Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Melody was utterly miserable as she sat between Artemis and Lord Emberly at the grand rectangular dining table. Her placement seemed more like a punishment than anything. The lively hum of conversation filled the room, but Melody didn’t feel like making idle chit-chat. She knew what was expected of her. It was her duty to converse politely with those closest to her, but tonight, that was the last thing she wanted to do, especially with these two gentlemen.
The footmen glided forward with practiced grace, placing steaming bowls of soup before the family and guests. Melody eagerly picked up her spoon, hoping that by keeping her mouth busy, she could avoid the tiresome obligation of small talk. But her plan was quickly thwarted.
Lord Emberly turned towards her and asked, “It is a fine night this evening, is it not?”
The weather? Truly? Was that the best he could come up with? It seemed so. “Yes, the weather is quite agreeable.”
But Lord Emberly wasn’t content to leave the conversation there. Leaning slightly closer, he lowered his voice. “I quite enjoyed our ride earlier. Perhaps we could go for another tomorrow?”
Melody inwardly groaned. The last thing she wanted to do was go on another ride with Lord Emberly. “I’m afraid I am rather busy tomorrow.”
“Busy, you say?” Lord Emberly asked, his amusement evident.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, I have loads to do.”
Lord Emberly, far from deterred, turned more fully towards her, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Dare I ask what those things are?”
Desperately grasping for an excuse, Melody blurted out, “Needlework. It has been ages since I have done so.”
“Ah, yes. Needlework is of the utmost importance,” Lord Emberly retorted.
Melody knew how ridiculous she sounded but wasn’t about to back down. “It is,” she insisted. “Every accomplished young woman is proficient at needlework.”
Lord Emberly grinned. “By my calculation, needlework shouldn’t take up your entire day. Surely, you will have time for a ride?”
“I’m afraid I have many other tasks to attend to. I am quite busy.”
Lord Emberly’s gaze softened, and he asked gently, almost teasingly, “Are you trying to avoid me, my lady?”
Melody knew there was only one thing to do, and that was to tell the truth. “Yes,” she responded. “Is it so obvious?”
“Very much so.”
Knowing she owed him an explanation, Melody said, “We just have spent so much time together lately and I do not want my mother to think there is anything more to it than that.” She glanced at her mother, who sat at the head of the table, watching them with a keen eye.
Lord Emberly followed her gaze before saying, “It is just one ride. No harm will come from it.”
Melody gave him a small smile, though her mind still raced with thoughts. Despite his reassurance, she could not shake the feeling that things were becoming more complicated than she would like.
Artemis cleared his throat, drawing Melody’s attention away from her thoughts. “You enjoy flowers, do you not?” he inquired, his tone unusually earnest.
“I do,” Melody replied.
“Do you have a favorite flower?” Artemis pressed.
Melody hesitated for a moment, considering her response. “I would have to say marigolds. They are bright and cheerful.”
Artemis bobbed his head thoughtfully, a hint of enthusiasm creeping into his voice. “‘Marigold’ is an English name taken from the common name used for flowers from different genera, such as Calendula or Tagetes ,” he revealed. “The flower is used in reference to the Virgin Mary, hence the name ‘Mary gold.’”
“That is rather interesting,” Melody responded.
Artemis’s eyes lit up. “Did you know there’s a flower with your name in it?” he asked, leaning slightly closer as if sharing a secret. “It is the Dahlia ‘Melody Gipsy.’ Botanists who boarded the ships of the Spanish conquistadors discovered this remarkable flower nearly a hundred years ago.”
Melody leaned to the side as a footman collected her bowl. “Did you study botany at university?”
“I did,” Artemis confirmed with a proud smile. “We can learn so much from plants. Sometimes, I find myself lying beside them, simply imagining what they might be trying to tell me.”
Before Melody could respond, Elodie’s voice cut through the conversation from across the table. “I do something similar with chocolate. I stare at it, hoping it will reveal all its secrets. Why is it so delicious? What does it want me to feel?”
Melody fought the urge to laugh, knowing that Elodie was just being facetious, but Artemis missed the humor entirely.
“I’m not sure what chocolate might be saying, considering the cocoa beans are ground down in the process,” Artemis said.
In a mock-serious voice, Elodie leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I do believe the chocolate is saying, ‘Drink me. Drink me.’”
Artemis blinked, clearly not amused by her playful antics. “Chocolate does not say anything.”
Mrs. Nelson, sitting nearby, discreetly nudged her son’s shoulder and whispered, “Behave, Son. You promised.”
Artemis responded in a hushed, slightly frustrated tone, “But Elodie is being so difficult.”
Melody listened to the exchange with barely concealed amusement, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile. Letting anyone know how much she enjoyed this unexpected exchange would not do.
Artemis, now focusing on Elodie, asked, “Do you have a favorite flower, my lady?”
“Yes, my favorite plant is the cuckoopint,” Elodie said, clearly savoring the absurdity of the name. “I just like saying that name—cuckoopint.”
Artemis frowned. “The technical name for that plant is Arum maculatum , which is quite poisonous. I would advise caution if you ever come into contact with it.”
Elodie grinned. “I like to live dangerously,” she quipped.
“It is also referenced in Nicholas Culpeper’s herbal book,” Artemis revealed.
“Did you know that ‘pint’ is shortened from the word ‘pintle’, which means—” Elodie started to share.
Before she could finish, her mother interjected, her voice laced with exasperation. “Good heavens, Elodie, that is hardly appropriate dinner conversation. You must remember yourself.”
Artemis seemed unconcerned by the subject matter. “We were merely discussing technical terms. There is no need to be embarrassed by using such words.”
“Surely, there is something else you can discuss,” her mother said, casting a beseeching glance at Melody.
Understanding the unspoken request, Melody dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin before speaking. “Has anyone read anything particularly interesting?”
Lord Belview, who had been sitting quietly, shared, “I recently finished reading Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals by Immanuel Kant.”
“That is much too serious for the ladies at this table,” Lord Dallington said.
Elodie lifted her brow. “I can be serious, Father.”
Lord Dallington let out a slight huff of amusement. “Says the young woman who still believes in unicorns.”
“Regardless, why can’t I read Kant?” Elodie asked. “Are you afraid it will cause me to think too much?”
“No, I’m afraid you will start forming opinions contrary to how a young woman should think and behave,” Lord Dallington replied, his tone more serious.
Her mother pressed her lips together. “Oh, dear,” she murmured.
Elodie straightened in her chair, her posture rigid with defiance. “I am entitled to opinions,” she challenged. “I wouldn’t wish to marry a man who didn’t want me to express my thoughts and desires freely.”
Lord Dallington cast a wary glance around the table before responding. “We shall discuss this later… preferably in private.”
Her mother smiled, albeit appearing forced. “Has anyone else read anything of note? Perhaps something a little less controversial?”
Lord Emberly tipped his head thoughtfully. “My sister convinced me to read the book by ‘A Lady.’ I found it to be rather enjoyable.”
“We are quite the admirers of the books written by ‘A Lady,’” Lady Dallington remarked.
“There is more than one?” Lord Emberly asked.
Lady Dallington laughed. “There are two,” she replied. “ Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice , which was recently published.”
“A woman writer?” Lord Dallington scoffed. “What nonsense.”
Melody shook her head subtly, knowing her father took perverse pleasure in ruffling Elodie’s feathers, almost as if he relished the debates that inevitably followed.
As expected, Elodie chimed in, “Women make excellent writers. They have been writing books for years.”
“They may have been writing them, but very few get published,” Lord Dallington argued.
“That is only because people are afraid of a woman who knows her voice,” Elodie declared.
Lord Dallington didn’t look convinced. “Or perhaps it is because they find that women have nothing of substance to say.”
Elodie opened her mouth, undoubtedly ready to continue the debate, but their mother spoke first. “It seems you now have two things to discuss later,” she said, her tone carrying a clear warning.
Reaching for his glass, Lord Dallington said, “Very well.”
As the tension slowly dissipated, Lord Emberly leaned closer to Melody and asked in a low voice, “Is it always like this?”
“Worse, my lord,” Melody replied with a small smile.
A brief, comfortable silence settled over the table as the guests resumed their meal. However, it was broken when Artemis abruptly pushed back his chair, the wooden legs scraping loudly against the floor. All eyes turned towards him.
“My apologies,” Artemis said, his voice weak. “I am not feeling well. I should go lie down.”
Melody noticed his pale complexion and the unsteady way he stood. Concern tightened her chest, and she instinctively half-rose from her seat, unsure how best to assist him.
Before Artemis could take a step, Lord Emberly was on his feet, moving swiftly to his side. He caught Artemis’s arm with a firm grip, steadying him before he could falter. “I have you,” he said firmly.
“Thank you,” Artemis responded, his voice barely audible, as though even speaking required more effort than he could muster.
Lord Belview quickly came around the table, joining Lord Emberly in supporting Artemis. “We should send for the doctor,” he suggested.
Lady Dallington, her expression now filled with worry, placed her napkin down on the table with deliberate care. “I shall have White send for him at once,” she said, rising swiftly from her seat and leaving the room.
“We will see you to your bedchamber,” Lord Emberly stated. His tone brooked no argument as he and Lord Belview guided Artemis towards the door gently.
As the men carefully escorted Artemis from the room, Mrs. Nelson rose from her chair. She followed them, her worry etched on her face with every step and her hands nervously clasped as she closely watched her son.
Melody wasn’t sure what she could do to help at this moment, but she knew the situation was being handled. Unfortunately, the unease in her chest would not dissipate.
