Midnight Bride

by Marlene Suson

  As Rachel and Ferris rode away from the stable, she was still smarting that Jerome would want her to make her calls with Emily. Rachel could think of no reason for that, except that he thought her incapable of doing it properly on her own, and that hurt her deeply.

  Rachel stopped first to check on the children with the ague. Once again her fever remedy had worked. All four patients were improving to the tearful relief of their frightened mother.

  Rachel’s next call was on the Quiggs, where she left such a large quantity of food that their eyes bulged at the sight.

  When they started to line up to give their thanks to her as they were required to do to Emily, she implored them, “I beg of you, do not. You would embarrass me.”

  After they left, Ferris said, “It is pitiful the way the previous owner of Stanmore Acres bled the Quiggs and his other tenants dry”

  Rachel stopped beside a clump of bilberry bushes loaded with fruit. With Ferris’s help, she picked a generous amount to take to Maggie Taggart.

  As they remounted, Rachel reflected that Ferris seemed especially uneasy today. His eyes were constantly searching the landscape as though he expected to find something amiss there.

  The Taggarts’ home was a small cottage built of native stone with a shed behind it that served as a barn.

  While Ferris waited with the horses, Rachel went to the door with her leather case in one hand and the bilberries in the other. Billy appeared in the doorway, his big brown eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her.

  Rachel smiled at him. “I came to see how Maggie is.”

  “Awful sick,” the boy said in a scared voice.

  “I brought her some more berries.” Rachel handed him the container.

  “Who’s here, Billy?” a hoarse voice called from beside one of the two beds inside the small cabin.

  “The lady what said me could have the berries, Pa. Her brought more o’ ‘em for Maggie.”

  Rachel stepped inside the cottage and went over to the man. He was gripping the hand of a little girl in the bed. Her thin face was pinched with fever.

  Taggart was a wiry man with sandy hair, a square face, and sharp nose. Rachel had seen the terrible look in his eyes before. It was that of a frantic, frightened parent watching helplessly as his child slipped away from him into death’s arms.

  A towheaded toddler whimpered on the floor beside him. Taggart eyed Rachel suspiciously.

  If she told him she was the new Duchess of Westleigh coming to help his daughter, she doubted he would believe her, so she said simply, “My name is Rachel, and I am an herbal healer. I have an excellent remedy for fever that I think will help your daughter.”

  Hope flared in his exhausted gray eyes, then died. “Me got no money to pay you.”

  “I do not want money, only to make this pretty little girl well.”

  “I’d be most thankful for you to do anything you can for me poor lass.”

  As Rachel coaxed Maggie to swallow her medicine, an infant’s wail rose from a corner of the room.

  Taggart hurried to a wooden cradle that Rachel had not noticed, scooped up a baby from it, and rocked it in his arms, comforting it so tenderly that a lump rose in her throat. “Where is Mrs. Taggart?”

  “Died giving this little one life,” he said, a catch in his voice as he looked down at the babe in his arms. “Me’s both pa and ma now.”

  Rachel looked around the clean, tidy little cottage in amazement. “How do you manage?”

  His mouth twisted grimly. “ ‘Tis not easy. Maggie takes care of the younger children while me’s in the fields, but with her so ill...” His voice trailed away. He was a man on the knife-edge of despair.

  Rachel’s heart went out to him. To think that Emily had dismissed him as a lazy lout!

  After Rachel returned to Royal Elms, she changed out of her riding habit and was on her way to the stillroom when she heard Morgan’s voice in the marble hall.

  She ran to greet him in his dusty wrinkled riding clothes. “You look as though you have been in the saddle since dawn.”

  Morgan nodded. “I have been. Jerome sent for mc to come at once, but he did not tell me why.”

  Rachel frowned. “He said nothing to me about asking you to return, although I know he did not expect you to stay so long in London.”

  “I was giving the two of you a little time together without me around.” Morgan drew her into a small anteroom off the hall. “How is married life going?”

