Song From the Sea (9 page)

5

W
hat I'd like to know, Dr. Hadley, is how long you anticipate Miss Magnus will be incapacitated by these headaches?” Adam almost hoped that the doctor would tell him weeks, not because he wished a splitting headache on anyone, Calliope Magnus included, but because he was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of her story and he knew he was going to need time.

“I regret that I cannot say with any certainty, Lord Vale. Cases like these can be most unpredictable. It has been my experience, however, that with severe head injuries these episodes can continue for some time. The best one can do is to protect the patient from stressful situations, as those seem to bring on an attack.”

“Stressful situations,” Adam said. “You mean anything that might cause emotional upset?” He stood and walked over to the window, his back to the study, trying to suppress a stab of guilt.

“Yes. Emotional upset of any kind is most detrimental. Peace and quiet, fresh air, good, wholesome food, and moderate exercise are my recommendations for Miss Magnus's well-being.”

“I see …” Adam said, thinking that the good doctor might as well be tying his hands behind his back. He turned around. “What you mean is that Miss Magnus should not be pressured to speak about herself.”

“Most definitely not at this time. Er, Lord Vale, may I ask you a question regarding Miss Magnus?” The doctor folded his fingers together and regarded Adam speculatively.

“I see no reason why you shouldn't,” Adam said. “Whether I can answer is another matter.”

“How much do you know about the young lady? I realize that you knew nothing of her when you rescued her, but what has she told you about herself since then?”

“Precious little,” Adam said. “If I may be frank with you, Doctor, I believe that she might have fallen into unfortunate circumstances. She is not inclined to speak of those circumstances—if indeed I am correct in my supposition. She avoids any reference to her previous life and has no clear plans for her future.”

“Yes … yes, that would make sense, if I am correct. Let me propose a theory to you, for I have observed a certain reticence in the woman myself. I believe I might have an idea as to why she is so vague about her life before her accident.”

“By all means,” Adam said, his curiosity sharply aroused. “I haven't been able to make head or tail of her story from the start.”

“Let me begin by saying that instances like these are uncommon but not unheard of. Oh, yes, thank you,” he said, as Adam poured him a glass of sherry and handed it to him. “Have you heard of the condition called amnesia? It is one in which the sufferer loses all memory predating a traumatic incident, and is usually incurred by a blow to the head.”

Adam stared at him. “In plain language, do you mean to say she has no idea who she is?”

“That is my hypothesis. I have never personally come across a case like this before, but Miss Magnus does exhibit some of the symptoms.” He scratched his head. “I wondered about her evasiveness concerning simple questions, so I read a few previously reported histories. I believe the shock to her brain may have erased any memory of her past.”

“Good Lord,” Adam said, stupefied. That idea had never occurred to him. “Does this last forever or is it a passing condition?” He took the chair facing the doctor and regarded him intently.

“In some instances the memory returns,” the doctor said. “In others it is gone forever. The patient has no choice but to start afresh. One case I recall involved a woman who had been happily married with three children and had no recognition of any of them after a bad fall she'd taken. Her husband had to start from the very beginning, introducing her to her family as if she were a complete stranger.”

“Did she ever recover her memory?” Adam asked, appalled by the potential implications of Callie's case.

“Not that I am aware of. Nevertheless, she managed to carry on and eventually became comfortable with her family. Mind you, I'm merely speculating about whether Miss Magnus is suffering from the same affliction.”

Cold comfort, Adam thought. “If she is suffering from loss of memory, why hasn't she just come out and said it? I cannot see any purpose served by her withholding the truth.”

“You must consider this from her position, Lord Vale,” the doctor said as if he was speaking to a small and rather dim young child. “She would be terrified, do you not think? Imagine not knowing who you were or where you belonged. She has no possessions to give her any clue as to her identity. All she would know is that she was traveling to England for some reason, but no family has stepped forward to claim her, have they?”

“No …I sent Mr. Dryden to inquire at the ports and he came back with no information at all. That would explain why no passage had been booked under her name. She must have made the name up.” Adam pushed a hand through his hair, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now. “How does one generally proceed in these instances? Should I ask her outright?” That would be a fine thing—he could just imagine the conversation:
Tell me, Miss Magnus, if that is indeed your name, have you misplaced your past?

Dr. Hadley considered. “If I were you, I think I might leave the inquiries for the moment. As I said, any stress or pressure will only bring on one of her headaches and that will get you nowhere. Perhaps when she is more fully recovered you can ask her what you wish—but do keep in mind that my suspicion might be no more than that: The girl might very well be who she said she is and is simply trying to conceal some misfortune. Whatever the truth might be, Miss Magnus is not physically able to deal with distressing questions just yet.”

“Very well, Doctor. I will do as you ask.” Adam wasn't happy about the man's request, but he saw the sense in it. “I am to indulge her for the moment, is that it?”

“That is it exactly. Let her take the lead. If she has anything she wants to tell you she will. Other than that, I would let her be.”

Dr. Hadley finished his sherry and went on to see his next patient. Adam wasn't so lucky, being stuck with the one he had for God only knew how long.

Nigel was in the middle of going over the household accounts with Mrs. Simpson and Gettis, when Adam burst into the housekeeper's parlor. All three of them looked up with astonishment. Adam was not in the habit of invading the servants' quarters, any more than he was accustomed to storming into rooms unannounced.

“I've been looking for you everywhere,” Adam said, and they all jumped to their feet, not sure whom Adam was addressing. Nigel had not seen Adam looking so spirited in a very long time. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or alarmed.

“A word with you, Nigel,” Adam said, practically twitching with impatience. “Forgive the interruption, but this is urgent.”

