Secrets of the Heart

by Jillian Kent

  She’d been filled with doubts after her father’s death. Doubts that she kept to herself for fear of criticism from her mother and even Hally. Fear that her faith wasn’t strong enough to be useful. Fear that she would offend God. Madeline had frequently wondered about death. What did it feel like to be dead? Would she become a spirit, or would she feel like she still had a body, only better? In the quiet solitude of prayer she’d imagined all of them together in heaven and wondered why the Lord had spared her and her mother.

  Hally had recommended that she quit coming to the chapel because she descended into sadness after each visit. But without her visits she felt she might go mad. Only here was she free to indulge her questions and tears, free to cry out to the God who seemed to have shut Himself away from her.

  “Why do I live? What is my purpose, Lord?” she asked aloud.

  The morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows, spreading rays of gold, blue, and green through the chapel like painted ribbons of prayer. She angrily wiped the tears off her face. Madeline wrapped one hand around the spindles of the crypt’s cold iron gate that separated her from those she’d lost. “Why did You take them from us?”

  A length of engraved marble inscribed with each family member’s name upon it indicated his or her presence in the crypt.

  Madeline placed her hand on the cold marble wall, touching each name, feeling the chill of where her brother and sisters now rested with their father. The chiseled date of each death remained a vivid reminder of her loss.

  Her eyes came level with the inscription in front of her. Be not afraid. She reached out and laid her hand on the words, trying to absorb them into her soul. Be not afraid.

  Miriam, her baby sister, had died in infancy, after being bled by a well-intentioned doctor. Madeline shivered at the memory of the sweet babe dying in her arms. “Be not afraid, little Miriam,” she whispered.

  Her gaze roamed over the other names, her younger brother and sister, Timothy and Catherine, both dead from smallpox. The doctor had refused to come near them, being afraid himself of the deadly and disfiguring disease. Her mother and she had cared for them both, but they died within days of each other.

  She slid to her knees, laying her head against the gate. “I don’t know what to do, Lord,” she wept. “Please help me. Papa always said I could do anything I wanted to do, but I cannot move forward without his strength.” If only you were still here, Papa… if only—

  A hand touched the tears on her cheek. Madeline gasped and lurched away, wrenching her sprained arm. She recognized her cape wrapped about a waif of a girl. “Brown Eyes. What are you doing here?”

  The girl knelt in front of Madeline and wiped away her tears. Then she stroked Madeline’s hair in a way that made Madeline aware that someone at sometime in this girl’s sorrowful life must have shown kindness to her.

  Brown Eyes entwined her fingers with Madeline’s, laid her head on her shoulder, and sat with her. Madeline wasn’t certain how long they stayed that way, but because of the sadness in their souls they developed an invisible bond of trust.

  CHAPTER 3

  Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.

  —SHAKESPEARE,

  A MIDSUMMER’S NIGHT DREAM,

  ACT I, SCENE I

  MOTHER, MUST I have dinner with you and Lord Vale?” Madeline’s stomach clenched at the thought of digesting food while Brown Eyes went hungry. It wasn’t easy sneaking food out of the house, and she’d hoped to make one more trip to the cabin that day. Despite Vale’s unfailing politeness toward her, she couldn’t bear to see him take her father’s place. Truth be told, she’d rather spend her time at the cabin caring for the girl. “I fail to understand why you allow him to impose upon you.”

  “Do you?” Grace’s eyes met Madeline’s. “Madeline, stop chewing your nails. It’s a terrible habit.” Her mother sat in front of the mirror in her bedchamber studying her own perfectly trimmed and polished nails. “You must try. Your hands tell other people about your character. You don’t want tongues wagging. Before you know it, the ton will say you have some dreaded disease, and the gossips will be ever so glad to destroy your reputation. You can never be too careful. Appearance is everything.”

  Madeline wished for invisibility. If only I could live a real life, a life built of purpose and not fluff and fashion. Madeline pulled a finger away from her mouth. “Am I allowed no faults?”

