Chapter 30

Chapter 30

He knew, of course, that Lenora was corresponding with some of her friends back home. Lady Iris Blanche seemed to be especially fond of sending flowery epistles that rivalled a lady’s novels in volume and content, and that wreaked of attar of roses or violet water.

The current mail packet contained a fat letter from Lady Iris. She started off the letter by extolling the virtues of her latest love interest.

“Another one?” Dorian asked, amusement colouring his tones. “How many is this now?”

“I’ve stopped counting,” Lenora responded. “But she seems serious about this one. She says she is planning a double wedding with August and Emma.”

“What!” Dorian exclaimed. “I thought they had quarrelled and declared they would never see each other again.”

“Apparently they have made up and are planning to have a garden wedding in June. Perhaps we shall have to armour ourselves and make a trip to Bath for the ceremony.”

“Dear me,” Dorian said. “I’ve been enjoying our current situation so much, I scarcely have any heart to make the journey.”

Lenora sighed. “It has been rather wonderful, hasn’t it? But this time, when we are in Bath, we will not be answerable to our elders, only to our own consciences.”

“Very true,” Dorian said. “I suppose we should return. We shall be free to do and be as we please now. And we should not let the past hold us back.”

The pair quietly continued to read their correspondence.

“Speaking of the past, Jonathan has been arrested and arraigned,” Dorian said, reading his own mail. “Thanks to his former standing in the community, his colleagues have got together and obtained for him a sort of pardon. He is deemed to be mentally deranged and is sentenced to incarceration in a sanatorium.”

“Oddly fitting,” Lenora said. “Poor Emma! At least she does not have to face news of her father’s hanging or decide whether or not to attend it.”

“I feel more cheerful about returning after receiving this news,” Dorian said. “I confess I’ve had a lingering fear that we might encounter Jonathan if we went back. Or that someone would decide that I knew about what he was doing. The whole thing grieves me. It is like a never-ending nightmare.”

“Did he figure so greatly in your consideration?” Lenora asked, seeming to be a little surprised at this.

“Yes,” Dorian responded. “I looked up to him for the longest time. I think his sentence is more than apt; I believe it is the truth. He was so driven to find the perfect cure that he convinced himself that the end justified the means.”

“How could he ever think the death of even one child could justify . . .?” Lenora let the thought trail off.

“He didn’t see the little ones as important,” Dorian replied. “Nor the wounded veterans who were injured beyond any real cure. I don’t understand it, but I know from what he told me that he was looking for some sort of ‘greater good.’”

“So strange,” Lenora said. “No wonder Emma always seemed withdrawn and unhappy.”

“No wonder,” Dorian echoed, staring into his teacup as if it contained prophetic tea leaves.

“Never mind that,” Lenora said, coming around the table to settle into a chair beside Dorian. “That is all behind us now.”

“That it is,” Dorian replied, kissing her soundly.

Lenora gave a sort of delighted squeak and kissed him back. All of which caused them to retreat to their boudoir, closing the door behind them. Some time later, they emerged, both a trifle dishevelled and looking immensely happy.

“I’ll speak with my agent today,” Dorian said as they settled themselves to their now cold tea. “We should ask your mother if she would like to go with us. We’ll need to take the matron and maid with us, of course.”

“To be sure,” Lenora said. “I’ve grown to rely on both of them. With their able help, I find I almost look forward to seeing what fresh scandals are brewing.”

Dorian laughed heartily, then waggled his eyebrows at her over the rim of his teacup. “I think we might be the biggest scandal around.”

Lenora gave him a saucy wink, then sipped her own tea, looking at him demurely over the rim of the cup.

“None of that, now,” Dorian said. “Or I shall not make it to my music session, let alone to visit my agent.”

“Very well,” Lenora said, leaving off her flirtatious teasing. Then she added, “Thank you, Dorian. There are people I would like to see, and it would be nice to see August and Emma settled. Perhaps, even Lady Iris, if she has truly found her special person.”

“Think nothing of it,” Dorian said, giving her one last kiss before heading out the door.

Once in the open air, he wondered briefly if returning to England was truly wise. What were people saying? Would he be tarred by the same brush as Jonathan? The gentleman’s actions had been truly reprehensible. A memory of a death cart drawn up at the back door of the hospital flitted through his mind. “I should have paid more attention sooner,” he murmured to himself. “Being barred from the hospital was a sign.”

“Eh?” said a shopkeeper as Dorian passed the stall. The place was selling small toys. Some were carved from wood, while others were made of fabric scraps. “Just thinking aloud,” Dorian explained. “How much are these little horses?” he asked. “And the pretty poppet in pink?”

“Ah, I understand now,” the shopkeeper drawled knowingly in accented English. “The missus is in the family way, is she?”