  Rachel’s mouth drooped. “I am afraid that I cannot measure up to Emily Hextable in Jerome’s eyes.”

  Morgan grimaced. “Jerome has never been able to see Saint Emily for what she is. How can he? He has only her word—actually many thousands of her words—assuring him how wonderful she is.”

  “I understand that I am deeply indebted to you.” Rachel tried to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat,

  “For what?”

  “For getting Jerome to marry me by agreeing to abandon your life as a highwayman.”

  “Hell and damnation, surely he did not tell you that was why he married you?”

  “He said that was how he got you to bury Gentleman Jack forever.”

  “But that is not why he married you. He rejected my offer, but when he decided to marry you, he held me to it. I told you before that he married you because he discovered he cared about you.”

  Rachel wanted so much to believe her brother-in-law, but did she dare? She studied him curiously. “Why did you become a highwayman?”

  “I craved adventure; I wanted to right wrongs, and I was bored.”

  “Will you miss it?”

  “No.” Morgan grinned wryly. “I did not find getting shot particularly pleasant.” He hesitated, then volunteered, “Even before that, though, I had come to the conclusion that robbing the rich to help the poor they have wronged—much as it may appeal to my sense of justice and adventure—accomplishes only a little for a limited number of people. Hell, Jerome does more good with all the extra people he employs at Royal Elms.”

  “You and your brother are much alike, I think.”

  “Perhaps,” Morgan conceded. “Jerome has argued with me since I began my criminal career that I could find far more effective ways within the law to try to aid the poor and oppressed. Being shot made me realize I would be no help to anyone dead, and it was time to try another way.”

  Rachel smiled. “And what will that way be?”

  “I am not certain yet. Perhaps campaigning to change the Poor Law, perhaps establishing a model community that would offer people dignity and employment.”

  “I hope you are planning a long stay at Royal Elms while you decide.”

  “There is nothing for me to do here.”

  “Yes, there is. The steward is still ill, and Jerome is overburdened.”

  “But he would not think of sharing his responsibilities with me.”

  Although Morgan spoke lightly, Rachel detected pain, too. “Is that why you left Royal Elms? Because Jerome would not share his burden with you?”

  Morgan gave her an approving smile. “How astute you are. Speaking of my brother, I had better find him and discover why he sent for me.”

  Jerome could not hide his relief as Morgan strode into the estate office. Jumping up from his chair, he said, “Thank God, you are here. I did not expect you before tomorrow.”

  “Your message said it was urgent I come at once, and I did.”

  “I need your help. Why are you looking at me so oddly?”

  “Do you know, Jerome, this is the first time that you have ever asked for my help? What can I do?”

  “Help keep Rachel safe.” Jerome told his brother about the stranger at the tavern. The mere thought of someone harming his wife made his heart constrict.

  “It sounds like a repeat of what happened at Wingate Hall,” Morgan said in alarm.

  “Precisely. The man has not returned to the tavern nor has Ferris been able to find any trace of him, but I am afraid we have not see
n the last of him. Ferris is guarding her, but I would prefer both of you with her wherever she goes.”

  “I will do whatever you want, but she would prefer your company to mine.”

  Jerome sighed. “I wish that were possible, but I cannot spare the time. Too much on the estate requires my attention.”

  Jerome watched Morgan’s face cloud for an instant as though his answer had somehow hurt him. “And your estate is more important to you than your wife?”

  Stung, Jerome snapped back, “At least I do not have to worry about my estate betraying me.”

  Morgan shook his head sadly. “You still cannot trust Rachel. If she eventually is unfaithful to you, you will have only yourself to blame.”

  “Ah, yes, because I have failed to win her love.” Jerome realized how much he wanted to do that, and it rankled him that not once as he pleasured her in his arms had she so much as murmured the word. “I wish to hell I knew how to win it.”

  “You already have it.”

  Jerome’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Why do you think she wanted to marry you?”

