The Waltzing Widow (29 page)
Lord Kenmare inclined his head. He observed that the physician still sat in a leaning posture against the settee back, and he thought that it would not take much before the man was asleep. “I shall go see about those sandwiches so that you may be on your way. Pray excuse me for a moment, sir,” he said, and exited the sitting room.
The physician closed his eyes for a moment. It was such a luxury to relax, even for a moment. Just for a moment, he thought drowsily. Just until his lordship returned. The hand that still clasped the glass of cider dregs wavered and sank to rest upon his stomach. Seconds later a snore issued from his half-open mouth.
Lord Kenmare reentered the silting room, the package of wrapped sandwiches in his hands. He took in the situation at a glance. Setting aside the sandwiches, he took the glass away and eased the physician into a reclining position on the settee. He threw a cover over the sleeping man and left the room.
The earl gave orders that the physician was not to be disturbed and that he himself would waken the gentleman. He glanced down at the package of sandwiches that he had retrieved on his way out of the sitting room. He gave them over to a footman. “I shall give these into your care, I think. Take them to the fellows in the garden house. They'll not mind the additional meal."
Three hours later Lord Kenmare returned to the sitting room. It had grown dark and the room was lighted only by the fire in the grate. He quietly ordered the candles be lit, and, seeing that the physician still lay as one dead, he seated himself nearby and unfolded a newspaper to read.
Nearly another hour passed before the physician at last opened his eyes. He blinked, disoriented by his unfamiliar surroundings. Recollection came quickly. Abruptly he sat up. His angry gaze fell on the earl, who was calmly regarding him over the edge of the newspaper.
"You,
my lord!"
The earl's mouth twisted at the loathing in the man's voice. “Yes, it is I,” he agreed. He set aside the newspaper. “How do you feel?"
"How do I feel? How do I
feel!
I have been kidnapped, sir! How should I feel?” the physician spluttered.
"Perhaps you might tell me,” Lord Kenmare said, interested.
The physician opened his mouth, preparing to deliver a blistering retort, but a strange look suddenly passed over his face. He said slowly, wonderingly, “I feel alive.” He glanced at his host again and frowned. “I should take you thoroughly to task, my lord. But I find instead that I am grateful to you for your perception of my condition."
Lord Kenmare bowed from the waist. “I accept your apology, sir."
The physician threw him a reluctant grin as he swung his feet to the carpet. “How long have I slept, sir?"
The earl glanced unconcernedly at the clock on the mantel. “It was just under four hours,” he said, rising from his chair. He ignored the physician's dismayed exclamation and indicated the gentleman's black bag. “I hope that you are sufficiently alert, doctor, for I have patients for you to see before you return to hospital."
The physician stood up and bowed. “I am naturally at your service, my lord,” he said with the quirk of a smile. He took up his bag and followed the earl out of the sitting room.
Lord Kenmare showed the physician into Lady Cecily's bedroom and introduced him. “My sister, Lady Cecily Wilson-Jones, and her three-day-old son, James Arnold Robert Wilson-Jones."
"How do you do, sir?” Lady Cecily asked, holding out her hand in correct fashion even as she threw a mischievous glance toward her brother. “My brother tells me that you saw Lady Mary earlier. How was she?"
"Lady Mary is apparently suffering from nervous shock, my lady, but it is my opinion that she will completely recover,” the physician said.
"I am so glad,” Lady Cecily said, smiling.
The physician examined both mother and child, his hard mouth softening in the presence of new vigorous life amidst the horrific consequences of war. He pronounced them both healthy and thriving and complimented the attending physician for a job well done.
"I shall relay your gracious opinion to Lady Mary and the two maids who assisted her,” Lady Cecily said gravely.
The physician shot a surprised look at her. He grunted, and after a few additional words of encouragement and advice, took his leave of Lady Cecily.
Lord Kenmare took him next to see Captain McInnes. Abigail was discovered to be sitting at the young soldier's bedside, reading aloud to him. At the gentlemen's entrance, she leapt up, flushing. She well knew that it was not proper for her to be alone with the young Scot. But the earl's manner so reassured her that she quickly regained her countenance, even deciding to remain during the physician's examination of the wound.
