Married by Midnight (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 4)

by Julianne MacLean

  “Where do you live?” he asked the younger brother while he retrieved his black leather medical bag from under the seat. As he withdrew his stethoscope he asked, “How old are you and what are your names?”

  “I’m Joshua Callaghan and I’m eleven,” he replied. “My brother is Marcus. He’s thirteen and we live at the end of Jacoby Lane, near the river.”

  Dr. Thomas glanced at Garrett. “How far is that?”

  “Not far. About two miles.”

  “Is that the nearest cottage?” he asked.

  Garrett turned questioningly to Jameson who was now standing in the snow outside the door.

  “It is,” Jameson told them, “but I don’t trust that old cart road. The storm is getting worse. It might be best to stay on this road and head back toward the village. We could go straight to the local doctor who lives on the way.”

  “Does he have a well-stocked medical office?” Dr. Thomas asked.

  “I believe so, and he should be there, as he lives on the upper floor.”

  “That sounds like the best option, then,” Dr. Thomas replied. “Take us there, Jameson, as quickly as possible, if you please.” Then he glanced across at Garrett with some concern. “I fear you may be late for your wedding.”

  Garrett laid a comforting hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Anne will understand.”

  “But your inheritance... Perhaps you could take one of the horses and go on yourself.”

  “No,” Garrett firmly replied. “Jameson will need both horses to bring this coach to the village. I will not leave you, sir. Or them.” He glanced down at the two young brothers.

  The coach rumbled forward into a clearing where Jameson turned them around to head back in the other direction.

  They were halfway to the village when Dr. Thomas checked Marcus’s pulse again.

  He leaned down to listen at the boy’s mouth and nose, then tore the extra coat off him to listen to his chest.

  “What’s wrong?” Garrett asked.

  “He’s not breathing.” Dr. Thomas placed the stethoscope over his heart. “I’m not hearing a heartbeat.”

  Joshua began to weep. Garrett gathered the younger boy into his arms. “There must be something we can do. When I was in your office this morning, I read something about resuscitating drowning victims. If we blow into his mouth, won’t he start breathing again?”

  “He didn’t drown,” Dr. Thomas replied, shaking Marcus violently. “There is no water in his lungs. It’s the cold. It has slowed his body functions. Now his heart is not circulating his blood. Getting him warm again is our best hope.”

  Garrett frowned. “Surely there must be some way to revive him?”

  Dr. Thomas shook Marcus again. “His heart needs to beat. Wake up, Marcus! Wake up!” He laid the boy down, leaned over him, pressed a fist to his chest and began to push in a steady rhythm.

  “What are you doing?” Garrett asked.

  “I’m trying to help his heart. Come on Marcus!”

  Garrett watched, transfixed as Dr. Thomas continued to push on the boy’s chest repeatedly with the heel of his hand. Then he grabbed hold of Marcus’s shoulders, sat him up again, and roughly shook him.

  “Have you ever done this before?” Garrett asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re hurting him!” Joshua cried.

  Dr. Thomas laid Marcus down again, applied the stethoscope, and listened. For a moment he was quiet, then he blinked a few times. “There! I heard a beat! A single heartbeat!”

  They all stared in silence with breath held, waiting. He said nothing for a few more seconds. “Another!”

  Dr. Thomas turned to Joshua. “Come here, boy. Take off your jacket. Lie beside him and hug him as tight as you can.”

  “But he’s dead!” Joshua sobbed.

  “No, his heart wants to work. We just need to get him warm. Come on now, that’s a good boy. Hold him tight. Don’t let go.”

  Garrett moved to the window and wiped his sleeve frantically on the foggy pane. “We’re almost there. Just another few minutes...”

  Dr. Thomas continued to monitor Marcus’s pulse until they pulled to a halt in front of the doctor’s office and residence on the outskirts of the village. Garrett opened the door and leapt out. The wind and snow nearly knocked him over. The blizzard had worsened, and he was forced to accept the fact that he would not likely make it back to the palace by midnight.

  He prayed Anne would understand, and that his father would not see it as a sign of the curse. God knows what he might do.

  Thrusting those thoughts aside for the moment, Garrett trudged through the deep snow and pounded on the door. “Is anyone here? We have a sick child!”

  When no one answered, he tried the door, but it was locked. He moved to the window, cupped his hands to the frosty glass, and peered inside. The office was dark and deserted. He backed up and looked at the second story window. All the curtains were drawn. “Hello!”

  Desperately he turned around to see Jameson lifting Marcus out of the coach. Garrett glanced to the left and saw a wrought iron chair half buried in the snow. He hurried to it, tried to pull it free, but it was embedded in the ice. He kicked it fiercely until he knocked it over, then hoisted it over his head, hauled it to the window and swung hard to smash the glass.

  Garrett cleared the broken shards away with his sleeve, crawled through and hurried through the parlor to open the front door.

  Jameson was there waiting. “Well done, my lord.” He carried the unconscious boy inside. “Where should I lay him down?”

  “Over there.” Garrett pointed to the examination table.

  Dr. Thomas and Joshua hurried in behind them. Dr. Thomas took a quick look at what supplies were available but seemed most relieved to find the grate already piled high with fresh kindling.

