The Wish (The Blooms of Norfolk Book 3)

by Angelina Jameson

  “I haven’t seen any indication from Lady Lottie that she wants a husband,” Peake replied, his attention on his plate.

  “You have recently spent a lot of time in my sister’s company?” he sharpened his gaze.

  Peake shrugged. “A few family dinners Chastain was kind enough to invite me to. He knows I don’t get a good meal from my cook.”

  He took a sip of his tea. Instead of peppering Lord Peake with more questions, he would travel to London and see how his sisters fared. Thanks to Lady Camellia’s words to him about telling his sisters about his condition, an idea had formed in his mind. He would inform his aunt about his brain tumor and ask her advice about telling his sisters.

  After Peake took his leave, Ambrose met with his estate manager. Supplies for the building of the new stable block were already ordered. Tradesmen hired. Work would start on the new building tomorrow.

  When he reentered the house, he asked Mrs. Jennings to meet him in his study. He needed to tell her of his trip to London. He felt like a naughty child waiting to confess his misdeeds to a parent.

  When the woman arrived and took a seat he said baldly, “I am leaving for London the day after tomorrow.”

  The housekeeper clicked her tongue. “Are you sure it is wise of you to travel so soon after your episode at Rutley House?”

  “Be that as it may, I am going to town.” Very rarely did he use his lord of the manor tone of voice with Mrs. Jennings.

  “Very well, my lord,” the housekeeper replied stiffly.

  “If all goes to plan, I will return with Lady Rose and my aunt Lady Markham.”

  That bit of information relaxed the housekeeper’s expression. She had a soft spot for Rose.

  “That will be all for now,” he said, his attention reverting to a book on his desk.

  “Very good, my lord.”

  He’d read the book by Dr. Rollo well into the night. He was now sure he had diabetes. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a brain tumor. The apothecary couldn’t explain the reason for his migraines.

  The one positive aspect of his illness was that it had brought him into the company of Lady Camellia. She had been right about his sisters deserving to know the truth about his illness. He hoped she would take his advice and speak with her mother about her own future.

  He might not be a part of that future, but he wished her all the best.

  * * * * *

  Camellia’s parents arrived at Rutley House two days later.

  Her mother and father changed from traveling clothes before they greeted their daughters in the drawing room. Their father gave his girls brief hugs and a kiss on the cheek. He had always been an affectionate parent.

  Helena was the first to approach their mother for a kiss. The lady was seated on a settee next to her husband. When Helena stepped back, Camellia completed the ritual.

  “Congratulations on the baby,” her father said to Lord Rutley. He smiled at Helena. “You look very well, daughter.”

  “Oh yes, the baby.” Their mother smiled awkwardly. “Well done, Helena. Who is your physician?”

  “I don’t have one, mother,” Helena replied. “Uncle is looking after me.”

  Their mother frowned but didn’t say anything further on the subject.

  After Camellia and Helena were seated, Rutley asked, “How was your journey, Lady Hull?”

  “Too long,” the lady replied with a sigh. “I do hope the tea will be along presently.”

  Camellia felt the need to jump up and check on the progress of the refreshments. Helena caught her eye and shook her head. Old habits were hard to break.

  She remained seated and studied her parents. Her father had a liberal sprinkling of gray in his russet hair but looked as young as he always had. He remained as plump as his wife next to him. Her mother, a petite woman, still retained the beauty that had made her a diamond of her first season.

  “Was your house party a success, Helena?” her mother asked.

  Camellia met her father’s gaze. He shrugged.

  A maid entered the room with a tea trolley. Helena said, “I will pour.”

  Camellia’s nerves were getting the best of her. If she had poured there might have been a mishap.

  “Uncle is well,” she said to fill the silence.

  “He should be,” their mother replied grumpily. “He’s an apothecary after all.”

