There's Something About Lady Mary (12 page)

Still, he’d told her something that she had to consider. The letter that she had received hadn’t been the only threat. There was the stranger Mr. Summersby had mentioned. Mary contemplated this for a moment, then thought back on the conversation she’d had with Lord Woodbridge. He’d advised her to consult her father’s journals, but until now she hadn’t had the opportunity to do so.

Moving quickly toward her wardrobe, she yanked the door open and sank down onto her knees, pushing her shoes aside as she began pulling out the boxes that she’d brought with her from Belgium. She paused for a long while on a couple of the ones containing her father’s more personal effects: his pocket watch, a monogrammed handkerchief, his favorite pipe, and a few other knickknacks.

Wiping the sentimental tears from her eyes, she put the boxes carefully aside and grabbed hold of a larger one that had been shoved into one corner. Dragging it out onto the floor, she took a deep breath before slowly lifting the lid and setting it aside on the carpet. Inside were ten leather-bound books, all arranged in two neat rows, their spines all facing up. Mary just stared at them, almost too afraid to touch. These had been her father’s most prized possession, notes that he’d accumulated over a span of thirty years relating his trials and tribulations, his successes and aspirations, all with one purpose in mind: to advance medicine.

She traced her fingers over them in wonder. Was it possible that they held a secret so powerful that people she’d never even met felt threatened by it? It seemed ridiculous, yet she had the letter and had also been made aware that someone was keeping a watchful eye on her. She shook off the shudder that threatened to run down her spine and returned her attention to the books. Each volume had been branded with a gold number. Mary picked up a dark green edition with the number
1
etched into it and, opening it to the first page, began to read.

I
t was almost ten in the evening when Mary found herself awakened by Emma, who was kneeling beside her and urgently shaking her shoulder. “What is it?” she asked, looking about with sleepy eyes and seeing that she’d fallen asleep on the floor. Her father’s journal had slipped from her fingers and was lying snugly in her lap.

“I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, my lady, but it appears that the Dowager Duchess of Warwick is here to see you. She claims that it is a matter of utmost importance.”

Mary was confused. “Is it not the middle of the night, Emma?”

“Not quite, my lady, though I must say that it is rather late for a social call. I did attempt to tell her so, but she’s a rather formidable woman and refused to take no for an answer. When she insisted upon seeing you this very instant, I found it hard to refuse her once she explained that Lady Arlington had told her about you and that she has come to seek your help. I am sorry, my lady, truly I am, but I really did not know what else to do, short of sending her on her way, which I fear would have been rather rude—especially if the matter is as urgent as she claims.”

“It is quite all right, Emma. Would you please show her ladyship into the parlor and offer her some tea. I will be down shortly to greet her.”

“Yes, my lady.” Emma offered Mary her hand and helped her mistress off the floor before smoothing her skirts with her hands. “Should I call upon any of the other servants?”

Mary had no desire to disturb any of her staff. Still, she knew she’d probably be hungry later, having missed her supper, so rather than answer Emma’s question, she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know if Thornton left a plate for me in the dining room, would you?”

“He did—some ham and cheese with bread and pickles, I believe.”

“Then I do believe that we shall manage just fine without disturbing anyone else, as long as you will see to the tea. After that, you may go back to bed.”

Emma bobbed a small curtsy and went to see about her business, while Mary removed her spencer. She’d been in such a hurry upon arriving home earlier that she’d quite forgotten to take it off. She thought of Mr. Summersby again and sighed in annoyance. What an infuriating man he was! Well, she was better off without him, she decided, grabbing a shawl and winding it about her shoulders. A man like that would only get in the way of her work, no matter how appealing she might find him.

I will not think of it, she told herself as she made her way downstairs to greet her uninvited guest, pausing for a brief moment in the hallway to glance at her reflection in the mirror. No, she wouldn’t think of the handsome Mr. Summersby at all.

