“Oh, yes.” Leighton took a bite and chewed it well before swallowing and pointing his knife at the doctor. “Instead, I met you.”
The man chuckled. “You are lucky I agreed to lower myself to the duties of surgeon. Or would you have just cut the ball out yourself?”
“Or left it,” Leighton said as he cut another bite and chewed methodically.
“So you had met death before the war. Where?”
Leighton laid his silverware down and picked up his wineglass. “In my childhood bed. I have a reputation in my family, an undeserved one, for weak lungs. It’s simply that if I am in a room full of smoke my lungs will rebel and fill up with fluid.”
“Let me guess. There was always smoke in the rooms at your home.”
“Yes. I remember one night in particular when I woke up gasping for air. I got up and leaned over to open the window and I felt my lungs fall forward and slap against the inside of my chest. You can imagine how that made my heart race. I crept down to the kitchen. Cook took one look at me, wrapped me in a blanket and mixed up some concoction that saved me.
“How old were you then?”
“Eleven. Now you tell me, how close was I to death?”
“Very close.” The doctor sat back with a sigh and emptied his glass. “What happened to you this time?”
“I was building a bridge and inhaled some river water.”
Murray nodded, accepting Leighton’s explanation at face value.
“But recuperating is not why I am in Bath.”
“No, your pursuit of Miss Westlake. Has she any idea what kind of man you are?”
“We knew each other as children. Anything that has happened in the intervening years cannot matter so much.” Leighton pushed his plate aside with satisfaction. So that was all the doctor wanted, to solve a puzzle. He had never considered himself a mystery before.
“Oh, I did not mean about your exploits.” Murray carefully refilled both their glasses. “I meant about your provoking pauses.”
Leighton smiled. “Maddie and I used to play music together.” He took a sip of the wine and smiled at the doctor. “She already knows the rests are as important as the notes.”
Chapter Eight
The next morning Leighton visited his horses. He judged that Chandros needed a run, so he took the younger horse on a gallop into the country up the old Roman road, then worked his way around the north end of the city, finally meeting the stage road that had brought him there. Chandros gave a satisfied grunt as though he recognized it too. Leighton was always amazed at a horse’s sense of direction. If a beast had a home it could always find its way back. If, like Chandros, all it had was a stall somewhere, it still tried to find it again. He patted the colt’s neck.
“Soon you will have fields of your own with mares to cover and will think no more of roaming the countryside.”
When he returned to his room, it was past eleven and he discovered that his man Tibbs had taken possession of his suite.
“S’pose you chose this place for the horses’ convenience,” the wiry valet growled as he looked up from pressing one of Leighton’s shirts.
“Yes, of course,” Leighton said, realizing it might irritate him. He tossed his hat and gloves on the small table in the entryway that Tibbs had just cleaned of maps and papers. The grizzled man stared at him, pursing his lips but saying nothing.
“It has a lovely garden where you can have lunch.”
“How delightful,” Tibbs said, his broad London accent sounding oddly shaped around those words. “I’ve brought you your mail. There’s a bit of it.”
Leighton groaned and sat at the small desk near the sitting room window, slitting open the various letters and packets that were piled there. He decided his remove from London to Bath, rather than Longbridge Keep, might ensure Tibbs would stay in his employ for a time. The man had been less than enthusiastic about a permanent move to the country.
Why Leighton wanted to hang onto the acerbic retainer was a puzzle to him, except that Tibbs did not smother him as his mother attempted to do. He was far more likely to give him the sharp side of his tongue as Maddie did. Leighton paused, gave a heavy sigh and conjured up Maddie’s face, those pouting lips and expectant green eyes. He would see her again in a few short hours.
A coughing fit overtook him, as it sometimes did after he had been doing something strenuous. A small glass of brandy appeared in front of him and he took it gratefully from Tibbs’ weathered hand. The pungent liquid seemed to ease the cough and he thanked the man.
“Wise choice, Bath. Perhaps you can shake that nasty cold ye’ve taken.”
Leighton cast Tibbs a suspicious look. Could it be that the man actually cared about him? He shook his head. Tibbs was probably just being sarcastic.
“I did not come here to take the waters.”
“Oh, really?”
“I came for Maddie Westlake, my fiancée.” Leighton was carefully setting aside notes from London friends he must answer while tossing to the floor invitations to London events, either past or future, to which he need not reply.
“This is the parson’s daughter?” Tibbs asked, carefully folding a freshly ironed shirt. “I thought she lived at Longbridge.”
“She does—did. She is visiting her sister. As soon as we are married, I plan to remove to Longbridge and stay there.” Leighton sent him a challenging look.
“Never to go to London again?” Tibbs asked with a scowl at the pile of discarded mail on the floor.
“Actually, we have to take a house there next year for the whole season for Susan’s come-out. I was hoping you would manage that for me.”
“The whole lot of them down on us, with company to boot?”
“Afraid so,” Leighton mused as he discarded another invitation.
“We shall see,” Tibbs promised.
