Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Dr. Fowler sedated Diana and relieved her pain with an anodyne draft, after which she closed her eyes and quietly drifted off to sleep. Madeline sank back in her chair, still feeling as if the world, just like the hay barn, had collapsed upon her shoulders.
“I don’t understand. Why can’t she remember anything beyond breakfast? The barn roof collapsing—I can believe she might forget that, but the whole day?”
Dr. Fowler packed his instruments into his bag. “It’s not uncommon with a head injury to lose some short-term memory. I’ve seen it before.”
“Will she ever regain it?”
“Difficult to say. She might remember later today, when she wakes up. Or she might never remember.” The doctor closed his bag.
“You should count yourselves lucky that it is only one day she forgets. I’ve heard of patients being completely unable to remember anything.
Not even their names or where they live. What is one day, after all?”
It was a very important day, Madeline thought anxiously.
The doctor moved toward the door. “The thing you must concentrate upon is helping Lady Thurston walk again. Try and be positive about things. She will be in pain for a time, but if she has loved ones here to support her and encourage her to get out of bed, she will heal much faster. Give her something to occupy her mind, something to look forward to. Plan her wedding to Mr. Coates, for instance.”
Madeline had to work hard to acknowledge the suggestion with a smile.
The doctor opened the bedchamber door and stopped to speak to Adam, who was pacing back and forth in the hall. “I gave Lady Thurston something to ease her pain. She should sleep for a while. I will return this evening to check on her again.”
“Thank you, Dr. Fowler. I appreciate your coming.”
The doctor descended the stairs, and Madeline met Adam’s gaze. He slowly entered the room.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “As well as can be expected under the circumstances. But we must talk, Adam. Alone.”
He gestured toward the reading corner in the hall, where they had spoken the night before. They both sat down in the same chairs.
Madeline perched on the edge of her seat, not quite sure how to tell Adam about Diana’s memory loss, or what they should do about it once she did tell him. She cleared her throat and decided to blurt it out quickly and go straight to the heart of the matter.
“I am afraid Diana’s head injury was rather serious. She cannot remember anything about what happened yesterday. She doesn’t remember why she went riding alone, or anything about your conversation with her. The only thing she remembers is what she had for breakfast.”
Adam took in this news. It was difficult to imagine not being able to remember something that happened only yesterday, not to mention something as important as an engagement being broken. It took him a moment or two to comprehend it.
“Will there be any long-term effects on the health of her mind?” he asked.
Madeline answered him with a clear voice. “The doctor assured me that a memory loss like this is quite common, and that we shouldn’t concern ourselves with it, as it is only one day. As long as she remembers everything else, the important thing is to help her walk again.”
Adam leaned back in his chair. “She thinks we are still engaged.”
Madeline nodded. “That seems to be the state of it.”
Adam stood up to pace the hall in front of the reading corner. “I cannot break with her again. At least not now.”
Madeline sat quietly for a moment. “I am relieved to hear you say that. What you decide to do in the long run is your decision, of course, but I must ask that you not tell her the truth right away. Please wait until she is feeling better. The doctor even suggested that we keep Diana occupied and lift her spirits by planning your wedding.”
“Our wedding! That will be taking things a little far, don’t you think?”
Thank God, Madeline was reasonable about it, and nodded. “Yes, I think it would be a mistake to mislead her in that way, unless you think you might change your mind.”
He gazed at Madeline in the dim morning light that shone through the window.
If only she knew how ridiculous such a notion was.
Did she still not believe how much he loved her?
If she thought he could forget about what he had said to her the night before, pretend it never happened, and marry another, she underestimated his feelings, without a doubt.
“Do you think I should change my mind?” he asked, testing her, for he had not been able to give up hope that she might one day accept his love.
On the other hand, if she pushed him to marry her sister, he would know for certain that Madeline was firmly resolved never to accept it. “Do you think I owe it to Diana?”
Madeline responded in a calm, indifferent tone that made him doubt she could ever care for him the way he cared for her.
“I think you owe it to yourself to do the right thing.” She could not have been more cryptic.
“The right thing?” He heard the anger rising in his voice, but could do nothing to stop it.
“What is the right thing, exactly? Marry Diana out of pity? Out of duty or guilt? I have already done that once in my life, and I promise you, it does not bode well for future happiness for either party involved. Besides, Diana already married a man who didn’t love her.
I doubt she would be happy with a repeat of that particular past.”
“But perhaps you might grow to love her again. It was not that long ago that you wanted to—”
Adam dropped to one knee at her feet, to stop her from saying another word.
“This is difficult enough as it is, Madeline. What happened to Diana is killing me inside. I feel responsible. And yes, there is a part of me that thinks I should marry her, to try and make up for what happened. But I cannot let pity rule my head and my heart, for that would not be fair to Diana. I cannot change the fact that she was injured, no more than I can pretend to love her. She would know the truth, and it would chip away at her heart every day for the rest of her life until she knew nothing but misery. Diana may remain here as long as she wishes, and I will do everything in my power to give her all that she needs to get well—the best medical attention, the best food, the best entertainment to keep her spirits up. But I cannot marry her, Madeline. I will not make the same mistake twice in my life. It would be a disservice to both of us.”
He would have liked to add that he could not marry Diana—or anyone for that matter—because there was only one person in the world for him, and that person was Madeline. If circumstances were different, he would take her into his arms right now and never let her go.
