In the Shadow of Arabella (29 page)

“She was. She woke a few moments ago and almost immediately drifted off again.”

“Thank God! She spoke to you?”

“Yes. She was coherent. She is tired and weak, and distressed at the loss of her child.”

“You have also suffered loss.”

“Have I?”

“I truly believe this was your daughter, Ned.”

“There is no way I can be certain of that.’’

“You need not be certain. Whether you mourn her as your own or mourn her as Katherine’s, you must put this business with Parnaby behind you and start building again.”

When Rudley frowned, Oliver decided he had interfered enough. “Look at this mountain of correspondence,” he said, “bills, invitations, letters. I am worn down; I need a holiday. I have received an invitation from Lord and Lady Harrington for an extended visit in Lincolnshire.”

“By all means accept it,” Rudley replied. “Kendall and I can manage here.”

“Kendall is gone, by the way. He went to Meg’s to collect Serena. She was invited there for a house party. They should be back anytime now.”

“Oliver,” Rudley began, “Katherine has just told me that you stayed with her through her labor.”

“Yes, I did.”

Rudley knew that Oliver had sat with his own wife, Lydia, through the endless hours of a difficult birth and had been sitting with her still when she died. “I know what it must have cost you to do that, and I am in your debt.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “If the situation had been reversed, you would have done the same for me, so say no more about it.” He turned and walked to the fireplace. “You have had no chance to relax in Mother’s chair since you came home.’’

“No,” Rudley replied. “I have not even been in this room.”

“Have a seat. I will pour us some wine.”

“What miracle is this?” Rudley exclaimed as his eyes came to rest on the chair.

“No miracle, only the skillful hands of your wife.”

“Are you telling me that Katherine has duplicated Mother’s work? What has become of the original?’’

“Katherine has kept it safe in the event you should refuse this one out of hand and demand the other back again.”

“When did she do all this? It must have taken countless hours!”

“I believe she started it shortly after you were married. It was to be a surprise for your birthday.”

Rudley’s birthday had come and gone a month earlier. Taking the glass of Madeira Oliver offered, he dropped into a chair opposite his birthday gift and sat, staring at it. “Why should she do such a thing?” he asked.

“She did it to please you. I daresay she was motivated by a feeling similar to the one that made you buy that mare for her.” Rudley raised his eyes to his brother’s and they locked and held for some moments, but he made no comment and finally Oliver continued, “I will leave as soon as arrangements can be made, and I will take Nicholas with me.”

Nearly an hour later, while Rudley was dealing with the correspondence that Oliver had tossed scornfully aside, the door opened and he looked up to see a young woman in a dark blue dress.

“Excuse me,” she said, her hand still on the latch, “I did not mean to disturb . . . I did not know anyone was in here.”

“Serena?” Rudley rose and moved toward her. “Please come in. It is time we met. I’m Rudley.”

Serena came a few steps into the room and made her curtsy. “I am pleased to meet you, my lord. It is unfortunate we must meet under such circumstances.”

“Have you seen Katherine?”

“Briefly. She was sleeping.”

“Did Kendall tell you about the baby?”

“Yes. I should not have left Katherine alone. I should have been here.”

This comment so perfectly mirrored his own feelings that he felt for a moment as if she were speaking his thoughts.

“There was nothing you could have done,” he said mechanically. “But she will need you in the days to come.”

She did not answer but stood regarding him with a curiously guarded expression.

“What is it?” he finally asked. “I can see there is something you wish to say.”

“Will
you
be here, Lord Rudley, in the days to come?”

Her words were edged with bitterness. Clearly, in the dispute between him and Katherine, Serena considered her sister to be the injured party.

“I don’t know how much Katherine has told you about . . . our situation,” he said evenly, “but it is perhaps useful to remember that it
is
precisely that—
our
situation—and no one else’s.”

She said nothing, but he admired the way she refused to look away. After a moment he said, “To answer your question, yes, I will be here. I hope there can be harmony between us.”

