Chapter 24
“Caroline!” Felicity Flounters met her practically at the bottom of the red-carpeted stairs. “How ill you look this morning. Or should I say afternoon?”
Caroline nodded dully. It had taken nearly half an hour of preparation before she felt composed enough to present herself before company. Now, she wondered whether that time had been ill spent.
“I have been out of sorts of late,” she said. “I am only now just recovering.”
Lady Felicity simpered, clad in an effervescent pale pink walking dress and matching spencer. Caroline’s skin prickled uncomfortably.
“And your aunt? Is she not here today?”
“She had an important business engagement and will not return until the afternoon.”
Felicity motioned Caroline towards the front door.
“Do me the honor of walking with me around the estate, won’t you? There’s nothing so good for tears as warm summer air, you know, and I have been told that the grounds are particularly fine this time of year.”
Caroline curtsied.
“I’m not inclined to walk today, Lady Felicity. To tell you plainly, I have felt particularly out of sorts lately and would rather retire to bed.”
Felicity fidgeted with her gloves.
“No doubt, no doubt, but—surely, to oblige me, you’d take a turn or two?” When Caroline’s face must not have been particularly accommodating, she added, in a lower tone, “I have—important information for you—about the duke.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows. What could Felicity possibly say that wasn’t general knowledge? Perhaps she had heard something about Frederic’s condition. News travelled fast amongst the ton. It would not be unheard of for her to make a morning call if—
“I’ll get my things,” Caroline said. “Perhaps a turn about the garden would do me good.”
Winifred stood next to the door like a gargoyle, frowning as she let the two ladies out.
The afternoon air felt pleasant against her skin. Caroline waited until they had walked a short distance from the house before speaking.
“You said you had information, Lady Felicity? I am all aflutter to hear any news.”
Felicity shot her a pointed glance. It reminded Caroline of a weasel she had seen once at the market.
“Perhaps I misspoke. I have no fresh news, but I am inclined to offer you very important advice.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows. Felicity lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Stay away from the duke—from Frederic Grandon. It’s for his safety and yours.”
Caroline stared at her, for a moment distracted from her grief by sheer awe at Felicity’s audacity.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady Felicity. The duke, as you know, is my husband.”
Felicity winced. Caroline felt that, had she had the chance, she would have ground her teeth.
“Of course, he is—but husband or not, it would behoove you to withdraw yourself from him.” Felicity stopped, turning to face her. “It is your curse, Caroline. As surely as I know you, I know also that your curse puts you—and more importantly, the duke—in grave danger.”
Caroline’s guilt, which had been so easily nursed by the privacy of her own opinions, shuddered and revolted under Felicity’s accusation. Even if what she said was true, how dare Felicity approach her and bare the grossness of her thoughts in this base manner?
“Perhaps you mean this conversation to be a friendly warning,” Caroline said stiffly, “in which case I forgive you your impertinence and focus instead on your charity.”
Felicity blotched like a garden beet fresh unearthed with a pointed hoe.
Caroline continued, raising her chin, but not her tone, “In fact, it would behoove you to know in return that it is not your place, of all people, to meddle in my marriage.”
“You—you cursed woman!”
Before Caroline knew what had happened, Felicity swung her hand hard, slapping her across the face. She reeled from the force of the blow, gasping in shock.
“Your marriage to Frederic was nothing more than an unfortunate chain of scandalous events—a twist on the natural order of what ought to have occurred.”
She spat the words as if they burned her. Caroline fell back before her, eyes wide with shock. Felicity stepped forward, face contorted.
“You have no place next to him. The curse that haunted your entire family will one day take you too—it can take you now!”
They had reached the edge of the lake. Caroline’s foot slipped into the water. She turned to look. Felicity struck. She pushed both of Caroline’s shoulders, sending her back into the dark water, covering her scream in dark liquid fear.
The coldness struck her like an arrow from a bow. She gasped, and water filled her mouth. She couldn’t move—she couldn’t. The darkness pulled her close in its watery embrace. She closed her eyes. She was going to drown.
“No!”
Frederic dismounted in time to watch Felicity push Caroline backwards. She reeled for a moment then fell into the lake. He rushed to the bank.
“Frederic!”
Felicity called his name. He ignored her. His feet left the bank as he sprang into the dark water. The shock drove the strength from him.
Sleep, the water told him. Sleep and rest. His eyes drooped, and for a moment, his hands stopped their vigorous push forward. One of Caroline’s hands brushed against his face. He snatched it, pushing upward, toward the speckled light on the surface.
His head broke water. Felicity was yelling something, wailing like the wind before a ship. Caroline popped up next to him, gasping and spluttering.
“It’s all right,” he coughed, spluttering. He dragged her to the shore, pulling them both onto the fresh green verge like a pair of dripping seals. Caroline clung to him.
“Frederic!” She caressed his cheek. “You’re here! Are you all right?”
He coughed heavily, shaking like a leaf in a storm, then smiled.
“Well enough. I came for my wife.”
She blushed and curled into him, trembling with cold and fear. How frigid her fingers felt as he rubbed them between his own! She needed to get warm—and quickly. Philip, halfway between them and the horses, stared at them with an open mouth.
“Blankets!” Frederic yelled. “She’s freezing!”
Philip turned on his heel and sprinted back towards the house. A frantic, bobbing white cap told him Winifred would soon join them. Caroline smiled at him from lips tinged with blue.
“Oh, Frederic—I thought—”
He put her hand on his chest.