Without revealing the slightest weakness or change of heart, Madeline simply nodded.
“I understand. We will try to avoid the subject when we are with Diana, at least until she is stronger. We will continue as we were when Lord Blackthorne was here, and pretend everything is fine. I can do that. Can you?”
He exhaled heavily. “It is more than clear to me that you can do it, Madeline. You seem in complete control of your emotions.”
Why did that bother him so much? Would he have preferred her to melt into a puddle of tears and tell him that she loved him, and cry over what could never be?
Or to leap into his arms and beg him to hold her, just for one single, glorious moment?
Or kiss her, just once again, as he had the night before?
That was what he wanted to plead for, why he was on his knee in front of her now, wanting to pull her close and make promises he knew she would never let him keep….
“I am in control of them,” she said, her tone disturbingly calm. Madeline stood. “I have spent a lifetime learning to keep my feelings to myself, and deal with them in my own way.”
She made a move to return to Diana’s room, but Adam stood and stopped her. He took hold of her arm and pulled her to face him. “Perhaps what you really need to learn is how to accept that you are worthy of love. Perhaps you need to learn how to open up to people.”
Her brow furrowed with incredulity, as if she could barely believe such a suggestion. “Why would I do that? It would be like opening a wound, when it’s much less painful to close it up and keep it that way.”
“Feelings are not wounds, Madeline.”
“They are to me, because love has only ever been painful. My feelings have made me vulnerable, Adam, and lately—especially lately—I prefer to be formidable.”
She pulled away from him and he had no choice but to let her go. The door slammed closed behind her.
Later that morning, Jacob arrived to check on the family and inspect the marsh with Adam, who was still thinking about his conversation with Madeline.
He was treading in strange territory, for Madeline was the complete opposite of Jane, who had wept and wailed over the smallest disappointment, or smashed things when she became frustrated or angry.
He had always known where he stood with Jane, especially when he stood in the hall, locked out of their bedroom for the night.
Madeline’s composure and unwillingness to express any of her feelings, on the other hand, was beyond reserved or constrained—it almost seemed as if she was denying the fact that she had a heart.
Yet, over the past few weeks, he’d come to believe that he’d found his true mate.
He had been certain that what lived beneath Madeline’s sweet, polite exterior was pure perfection.
They had everything in common. She always seemed so calm and levelheaded, which was one of the things he loved most about her.
How could his feelings have been real, if she had no heart and no affection for him in return? How could he feel so connected to her?
Perhaps it wasn’t real, he thought soberly. Perhaps he had been dreaming again, wanting what he wanted—the perfect woman—instead of what was real.
He and Jacob rode their horses to the top of the ridge to overlook the marsh below, and what they saw pulled Adam’s attention back to where it presently belonged: on his land and his livelihood.
That, at least, was something he could be sure was all too real.
Speechless, Adam and Jacob stared at the unimaginable scene while they each contemplated the enormous losses.
By the hour of the day, Adam knew that the tide had already receded, but was now on its way back in.
The damage to the dykes must have been substantial, for most of the great marsh was still flooded with seawater.
The lush green grasses, the clover, the goldenrod—all that once fluttered and swayed in the wind—was gone, completely submerged, transformed into a muddy, brown swamp that produced a sickening stench and a dismal fog.
Carcasses of dead cattle dotted the area, and fence planks lay scattered about, floating and bobbing in dirty, shallow pools.
A number of hay barns lay in disordered piles of lumber.
Others had simply vanished from where they had once been.
My whole world is in ruins.
“It’s a good thing we drove that herd to Halifax when we did,” Jacob said with quiet resignation, “or we would have lost everything.”
Adam clicked his tongue to urge his horse further along the top of the ridge. “It’s going to be a long winter.”
“What will we do for feed, Father?”
“We will get what we can from the uplands, and purchase the rest. It will be enough to get us through, though we won’t see any profit. We will all have to be frugal. No more pretty scarves for Mary, Jacob, or toys for the baby.”
Jacob followed quietly behind. “What about next year? Will this drain off by then? Will we be able to start fresh?”
Adam wished he had better news for his son, but alas, he did not. Jacob, however, was a strong and bright young man, and Adam knew he would find a way to provide for his wife and child. They would all work together as a family.
“Even if we manage to repair the damage to the dykes,” Adam said, “it will take a few years for the rain to rinse out the salt.”
“A few years? What will we do in the meantime?”
“We’ll farm the uplands. We’ve always had enough to meet our needs. We’ll just have to forgo the luxuries.”
They rode down the ridge road to the edge of the marsh, where the muddy floodwater was lapping up against the hill.
“I’m going to call a meeting of the dyke holders,” Adam said, “and we will vote on what should be rebuilt. I suggest you prepare yourself for a great deal of dirty work in the next few months, Jacob. We will have to locate the breaks, repair them, then we’ll be up to our elbows in marsh mud—digging ditches and trenches to drain it.
And if we have to, we’ll build new dykes, high enough and strong enough to hold back the sea, for we will not surrender to it, Jacob, even if it is determined to defeat us. ”
Jacob smiled at Adam, with admiration. “Your confidence is contagious, Papa.”
Adam only wished he could be that confident about his future where Madeline was concerned.