23. A Disoriented Awakening
A Disoriented Awakening
Though the mantle clock had already struck twelve, Arabella Marlstone sat alone in her drawing room this Tuesday afternoon, her embroidery in hand, though her gaze remained fixed on the world beyond the windows.
Lady Arabella, known for her levelheadedness and warm hospitality, thought it a mercy that only a few gossiping callers had arrived that morning since her goddaughter’s continued slumber worried her.
Dr. Bailey’s visit the previous night had done little to soothe her nerves.
“Head injuries,” he had murmured, “are quite the elusive thing. Rest, my lady. Bed rest and quiet.” He might as well have prescribed moonlight and good intentions.
Across town, Lord Alexander Sinclair rode in a coach with equally grim reflections, having just departed the cavernous premises of Erik the apothecary. In his usual cryptic manner, the chemist had taken a sample with a grunt and assured them of conclusive results by morning.
The tender handling of Periwinkle’s injuries the night before, by a seasoned animal physician, had laid bare a disdainful disregard for life.
Alex’s thoughts ran in grim circles; he dared not imagine Lucinda subjected to such rough treatment.
It was a disquieting sensation that preyed upon his mind as he silently prayed for her well-being.
Inside the coach now lumbering toward Marlstone House, three gentlemen reflected on the previous night’s escapades with the composure granted by hindsight.
“You can keep saying it was nothing short of a miracle, Miles,” Johan said, trying not to let his long legs be a nuisance. “For all their devilry, the Bittermanns are nothing without their loaded dice and laced drinks.”
“They are craven rogues, but I was the fool blind to their villainy.”
“We’ve all been fools in one way or another,” Alex said, examining his gloves. “But now we have what the authorities need—a sample of wine, the altered dice, and an act of kidnapping.”
“If only I had been more vigilant with Peri, all of this could have been prevented. I never meant for Lucinda to—”
“To what?” Johan interrupted. “Don a porter’s apron and masquerade her way into a gaming hell?”
“No,” Miles said miserably. “That part of the affair was entirely like her. But I never thought she’d—risk her reputation, perhaps even her life—for the sake of my dog.”
“Judging from the state of poor Peri,” Alex remarked, gently flicking the dog’s ear in its owner’s lap, “who’s been used most shamefully—I hate to think she endured even a small part of what he went through.” His voice grew stern. “I fear she might have a concussion.”
The men went silent. The coach rocked gently over the cobbles.
“She’s a brave one,” Johan said at last. “Most ladies would have succumbed to strong hysterics—or sunk into a swoon long before seizing a poker to wield.”
Alex nodded grimly. “Indeed. And if Aunt Bella wanted a champion for animal protection, she’s raised a most indomitable soldier for the cause. Though I rather wish she had begun with pamphlets rather than plunging into peril.”
The coach turned a last corner and Marlstone House came into view.
“I wonder what she remembers?” Miles pondered aloud.
Alex looked out the window at the house that held all his hopes. “I think,” he said, “we’re about to find out.”
Shortly thereafter, a footman ushered them into the finely appointed drawing room at Marlstone House. Arabella looked up, her face alight with relief at the first caller she was glad to see. Her embroidery was cast aside for good.
“Ah, my favorite nephews,” she greeted Miles first, her eyes lingering on Peri’s bandages. But before she could ask more, Alex claimed her hand.
“If we were not your only nephews, Aunt Bella, that might mean something,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
He received a reproving pat on the shoulder for his impudence before making a late introduction.
“Favorites aside, allow me to introduce, Count Johan van der Meer, all the way from Brussels.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Count van der Meer. I do believe I spied your presence at my auction.”
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Marlstone,” Johan replied with a polite bow.
Alex wasted no time. “So, where is our conquering Deborah? Miles has brought Peri for a full show of gratitude.”
“Alex,” his aunt whispered, “Lucinda has yet to awaken. I confess I am a little concerned.”
“There’s no need to whisper, Aunt Bella. We were all involved in the escapade last night.”
“It’s an escapade now! I say, between Doctor Bailey and you three, my patience has been stretched near to breaking point.”
“You had the doctor in?”
“Yes of course I did. How could I ever answer to Sir John had I not? Besides she had a nasty bruise developing on her temple. Alex! Where are you going?” The ample lady had quick feet and darted in front of her nephew, reaching for the drawing-room door handle.
“Move, Aunt Bella, her condition may be serious.”
“But, Doctor Bailey prophesied a full recovery.”
“And what does Bailey know of concussions? I want to see her.”
“As do I,” raised Miles.
“I know you are both fond of Lucinda, but gentlemen cannot march into ladies’ bedrooms, my dears!” Arabella retorted. “Propriety is not to be set aside for convenience!”
“Then accompany me, if you wish. I’m not going to stand by sipping tea if she’s unwell. Come now, step away from the door.”
“Very well.” She stepped aside, her gaze falling on Miles, who had risen. “No, no—you two stay here,” she commanded. “Lucinda needs rest and quiet, not spirited dogs.”
In his determination, Alex strode toward the second flight of stairs. In pursuit, Lady Marlstone almost collided with the unflappable Griffiths, who stepped aside just in time to avoid disaster.
“Griffiths!” Arabella gasped, a hand to her throat. “We have gentlemen callers—refreshments. See to it immediately!”
