The Wish (The Blooms of Norfolk Book 3)

by Angelina Jameson

  He blinked. At first thought the news wasn’t unwelcome. “I sense a caveat attached to that statement.”

  “You need to know more of Camellia’s background. Her mother Lady Hull suffered several miscarriages. There is a gap of six years between Helena and Camellia. Two years after Camellia’s birth a son was born. He lived only a matter of hours.”

  He didn’t know how to respond.

  “After that, the doctors told the woman she could have no more children. It was too big of a risk to her health. Her husband agreed. Soon after, Lady Hull started having episodes.”

  “Episodes?”

  “She would forget the baby had died. She wandered the house looking for him. Crying out for him. That summer was the first time Helena and Camellia came to visit their uncle here in Downham Market.”

  “Does the lady still have episodes?”

  Rutley shook his head. “Not about the baby. She feigns illness to garner the attention of her husband and in my opinion, to keep Camellia at home.”

  “I see.” He’d heard that much before at least.

  “During the season things were said to Camellia… Gossip. Nasty things about her mother’s mental state. I married Helena knowing about her mother’s behavior. Her mother’s hypochondria doesn’t matter to me. I know it is a behavior and not an illness Helena will inherit.”

  “Of course not.” The very idea!

  “Camellia experienced two seasons of unkindness from the ton about her mother’s eccentric behavior. She chose to not return to London this season for that very reason.”

  “That is unfortunate,” he replied, although the thought of Camellia surrounded by suitors in London bothered him. Could he be jealous over a lady he knew so little?

  The earl nodded grimly. “You know why Helena invited Camellia here. The girl has spent too long being a companion and nursemaid to her mother.”

  Now all became clear. He couldn’t fault the man. Rutley evidently knew about his brain tumor.

  “You don’t want me to encourage Lady Camellia,” he said, his voice thoughtful.

  “I do not wish to be indelicate. Please think on it, Lord Norfolk. If you do indeed have a brain tumor, Camellia shouldn’t be asked to replace one invalid for another.”

  Lady Rutley had found about his tumor and wanted more for her sister. As a man with three sisters of his own he understood her feelings on the matter only two well.

  He was used to hiding his pain, his despair over his condition. Now he used a blank expression to mask his regret about not seeing Lady Camellia again. “Tomorrow morning I will depart for my estate.”

  “Thank you,” Lord Rutley replied. “It would be better for all concerned.”

  * * * * *

  Camellia had a restless night and consequently, slept in.

  When she finally arrived in the breakfast room it was to find Helena alone.

  “I thought you would have a tray in your room,” she said to Helena by way of greeting.

  “I wanted to keep you company this morning as all the gentlemen have left the house.”

  Camellia walked to the sideboard, selected toast and eggs. She was seated across from her sister before she asked lightly, “Where has everyone gone?”

  “Rutley has business in the village. Lord Norfolk has departed for his estate.”

  She nearly choked on a bite of toast. “Lord Norfolk is gone?”

  “Uncle said the marquess needs peace and quiet. He will be more comfortable at home.” Helena spread marmalade on a piece of toast, not looking up.

  Lord Norfolk was gone. She bit her lip, wanting to cry out. He was attracted to her. She knew it. That stubborn man had left Rutley House without a word for her. Something was amiss. He was too honorable for his own good.

  Helena would still not look at her.

  “Perhaps we could walk in the gardens after breakfast,” she said to her sister.

  Helena nodded. “That would be very pleasant.”

  While they walked in the garden, Helena kept up a steady stream of conversation. The sun was shining, another unseasonably warm day was upon them. She could smell the mixture of fragrances from the flowers that surrounded them.

  She thought Helena was acting in a nervous fashion.

  “Has father written?” she asked.

  “He has.” Helena stopped walking. She pulled a letter from her dress pocket. “Here. You may read it.”

  There was a bench nearby. Camellia walked to it and took a seat. Helena followed suit. Her father had a flowery hand and she concentrated on deciphering his words. The point of the letter was that their mother had regained some normalcy after her last illness. She was asking for both her girls.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked her sister with a frown.

  “Because I know you would want to race back home. That is the last thing you should do. Uncle says I cannot make the journey in my condition.”

  “I should return home,” she replied although she didn’t want to.

  “Rutley thinks Mother is attempting to manipulate us yet again.” She paused. “He wants me to write to Mother and tell her I am expecting a child and cannot travel. My husband imagines our parents will then come to Rutley House.”

  Camellia refolded the letter and handed it back to her sister. She thought about what Lord Norfolk had said about her taking her own advice.

  “I think Rutley’s idea is an excellent one. I will stay here at least until you receive mother’s reply.” She smiled wryly. “Your husband is a genius.”

  “He is smart enough to have married me,” Helena replied with a soft laugh.

  “I am so happy for you. Rutley loved you enough to look past the difficulty of Mother.” Some of the horrible things said to her by other debutantes during the last two seasons came to her mind.

  “He told me all families have their problems. He said I was worth any trouble.”

  “Did he really?” She rolled her eyes. “Little does he know you.”