Dorian felt his face heat up, even though, as a married man, he had no cause to be embarrassed. “Just the one so far,” he said. “But it never hurts to be prepared. I am sure my wife will tell me if we should anticipate another.”

“To be sure,” the shopkeeper said smoothly, wrapping up the toys and accepting his pay.

I need to govern my thoughts a little better and not allow them to govern my mouth, Dorian thought as he walked on.

At the chapel, he found himself playing the music he had written about Lenora. At the end of it, he thought it incomplete, and added another page or two of sheet music to the original. After all, his childhood friend had now grown into a beautiful woman, and at one year old, their little son was as adorable a tyke as ever toddled across a nursery or drawing room.

It was only right and proper that her music would grow as she had grown.

Dorian nearly jumped out of his skin when the vicar cleared his throat behind him. “Sorry, m’lord,” the clergyman said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. That is a beautiful piece. Our usual musician is down with a fever. Could I trouble you to play for services? I’m sorry to be asking, but . . .”

“Of course I will,” Dorian assured him. “But tell me, this fever . . . are there many people down with it?”

“No, no.” The vicar waved his hand dismissively. “No doubt the fellow just took a chill.”

For a moment, Dorian wavered towards offering his services as a physician. But then he remembered that he was not registered as such in this country. And besides, he wanted to distance himself from the medical community.

“I’ll be glad to play,” he said. “Do you have selections in mind?”

For a few minutes, they went over the sheet music. The selections were well known to Dorian, and he had no difficulty with any of the pieces. The vicar sang through them at the tempo to which the congregation was accustomed. In no time at all, they had laid plans for the service.

On the way home, Dorian thought again about the man who was ill. When he returned, he found Lenora seated on the floor, happily playing with their son. The little fellow was delighted with the cart, scooting it around the floor with no regard for its lack of horse.

Dorian tucked the doll into Lenora’s arms.

She looked up at him. “Are you trying to tell me something?” she asked.

He folded down beside her and put his arm around her. “Not really,” he said. “But I thought it might be repayment for the doll that got dropped in the millrace. You were rescued, but the doll went on over the big wheel.”

Lenora laughed softly. “I had quite forgotten. She is quite a pretty thing, isn’t she? Someone put a lot of work into making this dolly.”

“They did,” Dorian said. “I thought that perhaps you could save it for a year or two, just in case the next one is a girl.”

Lenora laughed. “Ambitious man! I’ll let you know if your hopes are well founded.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said, putting his arm around her waist. “I’ve agreed to play the organ for the Sunday service. But perhaps you and our little one should stay home.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of us?” Lenora pretended offence.

“No, no, not at all,” Dorian said. “But the organist is out with a fever. Just in case his fever is contagious.”

“Of course!” Lenora said. “Anyway, I meant to tell you that Mother will visit Sunday morning, and she does not care for long services. It will make the perfect excuse if you need to proffer one.”

On Sunday morning, Lenora pinned a nosegay of white flowers to Dorian’s lapel.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Just a lovely bouquet,” she said.

Dorian sniffed the flowers, then grinned at her. “Fit to scare away any rivals,” he said, inhaling a strong garlic odour. “Should I expect to find bits of this in our noontide meal?”

Lenora smiled up at him, her eyes dancing. “Some might find its way into the pasta,” she said.

Dorian was not close to anyone at church that morning. The page-turner was absent, as well as the organist. Dorian declared himself well able to turn pages on his own. As he settled his coattails over the organ bench, he noted that several of the pews were empty, making him glad that Lenora had stayed at home.

As he entered the house, he felt as if he could feel the stench of the congregation clinging to him. He went into the laundry and stripped, then wrapped a bathing towel around himself before scrubbing in a basin of cold water. The service had been so odd that he felt as if he wanted to wash away the experience. It was irrational, he thought, but he wanted to remove the influence of the outer world before interacting with his family.

He could hear Lady Temple and Lenora playing with the baby in the drawing room. Leaving his clothing to soak, he hastened into the boudoir and dressed in fresh clothing and a comfortable smoking jacket.

Lenora looked up at him as he came in. “There you are,” she said. “Mother says that she would, indeed, like to travel with us. This is fortunate because our matron has declined, although the nurse and her baby will come with us.”

“My goodness,” Lady Temple said. “With my companion, we shall make quite a cavalcade! But I would not wish to miss August’s wedding. We do seem to travel into Bath for matrimony.”

Lenora laughed. “I shall endeavour not to interrupt this one. I am looking forward to it.”

“We are of one accord then,” Lady Temple said. “I must admit it will be nice to have all my children together. I’ve had a lovely time with my friends here, but perhaps it really is time to go home.”