Besides, there was such a lot to think about and to assess. She hadn’t had a chance to reflect since dinner last night at Lord Asterbury’s.
So thinking, she fell asleep.
MAIRIN WOKE WITH A jerk, her heart racing, wondering what had startled her. The sun was blazing through the window, burning off the last of an early morning fog which had crept onto the Lane—the first fog of the autumn.
The door rattled again, as someone pummeled it. “Mairin! Mairin! Wake up!” It was Lisa Grace’s voice. She sounded upset.
Mairin pushed herself up into a sitting position, trying to wake properly. She had been pulled from a deep sleep and everything seemed to ache. “Come in, Lisa Grace!” she called, her voice thick with sleep, too.
Lisa Grace pushed the door open and stumbled into the room. Her eyes glittered with tears.
“What has happened?” Mairin asked, her heart leaping. She was properly awake between one breath and the next, alarm bringing her to full alertness.
Lisa Grace waved a note at her and sank onto the edge of the bed. “Oh, Mairin, it’s Will! He’s been shot!”
“What?” Mairin breathed. She snatched at the note and quickly read it.
Lisa Grace, Mairin:
You must come to Wakefield’s townhouse as soon as you get this note. There is bad news—Will has been shot and his fate is still uncertain.
Cian.
Mairin stared at the note, a hundred questions occurring to her, with absolutely no answers to be surmised from the two sentences. “Whatever is Will doing in London?” she breathed.
Lisa Grace plucked at the cover. “I don’t know. I don’t know! Mairin, if Will dies, then what will Bridget do?”
Mairin gripped her wrist. “Hush, Lisa dear. Until we know more, it is useless to speculate.”
Lisa Grace nodded, her eyes wide, her sensitive mouth trembling.
“Go and dress in something without paint on it,” Mairin told her. “A walking suit will do. Then we’ll go directly to Wakefield’s and find out what is happening. Yes?”
Lisa Grace drew in a deep breath and got to her feet. “I’ll ask Travers to wrap some toast in a napkin for you. You slept through breakfast.” She hurried away.
EVERYONE IN THE WAKEFIELD house who was not directly tending Will had gathered in the sunny, bright morning room. Cian was there, as was Daniel, and both wore the clothes they had left the house wearing last night.
Mairin and Lisa Grace learned of the duel Will had participated in, to restore family honor in the oldest way possible.
The events leading to the duel emerged over the following hours, as men flowed into the room and out again, making arrangements, writing letters and sending for family, for the doctor still would not announce if Will would live or not.
Each time someone new arrived, Mairin and Lisa Grace and everyone already in the room would pounce upon them and question them about their role in the affair. Slowly, the full picture emerged—of the Duke of Bedford’s lies about Bridget and the position it had put her in, which Will had resolved by challenging the man to a duel.
Mairin shivered, each time the duel was described by the five men who had witnessed it.
Lisa Grace gripped Mairin’s hand. “Father died, just this way,” she whispered, her cheeks wet with tears. “Oh, poor, poor Bridget!”
Slowly, the room filled with members of the great family, as they hurried to London on the first available train, or by private coach.
Meals were served and eaten silently. Everyone would look at the door as feet sounded on the stairs, waiting to see if someone had come down from the room where Will laid, with news.
The day passed into night and the night into the still hours of the morning before dawn. As they had done when they waited for word of Aunt Elisa’s recovery, a few years before, everyone slept on sofas and in chairs and even the floor, with their backs against the wall. Sharla and Dane’s butler, Mayerick, arranged beds for the some of them. Mairin refused the bedroom offered to her. “Someone else will find a bed a God-send. I would rather remain where news will reach me soonest, thank you.”
Most of the family felt the same, it appeared, for they stayed in the morning room, too.
Just before dawn, Morgan rose and stretched and consulted his pocket watch. He donned his coat and slipped out of the room. Mairin watched him go, her heart fluttering. He was on his way to the train station to pick up Bridget, when he must tell her the awful news.
Last spring, Mairin had been unable to forgive her sister for breaking their solemn vow and marrying a man in the family. Now the entire contretemps seemed shallow and silly.
The sun had risen and everyone was stirring and stretching and yawning, putting hands to backs and groaning, when Morgan returned.
Bridget’s face was white and her gaze skittered about the foyer, taking in nothing. Sharla hurried forward and hugged her, before anyone else could speak to her. Then she took Bridget’s hand and led her upstairs to Will.
Sharla came downstairs a few minutes later, wiping her eyes. Mairin went up to her. “Let me help you arrange breakfast,” she told her. “There are too many of us here to leave it all in your hands.”
Sharla squeezed her hand. “Thank you, I would appreciate the help. It is difficult to think clearly in circumstances like this, isn’t it?” Her eyes were red-rimmed.
Mairin held back her first response, which wouldn’t be useful. She was worried, like Sharla, although her thoughts processes were perfectly clear. Speculating about what might happen to Will would not change what was about to happen, so why twist herself into agonies of fear over what might not even happen? In the meantime, she could be of use, at least.
“I will talk to Mayerick,” Mairin told Sharla, patting her hand. “Why don’t you sit with everyone else?
Sharla sniffed and hugged her. “Thank you!” she breathed and hurried into the morning room where Dane and Ben and Stephen already sat with their guests, talking quietly.
Mairin found Mayerick and asked about arrangements for breakfast and for refreshments throughout the day. “There will be a large influx of people, when the train from Sussex arrives around ten,” she warned him. “They will all be hungry, too.”
“I had not thought of that,” Mayerick said, looking sober. “Although, Cook has the pantry well provisioned—she is quite capable. We can provide for everyone for a few days.” He paused. “Does anyone know how long this, um, waiting might go on?”
“Not yet,” Mairin told him. “Before the doctor left early this morning, he said he thought it likely Will would live, although he is not through the worst of it yet.” Her heart gave a little flutter and she pushed the unease aside. “I will talk to his Grace about obtaining more supplies to make up for the inroads we will make.”
“That would be helpful,” Mayerick admitted.
Mairin moved about the house, talking to Dane about market supplies, overseeing the serving of breakfast and making sure everyone ate even a little of the piping hot meal.
After breakfast, Dane allowed everyone to see Will, one person at a time. Mairin was still waiting her turn when two coaches stopped in front of the townhouse and the contingent from Sussex emerged. Eleven people came into the house—everyone who lived on Raymond’s estate. Raymond and Mairin’s mother, Natasha, who looked almost indecently young despite her years; and Vaughn and Aunt Elisa, who moved slowly with the help of her cane, with Blanche and Emma. Elisa, Blanche and Emma were all pale, and the two girls held hands and stayed by Elisa’s side. Uncle Rhys and Aunt Annalies had Catrin with them.
Vaughn and Elisa were shown up to Will’s room immediately, then Blanche and Emma were allowed to visit for a few minutes, too.
It was close to noon before Mayerick came to find Mairin and show her to the room where Will laid.
Will was completely still, which was frightening, for Will was such a physical, restless man.
Bridget hugged Mairin. She was trembling. “I’m so sorry,” Bridget whispered
, as she turned to consider Will once more.
“Whatever for?” Mairin murmured back, surprised.
“For falling in love with Will,” Bridget said, her hand pressing against her heart. “Oh, Mairin, if I lose him, it will be my fault!”
Mairin gave her a little shake. “You mustn’t think that! None of it!” She hesitated. “You really do love him, Bridget?”
Bridget sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I didn’t know, not until these last few days. Now I can’t think of anything else!” She worked her hands together.
“The doctor said he will live,” Mairin reminded her.
“Most likely live, he said,” Bridget replied. Her reddened gaze met Mairin’s. “You heard how this happened, didn’t you?”
Mairin nodded and brushed her sister’s hair off her face. “When you married Will, I couldn’t believe you were breaking our oath. Now, though, I understand why you had to. I am sorry I have thought badly of you over this, Bridget.”
Bridget rested her head on Mairin’s shoulder and wept. Mairin held her, her gaze upon Will’s still face and closed eyes. “He will live,” she whispered. “You deserve to get him back.”
Conscious of how many people in the house still waited their chance to see Will for themselves and speak to Bridget, Mairin made herself leave the room once Bridget had recovered.
Almost the entire family were in the red brick house, now, she realized as she walked back down to the ground floor. Lilly and Jasper were traveling down from York, and Sadie and Neil were on the other side of the world. Bronwen and Tor could not leave Denmark.
Only Iefan was unaccounted for.
Mairin found Ben in the library with the other men, all of them reading newspapers. She sank down upon the hassock by his chair and said quietly, “Did someone send word to Iefan, Ben? Does he know Will is…is in trouble?”
Ben glanced around the room, as if he was assessing who had heard her words and what their reaction was. Then he rose and drew Mairin out of the library. “Come with me,” he murmured, and took her into the dining room.
Morgan sat before a cup of tea and a plate of gingerbread, his head on his hand, looking tired. He was one of the men who had spent the entire night before the duel visiting every acquaintance and friend they knew, to spread word about the reason for the duel, especially the Duke of Taplow’s slander against Bridget. Last night had been no easier, for he had coordinated the messages to the far-flung members of the family, and gone to retrieve them from the station.
All he had done was typical of Morgan. He was a quiet, thoughtful man, yet he often seemed to be everywhere at once, arranging things just in the nick of time. Mairin suspected Will and Jack and Peter and Ben and Cian—all the older men of the family—had not got into greater strife when they were younger was because Morgan minimized the consequences with superlative foresight.
Ben and Morgan were Iefan’s brothers, so perhaps Morgan had learned such skills because of Iefan and his wild ways.
Ben leaned against the table, looking weary, too. “Mairin is asking about Iefan.”
“Someone has told Iefan what has happened, I hope?” Mairin asked Morgan. “He doesn’t live in the family’s pocket the way everyone else seems to, only I am sure he would want to know about Will.”
Morgan sat up. His gaze met Ben’s. He drew out the chair beside him and patted it.
Her heart stirring uneasily, Mairin made herself sit. She looked at Morgan expectantly.
“Ben and I thought it best not to upset the family any more at the moment, so we haven’t said anything.”
Mairin tried to contain the jumping of her heart. She breathed deeply.
Morgan picked up the spoon from the saucer and stirred his tea, his gaze on the dark brown liquid. “I sent Iefan a letter yesterday morning, at the same time I sent letters and wires to everyone else. When he didn’t answer the letter, I went to the house to speak to him in person.” His gaze lifted to Mairin’s face. “The house is empty, Mairin. So is his room. His big sea chest has gone.”
The brass-bound trunk beneath the window.
“Gone?” Mairin repeated. “To where?” Her lips felt numb.
“Stamp didn’t know. He said Iefan came home in the afternoon of the twelfth, packed in great haste and his only direction was that the house be shut down until someone else in the family asked for it to be opened once more.”
“Did he write to you? Either of you?” Mairin asked. Her voice was strained. “You are his brothers. Surely he would have told you where he was going?” The roaring sound was back in her ears. She gripped the tablecloth to keep herself steady.
“Hold her upright, Morgan,” Ben said softly, urgently. “She’s gone white.”
Morgan’s hand on her shoulder steadied her. Mairin pressed her fingers to her temples. “He must have told someone!” she said, looking from Ben to Morgan.
“It’s Iefan.” Ben shrugged. “He rarely tells anyone anything about his life.”
Morgan patted her shoulder and released it. “He’ll turn up again in a year or so, and hint about his adventures, live the high life in London for a season, then rush off somewhere else. No single place holds his attention for long.”
Mairin’s throat ached. Her chest hurt. “He never tells anyone?”
