by Dayna Quince
“No?” Hazel watched her carefully.
“This time of year, every year, he makes the trip to an estate in York. He makes sure everything is as it ought to be and returns.” She set her needlework in her lap and turned to Hazel. “I wonder why he didn’t mention it.”
Hazel shook her head. “I’m sure he will tell me today.”
“He’s known for some time. He does it every year. Sometimes twice a year if the need arises.”
“Oh?” Hazel wasn’t completely certain she wasn’t being baited in some way. Was she meant to express distress that Garrett hadn’t told her he was going away? She wasn’t, not in front of Mrs. Danford.
“York is lovely this time of year. I hope the weather remains fair while he travels,” Hazel replied.
If Mrs. Danford was disappointed by Hazel’s unaffected response, she didn’t show it, which in turn frustrated Hazel. She felt like she was going mad. Hearing Mrs. Danford say things that no one else heard, seeing her devious expressions that no one else saw—well, except Mary. Mary believed her, but Mary’s faith was small comfort. She could only complain to Mary. She needed Garrett’s support to end this strange and abrasive dynamic. She wanted Mrs. Danford tucked comfortably away in her own home, living her own life. Hazel was beginning to feel like she was sharing the mantle of Countess of Bainbridge or was nothing more than a puppet countess.
The silence stretched. Hazel felt no need to end it. In fact, she would like to get away. Perhaps a good ride was in order.
“If you will excuse me, Mrs. Danford.” Hazel stood and shook out her skirts.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Danford looked up.
Hazel felt no desire to tell her, but now she had to say something. “I’m going for a ride.” Hazel turned away.
“Does Bain know? He isn’t here.”
Hazel paused and then turned enough to speak over her shoulder. “I am aware he is away at the moment. It has no bearing on whether or not I can ride.” Hazel waited, but Mrs. Danford only had that pinch-lipped look about her she commonly wore when displeased. Hazel turned to leave again.
“It isn’t done,” Mrs. Danford mumbled.
Hazel grit her teeth, urging herself to keep going, but she couldn’t. She stopped in the doorway. “I beg your pardon?”
Mrs. Danford set her needlework down and folded her hands in her lap. “It isn’t done. Riding alone isn’t suitable.”
“For whom exactly.”
“A countess.”
Hazel wanted to snort. “I wouldn’t be alone. I take a groom. And I’m aware of many countesses who ride for pleasure, especially when home in the country. It’s a lovely way to pass the time.”
“Bain’s mother used to ride as you like to do. It was a façade for her affair.”
Hazel’s found herself moving back into the room. “Garrett’s mother had an affair?” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Does he know this?”
“It isn’t the sort of thing I felt should be divulged to a boy,” Mrs. Danford said curtly.
“But now that he is grown?”
“It’s a distasteful secret I bear alone.”
“That you’ve now shared with me. Why?”
Mrs. Danford shrugged one shoulder. “A warning, if you will, so you may not fall into the same pattern of behavior.”
Hazel turned on her heel and strode out of the drawing room. She had no words for the feelings consuming her. She couldn’t remember the walk to her room, chaotic as her mind was, but she found herself there, leaning against the door as if she needed to barricade herself inside from all the unpleasantness. A great sob took hold of her, and she desperately longed for home, for the comfort of her mother’s arms, and the steadfast support of her sister.
Her sister.
Hazel pushed away from the door and fumbled through her writing desk for ink, quill, and paper. She would write to Anabelle. Anabelle would have sound advice for this situation. Lucy, too. The Ivy Society would see her through this dark maze.
She felt better the moment she began writing. A weight lifted from her shoulders. The more she wrote, the clearer her mind became, and suddenly, a thought struck her. Why did she believe Mrs. Danford about Garrett’s mother having an affair? The woman was deranged. She was certain Hazel was pregnant, even before the wedding, and certain Hazel could be led astray as easily as one lures a cat with a morsel of fish. Hazel put down her quill and leaned back in the chair. She was giving the woman far too much hold over her thoughts and feelings.
She expected Garrett to deal with her, but Garrett was blinded by his emotional ties to her, whereas Hazel had no such bond. It was up to Hazel to set Mrs. Danford straight. It was up to Hazel to take back her mantle of countess, including the duties Mrs. Danford took it upon herself to do. This was Hazel’s home now. She was the mistress of it and it was time for Mrs. Danford to step down from the throne. She could remain under Hazel’s charity, for Garrett, Hazel was absolutely sure, would settle an allowance for her and a lovely cottage. It wasn’t unreasonable in the slightest. Hazel was certain Mrs. Danford wouldn’t see it that way, but it no longer mattered. Hazel sat up straighter, her spine hardened by resolve. She would not be cowed.
Garrett returned shortly before it was time to dress for dinner. Things had been tense between him and Hazel, and he hated every second of it. It had been good to get away, to clear his head with a ride through the hillside. When he returned, he inquired if the countess had been out riding today. He was relieved to be told she had. Hopefully, her mood was as improved as his.
He entered through the back of the house, climbing the stairs with enthusiasm. He entered his room, noticing their adjoining door was closed. He rang for Smith and set his ear against the door. He could hear feminine voices on the other side. Hazel must be dressing for dinner. He knocked softly and turned the knob when she answered.
“Am I disturbing you?” He strode in, an easy smile coming to his lips when he saw her in her dressing gown at her writing desk. Mary, her maid, was brushing her hair.
“I’ve just finished a letter to my sister. I might take a trip to see her while you are gone.”
“Gone? Where am I going?” Garrett slowed as he drew near. Hazel’s eyes were cast downward.
She looked up at him. There was no smile to greet him. Something was wrong.
She frowned. “The estate in York. Your aunt said you go very year at this time.”
Garrett’s brow furrowed as he thought. “I suppose that’s true, but I wouldn’t dream of leaving my delectable wife so soon after our marriage.” He bent and kissed her brow. He stood straight again. She made no move to accept his affection or return it. Given the way she referred to his aunt, he gathered they’d had another row. He released a sigh as he moved away. Why the devil couldn’t they rub along? He was at his wits end. At that moment, he decided to let it be. They had to work things through together.
“Do you wish to see your sister?”
“Of course, but… not if you remain here.”
He wasn’t comforted by her words. She sounded so resolute. He felt an odd ache in his heart. This wouldn’t do at all. She was his wife. It was his duty to see to her every need and that included her emotional needs. His Hazel was sad. He wouldn’t stand for it.
“Mary, I’d like some privacy with my wife.” Garrett closed the adjoining door to his room where Smith was likely waiting.
Hazel looked at him now with inquiry.
Mary hurried from the room.
Garrett squatted before her and took her hands.
“I won’t tolerate sadness in your eyes.”
“I’m not sad,” she replied.
“Whatever it is, it is not the glowing essence that I am used to seeing.”
“Glowing essence? What does that even mean?”
He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t rightly know. You’ve turned me into a poet.”
She scoffed and looked away from him.
Garrett stood and pulled her to he
r feet. He wrapped his arms around her.
“To hell with dinner. I’m going to feast on you until you’re so weak with satiation, smiling will be all you have the energy to do.”
Her eyes went wide. Garrett felt an answering swell of primitive satisfaction. He lifted her against him, she didn’t fight him. In fact, the listless coldness that had surrounded her before was swiftly evaporating. Her cheeks were rosy when he sat her on the bed, and her flush was spreading down her body as he opened her robe.”
“Good heavens, Garrett. What’s gotten into you?” she said breathlessly.
“A maddening craving for my wife.” He leaned over her and took her lips.
Mrs. Danford sat in the drawing room waiting for her errant dinner companions. Quinn had come and gone with the pronouncement of dinner, and yet here she waited alone. Emily had reported that they were both home, both in their chambers with their servants summoned to assist them.
There was a knock on the door. Mrs. Danford looked up and it was Emily again.
