Speak Its Name: A Trilogy (26 page)

“You are quite right to worry,” I agreed, ringing the bell for a servant. “Allow me to send for Dr. King. My father is plagued with cold in the winter and he comes to Bath for the sole reason that the man practices here.”

She nodded and the little line of worry between her eyes faded. “Adam is much more delicate than he would have you think,” she said. “Emily has the constitution of an ox, and she will shrug this off in a day. Perhaps it would be better not to bother your doctor with her, but Adam...”

“He will see them
both
,” I insisted. I scribbled a quick note addressed to my father’s doctor and sent the servant off.

It seemed an age before the doctor appeared, and then there was a small altercation, although polite, between myself and Lady Pelham as to whom he should see first, but as I was the one who would be settling the physician’s account, she eventually demurred to me that Miss Pelham should be attended to before her cousin.

Eventually he returned. “There is no danger to either of them,” he said, “although they should be kept warm and not venture out until there is a sunny day. The young lady has a slight fever and I have left a supply of powders.”

“And for my nephew, a further supply?” Lady Pelham sounded positively panicked.

“I’m afraid that the young man would not allow me to examine him,” he said. “That does not mean that I will not be sending my bill for both.” He shook my hand. “He was rather vehement that I go nowhere near him. However, he sounded in good voice, and his throwing arm seemed not to be suffering from any chill. Good day, Lady Pelham, Major. I shall call on your father in the morning.”

After he was shown out, Lady Pelham turned to me and took my hand in hers. “Please, go up and see him. Tell him that he must see the doctor. If this chill goes to his chest, he’ll be terribly ill—last year he was in bed for weeks. I thought his life was in danger.” She looked so desperate that I was vanquished and let the servant lead me up to the second floor. It was hardly necessary to point out Adam’s room because the noise he was making could be heard quite clearly as soon as I cleared the first flight of stairs.

His words were indistinguishable, but it was clear he had not run out of ammunition as regular crashes could be heard. I was not concerned for my life; vases and books and suchlike were not dangerous shrapnel, so I pushed open the door and ducked to one side sharply as a chamber pot (thankfully empty) crashed into the wall beside me.

Adam was sitting up in bed, his hair beautifully mussed, his charm rather spoiled with a look of black fury. He didn’t look at all unwell, I have to admit, but his colour drained a little at seeing me.

“If you’re here to make me see that quack,” he growled. “I have my own doctor.”

“And he is in London,” I said, attempting to be reasonable. “Your aunt is concerned—rather too concerned if you will excuse me saying—of your welfare. Although she is right to be concerned for Miss Pelham.”

“Oh,” his voice was suddenly sarcastic, “and you swooped in like the white knight you are. Knowing that she may have been displeased with you, you find a ruse to sweeten my aunt to you again. Well done.” He lay back down with an exaggerated flourish and pulled the blankets over his head, muttering something I didn’t catch.

I moved over the bed. I was seething with a dozen emotions, and his childish behaviour was doing nothing to calm me down. “What did you say?”

There was no response. So I repeated my demand, grasping the sheets and attempting to pull them from him.

He struggled childishly and refused to be uncovered. “Go away, Chaloner. That’s one thing you
are
good at.”

I wanted to apologise for my pitiful performance the day before. I wanted to tell him that it had been his body that set me alight, the reason I shot my seed like a nervous virgin, because that’s what I was. I wanted him to tell me how he seemed so confident, to confess that Thouless—damn him—had been nothing to him.

I wanted him to swear to me that he’d never see Thouless again.

But I didn’t. My damnable sense took control and far too late, some might say. His moods and desires were obviously as transient as smoke—one moment I was what he wanted, and now he wanted me out of his life. I stared at the blankets and my hands itched to pull them from his face.

But I have never forced myself on anyone, no matter how provoked; it was clear he had changed his mind regarding me. Regarding us, and for the lack of complication that would bring, I was almost relieved. I felt numb as I turned away, feeling like I was leaving something of myself behind, warm and hidden in the blankets with the man who wanted something more than I could give him, or something less. Something more sophisticated than a clumsy soldier. Someone else.