  She couldn’t remember her mother and uncle ever getting on. Her uncle was too apt to dismiss their mother’s ill health as the mere wanting of attention. Camellia agreed with the man. Until this visit, Helena had never said what she thought about their mother’s ‘spells.’

  “These cakes are delicious,” her father said.

  “Thank you, Father.” Helena added, “It is so good to see you.”

  “And the house party?” their mother asked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Helena glanced at her husband before replying, “There was no house party, mother. I lied so you would allow Lottie to come to me.”

  “You lied to me?” The woman put down her teacup and saucer on a small table next to the settee. She placed a hand over her heart. “I can’t believe it! I feel faint. Dearest Camellia, fetch me some smelling salts.”

  Lord Rutley put out a staying hand. “Remain where you are, Camellia. If your mother is unwell, she must leave the house immediately. I will not have her put my wife or our unborn child at risk.”

  Nobody said a word. Her mother moved her hand to her lap. She met Lord Rutley’s gaze. The gentleman moved not a muscle. He didn’t blink.

  Her father sighed. “Perhaps I should take you upstairs, my dear.”

  “Yes,” her mother replied in a soft voice. “I should rest before dinner.”

  The gentleman rose from his seat and led his wife from the room. Camellia was surprised that her mother had left the room without any fuss.

  Camellia excused herself and went to her room. Tonight after dinner she would have a long chat with her parents. Right now, she was occupied with pondering what she could say to convince them she should stay at Rutley House.

  * * * * *

  The carriage ride to London took three days and was exceedingly uncomfortable. When he arrived at his townhouse Ambrose greeted his family, professed himself exhausted, and retired to his bedchamber.

  When he emerged a few hours later Rose requested he accompany her and Lottie to Burlington Arcade. He agreed as he did want to spend more time with his youngest sister. The women visited most of the fifty-five shops in the shopping gallery while he rested on any available benches outside the establishments.

  “Have you changed your mind about joining us at the card party this evening, Ambrose?” Iris asked him when their party returned to the townhouse.

  “I admit to being too tired, Iris. I needed exercise and your sisters made sure I got some,” he replied.

  During supper Iris said, “Rose requested a tray in her room. She says she is exhausted, but I think she is merely working on one of her stories.”

  “Rose didn’t speak of any gentlemen while we were out today,” Ambrose replied. “The dog was a very good idea.”

  “A pet was my suggestion,” Chastain said and grinned.

  Iris laughed. “And for once I listened.”

  “There’s always a first time,” her husband replied.

  The dessert course was served. He chose cheese and fruit from the platters before him.

  “You will leave for Marcourt in a few days?” Chastain asked.

  He nodded. “That is what I have planned. How was the progress at the new house?” While he’d accompanied Rose and Lottie to the shopping arcade Chastain and Iris inspected their new home.

  “It is perfect!” Iris clapped her hands. “Our things will be moved tomorrow.”

  The next day, midmorning, he called on a physician, a man recommended to him by Chastain. He’d told his friend he merely wanted to consult another doctor about his headaches which had all but disappeared.

 
“I have to agree with the apothecary,” Dr. Wilson told him after hearing about Ambrose’s symptoms and testing his urine. “The headaches are problematic. My theory is that you could have an allergy to some type of food.”

  Ambrose thought a moment before answering. Before seeing the physician and having the man confirm he had diabetes he would have shrugged off the suggestion. “Mr. Simpson did suggest that if I have another migraine that I should write down what I had eaten before the headache started.”

  “That is excellent advice,” the physician replied. “Doing so could lead you to the reason for the headaches. The apothecary who came to your aid is a remarkable man. I believe he saved your life. Lord Norfolk, it is my medical opinion that you do not have a brain tumor. If you can find the cause of your headaches is linked to an allergy, that will be the proof.”

  Again, he took his time replying. Several emotions overtook him. When he thought his voice would be steady enough, he said, “Thank you, Dr. Wilson. Thank you very much.”