  Helena touched her shoulder briefly. “Camellia! I do love you, my sister.”

  “And I you.”

  Letter again stowed in her pocket, Helena stood up. “I need some more exercise. I ate far too many rashers of bacon this morning.”

  “I noticed. Soon you will be as big as a house.”

  Helena shook her head. “Did I just say I loved you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The coach curtains were open. As they drove up the winding drive to Marcourt Hall, Ambrose looked at his home with new eyes. His line was not so old, so the hall was newish for the county. It was a stately house, well-furnished, with extensive gardens thanks to the work of his mother and now Lottie.

  There would soon be a spanking new stable block, better situated not to block views from the upper windows of the house.

  He couldn’t distract himself from the reality of his situation. Despite his insistence on believing he had a brain tumor, the apothecary loaned him a book to read on diabetes.

  Ambrose retired to his study to look over some papers his estate agent had left for him. The bills for the stables were also included. He read a letter from Chastain. The family in London were well. Their friend Lord Peake had expressed an interest in courting a Miss Bolton. He knew her older brother and recalled meeting the young woman in London. He remembered her because she was very odd. She had light eyes that stared through you rather than looked at you.

  In the study is where Mrs. Jennings found him.

  “I received a missive from the apothecary.” Her words were few but full of meaning. She was letting him know she was not pleased.

  “Well then, I’m sure you know I need to eat every four hours.” He looked up from his papers and smiled innocently.

  “I do,” she replied shortly and marched from the room.

  Over a tray of tea, cheese and roast beef delivered by a maid as the housekeeper was evidently annoyed with him, he finished reading the papers. The stable project was going along as planned. He would tak
e a turn outside and then settle down to read the book on sugar sickness. He was keen to prove to himself he did not have the condition. There would be no getting his hopes up again.

  Lord Rutley thought he would be a burden to Camellia or any woman. The earl had the right of it after all.

  He’d taken his time eating breakfast that morning, hoping Lady Camellia would make her way downstairs. Lord Rutley couldn’t fault him for a chance encounter. He could wait no longer. He bid farewell to his host. It would be improper for him to leave a message for the lady.

  If that were true, why did he feel guilty about not saying goodbye to her? He felt like a scoundrel who had stolen away in the night.

  * * * * *

  “I sent a note to Lady Bowles apprising her of Lord Norfolk’s departure,” Helena said to her sister as she embroidered a baby blanket with her husband’s crest. “I’m not up to her company today.”

  Camellia put the book she was reading aside. “Are you feeling well?” she asked. “Should I send for uncle?”

  Helena waved a hand. “I am well. I wrote to mother this morning and shall be unsettled until I receive a reply.”

  “Before you know it, mother and father will be on their way to Rutley House,” she said, a hint of unhappiness creeping into her words.

  Helena nodded. “I will tell them I need you here to help me prepare for the baby.”

  “Your desire to assist me is admirable, Helena. When I see our parents again, we will discuss my future.” She paused. “I don’t want to go back home. I wish for another life.”

  “Oh Camellia! I feel so much guilt for leaving you and marrying Rutley. You have been the best of sisters for not resenting me for it.” Helena had stopped embroidering and looked at her sister, her expression one of sadness.

  She was taken aback by her sisters’ admission. “Guilt? You should feel no such thing. You were strong and brave. I must be more like you. Feel no sorrow on my account. You have shown me that I want more than to be a nursemaid.”

  Helena smiled, her eyes glistening. “I am relieved to hear you say that. Let us speak to mother and father together.”

  She silently thanked Lord Norfolk’s sharp tongue for helping in her decision to confront her mother. Someday she would thank him in person.

  “Are you quite all right, Camellia?” Helena asked.

  “Perhaps I am disappointed not to see Lady Bowles today,” she replied with a grin.

  “I am not,” Helena replied with a grimace. “I begin to think the lady befriended me merely to have access to Lord Norfolk when he was here.”

  She sighed. “I have to agree.”

  “Rutley told me that some years ago the marquess asked the lady to marry him. She chose a richer but much older man. The reason you never see Lord Bowles is that he is now quite feeble.”

  Lord Norfolk had wanted to marry Lady Bowles. She felt a knot form in her stomach.

  “Are you all right?” Helena asked.

  “I think I merely need another book,” she replied brightly, determined not to fret over Lord Norfolk’s past relationships. “It is time for another foray through Rutley’s library. If you don’t see me for an hour, send a search party.”

  * * * * *

  Ambrose was in his own library reading An Account of two Cases of the Diabetes Mellitus by Dr. John Rollo when a knock came at the door.

  “Come!”

  A footman entered the room and said, “A Lord Peake to see you, my lord.”

  “Send him in.”

  The footman opened the door of the room wide, motioning for the visitor to enter.

  “Good afternoon, my friend.” He stood up to greet Peake. “This is a pleasant surprise. Although it is nearly time for dinner, would you care for refreshment?”

  Peake shook his head. “Perhaps later. Right now, I must ask you for lodgings for the night. I am bound for my estate and preferred not to stop at an inn. My valet is not with me.”

