lady Durham has arrived, asking after her ladyship.”

  “I don’t want to see anyone now.” He shook his head and waved at the butler.

  “I indicated as such, but the lady is most insistent she can help.”

  “Help? What the devil is she talking about?”

  “She is apparently under the impression that my lady is still missing.”

  He rubbed his tired eyes with his thumbs. Perhaps Lady Durham had some information about Abigail’s near drowning that would help solve the riddle. “Very well, I will speak with her.”

  Joseph descended the stairs as Lady Durham eyed the entrance hall, almost as if she were viewing it for the first time. Her eyes glowed and she tapped her foot in impatience. In all, she appeared as if she could barely contain a great secret.

  “Lady Durham.”

  Her expression immediately changed to one of sorrow and pain. The shift was miraculous, and were he not so distraught and eager to have her leave, he would have dwelled on the rapid adjustment.

  “Mr. Fox, I am so very upset to discover that Lady Abigail is missing. As soon as I heard the unwelcome news, I hurried right here to see what I could do to help. I’m sure you are beside yourself with worry, and no doubt need someone to comfort you at this time.”

  Her words all rushed together, almost as if they had been practiced many times. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, but he shook off the feeling. He was, indeed, beside himself.

  “I am pleased to inform you that her ladyship is home.”

  Her breath hitched and her face paled. She licked her lips and appeared to have difficulty accessing air for her lungs. “Indeed? I hope all is well?”

  “Actually, she was returned to me unconscious. Farmer McCray arrived with her last evening. He pulled her from the river.”

  Lady Durham’s palm covered her mouth. “Heavens! Is she. . .?”

  Joseph shook his head. “She is still unconscious. The doctor has been here, and says we must wait.”

  Color returning to her face, s
he inhaled deeply and blew out a breath. “I insist on staying and tending to her. You have obviously not had enough sleep or food. You must take care of yourself, and I will sit by Lady Abigail’s bedside.”

  Joseph hesitated at Lady Durham’s suggestion. The uncomfortable feeling lingered, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. “That would be most welcomed, my lady.”

  “Good. Then it is settled. I will sit by your wife’s side while you enjoy a nice hot bath and breakfast. I will guard her very carefully, I assure you.”

  Side-by-side they ascended the stairs, Joseph’s uneasiness increasing with each step. Lady Durham chatted merrily as they reached the corridor and continued on down to the bedchamber.

  Abigail lay motionless on the bed, not having moved from the position he’d left her in. Joseph reached her side and smoothed back the hair from her forehead. Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek. “Please come back to me, my love.”

  He glanced up in time to see Lady Durham’s lips tighten and her eyes narrow. She quickly smiled at him. “She will be fine. Now you go enjoy your breakfast.”

  Joseph nodded as the door opened and Sanders entered, balancing a bowl of water and several cloths.

  “Good morning, sir. How is our lady today?”

  “The same, I’m afraid.”

  Sanders curtsied briefly to Lady Durham and moved around the bed to place her supplies on the small table next to Abigail’s head.

  “I would be happy to administer to Lady Abigail,” Lady Durham said. “I am sure you have other duties to attend to.”

  “There are no other duties more important than my lady.” Sanders dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out.

  Feeling a bit more secure with Sanders nearby, and still not sure why, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  …

  After a quick wash and shave, Joseph sat at the breakfast table, pushing his food around his plate, his appetite non-existent. Shoving his dish away, he drew his coffee cup closer as Manning entered the room.