Leighton knew better than to press him for a definite answer. He’d had no breakfast and had not been invited by Patience to luncheon, so he must make haste if he wanted anything to eat before he called on Maddie. He cast off his riding coat and pulled a blue swallowtail out of the armoire. Tibbs watched him resentfully as Leighton stripped off his neckcloth and shirt and replaced them with fresh garments. Leighton was almost dressed again when he realized these were the ones the man had just ironed and folded but he refrained from laughter. He did not want to bring on another coughing fit. Tibbs dutifully helped him into the coat.
“I may be back before dinner.”
“And I may be here.”
Leighton suppressed his chuckle until he was descending the stairs.
He wandered into the garden, where only a lady and a man were sitting having a late breakfast. So he seated himself and Raymond appeared as if by magic. Leighton ordered ham, eggs, bread and tea. He wanted to be sober for this interview.
He had chosen a small table under a dogwood just done blooming and he swept a few dried blossoms off the opposing chair so he could lay his hat down. The fountain was not one of those disgusting mineral springs but a cool trickle of water that came from the mouth of a gargoyle-like green man’s face. It puddled in a basin of water lilies with fish swimming under the shade of the leaves.
Raymond brought the tea and Leighton poured a cup, closing his eyes to listen to the rhythm of the water, thinking it must have a pattern since it ran over the same surfaces again and again. The pattering and bubbles were not totally random. At most the spring had three or four notes in its repertoire but it was enough. He drew a blank sheet of paper out of his cardcase and began to play with the notes, trying them out in his mind, hoping for some coherent melody.
Now that he had found Maddie, it was hard to think of anything else. She had doubted him, he was sure of it. And why not? He had delayed so long she was justified in giving up on him. He had always taken his love for her for granted and he had been arrogant enough to assume she’d felt the same. That had been a mistake and he must never let her doubt him again. In some ways Maddie was unsure of herself, probably b
ecause of her father. Obviously she had no idea how lovely and precious she was.
The melody came to him. It matched the notes from the fountain, clear and pure as Maddie’s voice. He jotted down the beginning lines of music as he watched the carp going about their business under the surface of the pool. As the water splashed down the stones into the pond, it gave them a perpetual sheen of coolness. He saw Maddie running barefoot though the meadow and tried to remember the occasion. But there were so many days like that and he had not treasured them as he should have. He remembered Maddie holding his sister’s first child and looking hopeful, her face flushing the palest of pinks like the roses in the garden. He remembered her picking violets with dew on her lashes but that had been before, when they were young and he had not understood his feelings for her. Now he knew every look of her face. He had stored those visions in his mind to hold him through the cold hard times in Spain.
The waiter brought his food and he laid aside the page of notes. She had waited, perhaps not by choice or chance. Her father had meant to keep her chained to the vicarage the rest of her days. Leighton had abetted him in that by expecting her to do his work of supporting the poor and aged. But Maddie had a mind of her own and if he slighted her again she might very well refuse him.
He must woo her, convince her she was the single most important thing in his life. The music would take some time, so he vowed to get her a present. A ring was something she would have to choose but a set of pearls, perhaps. He had no experience of entrancing young ladies, had always avoided them, in fact. Suddenly he dropped his fork and took up the pen again as the music floated through his mind with the clarity of real sound. His pencil moved along the paper like feet treading a well-worn path.
Maddie would not be won by any material gifts—but his music, that might do it. He took the last sip of his tea and the waiter appeared magically from nowhere to pour him another cup. So he was not really alone but was being watched. He wondered if the man thought he was a composer who came to Bath only to work on his latest pieces. Leighton laughed. The yews shrugged heavenward with branches like praying hands and Leighton enjoyed the illusion that everything was in accord with him, that his future was assured.
* * * * *
Maddie went to look out the window of the morning room for the tenth time since luncheon.
“A watched pot never boils,” her sister said from her seat at the escritoire.
“What has that got to do with Leighton being late?”
“Nothing but you shouldn’t seem so eager to him.”
“So you are not opposed to an alliance with him?”
Priscilla bit her lip thoughtfully. “Yes, I am. There is much in the past that speaks against it. I think nothing but grief will come of it but…”
“But you don’t see how you can stop me,” Maddie concluded, getting down from her kneeling position on the window seat and checking her skirt for wrinkles.
“You were ever the impetuous one.”
Maddie crossed the room and seated herself primly on the sofa. “I see no reason against the marriage.”
“How will it make Papa feel?”
“It should make him feel secure.”
“But he doesn’t even like working in Leighton’s keep, not after—”
“Not after what?” Maddie demanded. There was that unknown disagreement rearing its head again. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Not after he had words with Leighton’s father.”
“Leighton is not his father, though he is like him. Perhaps Papa has too much pride to work for any man without resenting it.”
Patience arched an eyebrow. “He would be offended to hear you accuse him of the sin of pride.”
“He is always in a state of offense. I do not think the world was meant to be such a grim place. At least I did not until Mother and Lord Longbridge died.”
Patience got a look on her face, as though she was on the point of saying more.
Their butler tapped on the door, then announced Leighton.