“Feel. I’m breathing, alive and well. Worry about yourself, darling. We have to get you warm.”
“Your Grace!” Felicity’s shriek shook both of them. “Don’t touch her.”
For her own safety, Frederic ignored her. Caroline’s eyes tinged with terror.
“The water—” She started coughing again. Each one shook her frame like a dog with a rag. Frederic pulled her even closer to him. Where were those blankets?
“Don’t touch her, Frederic.” Felicity’s bonnet had untied. Her hands were shaking. “She’s a cursed woman.”
Frederic set his jaw. The proper authorities would deal with her—he would see to it personally, but for now—
“If you stay near her, the curse that killed her family will eventually kill you too. She’s a monster.”
Caroline’s eyes welled with tears. She dropped her gaze. Frederic counted slowly under his breath.
“Lady Flounters—” The rage in his voice made her pause. “Leave this property immediately.”
What in the world was she thinking? She could have killed Caroline, pushing her into the water like that. Of all of the entitled and selfish—
“She’s a witch! She has bewitched you.” Felicity’s voice rose to a frantic keen. “I should have been the one by your side—your duchess. Father promised! He promised me!”
Frederic and Caroline stared at her.
“My marriage was to pay the debt when your father died. They made an agreement.”
Her eyes bulged, and her breath came in rapid spurts.
“Felicity,” he said, a little more gently. “Your father and I agreed on a repayment plan. He wanted capital for—”
“I know what he wanted,” Felicity shrieked. “But it was my place! It was my place to be by your side, and this witch—” She pointed a crooked and trembling finger at Caroline as if she was casting a curse. “This witch stole my place from me!”
Frederic chafed Caroline’s shoulders. Her breathing was starting to regulate though she cast occasional anxious glances at Felicity. The front doors of the house opened, and two bulky figures came rushing out. The blankets would help—
“A marriage made in scandal is no marriage,” Felicity said. “You could cast her off, burn her like the witch she is. There is still time—”
“That is enough.” Frederic stood, still holding Caroline by his side. “How dare you—”
“She will be the end of you,” Felicity ranted. “Already she has put you in danger—has poisoned your relationship. You’ve been ill, haven’t you? You see what she will bring!”
Frederic froze. It couldn’t be. Perhaps Felicity had misspoke. She wouldn’t have— A woman of her standing. Perhaps—but it was too close a coincidence to be entirely an accident of speech.
A growing, outrageous conviction expanded in him, filling him like flames in a forge. It was too soon yet, too impossibly soon for Felicity to have received word about his condition. Too soon, unless—
He took a step forward. Felicity fell back before his face.
“How would you know, my lady, about the poison?”
His voice was low, menacing. Felicity’s mouth worked like a fish pulled from the water, trying to form words. Caroline coughed again. Frederic rubbed his hands over her shoulders. She was so cold! Felicity’s eyes flashed angrily, like a child deprived of its treat.
In that glance, Frederic read the truth. He took another step forward, towering over her.
“Only one person—a vicious, murderous person—” He spat each word, flicking them over her like a whip, “—would know about my recent indisposition.”
Felicity blanched. She searched his face. He had never spoken to her—to any woman—with the vehemence that now laced his expression. Felicity croaked like a frog, feebly trying to force justifications from her throat. Frederic leaned slowly forward.
“You poisoned me.”
Felicity started like she had been slapped.
“No! I mean—I didn’t mean to—I have only ever wanted to be by your side.”
“You sent the package!” Frederic said sternly. “You nearly killed me, Felicity Flounters.”
Felicity wrung her hands.
“I—I did send the package. But it was for her!” She pointed to Caroline. “It was for that desperate, usurping witch. You weren’t supposed to drink it—she was.”
Winifred and Philip reached them, throwing blankets over their shoulders. Caroline snuggled into them gratefully, coughing into her hand. Frederic wiped the cold droplets from her face.
Her eyes were so soft, so happy.
“There is no curse,” he whispered, caressing her face. “There is only my duchess.”
Felicity glared at them like a chained tiger. Every line of her lineaments stood out like the bold strokes of a villainous Rubens painting. Frederic returned her expression levelly.
Philip snorted. “Of course, there isn’t a curse! What kind of silly—”
Felicity glowered at him. Philip took a judicious step back.
“Thank you,” Caroline said feebly to Winifred. “The blankets help ever so much. I can hardly feel the cold.”
Frederic picked Caroline up, cradling her, and kissed her forehead.
His own body trembled with fatigue. He pushed through the feeling.
Nothing else mattered other than the small, warm bundle he held in his arms. With her strength close to his, he felt like he could have flown. Felicity threw herself across his path.
“No, don’t take her! She will be the end of you. I was only trying to show you what she really is. This wretched witch—”
Frederic cut her off. How could she be so delusional? It surpassed reason, feeling, or even nature. How long had she festered with this secret hate in her heart, plotting how best to remove—- He curled Caroline even more closely in his arms. How close he had come to losing her!
“Put her down, Frederic. She is not worth your concern. I am the woman who deserves—”
He gritted his teeth. His hands, fortunately, were occupied, or he would have been tempted to use them. His patience, tried by grief and illness, would brook no more. No previous acquaintance, no claim to femininity, not even basic civility could demand another moment of endurance.
“Enough!”
The finality rang through the group like a bell at a funeral. With terrifying self-restraint, he turned to Winifred, whose own eyes—he noticed with satisfaction—were also blazing.
“Fetch the constable. Immediately.”