by Susan Lodge
Her aunt never talked about the subject of love, which made her small speech all the more touching. It told her nothing of her father’s identity, but it did provide her with some comfort.
“You say he made provision for me. Father told me it was a sufficient sum to be used as a dowry, but he never stipulated the amount.”
“I don’t know the exact details, but an annual allowance has been received for your upkeep, and you will inherit a larger sum when you are married.”
“Of course,” she said bitterly. “How stupid I have been. Money! It’s all about money.”
Aunt Amelia’s eyes filled with moisture, alarming Hetty. Even so, she had to disclose what she had overheard. She had to confide in someone.
“Anthony doesn’t love me. It’s all pretence. I saw him last night with Diana. They were in the summerhouse…” Hetty stopped.
Her aunt sat tight-lipped, but the expression in her eyes was not of surprise.
“You knew,” Hetty whispered.
“No, not for sure, but I had begun to suspect. It would not be the first time Diana has been unfaithful.”
A feeling of betrayal crept over Hetty. “You were going to let me marry him, knowing he had no love for me?”
Her aunt clicked her tongue impatiently. “Diana is a distraction, Hetty. Anthony uses her as he would a mistress. I thought he cared for you. I know he was a bad lot, but I thought the war had changed him. I wanted you to stay here, at Avebury Hall. God knows, Hetty, the only good thing in this place is you. I fought your father to try and prevent the match with Stark.”
Suddenly, Hetty could see that the stern woman who had been there for her the last twenty years was just as frightened and vulnerable as she was. Her aunt’s frown deepened.
“Hetty, if Anthony realises you have seen him and Diana together, you could be in danger.”
Hetty started. “In danger? Why would I be in danger?”
“Anthony has set his mind on marrying you and your money, and he always seems to get what he wants. I think perhaps it is time after all for you to get away from here. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
Hetty felt sick. “How much is my inheritance, for heaven’s sake?”
Amelia shook her head. “I have no idea, but I suspect a considerable sum. Henry planned the marriage to Stark to get a share of it. Diana has bled him dry the last five years.”
“What if I don’t marry anyone, Aunt? Surely my real father must have thought about that possibility?”
“I believe you will inherit the money in your own right when you reach five and twenty, if a suitable husband has not been found by then. The Aveburys will have no further say in the matter.”
Hetty’s mind buzzed. “So, what I need is to avoid marriage for two-and-a-half years.”
Aunt Amelia took a deep breath. “I think you should seek out the help of Doctor Withington. He is a good man and, if I am not mistaken, has a considerable regard for you. I’m sure he will give you his protection.”
For a moment, a warm glow suffused her then Hetty shook her head. “Doctor Withington’s affections are for another woman.”
“Nonsense, girl. I saw the way he looked at you while he was here.”
Hetty blushed. Her aunt was behaving strangely, advising her to seek out the protection of a physician. She considered the idea for a moment then dismissed it.
“He has not troubled himself to reply to my letters, so I am sure he would not welcome any further contact. After all, I have already caused him plenty of inconvenience.”
Her aunt looked thoughtful. “Anthony may have intercepted your letters.”
“What!” Hetty was horrified. “Would he really do something so underhanded?”
Her aunt cast her a sympathetic look. “Your new maid, Foot, was selected by Anthony to keep a close eye on you. He would certainly stop any correspondence if he thought another man had an interest in you. He cannot risk your finding another match.”
Despite her outrage, Hetty’s heart lightened a little. Was it possible there was an explanation for Doctor Withington’s desertion?
***
Hetty tried to keep from launching into a tirade of abuse at the man at the head of the breakfast table. She wanted to demand an explanation – to tell him that his wife was carrying on with his son.
It was so obvious to her now! How could she have been so naive? She was beholden to the Aveburys, and now they wanted a payoff by stealing an inheritance they had never bothered to tell her about.
Diana did not attend breakfast as a rule, since it was taken at an early hour, and Anthony had already left for Winchester. Hetty glanced at Aunt Amelia who sat grim-faced, tackling her customary kippers.
“Father.” He had told her he still wished to be called that, although the word stuck in her throat. “Just how much is my inheritance when I marry?”
Her father nearly choked on his coffee at the sudden question. He set down his cup and stared.
“That is not a subject for the breakfast table. As I have already told you, it is to be used as a dowry. The amount has been invested throughout the years. I have no idea of the precise amount.” His neck turned pink.
“I would like to see the documentation stipulating the funds.”
His cup clattered on the saucer, and a brown stain seeped across the tablecloth.
“There is no need for that. Your finances have been managed by my lawyers these last twenty years. When you are married to Anthony, he will ensure your funds are safely invested. Is that not enough for you?”
It was obviously enough for Anthony to want to marry her. Her instincts told her to keep her temper in check.
One thing she was sure of – she was marrying no one.
Chapter Sixteen
Hetty stared at the front of Doctor Withington’s town house, considering whether it was fair to trouble him with her problems again. He could have reconciled with Rose; he could have gone back to sea. He could have forgotten her. She may not have received his letters, but she was sure he had written.
