Chapter Twelve #2
Damn it all, he was going to have to hurt her feelings. He didn’t want to speak the words to make her hate him, but neither did he want her to love him. “I see nothing wrong with enjoying the physical side to our marriage, if it pleases you.”
She stopped walking, gripping her arms tightly. The fury on her face was harsh, of a woman who loathed what he’d said.
“You’re lying to me. I can see that you do feel something for me. Even if you don’t want to.”
He continued walking away, while a tight ache caught in his throat. This was what he hadn’t wanted—for her to see the coldhearted man he’d become.
And when he reached the waiting coach, he saw her standing on the hillside, refusing to come any closer.
Amelia left the first clue for Christine on her bed.
She knew better than to show the girl the writing space she’d prepared.
Christine would only scoff and turn up her nose.
But Amelia truly believed that the girl would enjoy the new paper and quills, as well as a special place for writing.
And so it was that she’d invented a treasure hunt, with each note leading to another clue.
She pretended not to notice when Christine entered the drawing room, with a note in her hand.
“Why would you think I’d be interested in your silly games?
” The girl’s tone held ridicule, but Amelia noticed that she was wearing the lilac muslin gown they had bought together.
It was a small victory, and so she ignored her stepdaughter’s rudeness.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amelia lied, pouring herself a cup of tea. “It’s not a game. Your father simply wanted to leave you a gift.” If she told the girl it was from David, she might be more willing to accept it. “I thought this would be a more interesting way for you to find it.”
Her stepdaughter frowned a moment. “A gift from Papa?”
“Who else?” Amelia pretended as if it didn’t matter and reached for a biscuit dusted in sugar.
“But you wrote these clues,” she said. “I know your handwriting.”
“He’s the one who purchased it for you. I simply thought it would be a more adventurous way to give the gift.” She held out a plate to Christine. “Would you like a biscuit?”
The girl shook her head, confusion reigning over her face. “No.” In her hand, she held the last clue Amelia had left. “But you want me to go into the attic. I can’t.”
The girl’s face held dismay, and Amelia offered, “Do you want me to go with you?”
Christine hesitated. “He told me to never go up there.”
More likely this had to do with the first Lady Castledon. Perhaps David had stored his wife’s belongings in the attic. “You were younger then,” she said gently. “He probably thought you might fall down the stairs. They are rather steep.”
“He told me not to go up there,” Christine repeated. Her hands clenched against the lilac muslin, as if she didn’t know how else to protest.
Amelia didn’t know what to say to that, but it was clear the girl believed it.
“Well, if you don’t want to see the gift he left, I won’t force you.
” She stood and walked with Christine back to the doorway.
For a moment, her stepdaughter swayed, as if fighting off dizziness.
Christine reached out a hand to the wall and caught herself.
“Are you all right?” Amelia wasn’t certain if the girl was still weak from her earlier cold.
“I’m fine. I just felt faint for a moment.” Christine took several deep breaths and tried to steady herself. “And my toes are tingling. It’s strange.”
Amelia offered the girl her arm. “Perhaps walking will help. Sometimes my feet feel that way if I’ve been sitting for a while.
” She eyed the girl. “Do you want to go into the attic to see the surprise, as long as you don’t touch anything?
” After all the hard work, Amelia wanted to see her stepdaughter’s reaction.
“I suppose my father might not know I was there,” Christine amended. “Don’t tell him or Mrs. Menford. She tells him everything I’ve done wrong.”
It was the peace offering she’d hoped for. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Mrs. Menford had been wise enough to retreat after Mrs. Larson had explained the full extent of her duties and the consequences of disobedience. Though Amelia wasn’t entirely eager to keep the disagreeable woman on her staff, it did seem that she had relented.
Amelia smiled and offered Christine her support while they went down the hallway. Although the girl still seemed a little dizzy, she linked her arm in Amelia’s.
They walked up to the third floor, and at the top of the stairs, she opened the small doorway leading to the attic. “Go inside and see.”
Christine entered, while Amelia stood back to watch. The interior of the space was lit by the sunlight filtering through the windows. A small desk rested right beneath the window, and there was a stack of fresh paper along with different quills and inkwells.
The moment she saw the desk, Christine went still. She spoke not a word, but stood before the desk, staring at it. