The Music Box (24 page)

“Has she been out here long?”

“For over an hour. I thought for certain she’d sleep the morning away after the difficult night she just spent. It was the worst one thus far.”

Hermione sighed, clasping her hands together in distress. “Three sleepwalking episodes in one night. That is not only unprecedented, it’s debilitating, even for one as energetic as Gaby. I’m afraid for her, Chaunce. I’m not certain how much more her body can take.”

“Her body
or
her mind,” Chaunce reflected, his mouth set in grim lines. “She’s becoming more despondent by the day. I think she’s losing hope that these incidents will ever cease. Just look at her, staring aimlessly across the grounds, not even seeking her pets for comfort.”

That particular observation elicited a completely different reaction from Hermione. A flicker of insight lit her eyes, and she craned her neck, trying to ensure that her suspicions were correct. “I agree that Gaby is devastated by her inability to break free of her past,” she murmured. “However …” A pause, followed by a nod of satisfaction as Hermione found what she sought. “I believe the preoccupation you’re witnessing is prompted by something entirely different. Different and far more encouraging.”

Chaunce blinked. “Which is?”

“Look.” Hermione pointed in the distance, indicating two forms—a brawny man wearing a cap and a stout woman who was tripping every third step—ambling side by side, hands clasped, toward the stables. “It’s Marion and Goodsmith. They make the most charming couple, don’t they? What’s more, he intends to propose marriage this morning.”

“Really?” Chaunce looked inordinately pleased. “How do you know today is the big day?”

“Because Goodsmith came to my sitting room yesterday to ask my opinion of the crimson-and-white checked hair ribbon he’d selected as Marion’s betrothal gift. He wanted to choose something beautiful and properly binding.”

“And you told him …?”

“That the ribbon was lovely, of course.”

Chaunce shot her a sideways look. “Nothing more? You merely admired the ribbon and sent him on his way?”

Hermione patted her hair in a flurry of motion. “Perhaps I offered him a trinket from my jewel case around which he could tie the ribbon. If so, it was only to bolster his confidence. He was so terribly nervous about the proposal.”

“The ruby you’ve been polishing so dutifully each night?” Chaunce suggested.

A faint smile. “Am I that transparent, then?”

“Only to me, my lady.”

“Good.” Hermione squeezed his arm fondly. “The important thing is that we’ll soon have a wedding in the family. And”—again she indicated the retreating couple and Gaby’s perusal of them—“I think Gaby finds the prospect of love, and all its resulting nuances, much more intriguing than she would have a month ago.”

“Ah, I see your point.” A spark of satisfaction glinted in Chaunce’s eyes. “By the way, did I mention to you that during your morning nap I received word from my source in London? Evidently Mr. Lyndley is quite restless these days, not at all himself. Why, he’s spent more time pacing the banks of the Thames than he’s spent working in his office. And it seems he cut short three of his social engagements with Miss Talbot—the most glaring one being two nights ago when they attended the symphony. Why, he escorted Miss Talbot home less than an hour into the concert. Apparently he didn’t care for the music.”

“Or the company,” Hermione suggested wickedly, looking utterly elated by the news. “Thank you for sharing that bit of information with me. It makes my stroll out here even more crucial.”

“Meaning?”

“Chaunce, I came to Crumpet’s warren for several reasons. Obviously the first was to find you and Gaby, to satisfy myself that you’ve both managed to”—she studied her friend’s face, renewed worry surging through her as she evaluated his signs of fatigue—“weather the strain of the past week.” An aching pause. “Chaunce, you and I are no longer blessed with the precious ally of youth. What I’ve asked of you this week is more than I had the right. ʼTis just that I rely upon you so heavily. I don’t know what I’d do if …”

“You won’t.” The lines about Chaunce’s mouth softened, and he leaned forward ever so slightly. “Continue to rely upon me, my lady. I wouldn’t have it any other way. As for my capabilities, I assure you that age hasn’t marred my resilience, only enhanced my wisdom. It would take far more than a few sleepless nights to thwart me.”

Tears glistened on Hermione’s lashes. “Good,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady, knowing she was failing miserably. “In any case,” she continued, blinking away the moisture and bringing herself under control, “my second reason for coming out here is that I want to talk to Gaby. I’ve kept my tactful silence long enough. I believe it’s time she was offered an understanding ear and perhaps a word or two of advice on matters of the heart.”