  “Of course, of course. You will leave on the morrow?”

  “Yes. There are some business matters I must attend to.”

  A footman was loitering outside the room, Ambrose gave instructions for the man to escort Peake to a bedchamber and to see to anything the gentleman needed.

  He said to his friend, “I’m sure Mrs. Jennings has already prepared a room upon your arrival. Once you have cleaned off the dust of the road please join me here.”

  Several minutes later Peake rejoined him in the library.

  Both men were seated. He in a stuffed chair, Peake in its twin across from him.

  “I also came to Marcourt Hall to check on your well-being,” Peake said. “Your sisters would like reassurance of your continued good health.”

  “Yes. The headaches. My doctor gave me little help on the matter other than to provide me with laudanum. I am pursuing my own treatment.”

  Despite his best intentions, the information in the book he was reading was convincing him that he did have diabetes. His migraines were proof that he also had a brain tumor.

  “Your own treatment. Is that wise, Ambrose?”

  A knock at the door of the room produced a footman.

  “Supper, my lord.”

  He would have taken a tray if not for Peake. The men made their way to the small dining room. His cook would have instantly been alerted of the addition of a guest and planned for it.

  Cook had provided a hearty broth for the first course along with bread and cheese. The next course was a simple roasted chicken with vegetables. The dessert course saw more cheese accompanied by pastries, blackberry pudding and a carrot cake.

  He ate sparingly of every dish. There was wine on the table. He was content with water and ginger tea. Peake ate heartily of everything.

  “You must still have that horrible cook in your rooms.”

  Peake nodded. He helped himself to a second serving of blackberry pudding. “Tell me about your self-treatment. In London you told me your headaches were nearly gone.”

  He shook his head. “I lied, Peake. I was very ill the day I arrived at Marcourt. The local doctor was unavailable. My housekeeper thought I was dying and sent for the apothecary in the next village. The apothecary, Mr. Simpson, told me I have diabetes mellitus.”

  “The sugar sickness?” Peake frowned.

  “The prevailing theory right now is that it is a condition aggravated by the sugar in food.”

  Peake nodded, although his expression was questioning.

  “The apothecary prescribed a change in my diet.”

  “I noticed you ate quite plain food for supper,” Peake replied.

  He nodded. “And the least amount of alcohol the better.”

  “Heavens.” Peake shook his head.

  “If I have more than a few sips of alcohol I feel unwell.”

  “That is unfortunate.”

  “I keep a journal of what I eat and any symptoms of illness I have and when they occur.”

  “That seems very tedious,” Peake replied.

  “The migraines are unbearable. Watching what I eat, and foregoing alcohol is a small price to pay for a lack of discomfort.”

  Peake replied, “You look better than when you were in London. You still look too thin, but you have more color.”

  “And you? You look quite happy at present. How are my sisters?”

  “Iris is very happy with Chastain. They are the picture of wedded bliss.”

  “And Rose? Still enamored of you?”

  “Chastain mentioned she has switched her affections to her dance instructor.” He rushed to add, “Iris and Chastain have a plan to help. Iris is getting Rose a dog.”

  He laughed. “Well done, Iris. Give the girl something to distract her. A good idea indeed.”

  Peake assured him Lottie was well.

  There was one subject Ambrose was eager to ask his friend about. One of his friends was happily settled, perhaps he would live long enough to see another settled as well. “Chastain sent me a letter relaying some news. He told me y
ou have your sights set on Miss Bolton.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Helena joined Camellia again the next day for breakfast. “Rutley is already in his study. Camellia, I have received a letter from our mother.”

  Camellia thought the dark cloudy sky she could see through the breakfast room windows was an appropriate backdrop for the subject at hand.

  “My goodness! What did it say?”

  “Mother has made a miraculous recovery and our parents are on their way to Rutley House.” She sighed. “I don’t know whether I should be happy or worried.”

  “What did Rutley have to say?” Camellia asked.

  “He merely told me he was sure mother would not stir up trouble. She has to realize I have my own family now.”

  Camelia nodded.

  “And will you tell our parents you want to stay on?”

  She finished a bite of toast before she replied, “I will. With your support I know I can make them understand how I feel.”

  “I will help in any way I can.” Helena smiled wickedly. “Now what shall we do today? More embroidery?”

  * * * * *

  Ambrose had one more conversation with Peake over breakfast the next morning before the man departed for his estate.

  “Lady Rose wants to return to Marcourt.”

  He chuckled. “Tired of London, is she?”

  “I imagine she is tired of Lady Lottie.” Peake grinned. “Your sister appears to be tightening the girl’s lead strings.”

  “We have indulged the girl, I admit. We all wanted to make up for her losing our parents.”

  “You also lost your parents,” Peake replied somberly. “I think all of you have made the best of a very sad situation. Supposedly Aunt Abigail wants to return as well.”

  It was past time to address Abigail’s situation. “I am afraid Aunt Abigail will never go back to her home in King’s Lynn. Now that I feel much better, I should return to London and fetch my sister and my aunt. Iris has a new home to go to and Lottie should be free to concentrate on the season and getting a husband.”