“Well, he has broken some ribs and his right arm and I cannot yet tell the damage to his leg. He will need considerable nursing for the next few weeks. You say he is an earl?”
“Yes. Does that make a difference?”
“We may get the local gentry offering him shelter and assistance. An inn, even so fine an inn as the Crown, is not a suitable place for a sick man. I think I will speak to Lady Tollemache and Miss Wilbraham.”
“I expect my husband will be here shortly. I do not know how long it will take to move the tree and settle with the Balterley people.”
“Settling with the folk in Balterley will take as much time as shifting the damned obstacle, I should think. In the meantime, I've made the poor fellow as comfortable as can be expected, but I shan't move him until I can find a permanent home for him. I shall be back as soon as that is done. He's had laudanum after I set his arm, so he won't wake just yet.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
He bowed and left. Cecilia peeked into the darkened room where Lazenby lay, prone and frighteningly still. Then she closed the door and returned to her room where she paced and paced, watching the afternoon drag by, leaping to the window every time she heard the sound of harness and horses' hooves.
It was half past four when she caught a glimpse of the Dacre coach pulling round into the Crown mews. She ran downstairs, outside, and around into the stableyard. Ormiston was already out of the coach before it had fully stopped and before she knew it, Cecilia was in his arms, his mouth on hers, his hold on her tight. At last, he lifted his head and released his grip on her.
“Will, you're safe! Were you attacked? What has kept you so long?”
“Let us go in, and let me see Lazenby before I answer your questions. I assume this nonsense was his doing? He shall certainly pay for it.”
Cecilia bit her lip. “I believe he is already paying for it most grievously.” She led him into the inn and pointed out the parlor. “Lazenby is in there. The doctor here is looking for someone to take him in while he recovers from his injuries.”
Ormiston popped his head around the door, then followed Cecilia upstairs, where he demanded an explanation and heard Cecilia's story with mounting ire at the earl's folly in trying to stray away from Nantwich, and a mixture of amusement and horror as he heard about the accident which Cecilia had caused.
“You are a brave girl, but very foolish. You could be in Lazenby's position yourself, if you had not been so fleet and nimble.” Ormiston stood and went over to Cecilia. He knelt by her chair, took her hands in his. “If you had had another accident! It does not bear thinking about.”
“I did not think of that. I will be more careful, I promise you. I did not mean to cause you any distress.”
“My dearest girl, it is Lazenby I hold responsible for this business.” Ormiston stood and pulled Cecilia gently out of her seat. He took her place and tugged her onto his lap. “You did what you thought was best and must have experienced agonies in the last few hours.”
Cecilia looked in wonder at her husband. It seemed extraordinary to her that he should find nothing to blame or question in her behavior. “So you are not angry that I did not wait in Balterley?”
“No. Your note was quite clear, Ceci. You did not say it in so many words, but it was obvious that Lazenby intended to throw every obstacle in our way unless you accompanied him. To answer your earlier question, we were attacked, but luckily the Balterley men arrived and frightened off the villains. I assume that it was Lazenby behind that plan.”
“Yes. He was astonished to find me in Balterley and gave himself away. I believe he meant the men to abduct me and then to claim the credit for rescuing me singlehanded. How this would profit him I cannot imagine.”
“He is a man in a terrible muddle, in which state I can sympathize.” replied Ormiston ruefully. He cradled his wife more closely. “However, he must cease this interference in our affairs. I cannot question his taste in women, but I will not have him harassing you any further.”
“What should we do?” asked Cecilia. “I do not feel we can abandon him while he is so terribly injured. Besides, I have given the doctor the impression that we were travelling together. I thought it might cause a scandal otherwise.”
“That was well judged. I think we might be plagued with some awkward questions otherwise. But if this Roundell can find the earl a safe haven, we may safely continue on our journey. Unless you wish to turn back after these events?”
“Is that what you wish, Will?” Cecilia stood and moved to the window. It had not occurred to her that they might return to Hatherley with matters between them still unresolved. She found she wished more than anything to continue travelling with Will. But if he found her too much trouble, despaired of the time he spent with her, then she might as well be back at Hatherley where at least she could find occupation to fill the chasm left by his lack of interest in her.
A weak and watery sun was beginning to cut through the clouds. A shaft gleamed on the diamond panes of the window, so that Will could no longer see Cecilia's face clearly. But it was as though the light had severed the last thread of self-control by which he bound himself.
“No!” he shouted. “No, there is nothing I want more than to be with you, alone, without distraction, without interruption, without interference or complication. Dear Lord, Ceci, why must everything between us be fraught with confusion?”
The force of her husband's words propelled Ceci backward until she was sitting, dazed in the windowseat, her hands clasped tight to stop herself from reaching out toward him, for she was still afraid that if she did, he might turn her away.