Ben cleared his throat. “I think Iefan believes no one cares enough to know. He has walked a different path from the rest of the family.”
Mairin gripped the edge of the table, her breath coming quickly. “I care,” she whispered. Speaking made her throat hurt even more. “God help me, I do care!” It was a deeply rooted truth, resonating in her heart and mind with perfectly clarity.
Ben cleared his throat. “I was under the impression, Mairin, that you and the Duke of Gascony were…” He trailed off delicately.
Mairin put her face in her hands, hiding the hot mix of feelings which must be swirling there. “This is such an awful mess,” she breathed.
“It sounds as though you may have a better idea of where Iefan has gone than either of us,” Morgan said, his tone gentle. “I had no idea you and Iefan were even friendly.”
“No one does,” Mairin said. She lowered her hands. Let them see the truth in her face. “Even I did not, until now.”
Morgan considered her face. He nodded a little. “That sounds much like something Iefan would say. He has a preference for plain speaking.”
“He does,” Mairin replied.
Ben blew out his breath. “It seems you have a quandary before you, Mairin. Or is that not an engagement ring on your finger?”
She put her hand over the ring, feeling the hard diamond beneath her fingers. “It is,” she whispered.
Morgan’s gaze was steady, without judgment. “So what will you do now?” he asked.
Mairin considered. Society expectations surrounding an engagement were clear. Her parents would arrange a public announcement, including items in all the newspapers. There would be a round of parties and congratulatory visits, then the wedding date would be set and the wedding itself arranged.
This was exactly what Mairin had worked toward, all season.
If she broke away from that narrow channel of expectations, society would crucify her.
Only, now she knew there was a whole other world beyond the borders of the ton. It was a world Iefan had been exploring his whole life, in search of his place in it. He was out there now.
Mairin turned the ring, so the diamond was hidden underneath and looked at Ben and Morgan. “I must find Iefan,” she told them. “Somehow.”
Chapter Fifteen
As the new year of 1871 arrived, Mairin came to understand that saying she would do a thing and doing it were barely related. Now she was engaged to be married, it was almost impossible to escape the grip of society’s expectations.
As soon as Will had recovered enough to travel, the entire family departed London en masse, heading for their various houses and estates. As a single lady, Mairin was forced to travel with her mother to Sus
sex, to take up residence in Raymond’s grand country manor at Marblethorpe. What remained of September passed in a dash, as the hunting season got underway. The great gathering at Innesford took up an entire week of that month.
Will and Bridget attended the Gather, although Will tired quickly. Tor and Bronwen also attended, even though Bronwen was still recovering from her first confinement.
Mairin found a moment to speak with each of the older men—Will and Jack and Peter, and even Cian—to see if any of them had an inkling where Iefan might have gone. The blank looks on their faces and their puzzlement confirmed what Morgan had suggested. If anyone would have any clue where Iefan might have gone, it would be her.
It was the Gather itself which suggested Mairin’s first course of action. The gathering of the family reminded her of parties Iefan had taken her to, with his friends.
Surely, some of his friends would know where he was?
Although, uncovering their addresses in order to write a letter to them was problematic.
However, there was one address she did not have to guess.
Mairin wrote to the Prince of Wales in October, while the sound of shotguns cracked in the far distance. In her letter, she also asked if there was anyone the Prince could think of who might be aware of Iefan’s location, and their address.
It took nearly a month for the response to return.
In that time, Louis pressed to be invited to visit her mother and Raymond in Sussex. The request added to Mairin’s dilemma in a way which left her restless and inclined to snap at anyone who asked a perfectly simple question.
If she was unable to find Iefan, if absolutely no one knew where he was, what then? Was Mairin to put her life on hold while she waited for Iefan to return to London in a year or so, as Morgan suggested was his habit?
If Mairin did wait, or if by some lucky chance, she discovered where he was, what would Iefan’s reaction be when she confronted him? Mairin couldn’t guess if he would be pleased, or not.
Season of Denial (Scandalous Scions Book 7) Page 15