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Chapter 32

CHAPTER32

Edwin turned his horse sharply through the gates of Tillington House, his fever and his panic vying for control of his aching body and overwrought mind. His thoughts were so fixed upon how he might remedy the awful predicament he had found himself in, that he did not notice the carriage coming toward him until it was almost too late.

Fortunately, Bellerophon veered out of the way of disaster, snorting in annoyance at his rider.

“Apologies,” Edwin urged, though even he could not tell if he was apologizing to his horse or the driver of the carriage, who scowled down at him as he set his abruptly stopped carriage in motion again.

Bringing Bellerophon to a halt, Edwin watched the carriage go by… and his heart almost lurched out of his throat as he noticed the face staring out of the window. The pale hair, those spiteful eyes, those appalling lips; Jane Russell had beaten him to Tillington House, likely for reasons that immediately made his blood run cold.

She wishes to take revenge for the threat I made, for booting her out of my residence, he realized, feeling sicker than he had done for the entire ride.

To make matters worse, Jane smiled coldly as she passed. Victoriously. And all he could do was sit there on his horse, torn between cutting off the carriage and making Jane go back to Tillington House and going directly to the manor alone, to see if he could patch together whatever damage she had already done.

Deciding that it would not be in his favor to bring Jane with him, however unwillingly, he urged his horse into the final lope toward his wife’s family home, praying that he still had a wife in more than name.

At the bottom of the front steps, he leaped down from the saddle and ran up to the entrance, pulling hard upon the bell.

A moment later, the butler appeared, peering cautiously out of a narrow gap in the door. “Oh, I thought you were someone else,” he said, opening the door wider. “Might I ask your business here, Your Grace?”

“I am here to see my wife,” Edwin replied, moving to step past the fellow.

But the butler blocked his path, narrowing the gap in the door once more. “I am afraid I shall have to speak with Her Grace, to see if she is accepting visitors.” He smirked a little, as if he had been waiting for this moment. “Please, remain here until I have spoken with her.”

He closed the door without another word, leaving Edwin out on the steps, where dread roiled in his stomach and the growing heat of his fever prompted him to seek sanctuary upon one of the stone benches that adorned the front terrace. It was fortunate that the afternoon had cooled after the unexpected downpour, for otherwise he was quite certain he would have fainted by now.

At least ten minutes later, the butler reappeared, turning his head left and right as he searched for Edwin.

Edwin raised a hand. “I am here.”

“Ah, so you are,” the butler said, stepping onto the terrace. “Her Grace has informed me that she will not be receiving visitors this afternoon. You may call upon her again tomorrow, though she has asked me to tell you that she might also be refusing visitors by then. She has had some upsetting news, or so I have heard, and must rest.”

Edwin squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, ask again if she will see me.”

“There is no need, Your Grace. She was quite firm,” the butler replied.

Edwin opened his eyes again. “Then, I will sit here until she agrees to receive me.”

The butler arched an eyebrow. “There, Your Grace?”

“Yes, right here. You may inform her of that.”

The butler offered a brief bow. “Of course, Your Grace. Might I fetch you anything in the meantime?”

“A drink. Any drink,” Edwin panted, his throat so dry and swollen that he could barely swallow air.

“Certainly, Your Grace.” The butler disappeared, though he made sure to slam the door first, to ensure that Edwin understood that his presence was not welcome.

What did you say to her, Miss Russell? Edwin cursed inwardly as he held his head in his hands, hoping that the pressure of his palms against his temples might alleviate his violent headache.

He had been sitting there for barely a minute or two before the butler returned with a cup of tea. Edwin took it hesitantly, glancing toward the manor’s front door, hoping for a glimpse of Joanna. Perhaps, the tea was a peace offering and she would soon allow him inside.

“She has reiterated that she will not be receiving visitors today,” the butler said, as if reading Edwin’s mind.

Edwin sipped the tea, though it did nothing to ease his sore throat. “Then, you may reiterate to her that I will not leave this bench until she does.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The butler disappeared again, and though Edwin had promised to remain where he was, he knew it would send him to the brink of madness if he sat there and did nothing.

Getting up, taking his cup with him, he decided to search for another way in.

As he walked around the manor, testing every door he came across, he mopped his brow with his sleeve, feeling worse with every passing minute. The panic-fueled ride to Tillington House had somehow held the sickness at bay, but now that he had nothing to do but wait, it returned with a vengeance.

“Is this your final punishment, Father?” he rasped, blinking ahead at the never-ending terrace that wrapped around the entire house.

For a moment, he faltered, believing he saw someone who looked very much like his father walking toward him. Leaning against the nearest wall for support, he blinked quickly to try and clear the blurriness from his eyes, and the vision vanished. The fever was beginning to play tricks, and being so far from his own residence, he dreaded to think how they might manifest themselves.

As if it could get any worse, he reminded himself, continuing around the manor to no avail. All of the doors were locked, perhaps deliberately so. Joanna was not foolish; she would have known he would attempt something like that.

“I am not going anywhere!” he shouted, returning to the front of the house where Bellerophon grazed on the stretching lawns. No stable hand had come to fetch him, giving Edwin another hint that he was not welcome. “Joanna, if you can hear me—I am not leaving these grounds! I will wait here until you see me! And if you will not see me or speak to me, then I will shout everything that I have to say from this very spot!”

