by Cecilia Gray
Perhaps he’d never intended to see her or Charlotte married. The thought worried her brow. She noted the crease in every reflection in the shop—a dark line beneath her blond locks that marred her otherwise fair skin.
But she wasn’t to be single, was she?
She and Graham had an understanding. Even if she still found it difficult to believe. She’d finally broken down several months back and confessed the conversation to Charlotte in a moment of weakness in the hopes of decoding the correspondence, and even Charlotte had agreed that what had transpired was tantamount to an understanding. Even if she woke up every morning gripped with the insecurity that he would change his mind and realize he still loved Lily and would prefer to pine for her for an eternity.
“Hold still,” the merchant said, dropping a blue hat with three white feathers atop her head. “There, see?”
“But won’t it clash with my eldest’s ebony?” her father asked. “No, it won’t do.”
They bustled to the back of the store, wrestling hats off racks and setting them against different swaths of fabric to see if they clashed. But they could not find one hat to suit them all.
Dinah knew such a thing wouldn’t exist. Any hat they found would always compliment one of her sisters more than the others. And she feared it was the same with Graham. That Lily was the hat he liked best but that another man was wearing it and so whenever he saw the hat . . .
With a scowl, she wiped at her brow, hoping to smooth out the crease. She was comparing herself to a hat. Of all the idiotic . . . She had to stop this foolishness. It would drive her mad.
She loved Graham and he loved her. That was the end of it.
“Five hats it is, then,” her father was saying. “I can’t compromise any of my girls with something they will not love.” He clapped his hands to call for a boy to help with the pile of hatboxes, and the little urchin joined the line of men parading after them down Bond Street.
“Is there anywhere you’d like to stop?” he asked Dinah.
She chewed her lower lip. Would it be unseemly to give Graham a gift? She wanted to shower him in wine and chocolate and terrible poems and leather-bound editions of Shakespeare. Her father would do such a thing. The larger the pomp and circumstance, the better.
But she would have to satisfy herself with something small. Something perfect. “Might we stop by the apothecary?”
“We may stop anywhere your heart desires.” He clasped her hands and danced her down the street. “Paris? Rome?”
Onlookers smiled at her father’s infectious mood as they strolled by. Dancing in the street? Nonsense. But Dinah still let him twirl her as he hummed their way to the apothecary, the line of boys bearing gifts behind them. Her father’s grin carried them into the apothecary shop.
A bell rang as they entered, the chill from outside still present, as there was no heat. A sharp and bitter scent wrinkled Dinah’s nose, a combination of alcohol, herbs, and minerals. Colored and clear glass bottles filled with tinctures and poultices lined the shelves. The man behind the counter was so thin he’d disappear if he turned sideways, and he wore a white coat and thick spectacles that stood out from his nose. He gaped at the spectacle that Dinah and her father created when they entered the store, a single boy with them but an army of others behind.
“May I help you?”
“I’m looking for a notebook,” she asked. “A small one you might keep to note dosing or medical treatment.”
“I’m afraid we don’t sell those here, but the bookstore down the street has journals.”
“I’m not looking for a journal,” she explained. “I want a notebook to track medical treatment. Perhaps you can sell me one of yours.”
He let out an uncertain drawl, his eyes darting from her to her father to the men outside.
“Whatever price,” she added.
“A moment,” he mumbled, bustling through a curtain, presumably to a room in the back where he must keep his herbs and ingredients.
Her father clucked his tongue as he studied the neat script on the labels of the glass bottles. “I’ve never seen you act so extravagant and illogical before.”
“And I’ve never seen you so at peace.”
He glanced sideways and smiled at her. “Christmas brings us many miracles this year, it seems. Alice mentioned you had taken an interest in medicine and had made acquaintances of the Somervilles.”
“Mary, mostly. She considers herself more of a mathematician but dabbles in her husband’s field.”
“Is it your intention to pursue the field of medicine? It is most uncommon, but I suppose you are an uncommon young lady.”
She stared after him, her jaw slack. Was her father giving her leeway to give up marriage and become a doctor? He’d been bewitched. But by whom or what? Not that she believed in bewitching. What change had been wrought in him?
The apothecary returned, clutching a journal only a few sheets wide with his bony fingers. “This is my last blank one. I’ll have to make do, but you can have it.”
“I insist on payment.” She reached into her reticule.
“Nothing needed from you, Miss Dinah. I hear how you’ve been good to Haslam down at Bethlem. Not like those doctors who turn their noses at us apothecaries.” He gave her a wink and set the journal into her hands with a reassuring pat.
She accepted his gift, assuring the boy who had followed her and her father that she did not require him to carry it. She pulled it close to her chest and imagined giving it to Graham with a saucy note that he should record all future medical experiments they do together within it. She turned to leave just as the bell above the door chimed to announce the arrival of another patron.
Dinah recognized the back of his head. He had entered first but was turned toward the door to hold it open. His hair was mussed, as if he’d recently ridden on horseback. Wasn’t Graham supposed to be in Woodbury? He’d found her! She wasn’t sure how. Or perhaps he’d had the same idea for a gift. How improbable. Either way, her joy at seeing him could not be overstated.