  “To escape Lord Felix.” And that knowledge still festered painfully in Jerome’s heart. “She has never mentioned the word love to me.”

  “Because I warned her before she abducted you that she must not do so. I know you, Jerome, and if she had, you would have dismissed her as a conniving liar who was professing an emotion she did not feel.”

  Jerome started to protest, then fell silent as he realized that Morgan was right. That was exactly what he would have thought, and he would have hated her.

  “She could not win with you. She was damned if she told you and damned if she did not.”

  Much as he wanted to, Jerome could not deny the truth of his brother’s statement.

  “Why the hell did you give her the impression you married her only to get me to stop being Gentleman Jack?”

  “I did not! I said—hellsfire, she misunderstood me.” Jerome sighed. He seemed to have a talent for hurting his wife even when that was the last thing he intended.

  When Rachel and Jerome were alone that night in his bedchamber, she said, “I think Morgan enjoyed our musical trio tonight. He sings as well as you do.”

  Her husband began lazily untying the four taffeta bows that fastened the bodice of her striped silk nightgown. “Perhaps the changes you have made to Royal Elms will entice him to make it his home again.” The hopeful note faded from Jerome’s voice. “But I doubt it. He gets too restless here.”

  “It is you who can entice him to stay.”

  Jerome’s hands stilled. “How?”

  “Let him help you. Turn some of your responsibilities over to him. You have too much to do anyhow.”

  “Estate affairs bore him. Besides, it would be most unfair of me to burden him with responsibility for what cannot be his.”

  “Oh, Jerome, can you not see that Morgan is bored because he has nothing to do here. That is why he does not want to stay. Would you want to remain under those circumstances?”

  “No,” Jerome admitted, “but—”

  “At least give him the choice.”

  “Perhaps I will,” Jerome said thoughtfully. After a moment, he cupped her face in his hands.

  Alarmed by the gravity of his expression, she asked, “What is it?”

  “Rachel, I did not marry you to put an end to my brother’s career as a highwayman.”

  Relief and hope flowered within her. “Then why did you marry me?”

  “I could not bear to leave you at Wingate Hall.” Her heart gave a little leap of happiness. Smiling, she confided, “And I abducted you because I could not bear to have you leave Wingate Hall without me.”

  He looked as though he could not quite believe her. “I thought you only wanted to escape marriage to Lord Felix?”

  Rachel decided to take a chance and tell him the truth. “I did it because I had fallen in love with you.”

  “Do you still love me?” There was an odd urgency to his voice.

  She smiled at him. “Of course.”

  Something flared in his eyes, deepening their colour to rich, cyan brilliance. “I am glad,” he murmured. His mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding.

  Disappointment raked her. Rachel had hoped that he would confess he loved her, too. But at least he had accepted her love and not mocked it. That was a start.

  Chapter 25

  Awaking one morning a fortnight later, Jerome reached automatically for his wife, only to discover she was not in the bed beside him. His eyes flew open, and he sat up in alarm.

  He saw her standing by one of the windows, already dressed in a green riding habit. “Why are you up so early?”

  “It is a glorious day,” she cried with an enthusiasm that was irresistible. “It rained during the night, and the air is as fresh as a newly washed babe. I want to be out in it. Come riding with me, just the two of us.”

  “You are mad,” he grumbled, but her proposal appealed to him. Anything involving Rachel’s company did. As he got up, he ran his hand over the thick, rough stubble on his face. “I will have to shave first.”

  “Please, do not take the time. You do not have to act the duke so early in the morning. Wear the old clothes you wore the day I met you. You will be far more comfortable.”

  Yes, he would be, and he did as she bid him.

  As they were leaving, she picked up her leather case. “Why are you bringing that?”

  “I want to check on a sick child on our way back.” He was instantly conscious of his unshaven face and old clothes. “I thought no one would see us.”

  She smiled at him. “You can pretend to be my groom and stay with the horses as Ferris does.”

  Jerome chuckled. The thought of passing himself off again as a groom also appealed to him.

