Chapter 41
Forty-One
Thomas was pleased. He had gotten away early and made good time to London. He had found the telescope ready for him at the small shop in the City, just as Mr. Dunbar had promised.
He stepped out of the shop with the long, wooden box under his arm, excited to get back to the stable and take Octavius, himself, and the telescope all back to Sommerleigh. And to Harry.
He had made up the fiction of going to another county so she would not think he had gone to London to indulge in his old habits. He was not so deluded as to think a visit to Madame Flora’s would spark jealousy in Harry or hurt her, but he wanted the issue to be perfectly clear.
He was hers, and only hers, when and if she ever wanted him.
But after the telescope—this one surprise for her—in the future, he was going to avoid prevarication. He would be frank like Harry, herself. He would tell the truth. He might even tell her his deepest desire.
The danger of that tore at his heart.
But he thought of standing behind Harry as she leaned over to look in the telescope, his lips by her ear, perhaps a hand on her waist, and he thought the danger might be worth the reward.
What the devil?
He saw curly brown hair, a long stride. Was he so bewitched he saw his wife everywhere?
No, no, that was the unmistakable figure of Harry.
And a man with auburn hair—the doctor was with her.
They were hurrying through the streets of London.
Well, Harry was hurrying, and Dr. Andrews was doing his best to keep up.
Thomas shouted after them, but they were too far away and the street was too busy and noisy.
His old fear set in.
The doctor.
Harry’s admiration for him.
Their private walks and talks when Harry had first come to Sommerleigh.
The doctor’s fine mind. His dimples and green eyes and Scottish burr and the way half the women in the vicinity, including Thomas’ own cook, doted on the still-unmarried young doctor. Thomas was sure Dr. Andrews made most of his fees in calling on lust-addled hypochondriacs.
Thomas set off after the pair.
He could not catch them. The box was very heavy. Several times he was delayed by wagons in the street or a long string of carriages. He was still a good three hundred feet away when he saw Harry and Dr. Andrews mount the steps of St. Paul’s and disappear.
“Lady Drake,” the doctor said. “I am afraid ye are nae being rational. I cannae imagine why we are here. I beg ye to tell me. I have been patient, but ye must tell me why we are here to see the bishop.”
They were in the anteroom of the bishop’s private study. A young curate had intercepted Harry and assured her that the bishop was not here. Harry had flung herself into a chair and announced to the young man, “I’ll wait for him, then.” The curate had crept away.
Harry could feel her agitation rising. She tapped her hands on her knees.
“I can’t lose my nerve, Alasdair. It’s for the best. I just have to do it.”
The doctor crouched in front of her and stilled her hands with his own.
“What do ye have to do, Harry?”
“I have to get an annulment. That’s why you’re here. So you can tell the bishop that Thomas and I can have an annulment. That I am . . . whole.”
“’Tisnae how it works, Harry. Are ye unhappy with yer marriage then?”
“No, no, but I’m unhappy because I think Thomas wants an annulment, but he feels sorry for me after what happened .
. . in the stables. That Phillip beat me.
But Phillip is dead, so I think Thomas needs an heir now.
And since I can’t give that to him and someone else could, it would be for the best. He should have what he wants. ”
“Harry,” the doctor shook his head, smiling for the first time since Harry had come into his surgery. “Ye can have what ye want, and Lord Drake can, as well. I think ye want the same thing. Harry, Harry, Harry.”
Thomas had no idea where Harry had gone once inside the cathedral. After running about for a bit in the narthex and the nave and various chapels, Thomas found a young curate who grimaced and directed him to the anteroom of the bishop’s study.
Thomas opened the door and saw Dr. Andrews kneeling and holding Harry’s hands. The two were looking at each other intently, the doctor smiling and saying Thomas’ wife’s name in a tender manner.
Dr. Andrews did not seem startled or embarrassed by Thomas’ sudden entrance. He gently let go of Harry’s hands and got to his feet. He bowed. “My lord.”
Harry, on the other hand, looked away from Thomas.
“I would like to know what you’re doing here, Harry, Dr. Andrews,” Thomas said. He put down the wooden box containing the telescope. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
Neither said anything. Finally, Dr. Andrews spoke.
“My lady, ye must tell Lord Drake. I should nae be the one—”
“I’m here to get an annulment!” The words burst out of Harry’s mouth.
A deep, dark, bitter horror spread over Thomas. It started in his chest and went to his stomach and his head.
She was going to leave him.