Then she entered right behind him . . .
Lily. Wearing mourner’s black.
The journal slipped from Dinah’s hands to the floor. It split open as it landed, pages askew. If she’d had the wherewithal to record her medical symptoms within the pages, she would have written that she had none. She felt numb. Even the chill was gone. Did she have skin? Bones? Hair? She felt nothing. No beating heart. No air.
Had she forgotten to breathe? Oh God, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t make her lungs move. Couldn’t feel her lips.
Graham finally turned and his expression was so strange. Surprise and joy to see her. A smile.
“Lord Graham!” Her father shook his hand. “Such an unexpected surprise. In this shop of all places! I’d thought to find you at Woodbury on the morrow. Are you also gift shopping? Who is this lady?”
Graham frowned at the question and then his eyes widened.
And then, of all things, in all places, of all people, Dinah Belle, the Blasé Belle, the most practical of ladies, fell to the floor in a dead faint.
Chapter Nine
December 21, 1820
London, England
Dinah awoke in a strange bed in a strange room, her head throbbing against a pillow. The mattress was a rougher straw than she was accustomed to, the sheets a plain material. She sat up. The room was small, and her bed faced a window. It was light outside, much more so than she last remembered. Her gaze darted around the room, finding that the bedside table held a bowl of water and a washcloth that had been wrung dry. She looked down. Someone had changed her clothes.
She pulled back the sheets and stood, the floorboards creaking with her weight. Lightheadedness swept through her, and she promptly sat back down on the mattress.
Her last memory was of Graham holding open the door to the apothecary for Lily. Her Graham, who was supposed to have been at Woodbury waiting her arrival, was instead with the love of his life, Lily.
&nbs
p; She squeezed her eyes shut and keeled over from the force of the tremors in her gut. Her mouth opened in a silent sob. How could this happen? She wondered if it had been his intention the entire time, if he’d tricked her into falling in love with him. He had been angry at her for trying to cure him and even angrier when she had brought Lily to the party. He must have deliberately invoked her passions as a means of punishment.
But there had been real moments of tenderness between them. At least that’s what she had thought.
A crash sounded from the next room, and she started back into bed. For a moment, her emotional concerns were secondary to her vague whereabouts. She assumed she was safe. Her father had been with her and would not have let any harm come to her.
The door to the bedroom swung open and Mary Somerville strode inside, carrying a bowl of water, which sloshed over the edges to the floor.
“You’re awake!”
“And you’re . . . here,” Dinah said, confused.
“Yes. Now lie down, lie down.” She set the bowl on the table. “Your father brought you here yesterday afternoon. Demanded to be let in. Pounded on the door. He said you fainted at the apothecary.”
Dinah felt ill at ease knowing she had been unconscious for a night, although, granted, she’d been sleeping. “You took care of me?”
“William and I did, of course. We would have even if your father hadn’t attempted to lay a ridiculous sum at William’s feet. He insists on the best, your father. I can tell. No, don’t try to get up. You’ve a goose egg and were running a fever for a short while. The apothecary insists he didn’t give you anything, but I want to be sure. Did you smell or drink anything there?”
“No.”
“Then your fainting is most unusual.”
Dinah swallowed, unable and unwilling to explain what had precipitated her state. “Did anyone else come with Father?”
Mary rinsed out the washcloth in the fresh water bowl and wiped at her forehead. “Yes, Lily Milton. Have you heard the tragedy? She’s a widow now. With a young child to boot.”
She wondered suddenly whether Graham want children. He must.
How little she knew of him, really. Lily probably knew how Graham felt about children.
“Oh, and your brother-in-law, Lord Abernathy. The middle one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so unsettled. Terrible in a crisis, that one.”
Terribly guilty, she was sure.
“William asked me to administer some tests, if you’ll indulge me.”
“Of course, thank you very much for your excellent care.” Dinah rested her palm over Mary’s hand, and Mary distracted her for the next twenty minutes with exercises to keep her head still and her eye on Mary’s moving finger. She was also instructed to tell Mary if it hurt when her temples or the sides of her neck were pressed.
Mary nodded. “I declare you in good health. Good enough for your father to come see you, at least. Do you feel up to it? He may be overwhelming. I nearly had to blockade your door to ensure you were able to rest.”
“Yes, yes, I’m up to it.” She sat up in bed. Her father she could handle. Graham and Lily were another matter, but at least the Somervilles would never allow them into her private room. She could hide out. But for how long?
She needed to think this through. She could not hide forever, and it was the worst luck that Bridget had engaged herself to Graham’s brother. They would see each other, at least at her annual birthday fete and likely at Christmas. Once Bridget had children, there would be other family gatherings, as well.
A few moments after Mary left, her father entered the bedroom, his face weathered and worn. She felt awful to have caused him such anxiety. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, then pulled back and sat on the bed. “Young lady, you had me worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He cast his glance heavenward. “I can’t lose another. I simply cannot. You must know my limits, and they lie with you.”
“I am fine, Father. It was a momentary affliction, now passed.”
