by Rose Pearson
“Will you not stay another fortnight?” Lady Markham asked, her fingers clasping and unclasping together. “Just to ensure that my brother is fully recovered?”
Deborah hesitated. She could see the urgent hope in Lady Markham’s eyes but knew that there was no good reason for her to stay. Lord Abernathy was improving with every day that passed and there was no particular requirement for her to continue aiding him with his recovery.
And yet, there was a part of her that wanted to linger. A part of her that, underneath all of her determination and resolve, begged to stay a little longer, begged to be allowed to linger in Lord Abernathy’s presence for just two more weeks.
“Very well,” she found herself saying, despite the knowledge that she would be much better to refuse. “I shall stay for two more weeks, Judith. But, thereafter, I must return to the abbey and to the life that I have been called to.”
Lady Markham nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as she dabbed tears from the corner of her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I am very glad,” she said, her voice still wispy. “Thank you, Deborah. You have become so very dear to both myself and my brother. I truly do not know if I can stand the thought of this house being without you!”
Glad that she had brought Lady Markham a little relief, Deborah allowed herself to smile. “You are very kind, Judith,” she said, honestly. “I will miss being here also, I confess, but I cannot stay somewhere where my thoughts and feelings are so completely tangled in confusion.” She thought back to her life in the abbey, to when everything had been so calm and clear. “I must return to the abbey and to my life there, so that my thoughts can align and so that my desires can free themselves from this mire of confusion.”
Lady Markham looked at her thoughtfully, the tips of her fingers resting gently against her mouth. Nothing was said for a few minutes.
“Deborah,” Lady Markham said, eventually, breaking the silence. “What if my brother –”
Just as she was speaking, the door flew open and none other than Lord Abernathy walked into the room, his expression determined.
“Ah, there you are Judith!” he exclaimed, not so much as glancing at Deborah. “I have come to inform you that I will not be present for dinner.”
Lady Markham’s eyes widened.
“I have just heard from Lady Cavendish,” Lord Abernathy said, his words sending a spiral of disappointment through Deborah. “I am to dine with both herself and her mother and cousin this evening. They are staying in a small village somewhere nearby – I forget the details of her note – and I am to visit her at once.”
“I see,” Lady Markham murmured, throwing a quick glance at Deborah. “So, she has come at last, has she?”
Lord Abernathy smiled broadly, adjusting the patch over his eye with one finger. “As she said,” he replied, grandly. “Now, if you will excuse me –“ He turned and bowed to Deborah, who immediately felt her stomach fill with fluttering butterflies. “I must go and prepare.”
“Wait.”
Lord Abernathy turned as Lady Markham got to her feet.
“I think I should attend with you, Abernathy.”
Deborah watched with growing interest as Lady Markham took a step or two nearer to her brother, wondering why Lady Markham sounded so uncertain.
“That is hardly polite, Judith,” Lord Abernathy chastised, gently. “You cannot simply appear at an occasion you have not been invited to.”
Lady Markham snorted in a most unladylike fashion and tossed her head. “I am sister to the Duke,” she said, plainly. “I have no need to concern myself particularly with propriety. Write to your Lady Cavendish and state that I have decided to join you. I am quite certain that they will be more than able to accommodate me.”
Lord Abernathy frowned and looked away. “I do not think it is necessary, Judith,” he said, quietly. “I know how you feel about Lady Cavendish but I can assure you that she will not behave so now.”
Deborah’s ears pricked up at this remark, wondering to herself what Lady Cavendish had done to bring about Lady Markham’s displeasure.
“Please, Abernathy,” Lady Markham replied, looking up at once. One glance told Deborah that she was more than insistent, which meant that Lord Abernathy, even if he were to argue, would end up not being able to refuse her. “It is for the best, truly.”
Lord Abernathy sighed heavily and ran one hand through his thick, dark brown locks that fell about his temples. Deborah forced herself to look away, finding herself drawn to the thickness of his hair and silently wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through it.
