“Will she regain her memory?” Spencer asked around the newly formed lump in his throat.
“The doctor does not know. We have been telling her bits and pieces of her life.” Lady Bella leaned in close. “She does not even know she has a daughter. Poor Olivia. Just when they were becoming mother and daughter.”
Spencer’s stomach clenched at the dire situation. He had expected to find Lady Amelia well, and, by this time tomorrow, he had hoped William would be a free man. “You must listen to me,” Spencer pleaded. “William did not do this. Nor did he murder his brother or his brother’s wife. Sir Phillip Trenton, Lady Katherine’s brother, committed the crimes. We’ve been trying to prove this but have been unsuccessful. Trust me, we will prevail. I must speak with Wentworth. I have much more to explain. And I beg you, please help me.”
“What are you doing in my home?” Wentworth bellowed from behind Spencer’s back. Spencer had been so intent on explaining things to Lady Bella he had not heard the door open.
“Wentworth,” Spencer fought back the fear threatening to overtake him as he faced the stone-faced duke. “I have come to plead my cousin’s case. Could I have a private word with you, Your Grace?”
“No.”
“Wentworth,” Lady Bella said, “please listen to what Mr. Spencer has to say. It might help Amelia.”
“Follow me,” Wentworth snapped as he exited the room at a fast pace.
Spencer quickly caught up and followed the duke down the hallway, down a staircase, and down another hallway until they entered a large study. Wentworth sat down at his desk and pointed to an empty chair. “Sit down and make this quick. I have things to attend to.
Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to act casual as he sat in the upholstered armchair.
“Your Grace. First, let me say how sorry I am about what happened to Lady Amelia. It is tragic that someone would want her dead. That someone, however, is not Bridgeton.” Spencer went on to explain about the relationship between Geoffrey, Katherine, and William, telling him of the suspicious carriage accident that had taken the lives of Katherine’s parents and how they believed Trenton was responsible. “I am quite confident, when Lady Amelia regains her memory, she will exonerate her husband and confirm Trenton’s guilt.”
“Am I to understand Bridgeton hired Mr. Smythe, a Bow Street Runner, to look into this?” the duke asked.
“Yes. When Bridgeton first came to London he approached Smythe. Smythe didn’t find the proof we had hoped for. I understand you also hired him to prove my cousin’s guilt.”
“Yes. He has found nothing to confirm that Bridgeton or anyone else committed the attack on my sister. I have an idea of someone else who might want to do her harm though,” Wentworth said as he rose from his chair and strolled to the sideboard. He filled two glasses with amber liquid and placed one in Spencer’s hand. “Until the truth is known, however, your cousin will stay right where he is.”
Spencer downed the contents of the glass and welcomed the burn as it went down his throat and spread to his stomach. “Who is this person? And why should Bridgeton stay in Newgate?”
“I am not at liberty to answer either question.”
“Why?” Spencer questioned. “My cousin’s life is at stake.”
“So is my sister’s. And I will not jeopardize that. Whoever is responsible will be back to complete the job. I’m quite certain Amelia saw her attacker. Word is out that she survived but can’t remember the details of her attack. Whoever committed this crime cannot risk her getting her memory back, therefore, I assume he will try again,” Wentworth said. “Now, I have much to do. My valet, who is right outside the door, will see you out.”
***
“It took you long enough,” William said in a raspy voice to Spencer as the guard let his cousin into his cell.
“Traveling back and forth from London to the countryside does take time,” Spencer replied as he removed a handkerchief from the pocket of his perfectly tailored greatcoat and placed it over his mouth and nose. “I did not think it possible, but this place smells worse than the last time I visited.”
William shrugged his shoulders. “You get used to it.”
“I do not believe that for a minute.” Spencer gagged. “Don’t they empty the chamber pots?”
Once again William shrugged. “Occasionally. Now please tell me about Amelia.”Spencer explained all that had transpired since their last meeting.