“Are you fine enough to stand? You must show Lord Graham yourself. He is beside himself with worry and has neither slept nor eaten since yesterday. I am sure he knows he cannot return to Woodbury with you in such a state. Your sisters will see him hung even if it is no fault of his own.”
It was not his fault, Dinah decided. It was her fault. For allowing herself this illogical weakness of emotion. How could she be even further gone than her father? She envied him his new carefree attitude.
Love could not be trusted. It could be easily generated—with no logic—and then lost just as quickly. It could be fickle and cruel. It was complete folly. She wanted no part of it any longer.
“Father, would you and Lord Graham return to Woodbury without me? We were due yesterday, and I don’t want Alice to worry. Nor Sera, who is finally recovering.”
“But Mary has declared you well!”
“I know I cannot go, though I am well. Please give my sisters this news in person as they will not believe it if you stay behind, as well,” she insisted. “Your absence will prove their worst suspicions. It will ruin Christmas for them. But if you and Lord Graham return, then they will know the matter is but a trifle. The Somervilles will welcome me here with them. Mary and I have a close confidence, and her husband would not be the physician to see me kicked out.”
“They will welcome you here because I damn well demand it,” her father muttered.
She forced a smile and kissed him on the cheek. “Do not let our gifts go wasted, not after those poor boys traipsed for hours carrying the burden on their literal backs. Give my love to everyone.”
“Are you sure you’re well?”
“Quite sure,” she said. “But I believe the rest will do me well.”
She watched him struggle with the decision before asking, “When will you join us?”
She bit her lip and slid down further under her covers. She wondered how long it would take her to cure herself of this affliction. Her father had needed decades. Graham had supposedly done so in several years, sworn affection to Dinah herself, only to revert within mere months. She was superior to them in logic, so surely if anyone could be cured quicker than they had been, it would be her. Still, she couldn’t imagine it only taking a few days or even a week’s time.
“I prefer to stay in London for a time,” she said. “There are several lectures I’ve been wanting to attend, and now I have the opportunity, particularly with Mary by my side. It makes more sense for me to make the travel from here to Leeds for Alice and Robert’s wedding, don’t you think? The seventh of January is but a short time away, and to make two trips . . .” She let the implication of her health hang out there, suppressing the guilt at worrying him.
“You’re right. As usual.” He let out a gruff exhale. “If you’ll let me know who you intended the notebook for, I will be sure to gift it in your stead. I’ve rescued it as best I could.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the soft-covered pad. It was bent at the edges and flipped open on its own to where it had been split on the floor.
“It’s for no one in particular,” she said. “Throw it out in any case.”
* * *
Graham had never been one for being rude or emotional outbursts or busting through doors or loud declarations of any kind that might make people uncomfortable. But if someone did not tell him whether Dinah was all right, he was going turn over the coffee table, smash through her bedroom door and see for himself. He was having the damnedest time sitting politely in the Somervilles’ parlor and partaking of their lukewarm tea.
As if his entire body wasn’t shaking inside. As if he wasn’t reliving the look of horror on Dinah’s face as she saw him with Lily.
He was no idiot, and neither was Dinah. Without understanding the situation, there were many conclusions that Dinah could have drawn from their presence together, from Lily’s widow’s garb, but she had obviously chosen the worst possible one.
That had all been
secondary in his mind to her condition. Seeing her eyes slide up in her head and her body slump to the floor must have been the worst moment in his life. Losing Tom and his father had been hard, but he’d heard after the fact, grieved with his family. Here, he felt alone. As if he couldn’t share the true breadth and depth of his feelings and his anxiety.
Instead, he’d watched her father in hysterics. He’d been forced to remain calm as Lily suggested they bring Dinah to the Somervilles. He’d wanted to hold her and run through the streets to get her there, but her father had commanded her into a carriage and taken off, forcing Graham and Lily to follow behind. By the time they arrived at the house, Dinah had already been set abed and they’d sent everyone from the room.
He normally would never consider putting out strangers by forcing them to offer accommodations, but he couldn’t leave. The twenty minutes that he’d gone to see Lily home had been the longest of his life.
“Would you like a refresh of your tea?” Lily asked. She had returned this morning to see if Dinah had recovered. He couldn’t very well ask she leave, but he strained to throw her out. Dr. Somerville had left earlier in the day, and Mary had gone upstairs to refresh herself after caring for Dinah. Since Dominic had gone into the room and left the two of them alone, Graham couldn’t think of two words to say to Lily.
He shook his head at her offer of tea.
“It’s a relief she’s awoken, isn’t it?” She offered a tremulous smile. One he’d once found that smile radiant, but now he realized it was her way of hiding nerves. What was she nervous about? She wasn’t the one whose life was precariously tied to Dinah’s. “I haven’t thanked you for your intervention.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said. He certainly didn’t. She’d needed help resolving her late husband’s estate, some legal mess, and Graham was in a position to assist given his family’s ties. She wouldn’t have asked if she weren’t desperate, she’d said.
But he knew she wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t believe his attachment to her was strong enough to override social sensibilities. It was inappropriate for her to have reached out to him, and he believed had it not been for her untenable situation with a newborn child, she would not have done so.