  “Only invisible ones, dear.” Grace held a necklace of pearls in front of her and examined it as if searching for flaws in the perfect gems.

  “He’s so… so…” Madeline fished for a word that would not raise her growing concerns about the man or offend her mother. “…exasperating,” she blurted, but she knew immediately from her mother’s tight-lipped expression that it had not been the right word at all.

  “Really, Madeline. You might attempt to be more gracious.” Her mother tried unsuccessfully to fasten the pearl necklace. “It’s not often we have a dinner guest. I find him gracious and thoughtful.”

  “I find him tedious.”

  “Madeline, how awful. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Perhaps circumspect is a better word,” she added quickly, hoping to ease the sting of her ill-chosen statement, “but you must admit—”

  “I must admit nothing. He’s simply businesslike. He wants me to think carefully about some investments. He’s only trying to help since our man of affairs died.”

  “Why not hire a new man? Someone you can trust?”

  “I do trust Lord Vale. Why else would I discuss matters of business with him?”

  Madeline stepped behind her mother and thought it best to let the subject drop. But still she disliked the thought of any man taking the place of her beloved father. “Let me help you with those. I may have only one good arm at the moment”—she fumbled with the clasp, laughing at her ineptness—“but together we can do this.”

  “You are tenacious, daughter.” Grace held one side of the necklace while Madeline awkwardly fastened the pearls together.

  “There you are, Mother.” Madeline allowed her free hand to rest gently on her mother’s shoulder for a moment while she studied their reflections in the mirror. “You look lovely.”

  Grace Whittington’s breathtaking features made men stop and stare. Her perfect oval face and fine high cheekbones resembled an exquisite porcelain doll.

  Madeline knew she did not possess her mother’s beauty, yet she had acquired her mother’s cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, for which she was most grateful. She had also inherited her father’s stubborn chin and unfortunate habit of speaking her mind, a most disagreeable flaw for a young woman of breeding. She wondered what Ravensmoore thought of her appearance. Then she quickly snuffed out that unbidden thought as though it were a flaming candle.

  “Thank you, darling.”

  Madeline bent and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s been a difficult time for both of us. If only we hadn’t taken Father to the hospital that day. If only I hadn’t wanted to go riding.”

  “Please don’t. If only will get you nowhere, Madeline. Your father is living with the Lord now. He would want you to be happy.”

  “Sometimes I still have nightmares.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  Grace stood and hugged her. “You must let go of the past, dear. Put it to rest, or the past will always haunt you.” She brushed a tear from Madeline’s cheek and returned to the vanity.

  “I know you’re right, Mother.” Madeline crossed to the bedside table and arranged and rearranged the red, purple, and yellow pansies that scented the room. “I’m trying to move forward with my life.” She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, uncertain if God listened.

  “Does your arm still hurt? You are blessed that it did not break and that Ravensmoore came to your rescue.”

  Madeline’s eyes flew open. “He did not rescue me. Hally and I would have done quite nicely without his help. There were other men on the hunt field.”

  Gr
ace turned away from her mirror. “You cannot blame him for your father’s death, Maddie. I’m certain he did all that could be done that day. Ravensmoore could not stop the bleeding. Your father suffered a serious injury.”

  “He should have waited for Dr. Langford to return.” She staved off the avalanche of emotions that threatened and tightly balled her fists at her sides. “He should have waited.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” Agnes, her mother’s personal maid, interrupted. “Lord Vale has arrived. Phineas escorted his lordship to the library.”

  “Thank you, Agnes. Please tell him I shall be there momentarily and offer him something to drink. We don’t want to appear inhospitable, do we?” Her mother looked in the mirror, gave her hair a final pat, and dabbed perfume behind each ear.

  “No, ma’am,” Agnes replied stiffly and left the room.

  Madeline prided herself on her powers of observation. Agnes did not care for Vale’s attentions toward her mother any more than she did. However, the loyal Agnes hid her displeasure behind excessively correct behavior.