Wesley sat in the drawing room, the relentless ticking of the long clock in the corner filling the heavy silence. The room had fallen into a contemplative hush as everyone retreated into their thoughts, anxiously awaiting news about Artemis. The doctor had arrived what felt like ages ago, and the longer they waited, the more the uncertainty gnawed at Wesley’s nerves.
He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his mind. How had Artemis grown so sick, so suddenly? The notion that he might have been poisoned flittered through Wesley’s thoughts. It was far-fetched, but impossible to dismiss entirely.
Wesley glanced across the room at Melody and Elodie, who sat side by side on the settee. Melody’s brow was furrowed in concern, and Elodie’s usual vivacity had dimmed. The gravity of the situation had stifled any desire for conversation. All anyone could think about was Artemis.
Lady Dallington stepped into the room, her presence drawing everyone’s attention. “Artemis should be just fine,” she announced. “Doctor Anderson believes he may have accidentally poisoned himself while studying the plants in the gardens.”
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room, though Wesley’s unease lingered.
Melody spoke up. “Does the doctor know which plant could have caused Artemis’s symptoms?”
Lady Dallington shook her head slightly. “He said it could have been any number of plants in the gardens or a combination of them,” she replied. “The most important thing is that Artemis is resting comfortably.”
“We did see Artemis touching and sniffing the plants,” Melody remarked, her tone thoughtful.
With a faint smile returning to her lips, Elodie quipped, “And this is exactly why I do not study plants.”
Lord Belview, standing by the window, let out a chuckle. “Yes, that is the reason,” he teased, glancing at Elodie.
“Regardless, we must focus on the positive,” Lady Dallington said, clasping her hands together. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson are with their son, as is the vicar.”
“Why is Mr. Bramwell here?” Melody asked.
“I sent for him on Mrs. Nelson’s behalf,” Lady Dallington informed them. “They wanted Mr. Bramwell to pray over their son.”
“I haven’t met Mr. Bramwell yet, but I doubt he could ever live up to Lord Wythburn. He was our vicar for as long as I could remember,” Elodie said.
Lady Dallington’s expression softened with understanding. “Yes, but Lord Wythburn has moved on, and so must we,” she encouraged. “I want you to be nice to Mr. Bramwell when you see him.”
Elodie feigned innocence. “How else would I greet him? He is a man of God, after all.”
Lady Dallington didn’t quite look convinced, but she let the matter pass. “Just be on your best behavior.”
Wesley caught Melody’s eyes across the room, and the unspoken question in her gaze mirrored his own concerns. Did she suspect there was more to Artemis’s sudden illness? He needed to speak to her, but not in front of the others.
Melody must have had the same thought because she stood and smoothed her gown. “It is late,” she said. “I think I shall collect a book from the library and retire for the evening.”
Wesley seized the opportunity. “That is a fine idea. May I accompany you to the library?”
“Yes, if you would like,” Melody replied.
He crossed the room, extending his arm to her. She took it, and together they quietly exited the drawing room. As they walked down the dimly lit corridor, Melody leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think Artemis was poisoned?”
“I don’t rightly know, but I do believe it is possible,” Wesley said.
“If Artemis was indeed poisoned, what would be the reason?” Melody asked.
Wesley shrugged. “I cannot think of one. However, I can’t help but think that perhaps you were the intended target.”
Melody shook her head. “I truly doubt that.”
“Even so,” Wesley urged, his voice firm, “if I were you, I would trust no one, not even your servants, until we know more.”
“My household staff is loyal to me,” Melody stated.
He lifted his brow. “Then how would you explain what happened to Artemis?”
Melody hesitated, her confidence wavering. “We don’t know for certain that he was poisoned. The doctor might be right. It could have been an accident while he was examining the plants.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Wesley asked.
“It seems much more likely than someone in my household staff trying to kill me,” Melody replied.
“I find it utterly unbelievable that a man who has studied botany would accidentally poison himself.”
“It does seem rather unlikely, but, as I have said before, I tend to deal in facts.”
As she spoke, Mr. Bramwell appeared at the end of the corridor, his eyes lighting up as they fell on Melody. Or was that just Wesley’s imagination? “May I have a word, Lady Melody?” the vicar asked.
Melody slipped her arm off Wesley’s and nodded. “You may,” she replied.
Mr. Bramwell cast Wesley an expectant look, clearly hoping for privacy, but Wesley had no intention of leaving. Not when he suspected that Melody’s life could be in danger.
A flicker of annoyance passed through Mr. Bramwell’s eyes before he shifted his attention back to Melody. “I wanted to see how you were faring,” he said, his tone compassionate.
“I am well, thank you,” Melody responded.
Mr. Bramwell moved closer to her, still maintaining a respectful distance. “It is understandable to be alarmed when someone falls ill so suddenly.”