“Wentworth thinks if it wasn’t me, then there’s a possibility someone other than Trenton tried to kill my wife?” William said. Damn his foggy brain. The longer he stayed in this dungeon, the worse his mind functioned.
“Yes,” Spencer answered, “but he would not give me a name. Do you have any idea who would want to kill Lady Amelia and hope to pin the murder on you?”
“Who indeed?” William pondered. “The only one, besides Trenton, whom I’ve had words with is Yarmouth. Do you think he would?” Damn. That night he found Amelia and Yarmouth in the gardens at the Northborough’s masquerade ball would forever be embedded in his mind. “It’s possible. He does enjoy inflicting pain. And his pride had been hurt when Amelia broke her betrothal to him. Is Smythe looking into this?”
“I visited Smythe when I arrived in town late yesterday,” Spencer said as he tried not to touch anything in the filthy cell. William almost laughed because he was as dirty as his cell and all the other occupants of Newgate. “Smythe confirmed he was looking into Yarmouth, but he would not discuss any of his findings with me.”
“Well, of course he would not,” William said as he sank down onto his smelly cot, leaning against the sticky wall. “I need to get out of here. I do not know how much longer I can take this place. During the day people come and go, and every time I hear someone’s footsteps coming down the hall, my hearts races and I hope and pray they have come to free me. When they don’t, I wonder how my heart continues to beat.”
William looked up to see his cousin watching with a grim expression before he continued in a shaky voice.
“At night, wails and screams reverberate down the halls, and I worry that in time, I could be the one making those inhumane sounds. When I do sleep, which is not often, I picture Amelia on our wedding day, beautiful and happy. Soon the images turn to seeing her face down and dead in the water. I do not want to sleep. I’m afraid. I do not want to give up hope that Amelia and I will be reunited, but it is hard in this place to have any optimism.”
“I wish I had better news for you,” Spencer said as he reluctantly signaled the guard standing outside the cell. “If I find out anything, I’ll send word tomorrow.”
William went from sitting on his filthy cot to lying down and closing his eyes. Even as exhaustion settled in his bones, he did not want to sleep. Did not want to have the same nightmare, seeing his beloved, Amelia, dead. But he knew he needed to sleep in order to keep up his strength. Amelia needed him. And bloody hell, he planned on being there for her. Somehow.
The thought that Yarmouth might have attempted to kill Amelia––and that it might not have been Trenton––had William’s heart pounding out of control. He knew Trenton, but he didn’t know Yarmouth or what the man was capable of. Either way, or more correctly, no matter who wanted Amelia dead, they would strike again, for she’d seen her attacker. And William planned on being there to kill the bastard. But how, how did he get out of this sewer?
Never in all his life had he felt helpless to protect the ones he loved.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
If Amelia had to look at the same four walls another day she would scream. After the gentleman, Mr. Spencer, had rudely invaded her chambers the previous day, it brought on a whole new round of questions. Questions she wanted answers to. Today seemed as good a day as any to get those answers. After her maid assisted her in dressing, Amelia ventured toward Wentworth’s study, ignoring the stabbing pain in her head. She was determined to have Wentworth fill in the missing years.
She knocked and opened the doo
r without waiting for an answer.
“Wentworth,” she said as she sank into the comfortable chair facing his desk, smoothed out her light-blue morning dress, and waited to be chastised for being out of bed. Truth be told, she’d nearly swooned on the way. If she had not arrived at Wentworth’s study when she did, she would have collapsed in the hallway. She would not, however, admit to being weak or fatigued.
“Good morning, Amelia,” her brother, the duke, said as he studied her. “Should you be up and about? You look pale, but your eyes are alert. Are you feeling better?”
“Thank you for your concern, but can we forego all the pleasantries? I only have so much energy and I want you to answer some questions for me before my energy is depleted.”
Her brother coughed into his hand. “What would you like to know?”