“What is it?” she snapped with irritation.
Emily walked into the room, head bowed. She stopped before Mrs. Danford. “Mary and Smith returned below stairs. They said His Lord and Ladyship would remain in their room for dinner. I thought you ought to know.”
Quinn entered. “Ma’am, His Lordship has sent word that he and the countess will be dining in their room. I’ve reset the table for you unless you wish to have a tray as well.”
“Thank you, Quinn. I will dine in the dining room as one ought.” Mrs. Danford stood. A piercing rage filled her. So Bain chose to spend his time with that tart instead of the woman who raised him. She was poisoning his mind, leading him astray from his manners and duties. She was nothing but an ornament. Try as she did, Mrs. Danford just could not bring her to heel.
She took her place at the table, glaring at the chair where Lady Hazel should be sitting. There was one thing to be thankful for. It was only a matter of time before she was breeding. An heir would be forthcoming.
But all the thoughts of a baby in the house did not soothe the sting of Bain’s absence, Bain choosing his wife over his blood. How dare he! Did he forget so easily how she rushed to his side after his parents death, how she still remained by his side? Did that mean nothing?
Mrs. Danford attacked her food with savage precision. He would regret this night, as would Lady Hazel. They would both soon realize their proper places and roles. She may use her body to keep him away, but he will remember who stands by his side, remember who was there for him long before Lady Hazel even drew breath. Family is what mattered, bloodlines, the great Bainbridge name.
Her thoughts churned, a stew of anger and rejection. Slowly, she devised a plan, finishing her wine as she found the inspiration she was searching for. Soon all would be as it ought to be, as it was before he met that girl.
Chapter 11
Hazel was jolted awake by knocking on her door. She rolled out of from under Garrett’s arm and pulled on her dressing gown.
“What’s that noise?” Garrett sleepily mumbled.
Hazel pulled the coverlet up to his shoulder. “Someone is knocking on my chamber door.
“I will answer it.” Garrett climbed out of the bed and stepped into his breeches. He pulled his shirt over his head.
Hazel lit a candle and stood behind him as he opened the door. It was well after midnight.
“What is it?” Garrett said to the woman at the door.
“Emily?” Hazel stepped out from behind him.
“Your aunt, sir. She isn’t feeling well.”
Garrett scowled. “Aren’t you capable of tending to her needs?”
Emily blinked. “Yes, sir. But she has asked for you.”
“Good God, why?”
Hazel could see Garrett was quickly losing his patience. “How ill is she? Should we summon a doctor?”
“I offered to do so, but she only wanted you, sir.”
“I will come and tend her.” Hazel moved to pass through the doorway, but Emily stood in her way.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but only His Lordship was requested.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Garrett cursed. “I’ll come in a moment.” He closed the door. Hazel followed him as he returned to his room and yanked on his robe and slippers. She didn’t know what to think about the situation.
“I shan’t be long. You should return to bed.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I will see if she needs the doctor, which is all I can do.”
Hazel nodded. She did return to bed, but she would wait for him to return before falling asleep, leaving a candle burning on the nightstand.
Garrett followed Emily to his aunt’s chamber. She knocked twice and then led him into the room. It was stifling. The fire was roaring, and all curtains closed tight over the windows. Every candle in the room was lit. The air was thick with the scent of wax and perfume.
His aunt was in her bed, covers to her chin.
“It feels like a blacksmith’s forge in here.” Garrett strode across the room and pulled open the curtains. He opened the window.
“Bain, no,” his aunt said weakly from the bed. He turned and moved closer to her. She was sweaty. She brought a hand slowly to her brow as if she could barely lift it. Garrett looked closely at her. She did look ill, her skin sagging under her eyes and her cheeks flushed.
“We should summon the doctor.”
“No.” She waved her hand feebly. “I don’t want to be a bother to anyone.”
Garrett clenched his teeth. If that were true, she wouldn’t have woken them. He turned to look at Emily, but her back was turned to them. Garrett put his hand to her head. She was warm—of course she was warm, the entire room was an inferno.