When I reached the door, he called me but I didn’t turn around. It was better this way, I said to myself. It was all too dangerous, all too complicated and to stop it now, before it had really started, was best for all three of us. All the same, I don’t know how I had the strength to turn the door handle. I heard the sheets rustle and I knew he was sitting up again, but he didn’t say anything other than my name.

“I’m sorry to have troubled you,” I said without turning around. “I only wished to be of service.” I stepped out into the corridor and shut the door.

The noise that he made after I left was greater, if anything, than he had before I had entered and more valuable items—by the sound of shattering glass and china—were destroyed. I stormed downstairs, and my expression must have been terrible for the footman fairly cringed to the side to avoid me.

My mind was made up. What I wanted, I could not have. What I could have, I did not want. When Miss Pelham was well enough to be told, I would apologise to her—as best as I could—and get out of the country. Some damnable place with flies and heat and horses. Some place on some forgotten border where I could do what I was trained to do, not this brittle life of chandeliers and lies. I would tell Miss Pelham first, for it was she who I had wronged by my forced suit.

Then I would tell my father, and I would take the consequences thereafter. It was not a pleasant prospect, for I would not be welcome back in England until at least after my father died, and the thought of not seeing my brothers again, perhaps never if they took his side, although I hoped they would relent at last, hurt me badly. One thing I could be certain of was that my father’s fortune would not be divided three ways, but two.

I asked to see Lady Pelham before I left the house. “You are not to worry,” I said, taking her hand in farewell, “Heyward will, I am sure, be up and about in no time. He certainly seems strong enough.”

“I have no faith in medicine,” she said, “but I trust your father’s judgement. And yours.” She looked seriously distraught and I felt sorry for her until she spoke again, explaining much of what I’d seen of her solicitude. “I promised his mother I would look after him.”

I bit my tongue on the promises a mother should make for her own daughter and said my goodbyes. It was quite clear to me that I could not withdraw my suit until Miss Pelham was quite recovered, and I promised to call daily, for what else could I do?

Return to TOC

In which the birds have flown, my father gets a shock and a solution comes from the unlikeliest of sources.

The next morning I had some business to undertake for my father and it was not until after luncheon that I was able to make my way to Lady Pelham’s residence. A footman greeted me at the door, but when, in the hall, I offered him my hat and gloves, he looked embarrassed.

“I take it then, sir that you did not receive the message that was sent to George Street this morning?”

“I have not been at home since seven of the clock,” I said, fearing that the occupants of the house were worse. “What message was this?”

“I don’t know what the message said itself, sir,” the man replied, “but I would surmise that it was a farewell, seeing as how the family decamped for London.”

I stared at him. “Gone?”

“Gone, sir.”

“But... the young lady... Miss Pelham, she was quite unwell. The doctor said she should not be moved!”

His face was professionally blank. “It was the young gentleman’s orders, sir. The coach took them off at about ten o’ clock. The doctor called just afterwards. I believe he expressed his concern, also, sir.”

“I’ll bet he did,” I growled. The footman was perfect, I would have liked to have him as my valet for his sangfroid if nothing else, but there was nothing to be achieved by staying in an empty house. I tipped him for his professionalism and returned to George Street, expecting—and not being disappointed—to find my father in a high temper. So bad was it, that he began roaring when I had barely entered the hall, and it went on for so long that I had a sudden sense memory of the only time he’d been quite so angry, and I had been very young. I remembered my hands gripping the curved balustrade and feeling that whatever he was angry about, it must be my fault.

However, as a grown man, I knew exactly where fault lay in this case. I listened to him rant and rave until my temper broke and long years of his bullying tore apart my shields.

“But WHY did the boy drag them from Bath, especially if the gel was unwell?”