The physician surveyed the cleanliness of the area and the beginning of neat healing before he redressed the wound. “A most skillful job,” he remarked. “So many I see go instantly to gangrene for lack of proper care."
"If it had not been for Mama, the gangrene would have killed Captain McInnes,” Abigail said proudly.
"Aye, I owe my very life to the kind lady,” Captain McInnes said, nodding.
The physician looked to the earl for explanation, suspecting that he was being made game of. Lord Kenmare smiled slightly at the man's questioning expression. “Lady Mary took it upon herself to clean the wound, while I had the unpleasant task of holding down your young friend during the whole of it,” he said. He thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “The ungrateful wretch had the audacity to plant me a regular flush hit."
Captain McInnes laughingly protested, “Now, sir, I have apologized most profoundly for my lack of proper respect."
"So you did,” Lord Kenmare agreed, grinning at him.
When the earl and the physician had left Abigail and her swain to their book, Lord Kenmare ushered the physician in to visit the officers ensconced in the two spare rooms, before leading him back downstairs and outside to take a peek in the garden house at the wounded soldiers that were bivouacked there. After the tour was done, the physician said, “Lady Mary is a most remarkable woman."
"Yes, she is,” Lord Kenmare said quietly. The gentlemen returned to the house and he saw the man to the front door.
When a footman handed the physician a covered basket, he glanced inquiringly at the earl. “What is this, my lord?"
"Some cheeses and bread and a couple of bottles of good wine. You must keep up the habit of eating, doctor,” Lord Kenmare said.
The physician laughed, and for once his expression was totally devoid of its underlying tired bitterness. “I thank you most sincerely, my lord. I shall share these with my poor colleagues, who must be cursing my very existence for my shameful desertion of them these last hours."
"Doctor, whenever you should wish it, there are a meal and a bed for you or any other physicians,” the earl said. He grinned suddenly. “My household would naturally benefit greatly from regular medical expertise, and I prefer that those doctors be alert."
The physician smiled. “Thank you, my lord. I shall relay your handsome offer of hospitality, and its attendant pleasant conditions. I am certain that it will prove too great a temptation for most of us to resist."
Lord Kenmare offered his hand, and the physician, recovering from his surprise to be treated thus as a social equal, shook hands with him. Then he left and the earl turned back into the house.
After a moment of reflection Lord Kenmare went upstairs to Lady Mary's bedroom. He gave a quiet command to the maid, scandalizing the woman by his unorthodox suggestion. But she was too exhausted to object over-strenuously, having sat beside her motionless mistress for too many hours.
The maid left to go to bed, leaving the earl to sit with Lady Mary. She assuaged her conscience with the reflection that what no one knew would not hurt her mistress's reputation. It was such queer times that it most likely would not matter in any event, she thought.
Lord Kenmare saw to the fire. Then he seated himself in the chair that the maid had vacated. Thus it was that his was the first face that Lady Mary saw when she at last slowly opened her eyes.
"My lord.” Her voice was faint but firm.
He took her hand and folded it gently in his own. He said softly, “Yes, I am here."
Greater awareness entered her gray eyes. “My lord, was it true? About William, I mean?” she asked lowly.
The earl's expression altered. There was almost a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I cannot lie to you, my lady. It was true."
"Yes, of course it was.” She closed her eyes. Before he could panic, she sighed and raised her lids so that she could look at him. “I had so hoped it was all a nightmare. But it is not, is it? The war, the awful cannonade sounding on forever, the wounded and dying in the streets. Abigail's Scot and Michele's fiancé and all the others. And ... and my William."
She started to cry in great heaving gasps. Lord Kenmare raised her from her pillows and crushed her against him.
The pain inside him was nearly impossible to bear as he listened to her pitiful sobs. He could feel her slight body racked by deep shudders, and he tightened his arms about her, rocking her slightly as one would a child that had cried out in the night. He spoke to her, not really realizing what it was he was saying. “Oh, my dear. My dear love. If only I could change it all. If only I could love you and protect you from all the unhappiness. Oh, Mary, don't cry."
But she was heedless of anything other than her sharp loss.