  She caught her mother staring at her curiously. “I’m sorry, Mother. Did you say something?”

  “You do seem preoccupied these days. I said, how do I look, dear?” She turned an elegant circle and curtsied before Madeline. “You don’t think this dress is too flamboyant, do you? After all, I’ve only been out of mourning for a month.”

  Madeline appraised her mother’s fashionable aquamarine gown. “You are beautiful, Mother. And your new perfume is wonderful. It smells like an exotic faraway island.”

  Grace smiled at the compliment. Madeline thought she almost glowed. Why are you so excited? It seemed her mother had shed all memories of her father, Thurston Whittington, when she’d discarded her mourning clothes. Now she boldly entertained a male guest. Madeline thought it dispiriting that as her mother’s misery lifted, her own sadness deepened. Perhaps Ravensmoore could prescribe a receipt for this dreadful malady that continued to res urrect itself.

  Grace’s smile slowly faded.

  “What’s wrong?” Madeline asked.

  “You are not appropriately dressed,” she complained. “Do hurry and put on something bright and cheerful, dear. I’ll send Daisy in to help you.”

  Madeline looked in the mirror at her modest brown walking dress. Devoid of ruffles, lace, or anything one could call decoration, she thought it mirrored quite well the true essence of her being. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “It’s dull.” Grace lightly brushed a finger down her daughter’s dark tresses. “It does nothing for this gorgeous head of hair or your beautiful hazel eyes. Please change. Why don’t you wear that beautiful lilac silk gown that makes your eyes sparkle?”

  “Mother! Father bought that gown in London for my birthday.” Tears stung her eyes. “I want to save it for a special occasion.”

  “This is a special occasion.” Grace wagged a finger. “Madeline Elizabeth Whittington, life is an adventure. Start living it.”

  Madeline gritted her teeth. “I am trying, Mother.”

  “Good.” Grace took a deep breath. “Now, go change into something else. If you don’t want to wear the lilac dress, please choose another. Hally can help you pick something more appropriate for the evening.”

  Madeline retired to her room. “Lord Vale, indeed,” she muttered to herself as she jerked open her wardrobe and pulled out the black crepe funeral gown she had worn far too often in the past. “Lord Vale is a… a… horse’s backside.” Holding the dress in front of her, she looked at her image in the gold cheval mirror. She deemed her choice appropriate, very appropriate. She did not need anyone’s help. Black suited her mood just fine.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted her musings. “Who is it?” Madeline asked irritably, throwing the gown over a nearby chair.

  The door creaked open. A cheerful face peered cautiously around it. “I take it this is not a good time?”

  “Hally!” Madeline ran to the door, grabbed her friend by the hand, and pulled her inside. “Thank God it’s you. I hoped it wasn’t Mother coming after me with more advice.”

  Hally squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve been asked to dance by the shortest man at the ball.”

  “Just thinking, but it’s unimportant.” Madeline shook off the feeling of dread that kept niggling at her mind. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Are you certain?” Hally asked.

  “Yes.” She took a breath and refocused her thoughts, making a conscious effort to abandon her worries. Madeline admired the yellow gown that showed off her friend’s hourglass figure to perfection. “You look splendid.” Hally’s black hair, bound up with matching yellow ribbons, captured the light, and her sky-blue eyes brimmed with enthusiasm.

  “I thought I looked a bit too much like a blooming daffodil.”

  “How is it you can always make me laugh when I am so far from being happy?”

  Hally’s eyes lit with amusement. “Maybe because laughing has nothing to do with being happy. It’s a tool to help you find your way there. Pretend enough, and you may actually find you have arrived.”

  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Madeline changed the subject abruptly. “What do you think of Lord Vale?”

  Hally sat near her, careful not to jar Madeline’s injured arm. “His presence vexes you more than I imagined it would.” She looked thoughtful. “I’ve never met him, but I understand from the gossips that he is a respectable lord with a talent for business. I’ve never heard rumors of him gambling or drinking or carrying on, as some do in his position. Lord Selby, for instance. What do you think of him?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think of him at all without thinking of my father. I know I’m not being fair to Lord Vale or to my mother, but I simply cannot help it.”