“Do not play dumb with me,” Amelia said, suddenly enjoying herself. It had been way too long since she had last bantered with Wentworth.
“Amelia,” Wentworth said as he studied her intently, “are you sure you’re ready to hear all?”
“Yes. I need to. I might have forgotten the past two years, but I do know myself well. I am not some frivolous, silly debutante who swoons at the first sign of adversity. If Captain Rycroft is dead and I’m married to the Earl of Bridgeton then it is important that I remember my past. My poor husband must be beside himself. Which raises the question, where is he?”
“Where is he, indeed?” Wentworth squirmed in his seat.
What secret did her brother hide? “Please tell me?”
“He is in prison for attempting to murder you.”
“Attempting to murder me?” Amelia sprang out of her seat causing the room to spin and dark spots to invade her vision. The next thing she knew Wentworth was holding her and helped her back into her chair.
“I do not think you are healthy enough for this,” Wentworth said as he sat back down in his desk chair with a frown.
“I am ready. I stood up too fast,” Amelia said as she tried to slow her racing heart. “Please, tell me everything.”
One hour later Amelia sat, stunned, her heart heavy inside her chest. “I have a daughter?” Who forgets her child? What kind of person does that? Who forgets her husband? A person she is supposed to love? “Dear God, what type of person am I?”
“Amelia,” Wentworth said with sadness in his eyes, “you are a good person, a good mother and wife. You suffered a terrible tragedy and injury. The doctor says sometimes, after a trauma, people’s minds protect them by forgetting. Do you remember anything about that day by the stream? The day—”
“No. But I do know this. My husband did not do it. I would never marry someone capable of murder.” Amelia believed strongly in that. “Have him released from prison immediately, or I will travel to London and attend to it myself.” Amelia stood and curtsied. “Excuse me, Your Grace, I must attend to my daughter. But before I do, I have one more request. Please have my husband brought to me.”
She left her brother’s study with him sitting at his desk, his mouth open as if he would protest.
Amelia wanted her life back. If she had loved her husband once, she’d love him again.
***
Amelia stood, her arms braced on either side of the open doorway to the nursery. Sheer determination gave her the strength to make it here. As she watched a small boy and girl who sat side by side on a quilt, her strength vanished. The boy, her nephew, Hamilton, played with a wooden toy soldier. The girl cuddled a cloth doll. Amelia’s heart soared. Her daughter, her beautiful daughter. Emma sat in a nearby rocking chair working on her embroidery.
“May I come in?” she asked a little breathless.
“Amelia!” Emma’s face lit up and she hurried over to her. “Come in. I heard you were out of bed. How happy I am for you. Olivia, look who is here. It is your mama.”
Amelia sat down beside her daughter, pulled her onto her lap, and wrapped her arms gently around her tiny daughter. Sitting here now and holding Olivia close made her wonder how she could have forgotten her child when it seemed so natural to be with her. Would she feel the same way when she met her husband for the first time since her attack? She said a silent prayer to God that she did. And while she prayed she also prayed for the return of her memory. No one should have to live with voids in their life.
***
“Today is your lucky day, meeelooord.” William sat up on his cot and tried to shake the sleep and fog from his brain. His lucky day? Did that mean they would finally empty his chamber pot? Give him real food? Or had they noticed how much he shivered in the cold at night and brought him another blanket? Hopefully one without moth holes.
“You’s a free man today.”
“Free?” William had almost given up hope of ever being free.
“Tha’s what I said. There’s a carriage outside waiting for you.”
It took all William’s strength to shuffle down the hall, up the stone stairs, and out the door. His hands shielded his eyes from the glare of the morning sun. But he wasn’t complaining. He was free.
“Here, let me help you,” Spencer said as he grabbed William’s arms and hauled him up into the carriage. “We’ll need to have the carriage scrubbed from top to bottom because you smell like the sewers. Not to mention you are as filthy as a street urchin.”
