Chapter 10

CHAPTER10

“One, two, three…” The doctor counted out Jacob’s pulse as he rested his fingers on Jacob’s wrist.

Jacob sat back in the armchair in his front parlor, at ease with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his jacket slung across the back of a nearby chair. It was always the same. Once a month, his mother insisted that he had a checkup from a doctor. It had been once a year when he was young, but for the last three or four years now, his mother had insisted on it more regularly.

As the doctor continued to count, Jacob turned his head to look for his mother. She stood by the fireplace, frantically rearranging the ornaments on the hearth, then she arranged them a second time, apparently unhappy with her work.

At least now she was leaving her bedchamber again. The local healer woman had given her some tonics that kept her calm.

Not calm enough.

Jacob kept the thought to himself as his mother arranged the wooden spills in a small vase in the center of the mantelpiece.

“Well, all seems to be in order.” Doctor Rainer released Jacob’s hand and stepped back, his pudgy cheeks smiling.

“Are you certain?” Catarina stepped away from the fireplace, coming to Jacob’s side. “You can find nothing? You said that last time.”

“And the time before that,” Doctor Rainer reminded her.

“And the time before that, and so on,” Jacob muttered, more to himself for he knew his mother would not pay attention.

It was always the way. Doctor Rainer found nothing wrong, but Caterina insisted he came back anyway to check on Jacob.

“He is thirty now,” Catarina said sharply, her hand gripping Jacob’s shoulder so tight he actually winced.

Doctor Rainer halted in putting his apparatus away in his leather satchel and looked back at Catarina.

“I might need something now,” Jacob said, pointing at the fresh bruise he had on his shoulder. Doctor Rainer smiled then shook his head.

“The Duke of Thorne is not his father, Your Grace.” Doctor Rainer’s words were soft and kindly spoken, but they plainly didn’t help matters.

Catarina released Jacob’s shoulder suddenly and bustled to the side of the room, with her hands on her hips as she stared out across the grounds of the estate, through the window. Jacob exchanged an easy look with Doctor Rainer as he stood.

“Thank you, doctor,” Jacob said and bowed his head to him as he rolled down his sleeves. Rainer bowed fully with an easy smile.

“The only thing I’d say, Your Grace, is that you seem a little tired. Otherwise, you are in perfect health.”

No wonder I am tired.

Jacob had barely slept a wink the night before after what had passed between him and Emily. He had thought of it constantly, not just the thrill and excitement of it, but also the intimacy between them after they had sat that in the orangery together, sharing secrets. It was not something he normally did with any woman he took to bed.

Yet Emily is not just any other woman, is she?

“Thank you again.”

“I shall return in a month.” Doctor Rainer bowed and sent a wary glare Catarina’s way. “I shall see you soon, Your Grace.”

Catarina was plainly so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn’t turn to say goodbye to the doctor. Jacob smiled at him and waved him off. The moment the door was closed, Jacob moved to stand by his mother. He leaned against the windowsill, catching her eye, to see that she no longer had her hands on her hips but was adjusting the sleeves of her gown to make sure they sat straight.

“Mother.” Jacob’s voice captured her attention. “Is this not good news? I am still perfectly healthy.”

“I know,” she smiled, and the sight of it lifted his heart, “yet for how long I, wonder.” She looked away from him and gazed out of the window at the grounds. The way she discarded the good news so fast, her cheeks falling as that smile slipped away, cut him deeply. “You said you would marry, Jacob.”

“I know I did.”

“And now what?” she asked sharply. “No marriage, no children, nothing! Who knows how long you have—”

“Mother, enough.” His voice was sharp as he stood away from the windowsill. It startled his mother so much that her jaw slackened. “I cannot talk of this. Not now.”

“Whyever not?”

He didn’t answer her and reached for his jacket he had slung across one of the chairs, pulling it on over his shoulders distractedly. He could go riding today, check on his tenants and do some work with the steward. Yes, all such things would help to distract him, to stop him thinking of one person in particular.

“Surely you can find another woman to marry?” Catarina crossed the room toward him. “Jacob?”

One woman firmly entered Jacob’s mind. It was Emily.

An errant picture entered his head of Emily walking down the aisle toward him in a white lace gown, her blonde hair gathered at the back of her head and those strong eyes fixed on him.

Oh, Emily.

Then that picture changed. They were in the position they’d occupied the night before, with her straddling him, yet they wore nothing and were in his bedchamber, astride his bed. He could picture Emily’s moans of pleasure as she thrust back her head as she rode him, driving them both into an abyss of pleasure.

No!

He turned away from his mother and strode to the door as he pushed the thought of Emily from his mind.

“I can think of no woman at this time, Mother.”

“None?” she spluttered, rounding the armchair he had been sitting in before and trying to reach him.