When at last her wild grief abated, he eased her back down onto her pillows. Lord Kenmare reached over to the bedside table to pour water from a pitcher into the waiting bowl and to wet one of the neatly folded cloths that had been placed there. With the damp cloth he gently wiped her face clean. He gave his own handkerchief to her to blow her nose, and once these simple ablutions were done, he smiled at her and said, “I suppose I must let you rest now.” He made to rise, meaning to call back her maid.
"Robert!” She caught his hand.
He looked down at her, startled alike by her use of his Christian name and the desperate appeal in her hold of his fingers. “Why, whatever is it, my lady?"
"Pray do not leave me. Not just yet,” she begged. Her eyes darted about the quiet room and returned to his face. “You will think me nonsensical. I ... I am a bit fearful of the shadows tonight, you see."
"Of course I shall stay,” Lord Kenmare said quietly. He settled himself again in the chair and held her hand while she fell asleep. Though she slept, he never once thought of letting go her hand.
He watched the firelight play across her drowsing face and he must have dozed a little himself, because he was roused by the maid's touch at his shoulder. He blinked up at the woman, then looked quickly down at Lady Mary. Her face was serene in repose, and beneath the coverlet her breast rose and fell rhythmically.
"I shall sit with her ladyship now, my lord,” the maid whispered.
He nodded. He rose stiffly from the chair and went away to his own bedroom.
Abigail was naturally alarmed and upset by her mother's collapse. She was only partially soothed by hearing from her mother's maid that Lady Mary seemed to be resting. She looked to the Earl of Kenmare for an explanation, but until the following morning he completely forgot her request to speak with him. When he recalled it, he asked that Abigail join him in the study downstairs.
Abigail came in and seated herself, looking up at him rather anxiously. “Pray, what did the physician say about my mother?"
Lord Kenmare sat down on the edge of the desk. “He said that Lady Mary is suffering a nervous collapse, but with proper rest and care he expected her to recover completely."
Abigail's expression reflected her relief. “I thought it must be something of the sort. Mama always appears so strong and capable. Others grow used to relying upon her to an extraordinary measure, but she never complains. But I know that this hideous war, and especially William's continued absence, have placed a dire strain upon her spirit."
Lord Kenmare sighed. “Abigail, possibly I should speak to you about your brother."
"Yes, my lord?” She looked up with a clear, steady gaze.
Lord Kenmare went to sit with her on the settee. He took her hand, saying gravely, “What I must say is difficult.” He felt her stiffen beside him. “Abigail, I have been unable to locate William or, indeed, any word of him. It is as though he has dropped off the edge of the world."
"You mean that you believe he is dead.'’ Abigail made a flat statement of it, her voice tight.
"I very much fear that may be the truth of it,” Lord Kenmare said very gently.
"You told Mama this, didn't you?” Abigail's eyes glittered with anger and something else. She pulled her hand free of his. “I shall not believe it, do you hear? I shall not believe it until I have myself seen my brother's lifeless body and laid it in the ground,” she said furiously.
"Abby...” For the first time he used the diminutive of her name as he reached out to capture her hand once more.
Abigail leapt up, rounding on him. Her hands were doubled into fists held rigid to her sides. “I shall never believe it!"
She whisked herself off to the study and ran blindly up the stairs, not stopping until she had thrown open the door of Captain McInnes's bedroom. She stood just inside, standing stiffly, her breast heaving.
Captain McInnes regarded her in astonishment and alarm, at once perceiving her distress. “Abigail! Why, whatever has occurred, lass?"
Abigail told him in a clipped, staccato fashion what the earl had said. “But I refuse to believe for even one moment that William is dead.” Her voice faltered on the last word.
Suddenly her cornflower-blue eyes were awash with tears. “Oh, Bruce!” She rushed across the carpet and threw herself to the floor beside the bed, her arms and head across the coverlet.
"Hush, lass,” he murmured comfortingly. With his good arm he drew her up so that she half-reclined against him. “We will keep the faith for your brother for a wee bit longer."
After luncheon, Lord Kenmare sent up an inquiry asking if he might visit with Lady Mary in her sitting room later that day. He was told to his surprise that her ladyship had requested that she have no visitors. “Her ladyship is not wanting to see anyone, my lord. My lady told me all quiet-like that she wished to be alone for a time,” the maid said. Beatrice's expression was troubled. “She has refused already to see Miss Abigail, and now she has locked the door even against me."