  “This will do,” he said as he removed his coat. “Someone get a fire going. We need heat and hot water.” He studied the younger boy who stood at his brother’s side, a worried look on his face and tears in his eyes. “Child, find a place by the hearth and warm yourself while we see to your brother.”

  “I’ll take care of the fire,” Garrett said. “Jameson, go and cover that broken window.”

  They all quickly set about their tasks.

  Chapter 16

  For a few brief moments that afternoon, Anne had looked outside at the snowy landscape and was tempted toward cowardice. She had thought about ordering a carriage and leaving before the ceremony could take place. But how could she give up the money? And where in the world would she go without it?

  It was fear that made her want to run, plain and simple, for she never imagined she would fall so deeply and passionately in love with her betrothed. It had seemed such a simple affair when Lord Hawthorne and Lord Blake presented their proposal: take part in a mock engagement, sign a marriage certificate, have relations once with a man she would never see again, accept a large sum of money, then begin a new life.

  Now she sat before the looking glass wearing Charlotte’s stunning white wedding gown and wanted only to find Garrett waiting for her at the altar—with love and desire in his eyes.

  The wind gusted outside the window and the sharp sleet pelted the glass. It had turned into quite a blizzard. She was thankful there were no guests scheduled to arrive. It would be a small private ceremony for members of the immediate family only.

  A knock sounded at her door. “Come in!”

  Charlotte entered wearing a lovely pale blue gown with silver trimmings. Her hair was swept into a loose twist on top of her head with tiny white flowers woven through the locks.

  “Hello Anne,” she said as she moved to the chair before the roaring fire and sat down.

  “If you have come to ensure that I am not late for my own wedding,” Anne said, “you will be pleased to see that I am quite ready.”

 
Charlotte cleared her throat. “That’s wonderful, but...” She paused. “There is a slight problem. None of us wanted to mention anything before now because we didn’t wish to alarm you, but judging by the hour, I think it’s high time someone told you the truth.”

  Anne’s belly performed a rather sickening flip. “What truth?”

  “It’s Garrett. I don’t know how to say this, but... he’s not here.”

  Anne frowned. “What do you mean? The wedding is in one hour. Where is he?”

  Charlotte took a breath. “We’re not sure, exactly. All we know is that he had a driver take him to the train station early this morning. He was headed for London.”

  “London!”

  “Yes, but do not despair. We spoke to Jameson before noon, and he informed us that Garrett instructed him to pick him up upon his return.”

  “Did Jameson follow his instructions?”

  “That is the problem, you see. Jameson has not returned either. This afternoon’s two o’clock train was the last arrival of the day.”

  Had he turned his back on her? A flash memory of that day in church pounded through Anne’s brain. Harlot, you are not welcome here. Was this another punishment for her sins in the past? For her terrible naivety?

  No, she would not believe it.

  Anne strove to remain calm. “Something must have happened. The weather is very bad. They must be delayed because of the snow.”

  “That is quite possible,” Charlotte agreed, “which is why we have sent out a few grooms on horseback to search before it gets dark. There is only the one main road from here to the village station, so if they are stuck in the snow, we will find them.”

  But what if they aren’t? Anne wondered frantically. What if Garrett never returned from London? What if he changed his mind about going through with this sham of a wedding, as she had considered doing earlier that afternoon? Was he headed for Greece?

  Anne stood and walked to the window. She could barely see the first trees edging the drive, for the whole world had turned white.

  No. She would not accept that Garrett would leave her at the altar. He knew what she had suffered before. He would never humiliate her that way. If he had changed his mind, he would simply tell her. Wouldn’t he?

  Anne turned and faced Charlotte. “Something must have happened. I know Garrett. He wouldn’t just leave us all in the lurch.”

  The clock was ticking, however. They had to marry by midnight, or the terms of the duke’s will would take effect immediately. If all four brothers were not married before Christmas Day, the entire unentailed fortune would be awarded to the London Horticultural Society, and the family would be almost broke.

  “I hope you’re right,” Charlotte said with some uncertainty, “because I admit...I am not so sure.”

  At the sound of a whimper, Garrett rushed to Marcus’s side and grabbed hold of his hand. The boy was as white as death, but at least he was breathing.

  “My chest hurts,” he complained. “Where am I?”

  Overcome with relief, exhausted from the terrible ordeal of the past few hours—not knowing if the boy would live or die—Garrett bowed his head and said a quiet prayer of thanks.

  He glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was just past midnight.

  “You’re at the doctor’s office in Pembroke Village,” he replied. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

  “I fell through the ice.”

  Poor little Joshua was curled up asleep in the chair by the fire and did not wake. Dr. Thomas, however, who had gone to rest in the front parlor, came hurrying to the bedside.

  “He’s awake?”

  “Yes. It’s a Christmas miracle, to be sure,” Garrett replied as he watched the doctor—his own brilliant father—examine the boy. “You saved his life.”

  Dr. Thomas’s eyes lifted. “We both saved him.” He leaned over Marcus’s face and spoke distinctly. “How are you feeling, son? Can you tell me your name?”