He knew after what he and Emily had done the night before he should marry her. He could even take his horse right now and ride to the Earl of Pratt’s house, begging for his blessing to be shifted from the elder daughter to the younger, so that his imaginings could be made real. Yet it was not something he could do.

What if in the midst of all of his mother’s nervous behaviors, she actually had a point? What if in a few years’ time Jacob fell ill and lost his life as swiftly as his own father did, the suddenness a shocking wrench?

If he’d married a woman who did not care for him, it would have been easier. They could have produced a child, and then she could have gone on to marry again, maybe for love next time, and not grieve him too strongly. That would certainly be an easier life to live.

If he married Emily, then everything changed. This connection between them, whatever it was, was strong. If he died, how would Emily cope if they’d only been married a few years prior?

She had a strong heart, a passionate one, he’d glimpsed that. If she had a heart that could form such a firm attachment to him, what would become of her then after she had to stand by his coffin and watch it lowered into the ground? No. The thought was just too painful to think of.

“Jacob?” Catarina called, reaching him at last. “Please, just think about it. Consider marrying someone else, I beg of you.”

“I’ll consider it,” he answered but without any real strength in his words. He flicked up the collar of his jacket and strode through the hallway, heading to the entrance of the house and around to the stables. When the strong wind struck him outside, a certainty came with that chilly feeling.

Emily had too good a heart for it to be broken by marrying him. The best thing he could do for her now was to protect her—from himself.

* * *

“Emily?”

The voice was so sudden, disturbing Emily’s thoughts, that she jerked her head up. She was walking through the garden, trailing her fingers through the flowers and admiring the blooms. Ordinarily, the garden was her favorite place on the estate. It could bring her such happiness and contentment, but today, it was as if something was missing from the garden.

It is because I cannot stop thinking of last night.

Her thoughts dwelled on Jacob rather than on the flowers, and what they had shared in that orangery.

“Emily?” the voice said again.

Emily jerked around, looking for the source of the voice. Rachel strode out of the house with such a firmness and purpose in her step that Emily actually backed up.

Oh, God. Does she know?

Rachel’s nostrils practically flared, and her cheeks were tinged dark red, a sure sign of her anger.

Emily turned on the spot, snatching up one of the dahlia flowers nearby and pulling on the petals haphazardly, hoping desperately that it would help calm her mind. She took a step away, somehow hoping and praying that Rachel would change her mind about talking to her.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me now,” Rachel’s voice was so firm that Emily had no choice but to turn back to face her sister.

She forced a cheerful smile, one so strained that her cheeks ached. Rachel stopped a short distance in front of her and folded her arms.

“Well?” she said, her manner sharp.

“Well, what?” Emily fought hard to maintain that awkward smile. “Did you bring Joey with you?” She looked around with excitement, hoping to see her nephew, but her prayer was not answered.

“He’s at home with Daniel.” Rachel stepped toward Emily and beckoned her to follow her.

“Where are we going?”

“You are fond of the garden, are you not?” Rachel said with a shrug. “So, let’s do what you like best as we talk. Let us walk.”

“Talk? About what?” Emily hurried to walk alongside her sister. They walked by a border of dahlias and azaleas, the rich orange and red hues bright in the morning sunlight.

“I wish to talk about last night.”

Emily’s stomach tightened into a knot. The dahlia with so few petals left she judged as being useless now, so she dropped it and picked another bloom.

“Why are you ruining the garden you like so much?” Rachel asked, pointing at the two flower heads.

“No reason.” Emily walked ahead, doing her best to ignore the border and stare straight in front of her at the lawn. “What about last night do you wish to discuss?”

“Well, a couple of things.” Rachel swept an arm to the side and urged Emily to follow her as they walked across the open lawn. “First, did you hear of what happened to Lord Gilchrist last night? Did you even see it?”

“See what?” Emily pretended innocence, fidgeting more and more with that dahlia head.

“He was struck down in the garden. He was found unconscious and taken indoors. It seems someone attacked him,” Rachel said hurriedly. “He had a broken nose, but the news this morning is that the physicians have checked him and he’ll be fine. Strange though, is it not? For someone to attack him so openly in a garden.”

“I suppose so,” Emily murmured, still refusing to meet her sister’s gaze. “He is a forceful man, rather demanding. It wouldn’t surprise me to hear that Lord Gilchrist had brought such a thing on himself.”

“What does that mean?” Rachel caught her arm and dragged her back. Now, Emily was forced to look her sister in the eye. “You know something of this. Do you not?”

“No.”

“You are a poor liar.”

“I am not lying.”

“Emily!” Rachel snapped, her tone sharp. “You think I cannot tell when you are lying by now? You think I did not see the way you lied when we were children, hiding the squirrel you had snuck into the house?”

“I had forgotten that,” Emily forced a laugh. “Is that what I did?”

“Oh, desist.” Rachel released her arm and waved a hand at her. “I know you know something about this.”

“What persuades you to think I do?”