No sooner had she thought such a thing than she threw the idea aside at once, feeling her cheeks warm. Turning her head away from brother and sister, she focused on the small fire in the grate and refused to let another thought of the same ilk come into her mind.
“What say you, Miss Harland?”
Her name on his lips jolted her and she twisted her head around to him. “You are asking me to side with either yourself or Lady Markham, Lord Abernathy?” she asked, arching one eyebrow. “Truly?”
“Truly,” he replied, with a broad grin. “Come now, I must know. Is my sister being foolish or am I being unkind in refusing her?”
Deborah hesitated, a small smile working its way across her lips as she took in Lady Markham’s sharp, urgent glance.
“I would permit your sister to go with you, Lord Abernathy,” she said, decisively, laughing softly as he groaned, his head going back and one hand pressed against his good eye. “She cares about you and has good reason for suggesting such a thing.”
Lord Abernathy sighed and nodded. “I am sure she does,” he agreed, looking down at Lady Markham. “Very well, then. I shall send a note at once. You, however, Judith, will have to be prepared and ready within the hour. Will that not be too short a time for you to prepare?”
Lady Markham sighed, rolled her eyes and jabbed one finger into her brother’s chest. “I shall not be put off from my intentions, Abernathy,” she declared firmly. “Within the hour, you shall find me ready and prepared by the steps, waiting for the carriage.”
Lord Abernathy chuckled, threw a smile in Deborah’s direction and then bent over his sister’s hand. “We shall see,” he said, with another quiet laugh. “I have warned you, Judith! Within the hour!”
Lady Markham huffed something under her breath as her brother quit the room, waiting until the door closed behind him before coming back to her seat.
“I will ring the bell for you,” Deborah said, quickly, getting up to tug the bell pull. “I confess I am glad that you are going with him, Judith. This is his first carriage ride and visit out of the estate since his injury.”
Lady Markham’s smile was tight. “I am well aware of that,” she said, softly, sinking back down into her chair. “But neither am I certain of Lady Cavendish. She may appear beautiful and more than amiable but I am quite sure that there is more to her than she reveals. I fear that her desire to capture my brother’s affections came solely from the idea that she wished to become a Duchess.” She sighed again. “But to marry a Duke who is so disfigured, who will be spoken of by society for the rest of his days….that is quite another matter.”
Deborah frowned, leaning on the back of the chair instead of sitting down. “You fear that she will reject Lord Abernathy?”
Lady Markham nodded, her gaze drifting away from Deborah. “It is perhaps best that you have said you will remain another fortnight, Deborah. Things may become a little more difficult and I shall require your aid and your expert guidance.”
Deborah, who was battling her own jealousy and envy at Lord Abernathy’s eagerness to call upon Lady Cavendish, tried to focus on what Lady Markham had said instead of looking at her own feelings. Her friend needed her. Lord Abernathy might need her again.
“That is the maid.”
The quiet scratch on the door alerted Deborah to the servant’s presence and Lady Markham got up in a flurry of skirts.
“I mus
t change,” she told Deborah, walking to the door. “We will return later. Pray, do not feel as though you must stay awake and wait for our return.” Her smile was bright. “If there is anything untoward that occurs, then I shall, of course, inform you come the morrow.
“It is more than I require,” Deborah replied, quickly, walking to the door.
“Where are you to go now?” Lady Markham, as she walked alongside Deborah down the long hallway. “A ride, mayhap?”
Deborah’s lips twisted. “I think not,” she said, knowing that, whilst she would greatly enjoy riding out across the estate, there was a good deal more for her to consider. “I must pray, I think.”
Lady Markham looked surprised. “Pray?” she repeated, as though Deborah were not about to take orders and did not spend a good part of her day in solitude and prayer.
“Indeed,” Deborah replied, still feeling that same, familiar stab of envy at the thought of Lord Abernathy going to see Lady Cavendish. Would he take her hand as he had taken Deborah’s? Would Lady Cavendish feel as she had done, her breath gone, her heart quickening, her mouth going dry?