  Ambrose took his leave of the doctor, daring to speak no more. He was afraid to hope the man was right. He would write to the apothecary and ask him if he thought an allergy would cause his headaches. Mr. Simpson had the list of items Ambrose ate the day of his migraine at Rutley House. Perhaps that list would hold the clue to his headaches.

  He would be back at Marcourt Hall in a week. The apothecary could visit him there. Perhaps Lady Camellia might accompany her uncle. Suddenly his future didn’t look so bleak.

  * * * * *

  Lady Hull felt well enough to join her family for dinner.

  They sipped white soup in relative silence. Helena looked tired. Camellia would ask her sister about her health in private. She didn’t want to upset their mother further.

  Their father asked Rutley about a book he wanted to read.

  “It is in my library, sir. Please feel free to borrow it.” Rutley sat at one end of the table, her mother had taken a seat as far as she could away from the earl.

  The gentlemen joined them in the drawing room after dinner. Helena played the pianoforte for a short time. Camellia was coaxed to do so although she was a disinterested musician at best. When she was done playing, she retook her stuffed chair across from the sopha her parents were seated on.

  “I need to speak to you on a serious matter, Mother and Father.” She nodded to her sister. “It is not a private matter, Helena. You and Rutley are more than welcome to hear the conversation.”

  Rutley replied, “I think we both would like to stay and support you.”

  “This sounds a very grave matter,” her father said with a frown.

  “It is,” she replied. She took a deep breath and said, “I am not returning to Cambridgeshire. Helena has offered me a home at Rutley House.”

  Her mother gasped. “Camellia! This is not your home. You will accompany your father and I when we return home and that will be the end of it.”

  “I will not.” She sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “I am an adult and I will do as I please. Mother, I want my own life. That life starts now.”

  “Edward!” Her mother grasped her husband’s arm. “Tell her she will return with us to Cambridgeshire.”

  Her father’s normally placid expression was gone. He shook his head, his countenance one of resignation.

  “I cannot.” He shook his head. “It is her decision.”

  Their mother glared at Rutley. “This is your fault, Lord Rutley. First you took Helena away from me, now you’ve schemed to deprive me of my other daughter.”

  Rutley said not a word. He merely sat, one leg crossed over the other, looking entirely at his leisure.

  “You owe Lord Rutley an apology, my dear,” her father said gravely.

  “I will do no such thing.” Her mother jumped up. “I would rather leave this house.”

  “You are always free to do so,” Rutley replied.

  There was silence in the room. Lady Hull’s only response was to retake her seat.

  “May I request a private word, mother?” Camellia asked. Her mother’s behavior was not at all what she’d expected. Normally when Lady Hull didn’t get her way, she would resort to a tantrum. Camellia got to her feet. “We can talk in the parlor.”

  Her mother nodded and stood. “Very well, Camellia.”

  Camellia nodded to Helena to assure her that she could manage their parent alone. Once in the parlor, she took a seat across from her mother.

  “Why this sudden desire to leave us?” her mother asked plaintively as she reclined on a settee.

  She took a breath. “Mother, why did you take me to London if you didn’t want me to find a husband?”

  Her mother remained in her relaxed pose but frowned. “Whatever do you mean, Camellia?”

  “Please do not dissemble. You know of what I speak.” Once she’d said the words, she felt stronger, more in control of her emotions. She loved her mother, but their relationship had to change.

  “If you leave, perhaps your father will leave as well,” her mother replied in a small voice. “He loves you girls so very much. What will remain to bind him to me?”

  She watched her mother closely, hoping for no occurrence of the melancholy fits of years ago. Her mother merely appeared morose. Dejected.

  “Father loves you very much. I don’t believe he only stays with you because of your illnesses.” She paused. “You do not need to complain of ill health to tie him to you.”

  “Are you happy here at Rutley House?” her mother asked unexpectedly.

