Chapter Fourteen
The following morning, Adelaide accepted a cup of tea from Miss Potter with trembling hands.
The maid gave her a broad smile, but Adelaide noticed it lacked any warmth.
Adelaide did not mind, however, as her thoughts were occupied with the events of the previous day.
She had slept fitfully with her memories of the duke and the gentle, then passionate way in which he had kissed her in the gazebo.
She thought the maid gave her an odd sidelong look, but when she glanced at Miss Potter, her expression was still blandly polite.
Adelaide dared a peek at the Duke, not surprised to see him looking at her intently.
However, though his expression was ever stern, there was something softer in his eyes, something almost identical to the gentleness she had seen as he had learned in to kiss her.
Her cheeks grew warm, and she looked away, though she could feel that his eyes never left her.
“Do you still have plans for an outing to Sydney Gardens tomorrow, Augusta?” Helena asked brightly, seemingly oblivious to the silently heated exchange between the Duke and her niece.
The dowager duchess smiled proudly and nodded.
“Of course,” she said. “And I do hope that everyone will join us.”
Adelaide was familiar enough with the dowager to know that she was issuing less a request and more of an expectation. She glanced at the Duke, searching for a reaction, but seeing nothing but his increasing pallor and distracted eyes as he was glancing toward Miss Potter.
“Well, I can hardly wait,” Helena said brightly. “Although I do hope that the storm does not return.
The dowager duchess shook her head, gesturing toward the window directly across from her with her eyes.
“I am certain that it has passed, at least for several days,” she said. “This is the perfect time to visit the gardens.”
Helena’s smile widened, and she nodded.
“Early and mid-summer are the best times to visit the gardens,” she agreed. “The most beautiful flowers in all of England bloom during this time of year.”
Adelaide nodded along with the women’s conversation, but her attention kept drifting to the Duke.
Likewise, the duke’s eyes hardly left her, even as he pretended to be interested in the newspaper.
Adelaide thought it was odd that he did not protest as he usually did when his grandmother made plans to host or arrange an event.
Perhaps he had just learned that he would relent in the end and decided that arguing the matter would be in vain.
Or perhaps, he had found something more worthy of his attention in her than in an argument with his grandmother.
She glanced at her aunt and the dowager duchess, certain that her flushed cheeks would reflect the increasing heat that coursed through her body, especially below her waist, as the duke’s eyes lingered on her.
She was not surprised to see that the two women were exchanging knowing smiles.
She was, however, surprised, to see the dowager duchess smiling warmly at her and nodding with gentle approval when she noticed Adelaide looking at her.
Beside Adelaide, Edith giggled softly. Adelaide looked over to see her talking quietly with Lord Thomas.
“I understand they have been constructing some follies,” Lord Thomas said softly. “There is one in particular called the Temple of Venus that I cannot wait to visit.”
Edith gasped softly, her eyes brightening.
“That sounds lovely,” she said. “One of my friends told me that she heard a rumour about the construction of a grotto. I can imagine how lovely that would be on the grounds of such a beautiful place.”
Lord Thomas grinned.
“I daresay it would be quite delightful and comfortable,” he said, giving Edith a meaningful look.
Edith blushed, and Adelaide again noticed the palpable attraction between Lord Thomas and her friend.
She realized the couple had not noticed her observing them with too much attention, and she felt shame for eavesdropping.
She turned away, but not before witnessing Lord Thomas bend his head close to Edith’s as they continued their conversation.
The intimate gesture spoke volumes about their growing attachment, much like the stolen kisses spoke volumes about the burning attraction between the Duke and her.
Mr. Jenkins burst into the room, looking visibly shaken and in disarray. The conversations at the table ceased as the duke looked at the butler. Marcus’s annoyance quickly shifted when he saw the distress on the butler’s face.
“What is it?” the duke asked, setting aside the newspaper.
Mr. Jenkins swallowed, looking nervously around the table.
“I have just received some tragic news, Your Grace,” he said. “Mr. Morrison’s carriage was found off the road early this morning. It seems there was an accident, brought about by treacherous weather conditions. I am afraid… I am afraid that Mr. Morrison is dead, Your Grace.”
Marcus’s hand shook until his teacup crashed against its saucer. The room was as silent as a tomb until the duke found his voice.
“Are you certain he is dead?” he asked. The harsh whisper of his inquiry made Adelaide’s heart tighten. There was desperation in his question, and she knew there would be terrible grief at the response.
Mr. Jenkins nodded slowly, his features pained and nervous.
“I am certain, Your Grace,” he said softly, as if murmuring the words could extract the impact of the news. “He was discovered several paces from the debris of the carriage. It was already too late.”
The Duke’s face went from its sickly pale to ashen at the confirmation. The tremor in his hands doubled in nature, his massive frame curling inward as if an invisible weight had just been placed on his head.
Adelaide ached to go to him and comfort him, but she was as stunned as everyone else in the room. No one seemed to know what to say, and the dowager duchess and Edith both had silent tears running down their faces.
