Chapter 5 #2
James heaved a sigh, one he’d been holding for some time. "I had an episode," he finally told her. "Six weeks ago. In London."
Laura was very still. "What kind of episode?" she said.
"A seizure," he told her and ignored the ache in his heart when he did so. "Hannah found me. Daniel sent for a doctor in London."
Outside, he could hear Hannah somewhere in the corridor, talking to Miss Roseberry about something with her usual certainty. The ordinary sounds of an afternoon at Acklan, going on around them as though nothing had changed.
"And what did the doctor say?" Laura asked.
"That it might never happen again," James said and offered what he hoped was his most reassuring smile.
She waited, not fooled by his smile in the least.
"Or that it might," he admitted. "And if it does…” He heaved another sigh. “Well, it could be worse if there’s a next time."
The afternoon light came through the study windows, pale and flat, the same light that had been there all day. Nothing dramatic. Just the day progressing as it always did. "How much worse?" Laura asked, her voice quiet as she took his measure.
"He didn’t elaborate," James said with a shrug. But the idea of his impending death hung in the air just the same. He shook the memory from his mind. "He said a great many men have led long and full lives after a single event. There is no way to guarantee the outcome either way."
"Is that everything?" she asked.
When he said nothing, she narrowed her eyes on him.
“There’s more, James,” she told him. “Have you forgotten how well I know you?”
James knew her just as well. At nineteen, Laura had suffered at the hands of the worst sort of man and she had never fully recovered. Even now at thirty-three, he didn’t want to add to her burdens. He didn’t want to be responsible for causing her even a moment of pain or worry.
“James…” she prodded, her blue eyes appearing steelier than they had even moments before.
The corridor outside had gone quiet. Hannah had moved on somewhere, taking her certainty with her. But she was never far from his thoughts.
“I’m worried about Hannah,” he finally told his sister. He’d barely acknowledged that truth to himself. “I’m worried about what happens to her if the worst should happen to me.”
“Oh, James.”
"Daniel will be in Bermuda,” he said. “Aunt Harriet will not live forever. And—”
“You are not going anywhere,” Laura said as though she would not allow such an outcome. “But should the worst happen, you know that I will always see to Hannah.”
James’ heart twisted. “I could never ask that of you.” After all, she’d been forced to give up her own babe all those years ago.
Since her eventual marriage to Fairleigh, she’d never been blessed with another child.
That loss had become a part of who she was and James could not ask her to face that heartache every day.
“I will not break,” she told him with a slight shake of her head.
"Thomas and I have talked about this before.” She shifted a bit in her seat.
"Well, not about this specifically, of course. But we have talked about Hannah. About what we would do if you needed us. He and I are of a mind. We’re not going anywhere you can’t reach us. "
"You have a life in Middlesbrough," James said.
"We do have a life in Middlesborough," she agreed. "But that is not our whole life. You are part of it and Daniel. And Hannah is part of it too.” She heaved a sigh and an anguished expression settled on her brow. “You should have told me six weeks ago, James."
"I didn’t want to worry you," he said.
“I have worried about you and Daniel since you were born.” She shook her head. “But don’t worry. I’ll take this up with our brother as well. The two of you should’ve known better than to keep something like this from me.”
At least Daniel would get his own lump of medicine, James supposed.
"Whatever happens in the future, whatever your doctor says, you will tell me."
"Yes," he agreed, properly chastised by her as he had been many times in his youth.
"Good." She pushed from her chair, crossed to his side of the desk, and put her hand against his face the way she had when he was small and she was the closest thing to a mother he had left.
He sat very still and let her. "Because you are not going to die," she said, quiet and firm. "I refuse to allow it."
"I shall pass that along to the relevant authorities," he said.
She made a sound that was half laugh and half something else. Then she straightened.
"Now," she said, smoothing her skirts back into place, "I believe Hannah mentioned something about foals. And I have not yet met Miss Beckett or her sisters. So, if you are quite finished hiding in your study, perhaps we might go and find the rest of your guests."
James looked at his sister.
"I was not hiding," he said.
"You were reading the same letter three times," Laura said. "I could see the margin notes from the door."
He looked down at the Greaves letter. Four margin notes, all in his hand. He had not remembered making the last two.