“Very well,” Lady Markham said, letting go of Deborah’s arm and walking away from her towards her rooms. “I shall look forward to speaking to you come the morrow about all that has occurred.” Looking over her shoulder, she gave Deborah a wry smile. “And you might, mayhap, pray that all goes well this afternoon. Something within me says that it could go very poorly if we are not careful.”
Deborah smiled, feeling her heart twisting this way and that with the jealousy and agony she felt. “I will, of course,” she promised, before turning on her heel and hurrying towards her own rooms at the top of the house.
She would pray, of course, that things went very well for Lord Abernathy as regarded Lady Cavendish. She would not allow her own feelings to cloud the matter, and she would pray desperately that this jealousy and envy she felt would soon be gone from her. It did not do to feel so strongly for the master of the house, particularly when his interests obviously lay elsewhere. Oh, how she wished she had told Lady Markham that she could not stay longer! How she wished that, at this very moment, she was busy collecting her things and making preparations to return to the abbey! The abbey seemed to her, in her mind’s eye, to be a place of safety. A fortress, where she might run from her feelings and leave them behind her. She did not like this feeling of envy, this wishing that she was not plain Miss Deborah Harland, orphaned and alone, but rather that she was a perfect, genteel lady like Lady Cavendish. A lady that Lord Abernathy might be able to fall in love with.
Her heart broke within her as she entered her room. Tears formed in her eyes and Deborah let them fall without hesitation, glad that there was no-one else to see her distress. She did not want to feel this way, but nor did she know what to do with all that she felt. For some time she had been trying to rid herself of such feelings, but no matter what she did, they had continued to grow.
“I must pray all the more fervently,” she told herself, bending to her knees and resting her arms lightly on the bed. Then, she lowered her head and began to silently beg that these emotions, these deep, unwanted emotions, would be taken from her so that she would love Lord Abernathy no longer.
Chapter Ten
Deborah woke with a start. Shame crept into her heart as she realized that, somehow, in the depths of her prayers, she had given in to the temptation to sleep. Her knees were aching, her back beginning to burn with pain as she attempted to straighten.
She could not be a nun if she fell asleep during her prayers! That was not a sign of devotion now, was it? Her cheeks burning with mortification, she hung her head as she climbed to her feet, praying quickly for forgiveness.
Sighing heavily to herself and frustrated beyond measure that her feelings for Lord Abernathy were not completely dispersed as she had hoped, Deborah wandered to the window and looked out at the gloom. The day had been bright but as the evening began to draw in, it had become dim and grey. It seemed to match the moroseness and the misery that was deep within her soul, her frustration and torment growing steadily.
Perhaps she had not prayed fervently enough. Perhaps, because she had fallen asleep, her prayers had not been answered.
“Or, mayhap I should have left this place long ago,” she whispered aloud, wondering if the answer to her prayers would be found by returning to the abbey. Sighing again, she shook her head and closed her eyes tightly, running one hand over her forehead. This would have to be dealt with one way or the other. Lord Abernathy was already enjoying a dinner with Lady Cavendish, which meant that there certainly was no hope for her.
A sudden sound caught her ears and Deborah opened her eyes to see a carriage come hurtling up the drive. It was going faster than Deborah had expected, astonished to see it come to a halt in front of the house and Lord Abernathy to come storming out without even waiting for the footman to bring the steps around.
Behind him, Lady Markham stuck her head out of the carriage and said something to her brother. She was forced to wait for the stairs as Lord Abernathy began to pace up and down in front of the carriage, gesticulating wildly. Deborah’s heart leaped into her throat at the sight of him, her fears and worries growing steadily as she saw his frantic movements. She could see his mouth moving almost constantly. She did not want to open the window to hear what was being said, although her concern for both Lord Abernathy and Lady Markham was growing with each passing second.