Groaning at the impossibility of the task that she was setting for herself, she quickly adjusted a few stray hairs, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the parlor. “How do you do,” she said politely as she took in the slim figure of the elderly woman who was sitting on the sofa. Lady Warwick’s posture was exceedingly dignified as she gracefully balanced her saucer in one hand, while holding her teacup in the other.

“I apologize for troubling you at such an unseemly hour, Lady Steepleton, but I wish to discuss a matter that requires complete discretion. I hope you will forgive me.” Her voice held a distinguished tone that spoke of true aristocracy, while the intensity behind her eyes told Mary that she was in the company of a highly intelligent woman. She was immediately curious to know what had brought her ladyship to her home so late in the evening.

“Lady Arlington is my grandniece, you see, so when I visited her earlier today and discovered what you did for her. . .well, I immediately knew that I must seek your advice. You cannot begin to imagine how many physicians I’ve spoken to about my predicament.” A deep frown creased her forehead, and her lips drew together in a thin line as she shook her head in open frustration. “They all claim that an operation will be far too risky, especially with my age taken into account. If you ask me, they’re all a bunch of cowards. Still, the matter remains that I refuse to live with the pain a moment longer. I dearly hope that you will be able to help me.”

Mary walked quietly over to one of the armchairs and took a seat across from Lady Warwick. “You know, it would help me a great deal if you could tell me precisely what it is that’s troubling you,” she told her kindly as she refilled Lady Warwick’s teacup before pouring herself a cup as well.

Folding her hands in her lap, her ladyship took a deep breath before saying, “I have been told that I have an unpleasantly large kidney stone lodged inside me, and frankly. . .” She suddenly scrunched her face and gasped as she gritted out, “It’s a rather unforgiving bugger.”

Momentarily startled by the dowager’s use of profanity, it took Mary a second longer than usual to react to what was happening, but once she did, she quickly produced a bottle of laudanum from a cabinet designed to house carafes filled with brandy and other such drinks. Instead, it contained most of Mary’s medical equipment. She understood that Lady Warwick was enduring an intense amount of pain and consequently added as much of the medicine to her tea as she deemed safe. “Here, drink this,” she told her quietly. “It will ease your suffering.”

The dowager obediently complied. It took a few minutes for the laudanum to take effect, but once it did, she drew a deep breath and returned her cup to Mary, settling back against the sofa with a drained expression upon her face. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t usually agree with taking that stuff, but it was necessary this time. It seems as if the pain is getting worse—unbearably so.”

“If it is a kidney stone that you are suffering from, then I will most likely have to operate in order to have it removed.” Mary met the dowager’s gaze. “It will be not only an uncomfortable procedure, but a painful one as well, I’m afraid.”

The dowager gave her a hard stare of determination. “I have never been the sort to be bowled over by anything, Lady Steepleton, not by men, not by the pestilent rules of society, and not by the difficulties of life itself. Consequently, I simply refuse to allow such an insolent little stone to dictate my level of well-being when I am otherwise in perfectly good health. I have reached the point where I will happily endure whatever I must, if it will only free me from this constant torture.”

Mary nodded her head sympathetically. “I must also warn you that the opinion of the other physicians you’ve consulted must not be entirely dismissed. Such an operation is not without risk.” The dowager opened her mouth as if to protest, but Mary quickly continued. “I’m not trying to dissuade you, but since you are contemplating putting your life in my hands, I do feel obligated to tell you this. My track record is good. I’ve lost very few patients, and none after performing a lateral lithotomy—which is what this situation will call for—of which I’ve done five. In addition, you will require one to three months to recover, so if we do it now, you shall be forced to miss the remainder of the season.”

“Pfft. . .” The dowager waved her hand dismissively. “As it is, I haven’t attended a social function in over two years due to my ailment. But if you are able to help me, then, who knows? Perhaps I’ll be able to dance a jig next year.”

Mary smiled. She really liked the older woman. “If you feel up to it,” she said. “I can examine you right away, and then tomorrow evening, I can come to your home and perform the procedure, if that is agreeable to you. Do you have a maid or a lady-in-waiting whom you would trust enough to assist?”