“I truly appreciate your concern, but I am confident that Artemis is in capable hands,” Melody said. “Thank you for coming when you did. I am certain your presence provides great comfort to Artemis and his parents.”
Mr. Bramwell smiled. “It is the least I can do for you and your family. If there is anything you require, please let me know.”
“I will. Thank you,” Melody said.
With a brief glance at Wesley, Mr. Bramwell murmured his goodbyes and offered a polite bow.
As the vicar walked away, Wesley’s eyes followed him, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. He couldn’t quite pin down what it was about the man that unsettled him.
Melody, however, seemed to have no such reservations. “Shall we adjourn to the library for that book?”
Wesley tipped his head in agreement, and they made their way towards the library. Once inside, Melody approached the bookshelf, her fingers grazing the spines before selecting a book seemingly at random.
“Goodnight, Lord Emberly,” Melody said as she turned to leave.
He quickly stepped forward, his hand outstretched to stop her. “Allow me to walk you to your bedchamber.”
“No, you won’t,” Melody responded, her voice taking on a firmer edge. “If you did such a thing, then people would talk.”
“I don’t care what people say. I only care about keeping you safe,” Wesley insisted.
Melody squared her shoulders. “I can assure you that I am safe in my bedchamber.”
Wesley wasn’t ready to back down. “If Artemis was poisoned?—”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Melody interrupted.
“… but if he was, then you must be overly cautious,” Wesley pressed on. “Besides, you are my responsibility?—”
Melody’s eyes flashed with anger as she cut him off. “I am no one’s responsibility but my own.”
“I am just trying to keep you safe. Surely, you must know that,” Wesley remarked.
Some of the anger faded from her eyes, though not entirely. “I do know that, but how far do you intend to do so?”
Wesley hesitated, knowing how absurd his next words would sound but feeling compelled to say them anyway. “I would marry you if I had to.”
Melody’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you mad?” she whispered fiercely. “Do not say such things, especially with my mother under the same roof.”
“I am in earnest.”
“No, you aren’t,” Melody countered.
But the more Wesley thought about it, the more the idea made sense. “If we were married, I could protect you all the time, and you could continue working as a spy.”
Melody gave him an exasperated look. “I am not going to marry you. Quite frankly, you are the last person I would ever consider marrying.”
“I am an earl,” Wesley pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean much to me,” Melody responded. “I want to marry for love or not at all.”
Frustration flared in Wesley, and he ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “This could be a solution to all of our problems.”
“No, this is a solution to your problems, not mine,” Melody said, her voice unwavering.
“Just be reasonable—” Wesley began, but Melody immediately cut him off.
“Me, be reasonable?” she asked. “You are the one proposing marriage as if it is some business arrangement. And, just for the record, your proposal was poorly done.”
Wesley knew he had not approached the topic correctly but still believed it was a practical solution. He could protect her in ways he couldn’t as just a friend.
“If you will excuse me, I have had enough foolishness for one night,” Melody declared as she turned to leave.
“Just think about what I have said,” Wesley urged.
Melody pressed her lips together. “I will not think on it,” she replied. “It would be best to pretend that this conversation never happened.”
“But it did happen.”
“What happened?” Melody asked, her tone light and airy. “See how easy that is?”
“You are being impossible,” he muttered under his breath.
In a steady, calm voice, Melody said, “You may think that you want to marry me, but you know nothing about me. How do you know we would even suit?”
“I know enough about you to admire you,” Wesley responded earnestly.
A sad smile came to Melody’s lips. “I want more than to be admired,” she said. “Goodnight, my lord.”
“Wesley,” he corrected gently. “You have more than earned the right to call me by my given name.”
“Then you must call me by mine,” Melody said.
Wesley reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips. “Goodnight, Melody,” he murmured, the name slipping from his lips with a familiarity that felt oddly comforting.
Melody’s eyes searched his as if trying to decipher the emotions behind them.
With some reluctance, he lowered their hands and released hers. “Be sure to lock your door behind you,” he advised.
“You need not worry,” Melody said. “I sleep with a pistol under my pillow.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” he joked, feeling the need to lighten the mood.
Melody’s lips twitched slightly. “Goodnight, Wesley,” she replied, taking a step back.
Wesley didn’t know what had come over him, but he found he wasn’t quite ready to say goodnight. But it was the right—and honorable—thing to do. “I hope you sleep well, my lady,” he said with a slight bow.
She dropped into a curtsy before turning to leave the room.
Even after Melody had departed, Wesley’s eyes remained fixed on the door. A tangle of conflicting emotions churned within him. A small part of him wished Melody would agree to the marriage, if only to keep her safe. But as much as he wanted to believe that was the only reason, he couldn’t deny there was something more—a feeling he wasn’t yet ready to confront.