  “It’s Marcus.”

  “Good. Do you know what day it is?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve. My pa is going to grind me up for dinner. Where’s my brother?”

  Dr. Thomas stroked the boy’s hair away from his face. “By the hearth, and on the contrary, I think your father will be very happy to see you in the morning.”

  “Does he know I’m here?” Marcus asked.

  “Not yet. The storm hasn’t let up. We couldn’t get you home, but we will send Jameson out at first light.”

  At the sound of their voices, Joshua woke and wandered sleepily to the bedside. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “He’ll be just fine,” Dr. Thomas replied.

  Garrett backed out of the way so Joshua could see his brother. Thank you, sweet Lord. Thank you for letting him live.

  Later, after they transferred Marcus and his brother to a more comfortable bed in the next room, Garrett and Dr. Thomas sat before the fire sipping hot tea.

  “What will happen with you?” Dr. Thomas asked. “You have missed your wedding and your father’s deadline. Is there no way to plead for an extension? It was a matter of life and death. Surely the courts will consider that.”

  “Possibly,” Garrett replied, “but at the present time I am more concerned with how Anne must be feeling, wondering why I wasn’t there to marry her. I hope she will forgive me. And father must be beside himself. He was so frightened of the curse.”

  “If he is frightened, he will wake in the morning to discover the palace is still standing, strong and sure as ever.”

  They were quiet for a moment. “When will the fortune be transferred to the Horticultural Society?” Dr. Thomas asked.

  “I’m not certain. My brothers will surely do their best to fight it in court, which could hold everything up.” Garrett sipped his tea. “If only the money was going to a better cause—to feed the poor or build a new orphanage. Anything... But the Horticultural Society? As if England needs more flowers for the rich to enjoy.”

  Dr. Thomas considered that. “Perhaps you could convince them to put it to better use. Your mother has a few worthwhile charities that are near and dear to her heart. I’m sure the Society would consider contributing to some of those, out of respect for your family.”

  Garrett nodded. “That is an excellent idea.” He stood up to check on Marcus in the next room. He was sleeping soundly, and his brother Joshua was curled up beside him.

  “May I ask you something?” Garrett whispered to Dr. Thomas as he returned to his chair. “Did you know what you were doing when you pushed on Marcus’s heart? Had you seen that done before?”

  “No, and I had no idea if it would work, but I’ve been studying the human body all my life. It was instinct mostly—and desperation.”

  “You didn’t give up. That’s the important thing.” Garrett leaned back in his chair again.

  They sat in silence for another moment.

  “Now may I ask a question of you, Garrett?” the doctor asked.

  “Of course.”

  “When your boat went down, did you work as hard to save those passengers as you worked to save Marcus today?”

  Garrett experienced a flash memory of the giant waves, the ropes and canvas tangled together in the stormy sea, and how he had been pulled down into the cold dark depths.

  Why had he been pulled down? Because he refused to let go of Johnny’s hand. He had sucked a few mouthfuls of water into his lungs and began to convulse before he finally let go and kicked his way to the surface.

  “I risked my life,” he replied. “But in the end, I only saved myself.”

  “And you feel guilty about that?” Dr. Thomas said.

  Garrett nodded.

  “I understand, but it wasn’t up to you to save everyone under those circumstances, son. I do not mean to sound disrespectful, but it’s rather arrogant of you
to think so. As I have said before, nature is both a beauty and a beast. You did your best, but it was simply their time that day, and not yours.”

  Garrett looked down at his tea that was now cold in the cup. “I suppose you have seen a lot of death in your profession.”

  “I have, and it is never easy, but it is a part of life. Sometimes, even when we do everything humanly possible to try and save someone, in the end, it makes no difference what we’ve done.”

  “It made a difference today.”

  “Yes, it did.” Dr. Thomas closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and slowly let it out.

  Garrett watched him with interest. “I once told you that I envied your ability to cure people. I wonder if you might teach me some things?”

  Dr. Thomas opened his eyes. “I’d be happy to.” Then he smiled. “Or you could simply enrol in medical school. I could put in a good word for you.”

  Garrett stood up and walked to the window to look out at the storm. “It might not be such a bad idea to learn a profession,” he said, “now that my family is broke.”

  Dr. Thomas sighed. “Money isn’t everything, Garrett.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree,” he replied, turning to face him. “It’s one of the reasons why I left Pembroke Palace in the first place seven years ago. Despite the opulence and the endless flow of money, I wasn’t happy.”

  Dr. Thomas squinted at him in the firelight. “A strange thing to hear from a man who agreed to marry a woman he never set eyes on before—for no other reason but to collect a monetary award the day after the wedding.”

  Garrett regarded him shrewdly. “Touché.” He returned to his chair and sat down.

  “What are you going to do,” Dr. Thomas asked, “now that there will be no funds awarded to you today?”

  “I think the more important question,” Garrett replied, “is what will Anne do?”

  “It all depends on how you approach the situation.”

  “What do you recommend?”

  The doctor considered the question for a moment, then offered his best fatherly advice. “I recommend extreme, heroic, and above all, desperate measures that may or may not involve groveling. To your betrothed, as well as your family members.”