The dowager nodded. “Mrs. Harper will do; she was there when my children were born, so I know she’s not the squeamish sort.”

Mary blinked, realizing that Mrs. Harper must be a trusty servant if she’d been in her mistress’s employ for so many years. Composing herself, she got ready to examine her ladyship. It didn’t take long for her to confirm that a kidney stone was indeed the culprit. “Will nine p.m. tomorrow evening suit your ladyship?” she asked as she walked the dowager to the door.

“I think it would be splendid,” Lady Warwick replied. She smiled, and as she did, Mary couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were sparkling with the onset of tears. “I cannot possibly thank you enough. Really, Lady Steepleton, I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

Upon seeing her out, Mary retrieved the tray of food that Thornton had left for her in the dining room and then made her way back upstairs to her bedroom, completely exhausted. She was almost at her door when a soft thud, followed by a rustling sound, brought her to a halt. She paused to listen, but no other sound followed. Convincing herself that it was probably nothing, she eased her bedroom door open and instinctively glanced around the room. Nothing looked particularly out of place until a cold wind gripped her and she saw that her window stood gaping wide open. Setting down her tray, she ran across to it and looked out, just in time to see a dark shadow disappearing over the garden wall. “Oh God,” she murmured as her stomach tied itself into a tight knot of despair.

Swallowing hard, she pulled the window shut with trembling fingers and locked it firmly back in place, then closed the curtains to block out the darkness. She turned around to glance about the room once more. He eyes went straight to her dresser, where she’d left her father’s journal. It was gone. Anger, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of loss, poured through her. This was her father’s life, written in his own words and by his own hand, that someone had stolen from her. Whatever their reason, it wasn’t justified.

A thought struck her, and gripped by fear she ran over to the wardrobe and threw open the door. The boxes were still there where she’d left them, but what about the books? She lifted the lid. There they were, all of them, save for the very first volume. Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever it was that the intruder had been after, she still had a chance of finding it before he did. She would need a plan, though. It was no longer safe for her to remain in her own house, at least not with the books stashed away in her wardrobe and with very little with which to protect herself. Whoever it was that had taken the first book would almost certainly return soon in search of the rest. She couldn’t very well guard them every hour of every day.

But where could she possibly go on such short notice? She considered her other property in Northamptonshire, but did she really want to shy away to a lonely castle where she knew even fewer people than she did in London? The truth of the matter was that, outside of her staff, she had only two friends: Mr. Summersby and his sister, Alexandra.

Mr. Summersby had told her that he wanted to help, and in spite of everything, she believed him. However, after what had happened between them and the things she’d said to him, he was just about the last person she wanted to crawl to for help.

That left only one person: the Countess of Trenton. With a heavy sigh, Mary began piling her father’s journals into a bag, along with a few items of clothing that she placed on top. Wishing to be gone before Emma and Thornton awoke, she hurried out of the house, leaving behind a quick note, explaining to them that she’d gone to visit a friend for a few days. She then pulled her hood over her head and walked quickly toward Berkeley Square, intent on waiting by the servant’s entrance to avoid waking the household too early.

W
hen Alexandra eventually walked into breakfast at ten, she was more than a little surprised to find Mary waiting for her at the table. “I am so sorry,” she said. “I do hope that I haven’t kept you waiting for too long.”

Mary gave her a weak smile. “Not at all, Alexandra. Your husband asked if he should wake you before he went out, but I asked him not to disturb you.”

Alexandra eyed her quizzically. “You must have been here for quite some time if you managed to run into him. He usually leaves by eight.”

Mary lowered her eyes to her lap, in an almost embarrassed fashion that instantly piqued Alexandra’s interest. “The truth is that I have been here since four.”

“Good heavens!” Alexandra exclaimed. “Has something happened? Are you all right?”

Mary nodded. “Yes, yes, I am quite all right, thank you. However, there was an intruder at my house during the night. I believe I must have startled him, for he ran off. Nonetheless, I didn’t feel comfortable remaining there and hoped that you wouldn’t mind overly much if I came here. Forgive me, but I could think of nowhere else to go.”