“Because Lord Gilchrist has been pestering you for months now.” At Rachel’s words, Emily walked on, with such a purposeful stride that Rachel struggled to keep up behind her. “It would not surprise me if he followed you outside and pestered you too, though I struggle to see how you could cause such an injury to him, were he to—”

“Enough.” Emily turned back sharply to face her sister. She clearly startled Rachel, who tottered on her toes and stepped back again. “Maybe something did happen last night, Mother Rachel, but it is no concern of yours or anyone else’s.”

“How can you say that?” Rachel spluttered, waving her hands madly at Emily. “You are my sister. You are my concern!”

“And what would you make of the matter if I were to say that I was alone in the company of a man such as Lord Gilchrist?”

“Oh lord—” Rachel flung her hands over her face.

“That is not what I am saying,” Emily explained hurriedly. “But you see the dilemma. I will not confirm anything that could have me rushed up an aisle of a church. Do you understand?”

“That sharp tone.” Rachel lowered her hands from her face. “You sound a little like me, Em.”

Emily turned away and walked on, hurrying down the lawn and toward the thicket of trees at the bottom of the garden.

“Where were you then?” Rachel called as she followed her.

“What?”

“For the rest of the night, where were you?” Rachel asked impatiently. “Bridget and I noticed you had gone missing quite early in the evening, and Daniel kept an eye out for you. You were not seen for some time, Em. You must have been somewhere.”

“I was nowhere.”

“It is impossible for a person to be nowhere.”

“Rachel, enough please.” Emily stopped walking again, this time under the shade of a great oak tree. “I hid in the shadows of the ballroom for I was tired of Lord Gilchrist’s attentions, and I was avoiding another. There, does that satisfy you?”

“Another?” Rachel crossed her arms in front of her chest, a single eyebrow raised. “Would this ‘other’ be the very gentleman we caught you in the company of the other night?”

“I am avoiding him. Surely you agree that is a wise course of action?” Even as Emily said the words, two emotions warred within her. There was the guilt of lying to her sister, and the mistrust of her own feelings, for she wanted more than anything to see Jacob again.

“Very wise,” Rachel nodded firmly.

“Good, then we understand each other.” Emily spun on her heel, crushing acorns beneath her shoes as she went to walk away.

“Yet baffling when the Duke of Thorne was also perceived to be missing from the ballroom last night.” Rachel’s words had her faltering. She tripped on those acorns and hurried in a circle to face her sister. Rachel’s expression was calculating, her eyes narrowed and the wind barely buffeting her hair at all. “Were you with him?”

“No!” Emily denied it, perhaps too loudly, for Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. “No, I was not with him. I told you; I was hiding from him and Lord Gilchrist.”

“Oh, God.” Rachel covered her face with her hand. “I fear what the truth is.”

“I am telling you the truth,” Emily said through gritted teeth, the guilt seething inside her all the more.

“Yes, yes, of course you are,” Rachel said in clear derision. “Let me tell you something, sister.” She dropped her hand and moved toward Emily, with a finger pointed toward her. “You have always been rebellious, yes, lashing out when I think it ill-advised to do so. Yet if you were in the company of the Duke of Thorne last night then you have proved yourself a greater fool than I ever thought you capable of being.”

Rachel stepped away, heading back toward the house.

How dare she!?

“Rachel!” Emily snapped and walked after her, but Rachel showed no sign of stopping. “You would insult me so?”

“I’m trying to get you to wake up and see what risks you are taking Em. If you were in the company of the Duke, as I suspect you were—”

“I was not!” The lie sounded awful, even to Emily’s own ears.

“Then you could be risking your reputation hugely.” Rachel flung back around to face her.

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Emily reminded her, the words tart.

Rachel had said repeatedly that the events which had led to her own marriage were all a mistake, but that was not how the ton perceived it. The ton perceived her initial meeting with Daniel to be a scandalous thing indeed.

Rachel blushed crimson red and her lips fell apart in horror.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Emily muttered hurriedly.

“Yes, you did,” Rachel stepped toward her. “I have come here to try and protect you, Em. Even if that means sometimes trying to protect you from your own foolishness.”

“I do not need your protection,” Emily insisted. “You are not my mother, Rachel.”

She might as well have struck her sister for the suddenness of the response. Rachel backed up, her eyes turning to the ground. They could have filled with tears, but Emily wasn’t sure, for she could not see them clearly.

“Have it your way,” Rachel muttered, her voice dark and sad. “Look after yourself from now on.” She turned on her heel and left so quickly that Emily stared after her.

Something about the words conjured a feeling of just how alone Emily was in this garden, isolated.

I should not have said that.

Yet the words had tumbled from her lips. She looked to the drive that she could glimpse from the garden, praying a carriage would arrive; that Jacob would come and after all they had shared the night before, propose, but the drive stayed empty.

Perhaps Rachel is right.