“Of course, my lady,” Griffiths drawled, accustomed to handling upheavals with decorum.
Ascending as quickly as her feet would allow, one hand clutching the banister, Arabella snapped, “Honestly, Alex,” she huffed as she reached his side. “Your intentions may be the best, but you haven’t the least notion which room is hers!”
That stalled him for a moment. Alex frowned, glancing down the second-floor corridor as if trying to recall his path the previous night.
He marched with long strides down the passage, directionless.
He assumed he’d know the door when he came to it.
Halfway along the passage, he acted on an instinct and paused before a door.
“If she has awoken, I do not wish to embarrass her. Would you please check?” asked Alex, holding a hand toward the door.
Looking heavenward, Lady Marlstone just shook her head and peeped in.
Lucinda lay motionless in the grand four-poster bed.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains.
Her outrageous costume had been removed and now she lay beneath the blankets like one entombed for posterity, her auburn hair fanned across the pillows and her lashes dark against her pale cheeks.
With his aunt’s consent, Alex approached, hesitating before reaching out and gently taking her hand.
“Miss Harrington,” he murmured, his voice soft but urgent.
There was no response. Next, he touched her shoulder, shaking her.
Her head lolled to the side, presenting the discoloration near her temple.
Taking both her shoulders, Alex shook her more firmly this time. “Lucinda,” he said, his voice more commanding now. “Wake up!”
Lucinda finally stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, their hazel depths clouded with confusion.
“Godmama?” she murmured.
Relief flooded him. “Thank God, you’re awake.”
“What’s happened?” Her gaze darted around the room before settling on Alex’s worried expression burning into her.
Arabella loomed over her nephew’s shoulder and asked, “How do you feel, my dear? Are you in any pain? Does your head hurt?”
“I’m not sure.” She wriggled free from Alex’s hold, pulling the bedclothes tightly against her chest. “This is beyond anything, Godmama,” Lucinda whispered, her cheeks flaming. Alex drew back but did not leave her side until she asked: “Why is Lord Sinclair in my chamber? Where’s Bessie?”
Alex rose. “Do you not remember?” he asked, retreating to the foot of the bed to grasp a post.
“Remember what, Lord Sinclair?” Both relatives looked at her pitifully. She shook her head, her expression shifting from bewilderment to alarm. “What has happened?”
Before Alex could respond, Arabella replied. “It’s all right, my dear, the doctor said you might have some memory loss. How do you feel otherwise?”
Lucinda’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson as her gaze flickered to Alex. The sight of him standing in her bedchamber, so close and intimate, abashed her. She raised the sheet before her face in her hands in mortification, and sent her godmother a pleading look.
Arabella nodded in agreement, “Yes, you’re quite right, my dear.” She stood to address her nephew. “Alex,” her tone drew his fierce gaze away from her goddaughter. “Please return to the drawing room, and do so without being seen. Lucinda and I will join you shortly.”
Alex hesitated, his concern for Lucinda warring with propriety, but at receiving a pointed look from his aunt, he relented with a wordless nod and left the room.
Shocking her godmother, Lucinda burst out of bed as the door closed on Lord Sinclair. “Ma’am! What is the meaning of all this? Why can I not recall the least shred of yesterday’s events?”
“I don’t know, my dear, but you have a nasty bruise on your temple. Do you remember being struck or having a fall?”
“No, I do not,” said Lucinda, marching over the dressing-table mirror to peer at her injury. Touching the spot, she found it particularly tender and winced.
Lady Marlstone met Lucinda’s eye in the mirror reflection with a hopeful smile.
“You seem quite well otherwise, my dear, dashing about the way you are. Will you join us downstairs?” Arabella went to the cupboard and began flicking through day dresses.
“I’ll have the cook send up some tasty sandwiches. ”
Lucinda glanced at the ormolu on the mantle. “Heavens! One o’clock already!”
Lady Marlstone sighed from the depths of the wardrobe. “Yes, dearest. Alex was quite beside himself with worry. He brought you home last night, dressed in boys’ clothes.”
“What these,” she asked, picking up the discarded clothing from an armchair. “I cannot credit it.” She strained her mind, attempting to recall, before stamping her foot. “Oh, this is intolerable! I cannot bear not knowing.”
Lady Marlstone agreed, having selected an apple-green muslin.
“And you’ve only struggled with mystery for a few minutes, my dear.
Here I am, since last night worrying what might have befallen you.
For some reason, no one wants to tell the tale.
They all want to hear your account first. Wear this, my love, it always looks fetching on you.
I’ll send Bessie up directly to help you. ”
Grasping the day dress, Lucinda struggled with shadows of recollection dancing just out of reach. “But I haven’t an account to tell, Godmama!”
Arabella patted her arm. “You’ll piece it together, my dear. And if not, I am certain one of the gentlemen below will enlighten us.”
Lucinda’s eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean: ‘one of the gentlemen?’”
Arabella nodded, moving toward the door. “Alex, Miles, and that Dutch count are all waiting below. They’re eager to see you recovered.”
Lucinda pressed a hand to her temple, her confusion mounting. “What in heaven’s name could have befallen me?”
Arabella’s smile was enigmatic. “Come down when you’re ready, my love. I suspect we’re all about to find out.”
As the door closed, Lucinda stared at her reflection, her mind a jumble of questions.