The butler did not need a formal dismissal. He turned and left the room, walking as though he had lost a dear friend. Adelaide felt helpless as she watched the people she had come to care about in such distress.
Tragedy sure strikes at the oddest times, she thought.
“Mr. Morrison was here just yesterday,” Lord Thomas said, his words seeming too loud in the stunned silence. “It seems dreamlike that this could happen in such a short time.”
Edith nodded, her face pale and her eyes suddenly tired and fearful.
“The conditions on the roads should have been fine,” she said, pained. “There was no storm yesterday. There was not even a sprinkle of rain.”
Adelaide looked at her friend with wide eyes. Edith's statement was true: there had been no bad weather in Bath the previous day. Besides, how had the butler known without doubt that the physician was deceased?
Before anyone could respond, Marcus pushed back from the table, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. His barely contained anguish showed in his features as his dark eyes met Adelaide’s for one searing moment. Then, he marched out of the room, not bothering to excuse himself.
“Marcus,” the dowager duchess said as she called after him. “Darling, come rejoin us. Please, dear?”
The Duke did not return, however. He continued walking as if he could not or would not hear her. The tension present in his body filled the room, which to Adelaide felt as though it were growing ever smaller.
“I shall go after him,” Lord Thomas said, quickly following behind his friend. He left the room behind the duke, leaving the women sitting in silence. How had this happened so suddenly? Why did a horrible accident evoke such dread and uncertainty within her?
Helena squeezed Adelaide’s hand beneath the table, but Adelaide’s mind could not be comforted.
She watched the liquid within Marcus’s abandoned teacup tremble, still reacting to its owner’s abrupt departure from the table.
Meanwhile, Miss Potter hovered near the sideboard, her expression unreadable.
She was watching everyone at the table so intently that she might have overheard any conversation, had anyone been speaking in that moment.
She was so focused on observing everyone that it took her a minute to notice that Adelaide was watching her.
When she did realize, however, she quickly busied herself silently clearing the Duke’s place setting.
Adelaide dropped her gaze so that she was watching the maid through her lashes and she noticed how Miss Potter’s hands trembled as she removed the plate of food the duke had barely touched.
Was she simply upset by the news, just as everyone else was?
If she was not, why would she be acting so strangely?
Adelaide suddenly recalled how the maid was always too attentive to the Duke.
Was it a coincidence that her behaviour was so odd now?
***
Edith’s lips were unsure what to say, but her thoughts did not know how to fall silent.
She had said the thought aloud, but only once silence fell upon the table again did it truly dawn on her that no storm the previous day meant that weather could not have been responsible for the physician’s death.
Yet she could not make sense of that thought.
The butler, who had been with their family almost as long as Mr. Morrison had, seemed certain of the cause of the accident.
Mr. Jenkins was as loyal and dedicated as Mr. Morrison, and he had no reason to lie about such an affair.
Could he simply have been mistaken, too bereaved by the news of the physician’s death to understand the announcement properly?
That must be it, she thought, trying to shake the seemingly unfounded skepticism from her mind. Or perhaps there was a small storm while I slept last evening, and I simply did not wake to hear it.
She repeated her thoughts to herself over and over, hoping to ease her mind if she could find merit in them.
Yet instead of comfort and logic, she felt dread and mistrust. She could not understand precisely why, but there was something about the situation that continued to bother her, no matter how hard she tried to explain it to herself.
She could not quite discern it, but it troubled her greatly.
“Edith, you have hardly touched your food,” Augusta said, sounding more cheerful than the somber mood deemed worthy. “You must eat if we are to depart for the gardens soon.”
Edith looked at her grandmother with wide eyes.
“You still wish to go?” she asked. “Do you not think that we should postpone our visit, in light of what has happened?”
Augusta shook her head, holding it high and looking resolute.
“I do not,” she said firmly. “In fact, I believe that we need to go now more than ever.
Edith shook her head slowly, glancing toward the long empty doorway to the breakfast room.
“I believe that Marcus is terribly upset,” she said. “And I worry that this upset might worsen his sickly episodes. Perhaps, we should wait until at least tomorrow, when he has had more time to rest.”
Augusta was shaking her head again before her granddaughter finished speaking.
“That is absurd,” she said. She sounded as though she had no intention of having her mind changed, yet her eyes were filled with concern and uncertainty.
“I am sure that the fresh air will benefit all of us, especially Marcus. Lamenting here will not serve any purpose but to make us feel worse. Light and company often prove the best remedy for dark thoughts, and thus, Marcus’s condition will surely improve. ”
Edith bit her lip, as certain that her grandmother was wrong as Augusta was that she was right.
However, she knew better than to argue with Augusta Lockhart.
She simply nodded, glancing at Adelaide, who wore a similar expression of doubt and worry.
Adelaide met her gaze and her friend’s eyes were filled with strained concern.
Did Adelaide suspect that something was amiss, as well?
Or was Edith merely imagining things because the situation was so distressing?