“Thank you,” William mumbled, “for your help, not the insults.” He was as weak and helpless as a newborn babe. The ride to Bridgeton Manor had every muscle in his body screaming out in protest as the carriage set off. Not to mention his stomach.
“Give me your hat,” he cried to Spencer right before he vomited into it. Definitely not his best day.
“I cannot believe you did that,” Spencer said with concern. “That was my best hat.”
“I’ll buy you a dozen new ones,” William said as he leaned back against the cushions. “I feel like death. How did you get me out?”
“Wish I could take the credit, but I cannot. Wentworth did,” Spencer replied.
“Wentworth. I wonder what made him change his mind,” William said as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Have you heard anything from Smythe?”
“Not a word,” Spencer said. “I received a short and curt note from the duke. It said, ‘Bring Bridgton to me.’”
“That’s it?”
“That is it. No explanation,” Spencer answered.
William opened his eyes and did not at all like the puzzled and worried look on his cousin’s face. “Maybe Amelia got back her memory.” Please, God, give my beautiful wife her memory back, if she doesn’t have it already.
***
That night Bridgeton scrubbed every inch of his body and soaked in the tub for over an hour, and still his skin crawled with its memory of the filth from Newgate. He wondered if he would ever feel clean again. The scalding hot water turned his skin red and itchy. Yet he had more and more hot water added. He could not bring himself to get out. Every muscle in his body slowly relaxed, and he enjoyed the sensation. But as he relaxed more and more, fears began plaguing his mind, pulling forward visions and fears he would rather not visit.
Hopefully all his fears would end when he saw Amelia tomorrow. He also hoped he would not frighten her with his emaciated appearance.
***
At the first sign of light he and Spencer saddled up and rode out of London toward the countryside. William knew Spencer rode at a moderate pace to accommodate his weakened state. “Thank you for accompanying me.”
“Would not have it any other way,” Spencer said as he pulled his mount up beside his cousin’s, making it look easy to control the feisty animal. “I will not let you face the duke alone. His friends are more powerful than you or me.” He paused. “Feeling helpless while you were in prison did not sit well with me. Most days I could care less whether I hold a title––the last few days were not like that. I realized, unless I held the esteemed rank of duke to equal Wentworth’s it would not have mattered anyway. If I held the ear of the prince, it might have help
ed.”
“It might have mattered, although I’m an earl with a bad reputation,” William admitted. “Wentworth might have had an equally scandalous reputation at one time––but not anymore.”
“I have heard, since he took his seat in Parliament, he is to be feared. Many of his peers are not pleased at his fight for the lesser classes,” Spencer said, “but I admire the man for it.”
“As do I,” William agreed, “especially now that I have seen firsthand what happens to the lower classes.”
“Have you considered taking your seat in Parliament? It has been over twelve years since anyone occupied it. Don’t you think it’s time?” Spencer said with a knowing look.
“How did you know?” William answered. “I just decided myself while I sat rotting in the bowels of hell. I swore to God I would be a better man. That if I were free, I would attend Parliament sessions and fight for the poor and the sick. Newgate is full of people who did nothing more than steal a loaf of bread to feed their starving children. After spending the short time I did behind bars, I cannot imagine many live long there. Starvation and disease must take them. The cell beside me overflowed with men whose wives and children were also imprisoned. What kind of society punishes women and children for crimes someone else commits?” William said as horrific visions flashed before his eyes.
Truthfully, he never saw the other section of Newgate that held women and children. Until his stay there, he had never thought innocent women and children were imprisoned there. William wanted to believe God sent him to Newgate for a purpose. And that purpose was to take his place in Parliament and fight for the poor.
And bloody bugger, his heartbeat raced with the anticipation of that challenge. That and he would see his beloved Amelia again soon. He fought the urge to kick the horse to full speed. If he did, Bridgeton knew it would only be a matter of time before he was thrown. Best to take is slow and steady.
***
The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) Page 18