It seemed things with Lady Cavendish had not gone as well as Lord Abernathy had hoped.
“What should I do?” she whispered aloud, wondering whether she ought to go down and meet Lord Abernathy and Lady Markham or remain here and wait until she was sent for. As close as she was to Lady Markham and as much as she had become very well acquainted with Lord Abernathy, she was not their equal although not a servant either. It left her in something of a quandary.
And then, Lady Markham’s eyes rose heavenwards, her expression so wretched that Deborah felt her heart leap from her chest. Their eyes met and Lady Markham sent Deborah such a look of pleading that she could not fail to respond.
Gathering her skirts, Deborah hurried from the window and towards the door. She made her way down the staircase, catching sight of Mrs. Denton coming from the drawing room.
“Mrs. Denton!” Deborah gasped, grasping the lady’s hand. “Lord Abernathy has returned, has he not?”
“We were not expecting him,” Mrs. Denton replied, looking quite frantic. “There is nothing prepared for dinner, aside from what we have for the staff and for you.”
Deborah closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “I don’t think that the master will be particularly concerned about dinner this evening, Mrs. Denton,” she said, honestly, hearing the first few faint exclamations that came from the front door of the house. “Lord Abernathy appears to be in something of a bad temper.”
“I should say it is more than that,” came the voice of Mr. Morris, as he half ran towards the front door, scurrying past them. “Prepare yourselves, ladies. I do not think the master has been in such a mood since he first came back from the war.”
Mrs. Denton caught her breath as the front door was pulled open and the angry shouts of Lord Abernathy were heard through the house. Deborah felt the housekeeper clutch at her hand and attempted to pat them reassuringly, even though she felt her own heart practically leap from her chest with the shock of the noise.
“I should go to him,” she whispered, gently setting Mrs. Denton’s hands aside. “Or at least to Lady Markham.” Looking up into Mrs. Denton’s pale face, Deborah caught her eye, wondering just how much the lady had needed to deal with when Lord Abernathy had first returned from the war with his horrific injuries. “Mrs. Denton, might I suggest that you go below stairs and see if you can arrange something for dinner? I doubt they will be particularly hungry as yet, what with all that is going on, but they will need something to eat soon.”
This seemed to give Mrs. Denton the shake she neede
d. Nodding, she turned jerkily and walked hurriedly away from the front door, as though Lord Abernathy himself was chasing her away. Breathing quickly so as to control her own fright, Deborah walked towards Mr. Morris, who was standing respectfully by the door, wondering what it could be that had brought Lord Abernathy into such a foul temper.
“It is ridiculous, Judith!” she heard him shout. “I am ridiculous.”
“No, Abernethy,” Deborah heard Lady Markham plead, her voice filled with tears. “No, you are not.”
“She could not even look at me!”
Deborah closed her eyes tightly for a moment, coming to a dead stop and swaying slightly on the spot. So this was what had occurred. Lady Cavendish, it seemed, could not tolerate the sight of an injured gentleman and so had rescinded her invitation to dine. No wonder Lord Abernathy was in such a state.
“Miss Harland.”
She opened her eyes to see the butler looking at her with concern.
“If you can do anything,” he said, a desperate look in his eyes, “then I know Lady Markham would be grateful.”
Deborah nodded, although deep within herself, she felt utterly inadequate. Taking a few steps to the door, she was knocked back hard as Lord Abernathy stormed inside, catching her off guard. Stumbling back, she hit the floor and cried out as her back took the worst of the blow.
Lord Abernathy did not even glance behind him.
“Oh, Deborah,” Lady Markham exclaimed, hurrying over to her as Deborah attempted to rise. Mr. Morris was there in a moment, helping her to stand, whilst Lord Abernathy remained with his back to her, his feet planted wide and his hands on his hips.
“I am quite all right,” Deborah promised, even though the breath had been knocked from her body as she was struggling to draw in air. “Please.”