  “I am. I should like to remain at least until Helena has the baby.” Their conversation had given her hope for a difference in her relationship with her mother going forward. “If I eventually return to Cambridgeshire it would be as your daughter, not as your nurse.”

  Her mother nodded several times but remained silent. A clock somewhere in the room ticked away.

  “There are several things I need to discuss with your father.” Her mother sat up then, her expression not so grim as before. “Shall we return to the drawing room?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lord Peake called at the townhouse the next day and found him in the library.

  “Good afternoon!” Ambrose stood up from his chair. “I was just about to get some fresh air. Please join me.”

  Peake followed him out of the room and down a corridor to where the single door led to the small terrace overlooking the back garden.

  “How are you feeling today?” Peake asked him.

  “My headaches have quite diminished. When I feel one coming on, I find exercise is a great help.” He chuckled. “You would think I was a doctor with how careful I am about my health.”

  The sound of insects buzzing in the air was accompanied by the whistling of someone in the mews behind the garden. He stood at one end of the terrace, breathing deeply of the fresh air.

  “Lottie and Iris were aware how sick you were,” Peake said. “We all were. I would have only given you a few more days at Marcourt before I checked on you when your sisters suggested it.”

  Ambrose turned his attention from the greenery before him to the friend next to him. “Let’s walk. I can tell you truthfully that I feel much recovered. How is Miss Bolton?”

  “At home with her family,” Peake replied. “I have concluded that I do not wish to marry the lady. In fact, I need to speak to you about the lady I do wish to marry.”

  He could hear a dog barking. A dog raced by them, Rose in his wake.

  “Ambrose! Aunt Abigail is missing!” Rose sprinted after her dog. When she yelled “Livingston!” the dog ran to her and she scooped him into her arms.

  “Missing? What do you mean she is missing?” he asked.

  “Lottie went to see if Aunt Abigail wanted to accompany us on a walk. She couldn’t find auntie in her bedchamber or anywhere else in the house. The servants are helping us look.”

  “Let us go inside,” Peake said, placing a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder for a moment. “It might well be a mis
understanding.”

  * * * * *

  The next day saw more surprises with Lady Hull’s behavior. Her father greeted her cheerfully in the breakfast room.

  “Good morning, Daughter.”

  “Good morning.” She sat down beside him after selecting a plate full of delicacies from the platters on the sideboard.

  When she and her mother returned to the drawing room last night, Lady Hull announced her desire to retire for the evening. Her husband followed her from the room. Once the couple had departed, Camellia repeated her conversation with their mother to Helena.

  “Your mother will have a tray in her room,” her father said, breaking into her thoughts. “We stayed up quite late talking about you and your sister.”

  “Did you?”

  He nodded. “It was long past due. We both agree you should stay at Rutley House as long as you wish.”

  “Really, Father?” She grasped one of her father’s hands in her own. “Thank you.”

  Rutley joined them in the breakfast room. He invited her for a ride and Camellia happily acquiesced. When they returned, her mother was having tea in the parlor with Helena. Rutley excused himself after he assured himself his wife was well.

  “How was your ride?” Helena asked when Camellia took a seat and poured herself a cup of tea.

  “Splendid,” she replied. “It looks to be another lovely day.”

  Her mother looked well-rested. Seated beside Helena, both women wore relaxed expressions. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Now tell me how you have been feeling as of late, Helena,” her mother said. “Perhaps it will tell us whether you carry a daughter or a son.”

  * * * * *

  The family searched for Aunt Abigail on several surrounding streets and in the nearby park.

  A few minutes later Lottie and Peake returned from the park, Aunt Abigail beside them.

  “Thank goodness you are all right,” Iris said to their aunt as their party stood in front of the townhouse.

  “I am going to my bedchamber,” Aunt Abigail announced. “I have much to do if I’m to travel to Suffolk to see Lady Peake.”

  Lottie ushered everyone into the morning room where Lord Peake explained that Aunt Abigail would visit Peake’s mother in the country for several weeks.