Yesterday, she had secretly watched Molly Foot deliver Hetty’s own letter to Anthony. She had written to the doctor and, like the earlier letters, had given it to her maid to dispatch. It was just a harmless note asking after his health and inviting him to call. Seeing Anthony read her letter and then throw it into the fire had helped her make up her mind to leave Avebury Hall. She had waited for him and his father to leave this afternoon before she embarked on the journey to Portsmouth. The mail coach had made good time, and she had arrived just as the last strands of daylight disappeared.
Feeling rather conspicuous standing on the pavement without a chaperone, she walked around to the back of the house and stopped at a short flight of steps that led down to the basement. Holding onto the handrail, she leaned over to peer into the window where a light flickered.
She smiled with relief as she saw the familiar figure of Annie busy at the kitchen table. She skipped down the last few steps and opened the door. Annie shrieked.
“Miss Hetty! Whatever are you doing here?”
“Shh.” Hetty put her fingers to her lips and smiled. “Annie, you have no idea how I have missed you. Your replacement is as endearing as a bad-tempered stag beetle.”
Annie giggled and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ve missed you too, Miss Hetty. It’s so good to see you. Sit down and have something to eat. You look exhausted.”
Hetty took a seat at the table. “Do you enjoy working for the doctor?”
“Oh, yes. He is a very good master.” Annie faltered a moment, and a frown crossed her brow. “Although he has a few strange habits.”
“Really?” Hetty made a note to ask which ones later as she tackled the chicken pie and hot milk that Annie had produced. “Is Doctor Withington at home?” She tensed at the thought of being so close to him again.
“No, miss. He’s been working at the hospital since early this morning. I’m sure he will be back in an hour or two
. He went to London last week and is visiting his family house in Wiltshire next week. He says I can have a position at Longwood when he properly takes up residence. Maybe he will make me housekeeper.” She sighed wistfully.
“That’s wonderful!” Hetty replied, but felt a stab of pain at the thought of him leaving for his old home – and perhaps his old love.
Had he already been in touch with Rose?
Annie continued. “He asked me if I had heard from you after you had gone back to Avebury Hall. I know he wrote to you. He will be right pleased to see you.”
So he had written. A ripple of joy ran through her as she followed Annie into the doctor’s study where a fire was still burning.
“Doctor Withington always comes in here for a nightcap. I had just left him a bite to eat on the tray and was about to go to bed.” She paused and lowered her voice. “How are things at Avebury Hall, miss? I know Mr. Anthony has returned.”
“Oh, he’s back, all right.” Hetty sighed. “He intercepted my mail and pretended…”
She checked herself. She couldn’t discuss these things with Annie – not things that personal. She was a servant, after all. She needed Doctor Withington. He would help and advise her.
She settled on the sofa and relaxed as the warmth of the room soothed her tired body.
“I will wait here for the doctor to return, Annie.”
She managed to keep her eyes open for another ten minutes before surrendering to the exhaustion and excitement of the day.
***
Robert shrugged off his coat, yawned, and wandered to his study.
What a bloody awful day – fifteen cases of fever from the frigate that had berthed yesterday and eight deaths. Amazingly, Thomas Brown was still hanging on to life, but Robert had almost given up hope of the man making a full recovery. He drifted in and out of consciousness, as if he could not quite make the decision to depart this world or return to it. Robert was intrigued that the few words the man had managed to mumble had included the name Avebury. He would very much like to know what message Thomas Brown was trying to convey.
He flicked back the cover of the tray that Annie had left for him and poured a brandy. He braced one hand on the mantelpiece and the other around the glass. Warming himself against the last glowing embers of the fire, he sniffed the air. There was something strange. The usual leather and tobacco aroma was tinged with the smell of something lighter, more fragrant. He turned suddenly. It smelt like…a woman.
“Miss Avebury.”
The words fell from his lips when he saw the soft feminine bundle snuggled down on his sofa. Her feet were tucked up under her skirts, her eyes were closed, and she frowned as she slept.
A powerful surge of tenderness swept him at the picture. Good God, how he had missed her. He had tried to accept that she did not need him. It had been a miserable acceptance, but now she was here.
She looked troubled in her sleep. He knelt beside her and gently took her hand.
***
Hetty stirred, and then her eyes opened as she felt the warmth of his long fingers.
“Doctor Withington!”
Nervously, she tried to gauge his reaction. Was he angry at her visit, running away again, involving him in her problems? But she only detected warmth in those wonderful green eyes, and her heart tried to leap from her body in relief.
“What are you doing here, Miss Avebury? And please don’t tell me you have been travelling alone again. Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“I had to get away. I need your help, Doctor Withington, and you did say if I ever needed help to let you know.”
“Of course, but I would have come for you. Why didn’t you write?”
“I did, but my letters were intercepted. I received nothing from you, and when you didn’t visit…”
“Miss Avebury, I have thought about you every single day and have written several times asking permission to call.”