“Say no more. I wholeheartedly agree.”

“And last, I wanted to tell you that I’ve sent for Dr. Briers.” At that, Hermione’s voice strengthened, determination supplanting tenderness. “I’ve refrained from summoning him all week, hoping that you and I together could see Gaby through this ordeal. But we’ve succeeded only in preventing her from harming herself by awakening her the instant she tries to leave her chambers. That is a balm, not a cure. It’s time to seek help. Dr. Briers will be here within the hour.”

Chaunce nodded. “I think that’s wise. Perhaps the doctor can think of something we’ve overlooked, something that would help put Miss Gaby’s mind at ease.” He glanced from Hermione to the manor and back. “Given Dr. Briers’s imminent arrival, I’d best resume my post.” A thoughtful frown. “Actually, I believe I’ll ask for Bowrick’s assistance. With him beside me at the entranceway door, there will be two of us to look out for the doctor’s carriage.”

Affection warmed Hermione’s heart. Chaunce no more needed assistance greeting guests than the sun needed assistance in rising—certainly not from an elderly footman whose eyesight was all but gone. But in his typically generous manner, Chaunce was seeking Bowrick’s aid so that a worthwhile human being could retain his dignity. “You, my dear friend, are an incredible fraud,” she said softly. “You’re also the finest man I’ve ever known. Thank God you’re with me.”

“That, my lady, is a certainty you need never question,” Chaunce replied, his own voice a bit rough. “Always remember that.” Swiftly he cleared his throat. “Good luck with Miss Gaby. I’ll send for you when Dr. Briers arrives.”

Hermione stared after Chaunce’s retreating form, the exacting stance and ageless strength, for a long time. Then she turned and walked stiffly into the clearing and toward Gaby’s side.

Gaby’s head pivoted, her brows arching in surprise when she saw her aunt. “Aunt Hermione.” She jumped to her feet. “I had no idea you were coming out here. Are you looking for me?”

“I wanted to check on you, and perhaps to have a little talk.” Hermione leaned against a tree, resting a moment to recoup her strength.

“Here.” Gaby sprang into motion, grasping her aunt’s elbow and leading her to the lawn chair. “Sit down. You just took an exceptionally long walk—after a wretched, sleepless night. Rest.”

“Thank you, darling.” Hermione sank gratefully into the chair.

“What did you want to talk about—or need I ask?” Gaby questioned, anguish tightening her features. “I don’t know why the sleepwalking has been recurring more and more often. I thought by now it would be improving, if not gone, but I certainly never expected it to worsen.” She knelt before her aunt, clutching her hands. “Aunt Hermione, look at you. You’re paler than ever, and the circles beneath your eyes are growing more pronounced. I’m so frightened you’ll become seriously ill. We can’t go on as we have been. I’ve been thinking …” Her voice quavered, then recovered, conviction underlying every word. “Perhaps I should leave Nevon Manor for a time. I could go to an inn, hire a discreet companion who would be advised of my circumstances and whose job it would be to ensure my well-being. That way, you and Chaunce would be able to recover your strength and distance yourself from my problem. Life here could resume as usual without my—”

“Stop it!” Hermione nearly bolted from her seat, her fingers gripping Gaby’s with trembling intensity. “How could you even suggest such a thing? We’re a family. Families don’t turn away from each other in times of hardship. They pull together, devise solutions, and that is precisely what we’re going to do.”

“What if there are no solutions?” Gaby appealed. “Then what?”

“There are
always
solutions, Gaby. Sometimes they’re just harder to find than we anticipate. So we keep searching.” Hermione laid a palm against Gaby’s cheek. “Which is why I’ve sent for Dr. Briers. You’re too young to remember how committed he was to resolving your problem the first time we faced it. He provided hope and a sensible, ultimately successful solution. I truly believe he can do that again. He’ll help us, Gaby; I know he will.” A pause, as Hermione took in Gaby’s skeptical expression. “I hope you don’t feel I’ve betrayed your confidence by sending for him.”

“Of course not. It’s just that I don’t see how Dr. Briers’s advice can apply this time. The circumstances are so very different. I was a child last time; now I’m a grown woman. We’re no longer dealing with a five-year-old’s feelings of loneliness and abandonment. I know I have a home, people who love me. But for whatever reason, my memories of Mama and Papa’s death are obviously deep and painful—too painful to obliterate with the simple reassurance that my family is there for me.”