A few minutes later Serena returned to Katherine’s room to find her awake. She took one of Katherine’s pale hands between her two strong ones and offered her sunniest smile. “I stopped to see you earlier, but you were sound asleep.”

Katherine’s smile was slight. “I am so glad you are here, but you have had to leave your house party.”

“There will be many house parties. I have just met your husband.”

When she seemed disinclined to continue, Katherine coaxed, “And?”

“And he is quite handsome, very tall, and extremely daunting.”

“Daunting? How so?”

‘‘He asked me to say what I was thinking, and when I did, he advised me, ever so frostily, to keep my opinions to myself.”

Katherine frowned. “You did not quarrel?”

“No. Not at all. Nor will we. We have pledged ourselves to harmony.”

During the days that followed both Serena and Pamela were committed to helping Katherine pass her waking hours pleasurably. They would sit and chat with her or read to her. When she took one of her frequent naps, they would slip away quietly, only to return with their needlework or a meal on a tray.

Katherine was disappointed when she learned Oliver was leaving them, but she understood that he was anxious to be with Charity again. He told her he would be taking Nicholas to Lincolnshire and asked if she would like him to remove Pamela as well. But Katherine was convinced that Pamela should stay. She was sorry to have been the cause of separating Rudley from his daughter for so many months. Now that he was home again Katherine felt it would be best for Pamela to be there, too.

On the morning set for Oliver’s departure Katherine was so much improved that he found her sitting up in bed when he came to say good-bye. “Now if that is not a lovely sight! You are mending so quickly you will be back on that horse of yours in no time.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Nicholas and I have been invited to Harrington Manor for two weeks, and then I will see him back here again before I return to London. I must say I look forward to some relaxation after having slaved away here for months.”

“You know you enjoyed it,” she insisted. “But we shall miss you.”

“Not for long. Ned has offered to let us set up in the dower house after the wedding, at least until we can find something we would like to buy. Since our mother died, the place has been empty except for the caretaker and his wife who live there. I shall be down from time to time to see to the preparations.”

“Oliver, I know you will not like it, but you must allow me to thank you for coming to stay with me. I don’t know how I would have managed if you had not been here. You kept me from being lonely and from feeling sorry for myself, and your high spirits more than once cured my depression. For your support on the night I gave birth there are no words adequate to thank you. Let me say only this. If you were the brother I never had but always wished for, I could not love you more.”

He smiled and leaned over the bed to kiss her on the cheek. “My brother showed unquestionable good taste in marrying you, Katherine, and if he is wise enough to give you some rein, you may yet succeed in making him a happy man.’’

* * * *

During the first week of her recovery Katherine saw little of her husband. He came to visit several times each day, but he seldom stayed long. He had been inordinately pleased with Katherine’s restoration of the chair. Like Oliver, he believed his mother would have been the first to applaud such a move to eliminate the shabbiness and yet manage to preserve a fragment of the Seaton family heritage.

His conversation during all of his visits was the merest commonplace. He asked how she was feeling, made comments on the weather, and kept her current on who had called and written. But he never brought the conversation around to any more personal topic than these. Katherine was not certain why he had come home, and she had been unable to tell if he was still angry. She could see that he was greatly troubled but clearly unwilling to discuss his feelings with her. She finally decided that his reticence stemmed from his consideration for her recent loss and her current state of health.

Pamela, however, was no stranger to Katherine’s room and the two passed many enjoyable hours together. Pamela also saw a great deal of her father and would regale Katherine with accounts of a ride they had taken together or a meal they had shared. She flew into the room one day frantic with the news that she had been riding with her father.

“You know the great stone wall beyond the wych elm grove?’’

“I know the one you mean.”

“We went there, and even beyond to the next hill, to the old Roman ruins!”

“What a nice long ride you had.”

“And it was just the two of us. Not even a groom went with us!’’