  As they rode across Royal Elms’s park in the fresh morning air, he was happy at Rachel’s suggestion.

  “Do you mind if we ride to Stanmore Acres?” Jerome asked. He wanted to look over Ben Taggart’s farm. Taggart had once been Stanmore Acres’ best and most dependable tenant, but the estate’s former steward insisted he had become a dangerous troublemaker, and Emily had complained that he was a lazy lout. Wow Jerome decided to see for himself.

  Rachel said, “I am happy to go wherever you want, but why do you choose it?”

  He smiled at her. “Thanks to your advice that I turn some of my responsibilities at Royal Elms over to Morgan, I now have time to devote to my new acquisition.” Jerome had been amazed at how eager his brother had been to help him. “If it were not for you, my sweet, I would still be labouring under the mistaken belief that Morgan had no interest in estate affairs.”

  Rachel’s dimples flashed beguilingly. “And all the while you thought you were sparing him.”

  “It turns out he has an impressive aptitude for management.”

  He and Morgan were not the only ones happier since Rachel’s arrival at Royal Elms, Jerome thought. The servants were more cheerful. Even Mrs. Needham had lost her sourness and smiled frequently, especially when Rachel was around.

  What a change his wife had made in only four short weeks. Jerome looked forward now to meals in the cosy dining parlour. Even the food tasted better.

  The darkest cloud on his horizon, the threat to Rachel’s life, had receded. The inquisitive man had not been seen again either in the tavern or elsewhere in the vicinity. As the days passed with no sign of him, Jerome’s apprehension had diminished but not disappeared entirely. The thought of losing Rachel opened a black, aching void within him.

  As they passed David’s farm, Rachel observed, “How much better it looks now that you have taken it over. Morgan and I talked to him yesterday, and he is so relieved to be out from under its burden that he is a different man.”

  Jerome smiled. “And I am relieved that he is reconciled to what I had to do.”

  “I heard that Emily Hextable left for London quite unexpectedly last week.”

  “Yes, I he
ard that, too.” Jerome wondered what had prompted her sudden departure. He supposed that he would always feel a little guilty about Emily, but with each passing day, he grew increasingly appreciative of the wife he had.

  Gradually, his fear that Rachel would betray him, and break his heart as Cleo Macklin had done, was fading. He was confident that as long as he kept his wife at Royal Elms, he had no reason to doubt her. Still he could not shake the dread that she would be unable to resist the London rakes. He told himself his worry was irrational, but he could not dispel it.

  They had reached Stanmore Acres. As they rounded a curve in the road, a small boy in coarse homespun and bare feet was walking toward them. When he sighted Rachel, he broke into a run toward her, crying in a panicked voice, ‘Please, ma’am, help us!”

  He looked to be no more than five or six. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

  “Billy!” Rachel reined her mare to a stop.

  Startled that she would know the child, Jerome dismounted and helped her down. She handed her leather case to him, then opened her arms to the boy. He tumbled into them, and she held him comfortingly.

  “What is it, Billy?” she asked as her hand brushed his sandy hair soothingly. “Is Maggie ill again?”

  “Tis pa this time! Him’s taken real bad, coughin’ somethin’ awful and fightin’ for breath. You must come.”

  “Aye, I shall.” She gave the boy a final comforting pat, then released him.

  Jerome helped her remount her mare. “Who is the child?” he asked in a low voice as he helped her back into the saddle.

  “Billy Taggart.”

  “Bill Taggart’s son?” Jerome asked with a frown as he handed Rachel her leather case.

  “Aye, poor man. He has had a most difficult time since he lost his wife in childbed last year.”

  “No one told me his wife died.”

  “He was left with four little ones including the newborn. He is overburdened trying to care for them and the farm, too. The eldest child, Maggie, is only seven. Although she tries, she cannot begin to do all that her mama did.”

  That explained Taggart’s sudden “laziness.” Why had Emily not told him Taggart had been left with four motherless children?