"Give me a moment," he said.
"Of course," she replied, and waited by the door, because she knew when to press and when not to.
James straightened the papers on his desk. He returned the quill to the standish. Then he stood, adjusted his coat, and looked out the study window at the grey August afternoon pressing against the glass.
Then he went to meet the rest of his house party.
Cori stood near the mantel, her arm linked with Cara’s as she took in the drawing room.
It was cozy and inviting, almost like the room itself was a warm blanket that had enveloped the group as a whole.
Every chair was occupied. The fire was crackling.
Half a dozen conversations were all moving at once, crossing over each other and separating again like currents in the same water.
Not too far away, Lucien Gates described the moors to no one in particular and everyone in general, which Cori had discovered was something Lucien did when he was being deliberately atmospheric.
"The thing about the moors," he was saying, "is that they give the impression of going on forever. Which they do not, obviously. But the impression they give is very convincing."
"Profound," Mr. Atherton said wryly, from across the room, without looking up from his conversation with Reese.
"I am full of profundity," Lucien said with an exaggerated bow.
"You are full of something," Mr. Atherton agreed pleasantly.
"Arch," Emma Atherton muttered under her breath.
"Mm," said Mr. Atherton, still not looking up.
Hythe, from his chair by the window and with his gazette folded in his lap, seemed to stifle an amused snort.
The drawing room door opened and Linthorpe entered with a statuesque blonde at his side.
There was something in the way the pair moved together, easy and unhurried, that spoke of long familiarity.
Linthorpe said something to the woman and she laughed quietly, and then Daniel appeared from across the room, already making his way toward them with barely contained enthusiasm.
Cori watched as he embraced the woman briefly, said something that made her shake her head, and then steered her in Cori and Cara’s direction.
"Lady Darling, Miss Corinna," Daniel began, sporting a wide smile. "My sister, Mrs. Laura Fairleigh."
Mrs. Fairleigh was their sister? That explained the familiarity.
The lady was not at all what Cori had been expecting, which was foolish because she wasn’t quite sure what she had been expecting.
The woman had blue eyes, lighter than her brothers', and the kind of stillness that came from having learned, somewhere along the way, how to hold things quietly.
She was also, Cori realized in the moment their eyes met, paying very close attention to everything in the drawing room.
"Lady Darling.” Mrs. Fairleigh grasped Cara’s hands with a smile. “I have heard so much about you.”
“Lord Daniel hasn’t been discussing that wager again, has he?” Cara cast the woman a smile of her own.
“Now, now,” Daniel protested. “If it wasn’t for my wager, you’d never have met Darling. At some point you will thank me for that.”
“As long as you make Cait happy,” Cara began, “I will forgive you anything.”
“That’s more like it.” Then Daniel had the audacity to wink in Cara’s direction.
Mrs. Fairleigh shook her head in mild amusement before turning her full attention on Cori.” And Miss Corinna. “She took both of Cori’s hands and held them for a moment longer than a first introduction required. "I am so pleased to meet you."
"And I you," Cori said. "Daniel has spoken so warmly of you."
"Has he, indeed?" Mrs. Fairleigh glanced briefly at her youngest brother, who had started moving toward Cait at the other end of the drawing room, seemingly satisfied that he’d managed the introductions and did not want to be too far away from his bride-to-be.
"He said you were responsible for making the two of them the men they are," Cori told her.
“Now, do not blame Laura for that,” Linthorpe said, coming to stand beside his sister. “She did her best with what she had to work with.”
From across the room, Daniel glanced over his shoulder. “I can hear you, you know?”
“Good.” Linthorpe smiled and he looked so devastatingly handsome when he did so. “I meant for you to hear me.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Daniel turned his attention back to Cait.
Mrs. Fairleigh leaned closer to Cori and confided, “Do not listen to either of them. I was blessed with the most wonderful brothers.”
“They do seem to adore you.”
Mrs. Fairleigh’s gaze seemed to see straight into Cori’s soul, which was a bit unnerving.
Goodness! Where had she landed in the woman’s assessment?
Before Cori could think too long on the subject, a little orange kitten raced into the drawing room like he was being chased by the devil himself. Then the kitten stopped in the middle of the Aubusson rug and plopped down as though he owned the place.