“Which is why we must seek the wisdom of someone better trained to alleviate pain.”

Gaby pressed her lips together, a ray of hope penetrating her despair. “Do you really think the doctor is our answer?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied thoughtfully. “Somehow I do.”

“Very well, then.” Gaby sighed. “I’m willing to try anything. And if Dr. Briers is the one to restore our lives to the way they were before …”

“Now,
that
I didn’t say.”

Gaby started. “But you just said—”

“I said I believe Dr. Briers can help end your bouts of sleepwalking. I didn’t say he’d restore you to the girl you once were. No one can do that, Gaby, nor would you want them to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” Hermione glanced nonchalantly over her shoulder. “I noticed you watching Goodsmith and Marion.”

A self-conscious smile. “I suppose I was. I just think it’s so glorious, the way they feel about each other. Don’t you?”

“Indeed I do. In fact, as I just told Chaunce”—Hermione leaned forward conspiratorially—“I do believe Goodsmith is asking for Marion’s hand even as we speak.”

“Really?” Gaby’s eyes grew as round as saucers. “Oh, how wonderful!”

“Love is wonderful, Gaby. You’ll know for yourself one day soon.”

At that, Gaby’s lashes drifted downward. “Will I? Sometimes I wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

A brief hesitation, then Gaby’s head shot back up. “When you fell in love with Lord Nevon, did you know it right away? Did he? Did it happen the instant you met? Or did it strike you suddenly like a lightning bolt?”

Hermione chuckled. “So many questions all at once. Tell me, is anything in particular prompting this sudden and timely curiosity? Or should I say
anyone
?”

Wide blue eyes searched Hermione’s face. “You know, don’t you?”

“That depends. What is it you think I know?”

“What I’m feeling. Who I’m feeling it for. What happened between us just before he left Nevon Manor.”

“Wait.” Hermione held up her palm. “The first two points I’m fairly confident about. But the third—you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Gaby wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Are you
sure
you realize who it is I’m referring to?”

“Bryce.”

“And you’re not mortified?”

“Why would I be? You, of all people, know what I think of my nephew. He’s a fine, compassionate, wonderful man.”

“Who’s practically betrothed to another woman,” Gaby burst out.

A twinkle. “When one grows to be my age, one learns that there is an enormous distinction between ‘practically’ and ‘actually.’ Now, would you care to tell me what happened between the two of you before Bryce left Nevon Manor?”

“He came looking for me. He wanted to say goodbye.” Gaby swallowed. “I said some things I shouldn’t have, accused him of regarding me as a child. Then I wished him a safe trip and kissed his cheek.”

“And that’s what’s plaguing you? I’m sure Bryce won’t hold a grudge about your outburst; he’s quite forthright himself.”

“My outburst is not what’s plaguing me. What’s plaguing me is what happened next.”

“Which is …?”

“Bryce kissed me.” A flush stained Gaby’s cheeks as she recalled those breathless, unexpected moments. “Or, to be honest, we kissed each other. Oh, I’m not sure who kissed whom. Or why. I only know that one minute we were talking and the next minute … we weren’t.” Gaby rose and paced about the clearing. “It lasted only a few seconds. Afterward Bryce was utterly bewildered—and furious with himself for feeling that way. I could see it in his eyes, that refusal to understand why he’d acted on impulse rather than logic. It took every shred of my self-control to make light of the whole occurrence. But I did make light of it—for Bryce’s sake and for mine. That way, he could dismiss the incident as inconsequential, and I could escape without making a total, utter fool of myself.” A self-deprecating laugh. “If I’d given in to the dictates of my body, my knees would have buckled under me and I would have fallen to the ground. The result? I would have died of embarrassment and shown myself to be the very child Bryce perceives me to be.”

Gaby paused, her fingers brushing her lips. “But, oh, Aunt Hermione, I never imagined such extraordinary feelings—certainly not out of the blue, with no warning, no prelude. And not with a man who views me as a tenderhearted—albeit wise, considering I’m so sheltered—child, a man who’s totally committed to a far more sophisticated woman.”

“ ‘Wise, considering you’re so sheltered,’ ˮ Hermione repeated offhandedly. “Is that how Bryce described you?”

“Yes.” Gaby gazed helplessly at her aunt. “Would you please shed some light on what’s happened? Or, at the very least, comment upon it?”