Will waited for her to answer. But she was frozen, trapped by some panic he could not understand. He stood, the seconds drawing out. She could not speak. Here was the choice, the fork in the road. He had either to turn away or to open his heart to her. After all the years and months and weeks of knowing her, now loving her, it was not enough to tell her when she was feverish that she was essential to his very soul; it was not enough to watch over her as she slept; it was not enough to take her away with him. He must speak, for if he did not, nothing could ever be right between them, and it would be better for them to part. And then his life would be nothing but cold ashes in an empty fireplace.
“Cecilia, I beg your forgiveness. I did not mean to shout. But if all I can do is make you unhappy, then we are better apart. All I want is your happiness. Tell me what will make you happy and I will ensure you have it, even if it means you never wish to set eyes on me again.”
“Will, don't you understand? All I want is you. You make me happy. When you want me and hold me as if you'll never let me go, when you make plans for Hatherley and our future together, when you sit and draw with that fierce scowl as if there is nothing else in the world but the image you are drawingâall that, that makes me happy.”
“Then why do we seem so distant from one another?”
“Because you do not love me. You never have. I thought I had love enough for both of us, but it is so hard, Will.”
Ormiston closed his eyes in pain. “What a fool I have been, Cecilia. Can you forgive me? I've loved you to distraction for so many months now.”
“Why have you never said so?” asked Cecilia, suspicious, wary, uncertain.
“Because you did not love me. You despised me and mocked me in Paris, and you were distant and cool at Sawards. At every turn, I pressed you, I bound you, because I thought if I did not, you would leave me. You wanted revenge for my coldness when we were first married, justly so. I was callous and cruel.”
“No, Will, no. I told you, that's what I wanted at first. But then that night at Hatherley, you said you did not believe in love. You said you knew nothing about it. You wanted honesty and respect, and I have tried to give you that.”
“You have tried, but we have failed each other. If we had been truly honest, we would not have reached this pass. Can you believe me now when I say that I love you?”
Silence fell between them. Cecilia looked up. Then she stood, slender, straight, trembling slightly. She stepped over to her husband and laid her hands gently on his shoulders. She looked into his eyes.
“Will,” she whispered, “I vow I love you. I will always love you. I promise you this.” She stretched a little and sealed her words with a gentle kiss, then pulled back. “I believe you love me and I believe that we have been fools.” She smiled up at him. “Your turn.”
“I love you, Cecilia, and I always shall. I swear this. I believe you love me, and I believe that we have been fools. But we shall go on better.”
His arms tightened about her, and he picked her up and whirled her round until they were both dizzy with delight and laughter, the sun glinting through the window to warm their glowing faces.
Epilogue
There was great excitement at Hatherley: Viscount Ormiston and Lady Cecilia were returning home after a full three months in Ireland, and were expected by midday at the latest. Mademoiselle Lavauden had great difficulty in containing my lady's exuberant brother and sister. The marquis himself kept harassing his unfortunate servants with alterations to his plans to welcome the travellers, first in the music room, where Buchan had arranged the hanging of numerous watercolors from the viscount's Italian travels, then in the Great Hall, before finally settling on the stone summerhouse the viscountess had left half-constructed, but was now complete and pleasant in the unseasonably warm weather.
The autumn had passed quietly enough, with frequent letters exchanged between the estates in Waterford and Hatherley, but epistolary exchanges hardly matched the reality of presence. Dacre in particular had found life flat, for his great friend Earl Lazenby had left the neighborhood around the same time as Ormiston, and had vanished without trace.
But all thoughts and fidgets were dispelled when the sound of the tiger's horn came echoing along the drive, along with the jangle of the harness and the pounding of the horses' hooves as they hauled the Dacre coach down the drive at a spanking trot. Reggie and Amelia were hopping about on the stone steps above like merry monkeys, each held back by Lavauden's firm hand on their shoulders. Finally, the carriage came to a halt, the boy leapt down, opened the door, and lowered the steps. Ormiston emerged first, escorting his lady out, stepping back as she held out her arms to her sister and brother.
The marquis waited for his son. He looked into the young man's face and smiled. Will came forward and for the first time that either of them could remember, reached out toward his father. They embraced.
Later, as they watched Cecilia playing catch-as-catch-can with her brother, sister, and their governess, Will turned to his father.
“I have not thanked you.”
“For what, my dear boy?”
“For providing me with the best wife a man could have.” Will smiled. “Your wager was wiser than you knew, and you have made me the happiest of men.”
“Ah, my dear Will, I have regretted that folly more times than I can count, but if, through my error, you have found contentment, I am paid better than I deserve.”
“More than contentment. And Cecilia and I hope to pay you further. God willing, we shall have a child come April.”
There was a pause in the game as Cecilia looked up the slope at her husband and his father. Both men were beaming. She waved up at them, until she realized that Amelia was racing toward her, head down, intent on buffeting her. Ceci sidestepped the small whirlwind and skipped away. Ormiston joined his wife and children on the lawn. Skillfully, he cut Ceci out of the pack and made off with her, descending like a wolf on the fold to spirit his love away, make her rest, and keep her safe.