His eyes glowed with tenderness, and the warm blanket of safety that had disappeared when he had left her at Avebury Hall settled around her again.
“Has your father made another ridiculous match?” he asked.
“No! It’s much worse than that.”
***
Robert’s fury cascaded inside him, along with the terrible realisation that he had failed her. He moved to stand by the fireplace to help resist the overwhelming desire to collect her in his arms and comfort her.
“I thought you were happy, reconciled with your family.”
“I have no family to be reconciled with.”
“Of course you do. You may not get along with them, but they are still your family.”
She blinked. “But it is true, I have lived a lie and didn’t even know it. I am not an Avebury. I am a bastard.”
Robert stared in astonishment. Hetty squared her shoulders, and Robert feared she interpreted his reaction as censure.
“I will not embarrass you with my presence for long, Doctor. I realise I have already caused you enough trouble, but I need your advice on how I can find out about my family. I’m told no one knows who my real father was, but I find that hard to believe. Especially as I seem to have been lied to all my life – even by my mother.” Her voice broke and a tear trickled down her cheek.
He sat beside her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. It was a most unprofessional and improper thing to do, but with her it felt like neither.
“You are not alone. I am here for you, as I promised.”
The stiffness dissolved and she leaned against him and let the tears flow. Robert held her while she wept, thinking what damage he would like to do to her father when he next saw him. He replaced her drenched lacy square handkerchief with a large white one.
“Ridiculous item, absolutely no use in a crisis,” he muttered as he tossed it away.
She gave him a watery smile as she mopped her face and recovered her composure. Robert reluctantly removed his arm and turned to face her.
“Now, Miss Avebury, tell me everything that has happened since I left you at your home.”
***
By the time Hetty finished her story, Robert was reeling with anger – not so much at her father’s disclosure, but because of the betrayal by Avebury’s son. He should never have left her with them. He had always suspected their concern was false.
“They are heartless, Miss Avebury. You should be relieved they are not your blood relatives. All this time, I thought you were happy. You seemed happy.”
Hetty gave him a puzzled look. “But how would you have known?”
“I saw you one day with Avebury. You looked content, laughing at his words.”
“Anthony was very persuasive. He said he loved me, but I now realise why. Aunt Amelia told me that my real father has left me a small fortune that I will inherit when I marry. They all want my money. That is their only interest in me.”
She looked so hurt he reached out and covered her hand.
“You, Miss Avebury, are far more valuable than any fortune.”
She seemed confused and he withdrew his hand. She fiddled with the handkerchief he had given her, then her eyes rose to meet his and he was relieved to see that she smiled.
“And you, Doctor Withington, have already made me feel much better without administering any potions. Thank you.”
“I am glad to be of service. But you are not just a patient, Miss Avebury. You were right to come here for help. I will be honoured to act as your protector.”
“You have been my protector, Doctor, since the first day I met you.” Her cheeks flushed at her own words.
“In that case,” he said, “perhaps you could consider dispensing with Doctor Withington and call me Robert, at least when we are in private.”
“Of course, I would like that,” she said softly, just before her smile turned mischievous. “In fact, I think it only fair as you have already used my given name without permission.”
“Have I? I do not recall taking such a liberty.”
“While I was stricken with that awful fever, I heard someone call me Hetty several times. I remember how comforting it sounded, and how I wanted to discover the owner of the voice. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Ah, yes. I had to resort to desperate measures when you did not respond to my conventional treatment. I apologise for being so forward.”
“You saved my life. Of course, I forgive you, Doctor.”
“Robert,” he corrected.
“Robert.” She said it with such tenderness it felt like a caress, and he wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on him.
Their eyes locked, and he could not resist the invitation in those bluebell depths. He leaned closer, and her head tilted upwards in response. All reason left as he swept down and captured her lips. He kissed her gently at first, testing her reaction to his advances. The soft, encouraging pressure of her response made him pull her closer, and for a few perfect seconds she felt like heaven.
Then she jerked back. Robert released her immediately, feeling like the worst rake until he realised she looked over his shoulder, staring toward the door. He turned and saw Annie with her arms crossed and a look that would have turned milk sour.
“Begging pardon, Doctor, but I have prepared a room for Miss Hetty. Perhaps I should escort her upstairs?”
Robert jumped to his feet and glared at Annie, willing her to the devil even though she was correct in her actions.
He turned and gave Hetty a half apologetic look as he offered his hand to help her to her feet. She gave him a lopsided grin that made something inside of him melt, and he steered her toward the door.
“I hope you sleep well. Do not worry – we will sort your problems out together.”
An eruption of noise came from the direction of the basement. Annie frowned then turned and scurried toward the disturbance.
***
Hetty stared at Robert in astonishment. “What on earth was that?”
“I have no idea,” he said just before Annie’s wail ripped through the house.
“Doctor, come quick! Handy has fallen down the stairs again, and I think he’s dead this time.”
Robert, with a muttered oath, glared at the door then sent an apologetic look to a bewildered Hetty before following in the direction of his maid’s distressed voice.