“Heyward is nothing but a spoiled brat.” My voice rose against my father with every sentence, as my frustration and anger worked its way out. “He’s been coddled by his aunt since the day he was born—he considers the whole world to be his enemy. He’s made it very plain that he did not welcome the suit you forced me to press, and he accused me of only wanting the girl for her title—which,” I said, accusingly, “is the source of your interest, after all, isn’t it?” By the end of my speech I was matching him for volume.

To my very great amazement, my father’s colour went from a deep puce to something like normal, and he stared at me. He seemed to shrink before my eyes and I realised, perhaps for the first time, that I was taller than he. “It’s not for me, Geoffrey, you understand.”

I nearly apologised. To see my father back down on anything at all was a shock, but this... With sudden clarity I realised that it was because he wanted it so much. “It’s damned well not for me. What do I get out of your bargain?”

“What do you get? How about a pretty wife? How about a country estate, that I’ll pour money into to refurbish? How about the chance for your children to live on that estate—as noblemen? Don’t say you ain’t ambitious, Geoffrey. You wouldn’t be my son if you weren’t. It weren’t just my money pushed you up all the way to Major, and don’t forget it.”

It was the first time—other than the occasions when he showed me off to others—that he’d ever come close to hinting that he was proud of me, to my face. I hesitated and that was enough to put us back on a more familiar footing.

“That’s right!” he shouted. “Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t want the best for your children.”

“It’s not that...”

“Then what? Can’t any anythin’ much. You’ve been paying her a decent amount of attention. Whole town’s buzzin’ with it.”

I gave up. We’d be going in circles repeating the same old arguments soon and my father didn’t have the imagination to see what might really be wrong.

“Nothing, father.”

“So what’you going to do? Chase her! Of course you are! Nothing shows keenness like a good chase across the country!” At that he launched into action, as if breaking bivouac, shouting for servants to pack, the carriage got ready. For all that it took us a while to depart and although we made good time, we never caught up, and my gallant pursuit seemed likely not even to be noticed and a pointless exercise.

~

My father sent his solicitations to the Pelhams the moment we arrived back in London, after which we retired to the study to recover.

There was no word from Lady Pelham until the next morning, but when it came, addressed to my father. It was not a rebuff and my father was pleased.

“My dear Colonel,

“My impulsive boy insisted on rushing us home, and although I was quite concerned for his health the journey seems to have done him no harm. The kind boy immediately insisted that our own doctor attend Emily and they will both be well enough for the ball on Saturday at Lord D—’s, I am certain. It speaks volumes for your son, that he insisted on following us so closely, his concern for Emily touches me greatly and if you will call for us at six, we can attend the ball together. I hope that Adam will be strong enough. He won’t dance, of course, but he seems so out of sorts that I fear that his cold will return.

Etc.

With our subtly changed relationship I had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at my father over the mention of my pressing concern, and he had the good grace to look embarrassed.

After our argument, I had slipped towards the idea of marriage to Emily Pelham somehow. After all, she was a pleasant enough girl; I could not see that we would disagree on a great deal, and many marriages had been started on far less acquaintance. So, pushing the thought of Adam’s beautiful mouth and Adam’s alabaster skin and Adam’s temptation away from me and burying it as deep in my mind as I could, I sent flowers and fruit, a singing bird, and other such gewgaws as a besotted lover might send.

All too soon, it was the night itself and dressed in my stiffest dress uniform I led Emily up the stairs of Lord D—’s keeping my eyes firmly in front of me. Adam had not accompanied the ladies—although Lady Pelham assured me that he had known that I was collecting them—and that in itself was proof to me that he had, after all, only been dallying with me. A game that had turned too serious, and a lover who didn’t match his expectations.

My father’s face was granite as we were led in, and I felt nothing. The tomb was closing around me and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. The ballroom glittered with life, and it seemed to mock me.
This
, it said,
is to be your life, Chaloner. Your life will be a ballroom filled with people you can’t understand, and your father’s ambition will rip away the last vestiges of your self-respect.