Katherine could see that Ned was making an effort with the child and that it was bearing fruit. What she did not know was that Rudley’s attitude toward Pamela had done an almost complete turnabout. With his acceptance of the innocence of Katherine’s child there had come a similar realization concerning Pamela. When he looked at her now, he saw only the blameless victim of Arabella’s wantonness and his own neglect. Pamela was not his child, but circumstances had placed her in his care. He was accountable for both her physical and emotional well-being and he no longer intended to shirk his responsibilities where she was concerned.

Less than three days after Oliver’s departure Katherine was permitted to walk about her room and sit up in a chair for a few hours. By the end of the week the doctor said she could go downstairs and sit for a time in the drawing room. Two days later Rudley and Pamela visited her together, Pamela insisting that Katherine accompany them on a stroll to the stables.

After stopping to give an apple to Karma, Pamela went off to visit Black Star while Rudley and Katherine made their way to Lady Halfmile’s stall. The mare put her head over the split door to greet them and Rudley took hold of her halter.

“Ah, my beauty. I never thought you would grace my stables.”

“How did you finally convince Lord Gilborough to sell her?” Katherine asked.

“I did not. You did.”

“Me? How?”

“Just by being you. Gil was so pleased with you, I think he would have given you anything you asked for that day.”

“Surely not,” she said, disbelieving.

“Do you remember the note he gave you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“He told me in the note that I could have her. I was going to surprise you one day by leading her home. But then—” He shrugged and stopped in midsentence. As he scratched the mare under the jaw she lowered her head and stretched her neck in appreciation.

Theoretically she was Katherine’s horse, but Rudley was plainly so pleased to have her in his stable that there was no end to the praise he showered upon her. He was already making plans for the foal she carried, even though it was not due to be born for another month.

“I wanted to speak to you about something, Katherine,” he said. “I need to take a trip. Only a short one. Four days, five at the most.”

“And?”

“I said I would stay. I don’t want you to think I am going back on my word.”

“I don’t think it. If you have business, you must attend to it. I have Serena and Pamela. I am well looked after.”

He stared at her in silence for a few moments, then said abruptly, “Katherine, I—”

When he paused she prompted, “Yes?”

He shook his head. “Nothing . . . It’s not important. I will keep my trip as short as possible.”

Pamela soon rejoined them. When she asked her father a question, Katherine watched him with a troubled frown on her face. What was in his mind? Would he ever share his thoughts with her again? How desperately she wanted to discuss her loss—their loss. But how could she when he did not even believe the child was his?

The months of Rudley’s self-imposed exile had been difficult for him, but they were as nothing to the torment of living once again under the same roof as Katherine. He was plagued by conflicting emotions that he could not reconcile. At one moment, sitting with Katherine, listening to her talk, he would feel as he had during the days of their intimacy: warm and content, fulfilled, in love and loved. Moments later, reminded of the lost child and her dubious paternity, he would be cast again into a morass of doubt and insecurity.

At night he was troubled by dreams. In one he saw himself and Katherine. It was summer and they were on the lawn in the park beneath a giant hornbeam tree. Katherine had a child on her lap and its face was the face of the child who had died—the face Rudley saw night after night when he closed his eyes to sleep. In this dream he and his wife and child were happy and content, yet he would wake from the dream in a cold sweat. If the child were indeed his, if his absence was responsible for Katherine’s unhappiness and the child’s early birth, then he had contributed to the death of his own daughter.

In another dream, equally disturbing, he saw Katherine and Parnaby—they were laughing as they rode together. They did nothing more, nothing improper, yet this simple, innocent behavior chilled his heart as thoroughly as the other dream.

These dreams recurred night after night in almost equal proportions until he finally realized he would never know any peace until he found some answers to the questions that haunted him.

His four-day journey would take him into Lincolnshire, where he sincerely hoped he would find Lord Parnaby in residence. Traveling by curricle and changing horses often, he arrived at the Parnaby estate early on the afternoon of the second day. He handed the butler his visiting card and stated his desire to speak with Lord Parnaby.