The feeling spread to his legs.
She didn’t want him. She had never wanted him.
He willed himself to stay standing, to keep breathing, to hold back his vomit.
Harry stood and began to pace. “You have to see the bishop of the place where you are married. So I came here. And I brought Alasdair.”
Of course, she wanted to marry Alasdair. Of course, she did. Alasdair might have a hope of keeping up with Harry’s mind. Thomas never would.
He took a deep breath. “You’re a grown woman, and you know what you want. And I want . . . you to be happy. I will do my best to return your dowry to you, but it may take some years.” And then he spoke the hardest words he had ever had to say. “I will not oppose you.”
Harry stopped pacing and stood still, looking towards a window. “You can have a son by next year.”
Thomas took three quick steps towards Dr. Andrews and thrust his hand out to him. “I wish you every happiness.”
The doctor took his hand and shook it but looked confused. “I dinnae—”
Thomas faced Harry and spoke stiffly. “Lady Drake, there was no reason for you to have come here secretly. We have been, if nothing else, forthright with each other. You should have told me your wish.”
Harry whirled and exploded. “You should have told me yours!”
“My . . . wish?”
“Your wish! Your wish to marry Hope Dunbar, to be rid of me, to have a son—”
“Harry—”
“—to have a normal wife and a normal life and all that entails! And you can have it—”
“Harry!” Thomas thundered.
She stopped. She looked at her feet.
“Harry, look at me so I know you understand what I’m saying.”
She raised her eyes to him. They were full of tears. He longed to go to her and crush her to his chest. But he wouldn’t. She wasn’t his. She never had been.
“Harry, I have no wish to marry Hope Dunbar.”
“But she has agreed to—” Harry stopped.
“What has Hope Dunbar agreed to?”
“I asked her if she would marry you if you were free, and she said yes. I just thought I had better make sure before I got the annulment. It would be a shame to go to the trouble and then she wouldn’t have you.”
“I am perfectly capable of making my own marriage proposals.”
“I didn’t think much of the one you made my stepmother, and, of course, I am the one who proposed to you.”
“Yes, well, it doesn’t matter, because I will not marry Hope Dunbar.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . I won’t. I will not oppose you, Harry. You can have your annulment. I want you to have what you want. I’m sure you and Alasdair will be very happy together.”
Harry had a rare look of bewilderment on her face. “Alasdair?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. He looked at Dr. Andrews who looked very uncomfortable, indeed.
She sighed. “Oh, Tommy.”
Why must she finally revert to calling him Tommy just as she was leaving him?
She wiped her eyes. “Alasdair is here as a doctor to say we can have an annulment because I’m intact. We are not consummated.”
Thomas turned to Dr. Andrews. “You’re not going to get married?”
“I hope to marry someday, my lord,” Dr. Andrews said carefully, “but I dinnae think Lady Drake’s affections tend towards me.”
Thomas looked at Harry. “Why do you want an annulment?”
“So you can marry Hope Dunbar.”
“Which we have established I am not going to do.”
“Yes. But so you can have a son and an heir.”
“Right now, I have no care for what happens after I die. None whatsoever. The title, Sommerleigh, the Drake name—they can all go to the devil.”
It was at this moment that the bishop came into the anteroom.
Harry thought the bishop looked like a nice man.
She hadn’t recognized him because he was in ordinary clothes and looked so different from when she had met him before about the banns and when he had married her to Thomas.
Then he had been wearing a surplice of some kind. But, still, his eyes were kind.
He greeted them and asked their names.
“My lord, my lady, Doctor. Please come into my study. I heard something about a devil just now, so I suspect my theological wisdom may help the situation here.” He chuckled.
Once seated in the study, Harry thought she should make the purpose of their visit clear.
“Lord Drake and I are seeking an annulment.”
“I see.” The bishop steepled his fingers. “Whose desire is this?”
“My lady’s.” “My lord’s.” They spoke in near unison.
“And your part in this, Doctor?”
“Ah, aye.” Alasdair stepped forwards. “Lady Drake is under the misapprehension I might be of use in testifying to ye that she remains intact and unspoiled. I was very nearly about to explain—”
“What misapprehension?” Thomas stood. “Where is the misapprehension? Harry told me, she said, she said Phillip did not, did not . . .” He turned to Harry. “Did you say that just to spare me?”
“No, Tommy. I didn’t lie to you. I’m still a virgin.”
Thomas collapsed back into his chair. He put his face in his hands.