He glanced at the door, but it did not open. Indeed, there seemed to be no movement whatsoever within the house.

“I shall give you one hour to allow me inside!” Edwin added, retreating to the front steps where he sat down and finished his cup of tea, wishing it would rain again to cool his fiery skin.

I know I have no right to make demands of you, my love, but if you would just allow me to explain, he pleaded inwardly, his gaze flitting toward the gates. He sighed, realizing there was a good chance that, no matter what he said, Joanna would not believe him. If he had gotten there ahead of Jane, perhaps he would have had a hope of convincing her, but that had trundled away with Miss Russell’s carriage and her smug, wretched smile.

* * *

An hour later—or thereabouts, for Edwin had no clock to tell the time by—another carriage turned in through the gates and made its way down to where he still sat, growing more and more delirious. Indeed, for a short while, he was not even certain that the carriage was real, but just a figment of his feverish imagination.

“She won’t let you in?” Mrs. Hislop asked, getting down from the carriage.

Edwin shook his sore head. “I am about to make my declaration, so you have arrived at the perfect moment.”

“A declaration?”

He winced. “She must hear me, one way or another.”

“You do not look well, Your Grace.” Mrs. Hislop pursed her lips. “Perhaps, we should take you back to Bruxton Hall. You can return when you’re feeling better, and Her Grace has had a while to calm her ire.”

He cast her a despondent look. “I cannot return until I have spoken. I do not care if I collapse on these steps, as long as she hears me.” He quickly informed Mrs. Hislop of what she had missed, including the sight of Jane leaving Tillington House as he arrived.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Mrs. Hislop murmured, as another figure bustled out of the carriage with the air of a military general.

“I knew that wicked girl would come to no good,” Edwin’s aunt said, tutting. “I took her in at five-and-ten because her father was worried she would end up with child by the butcher’s boy. She has always been wayward, though I have done my best. You would not know it to look at her, but if I do not keep her on a short rein, she wanders off and has a habit of getting into all manner of trouble. I was not jesting when I said I know too many things about too many people—it has spared her hide more times than I care to count. I am only sorry I did not watch her more closely around you, dear boy. I had assumed that, being distantly related, she would not fall back into her bad habits with you.”

Edwin’s jaw dropped. “You told my aunt?”

“I had to,” Mrs. Hislop replied, though she had the decency to look somewhat shamefaced. “She wouldn’t let me leave unless I did, and I couldn’t let you ride all the way here without reinforcements. Not in your current condition. Goodness, I shouldn’t have allowed you to go. Look at you!”

Edwin cleared his throat. “I am well enough.”

“No, you are not,” his aunt interjected. “The one thing I can be sure of is that Jane was not lying about her sickness, and nor was Joanna pretending. It has claimed you, and if you are not permitted into this manor soon, you might very well collapse on these steps. So, allow me.”

His aunt marched up to the front door and pounded on it with a clenched fist, foregoing the bell altogether.

This time, when the butler answered, he jumped back as if Edwin’s aunt had struck him. “Um… might I assist you, Madame?”

“Where is Her Grace? Bring her to this door at once. Tell her it is Peggy,” Edwin’s aunt instructed. “And do not tell me that she is not receiving visitors. We are friends; she will receive me.”

The butler nodded. “Allow me a moment, Madame.”

“Hurry yourself. I do not like to wait,” Edwin’s aunt replied, folding her arms across her immense bosom.

As his aunt waited impatiently, Edwin peered up at Mrs. Hislop. “It is hopeless. Jane has poisoned her mind against me; I am certain of it.”

“There is always hope, my dearest boy,” Mrs. Hislop insisted, using a term of endearment she had not used since he was a child. “Look at the two of you, before all of this unpleasantness. You did not think you would ever find a woman to love and be loved by, yet she was determined to win your heart. In doing so, she won yours. She will not forget that in a hurry. She will believe you. She knows you, better than you might think.”

Just then, the butler returned. “Her Grace has agreed to receive you.”

“She has?” Edwin shot to his feet far too fast, stumbling up the steps to reach the door.

He had barely set one foot inside the entrance hall when the exhaustion and the fever and the soul-sapping panic of losing Joanna hit him in one great wave, striking him in the back of the knees. His legs crumpled beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor.

Undeterred, he struggled to get back onto his feet, but his limbs would not cooperate, as if they were no longer connected to his thoughts and will. His fingertips scraped weakly at the floorboards, as his aunt and the butler hurried to try and help him up. But he was too heavy, and without the collaboration of his limbs, he could do nothing to help them help him.

“Edwin?” a soft voice whispered, brimming with alarm.

He heard footsteps approaching, and his gaze flitted in the direction of the sound. There, standing a few paces away, her eyes wide in fright, her hand to her heart, was Joanna.

He mustered a weak smile, the curve of his lips taking his last sliver of strength. A moment later, the world went dark, pulling a black curtain over everything, including the worried face of the woman he loved.

How ironic it would be, his last thought before oblivion whispered, if I were to die right now, before ever knowing if she forgives me. His father would have relished that.

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