“Emily, a cool cloth for her brow and, for god’s sake, open some windows.”
“I’m chilled, Bain.”
“That’s impossible in this room. Fresher air will help you feel better.”
Emily did as he dictated and Garrett stood there watching his aunt. He would summon the doctor first thing in the morning. He didn’t find her illness so serious that it warranted rousing the old man tonight. He wanted to get back in his bed, snuggle with his wife, and sleep. He turned away with a sigh. He didn’t know what else he could do for his aunt tonight. Didn’t lady’s maids have training for moments like theses?
“Bain, come closer,” his aunt said.
Garrett moved closer. “I’m sure with a bit of rest you will feel better by morning.”
Mrs. Danford let out a wheezy sigh. “I want you to know if my time has come—”
“Don’t talk like that,” Garrett urged.
“Bain…Garrett,” she went on. Her eyes began to water. “You are the son I never got to have. It has been a great joy to see you grow into the man you are.”
Garrett shook his head. “Aunt, why are you talking like this?”
“As the years pass, one knows there is an end that draws closer. I’m prepared. I’ve loved you so dearly and raised my brother’s son as my own.”
Garrett didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen her look so frail and sad. She couldn’t be dying. It was unthinkable. He’d never seen her taken ill before. She was always in the peak of health.
“I’ve loved you too, Aunt. You’ve been everything for me. A father and a mother.”
She produced a small smile at that. “Sit with me, Bain. Just until I fall asleep. Our time is precious to me. It’s all I’ve lived for.”
Garrett pulled a chair close and sat down. She reached out to him and he took her hand. He was worried now. Had her hands always been this thin and boney? He couldn’t remember. He wished Hazel were here. She would know what to do. He hoped she was fast asleep and not waiting up for him.
“I will stay until you fall asleep, but tomorrow, I will summon the doctor, and he will make sure you have everything you need to feel better. Rest now.”
She closed her eyes briefly then opened them again. “Bain!” she cried out.
/> “I’m right here. I still have your hand,” Garrett said.
“Oh, there you are.” She closed her eyes again.
She did this many more times. Garrett struggled to keep his eyes open, on the cusp of sleep himself before his aunt would jerk awake, her hand squeezing his. He sent Emily to bed for a few hours to rest.
On the cusp of dawn, Garrett opened his eyes. His neck was painfully stiff as he sat up straight. His aunt was sleeping peacefully, the room cool and comfortable at last. Garrett stood and stretched before summoning Emily again. His body ached, his eyes felt rough as rocks behind his eyelids. Emily arrived and took his place. He went straight to his bed and collapsed on top of it.
Hazel woke alone in her bed. The sun was up, the clock stating the hour of eight. She stretched and slipped out of bed, summoning Mary as she put on her robe. Mary arrived with a tray of food.
“Is my husband at home?” Hazel asked. She couldn’t remember if Garrett mentioned anything about needing to leave early again. Her head was still groggy from sleep.
“He is still abed, ma’am. Smith went to wake him and was turned away. He was up with Mrs. Danford most of the night from what I understand. The doctor has been summoned.”
“He has?” Hazel blinked in surprise. “Mrs. Danford’s illness must truly be serious.”
Mary shrugged. “Emily would like us all to think so. I’ve never seen a sick woman request kippers and sausage for breakfast.”
Hazel was seated at her little table about to partake in her own breakfast. “Perhaps she is feeling better?” Hazel would give her the benefit of the doubt. Garrett wouldn’t have stayed all night with her if it was nothing more than a sniffle.
“Yes, of course,” Mary replied.
Hazel didn’t need the woman to voice her thoughts. She knew exactly what her maid was hinting at. Hazel would hold her judgment for now. She would speak to Garrett and then see to Mrs. Danford herself. Hazel had nursed many children and tenets at the side of her mother. She was familiar with a sick room and common remedies. She was even proficient at making broths and a coughing tonic.