  “After James died, I felt the same way,” Hally said gently. “I’d lost the only man I thought I would ever love. I could not imagine anyone taking his place. Surely you remember. But time does heal all wounds, my dear, if we allow them to be healed rather than dwelling on them and allowing them to fester. I finally had to accept his loss and come to an understanding of God and the real world.”

  “The real world,” Madeline said. “Sometimes I’d like nothing better than to slip into the pages of a book and disappear forever, leaving the real world behind.”

  “Don’t talk like that. I’d miss you too much. Besides, the Lord is certain to have great plans for your life. Perhaps He is giving you the opportunity to explore new possibilities.”

  “What kind of opportunities?”

  “Hmm. Let me think.” Hally sat up and grinned mischievously. “Seems to me He rather conveniently provided you with a guardian angel in the guise of a physician.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Who happens to be titled,” she continued, “and wickedly handsome.” Hally reached out and pinched Madeline’s cheek. “The Lord does provide, Maddie. Open your eyes.”

  “Why should I believe that? He’s all but wiped out my entire family. Mother and I are the only ones left.” Her throat dried and painfully constricted, yet she forced the words. “I don’t think God knows I’m alive. And maybe it’s better that way. Maybe He’ll leave me alone.”

  “Maddie. You don’t believe that, do you?”

  A sudden rap on the door interrupted their conversation.

  “Come in,” Madeline called, relieved to be spared an answer. She no longer knew what she believed.

  The door flew open and in scurried Daisy, Agnes’s daughter and Madeline’s personal maid. “Pardon me, Countess.” She curtsied and Madeline noticed her ill-fitting uniform. The girl simply didn’t eat enough food. Then Daisy turned her attention to her mistress. “Your mother and Lord Vale are waiting dinner for you, Lady Madeline.” Her eyes widened. “Why, you’re not even dressed! Why didn’t you ring for me?”

  “Because I was thinking.”

  “Lollygagging if you ask me.” Daisy slanted her
a look of amused suspicion. “But you wouldn’t be asking me, would you?” She frowned. “Countess, I beg your assistance.”

  “You have my help and my sympathy, Daisy.” Hally crooked a finger at Madeline.

  “She don’t listen to me when she gets moody.” The maid grabbed a hairbrush from the cluttered vanity. “Now don’t be difficult, Lady Madeline. Let me arrange your hair.”

  “Ah, Daisy, ever the taskmaster. Hally, will you pick out a gown for me? My mother trusts your judgment, and I’m not in the mood. Anything but the lilac gown will do.”

  “Of course.” Hally walked to the wardrobe and pulled out an elegant rust-colored gown. “Neither too pretentious nor too sedate. I believe this will do nicely. Now up you go,” Hally ordered her friend. “Daisy, let’s make her presentable, and quickly too. I’m famished.”

  Arms linked, Madeline and Hally entered the brilliantly lit dining room. Madeline grinned when her friend’s stomach growled. Beeswax candles flickered above from two crystal chandeliers, casting a crystalline dance of light upon the walls. An array of candelabra illuminated the room, barring dark shadows from entry.

  The smell of fresh bread and roasted chicken permeated the cool evening air, but Madeline could not find her appetite.

  “There you are, my darlings.” Her mother smiled pleasantly and greeted each of them with a kiss on the cheek. “Lady Hally, I am so glad you are staying with us for a while. Madeline’s mood is much improved with you about. You are like one of my own.”

  “Thank you, Countess. You are most gracious to invite me. You know how I love to spend time here at Richfield with you and Maddie. This has always been my second home, and Maddie is like a sister to me as well as the dearest of friends.”

  A flicker of sadness drifted through Madeline as she thought about the two sisters and only brother she’d lost. She looked across the room for their guest and shook off a gloomy feeling of despair.