“I'm at your service.” Nigel closed the books. “We'll finish this later,” he said to Gettis and Mrs. Simpson as he took off after Adam, who had already disappeared.

“What's happened?” he asked breathlessly when Adam finally stopped outside the back door of the scullery, having gone directly through the kitchen, also not his habit.

“Not here,” Adam said. “The rose garden is closest. I want to be absolutely sure that no one can overhear or interrupt.”

Intrigued, Nigel followed him around the side of the house to the walled garden that extended from the south wing. Adam opened the wooden door, firmly closing it behind them. He went straight to the stone bench that sat under a large oak tree. More surprised than ever, since this had been Caroline's personal preserve and not a place that Adam had spent any time in since her death, Nigel took a seat next to him.

For someone who'd been in a tearing hurry, Adam fell suddenly silent. Nigel waited, not having any idea what to think, although he couldn't help but wonder if Adam had discovered Callista Melbourne's deception. He prayed that wasn't the case, but that would explain Adam's agitation. God help her … Adam would most likely dispatch her to wretched Harold in no time flat.

“I spoke with Dr. Hadley,” Adam finally said. “He has the most peculiar theory about Miss Magnus. I want to know what you think.”

“A theory?” Nigel said, perplexed. “What sort of theory?”

“He thinks the girl probably doesn't know who she is. He calls the condition amnesia.” Adam looked as if he wanted to tear his hair out. “She might as well have pudding inside her head instead of brains, Nigel. How am I meant to dispose of her when she doesn't even know where she belongs?”

Nigel stared at Adam, staggered by this piece of information. “She doesn't remember who she is?”

“How am I supposed to know? I'm not even supposed to ask her for fear of bringing on one of her headaches. She needs peace and quiet, Hadley said. No pressure on her. What about the pressure on me, I ask?” He clenched his fists in his lap. “I do
not
need this, but I'm damned if I have any idea what I'm supposed to do.”

As appalling as the situation was for Callista Melbourne, Nigel couldn't help being secretly pleased. Adam wasn't likely to toss out a helpless young woman into the street, and as for Miss Melbourne, if she didn't remember her engagement to foul Harold, the better for her. Considering everything, maybe this wasn't such a bad turn of affairs. Adam's agitation was far better than apathy. At least he was behaving like a normal person with a full range of emotions instead of a shadow going through the motions. Nigel didn't see that any purpose would be served by revealing what he knew. “Did Hadley say how long she would remain without her memory?”

“That's the point,” Adam said on a near shout. “He doesn't have the first idea. She could be like this forever—it's been known to happen. I ask you again, what am I going to do?”

“Nothing for the moment, I imagine. Follow the good doctor's advice. With luck Miss M …er, Miss Magnus's memory will return once she's regained her health. You did say today that you wanted to get to the bottom of the mys-tery—perhaps if you listen carefully to what she says, you can piece together the puzzle.”

Adam glared at him. “You're being very helpful. Why don't you tell me something I haven't thought of?”

“Because I can't think of anything else,” Nigel said calmly. “I feel sorry for the girl. If she's been making up a story for your benefit, she must be feeling utterly miserable about lying, but what else is she to do? I'm sure I would do the same in her circumstances.” He chuckled.

“What the devil do you find so amusing?” Adam demanded. “This is a disaster.”

“Forgive me. I was just thinking that your Miss Magnus is quite resourceful. She did spin an interesting tale—liv-ing in Italy and all that. Of course, you still don't know if she made up a history for your benefit or if some of it's true. You'll just have to wait and see.”

“Next you'll be telling me to consider this a challenge.” Adam sighed heavily. “Very well, Nigel. I can see that you're not prepared to take the situation seriously, but then, it's not your responsibility, is it?”

“No, but I'm willing to help in any way that I can. I would very much like to meet your Miss Magnus.”

“She's not
my
Miss Magnus. She's not anybody's Miss Magnus. She's probably not Miss Magnus at all.” He stood and walked over to a climbing rose that bloomed on the near wall, running a finger over one deep red flower and pricking his thumb on a thorn as he pulled his hand away. Swearing under this breath, he sucked away the drop of blood that had welled up.

He turned around. “I think you should meet Miss Magnus, and the sooner the better. If she's feeling well enough this evening, I'll ask her to join us for dinner. The more time we spend with her, the more likely we are to be able to find out what we need to know.”

Interested that Adam had suddenly included him in his plans, Nigel nodded. Adam might have a challenge on his hands, but Nigel had his own: keeping Callista Melbourne's true identity and her connection to Harold to himself for as long as possible. The poor girl deserved nothing less.

“Lord Vale wishes me to have dinner with him?” Callie sat up and gazed at Jane in horror.

“Yes, miss. He said only if you feel strong enough, but he thought you might like a change from eating on trays in your room.” Jane crinkled her brow. “Oh, and he said please to tell you that he promises not to plague you with questions.”

Callie closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't want to be forced to endure more of Lord Vale's company, but she couldn't accept his hospitality and then deliberately avoid him for the duration of her stay. She did feel much better, and the four walls of the room, despite its generous size, felt as if they were beginning to close in on her.

“Very well,” she said, wondering if she was not making a terrible mistake. Still, he had been very kind to her that morning when her head had started throbbing again. She couldn't help shivering at the memory of his strong arms picking her up and carrying her to the bed, his gentle touch and soft voice. “Please tell Lord Vale that I'd be happy to join him, although I have nothing appropriate to wear.”

“Not to worry, miss. Mrs. Simpson has taken care of all that. I'll bring the dress in directly and help you to prepare yourself.”