“Sorry I am so late.” He smiled as he entered and crossed to Maddie. “I had some shopping to do.”
“Shopping?” Maddie complained.
“For you,” he said, presenting her with a long jeweler’s box.
Patience rose. “Leighton, it is not at all—”
She stopped dead when Leighton also handed her a box, then glared at him as she opened it.
“Look Patience, pearls,” Maddie said. “Aren’t they the loveliest? Oh, you have a set too. Help me try them on, Leighton.”
As he moved to place the strand around his beloved’s neck, Patience brushed him aside.
“I shall do that.”
“I know you will both look lovely in them.”
Maddie realized that he was trying to get in Patience’s good graces to make sure she would be allowed to keep such a gift.
Leighton faltered, seeming to search about in his mind. “I missed so many of your birthdays and other occasions. I was just trying to make up for my neglect of you—both of you.”
“This more than serves the purpose.” Patience did not don her pearls but looked at them in their box with a certain softening of her face.
“And…and I wanted to invite you to tea at my hotel.”
“That is out of the question,” the older sister said. “I told you that you could see Maddie here in my townhouse but calling on you at your hotel is entirely inappropriate.”
“But we would not be alone. Dr. Murray will be there. And it is not in the hotel but in the charming garden outside. There is a pond there like the one you used to have in your back yard at the vicarage.”
“Please, Patience,” Maddie begged. “Leighton and I have hardly gotten to talk at all.”
“Very well, we shall take tea with you on our way to the Pump Room today.”
“You will like the garden. I started—”
The butler opened the door to announce Mrs. Scrope-Nevins and Leighton wondered if Patience had invited the woman to foil his plans. But since the thin lady seemed totally caught up in conversation with Maddie’s sister, she served rather to distract her from her chaperonage.
“I thought you would never come,” Maddie whispered as he took a seat on the sofa beside her.
“I would have brought you a ring but you need to try that sort of thing on for yourself. When can we go pick one out?”
“We usually shop in the morning, on Fleet Street. But first we go to the lending library. Wait for us there at ten o’clock.”
“I can pretend I encountered you by accident and take you past the jeweler’s.”
Maddie felt the pearls. “They must have been very dear, Leighton. And you had to buy two sets.”
“It is about time I got to enjoy some of my fortune. You look beautiful.”
“It must be the dress.” Maddie smoothed the peach muslin.
“Oh, no, you would look lovely in nothing.”
Maddie stared at Leighton until he realized what he’d said, then gave a gurgle of laughter.
“I meant anything,” he corrected.
Patience looked up. “Has Leighton made a fool of himself yet?”
“Yes, Patience.”
Chapter Nine
Leighton had seen the tea table laid, then gone to the hotel lobby to wait for Maddie and Patience. He hoped Dr. Murray would heed the obvious panic in his note begging him to join them. If not, he could always use the doctor’s patients as an excuse. When Maddie and Patience came into the hotel, the older sister looked suspiciously around the lobby while Leighton’s favorite footman conducted them toward the garden as though it were the most normal arrangement in the world. Leighton came behind them and gave him a wink, then slipped him another coin.
“It is lovely,” Maddie said when he’d led her to the pond. She gazed at the water lilies, then whisked her fingers through the water. “May we feed the fish?”
“Fish?” Patience asked.
Leighton took her elbow to help
her over the rough stone of the courtyard. “Yes. Do you see them under the water lily leaves? They hide out there in the heat of the day.”
Patience nodded and smiled. For the first time Leighton thought he could see a resemblance between her and her beautiful mother.
“They do remind me of home.”
“Whatever happened to your ornamental pond?” Leighton asked.
Maddie looked up at him, a crease between her delicate brows. “Papa had it filled in after Mother died. He erected that awful sundial.”
“Hmm, I wonder why.”
“Because your father gave her the fish,” Maddie said. “Papa never liked them.”
Patience turned her back on the pond and went to the table with its white cloth and plates of tea cakes. The smile was gone from her face and Leighton began to question the wisdom of reminding her of the vicarage. He pulled out a chair for Patience and stood watching Maddie run her hands in the water of the fountain.
He remembered his father bringing back from Hereford fish in a pail for the vicarage pond. Why had the vicar so resented this kindness?
Maddie came to join them, glancing down at her dress, Leighton guessed to make sure she had not snagged it.
“Don’t worry, though,” she said as she sat down.
“About what?” He still had his hands on the back of her chair and she canted her head sideways to look up at him, her glossy brown locks curling over her shoulder.
“The fish. I caught them all and moved them to your dam. Probably they do better there.”
Leighton nodded and sat down, realizing this must have been a Herculean task since his dam sat no less than two miles from the vicarage. No doubt she had been forced to sneak about to save the fish too. He tried to think of any other reasons the vicar should hate him and his family.
The waiter brought the tea tray then and for a few moments they were engaged in getting their tea. Besides the tea, bread and cakes, there was a decanter of sherry and one of brandy.
Maddie took a bite of buttered bread and sighed. “Everything tastes so much better out of doors. Why is that?”
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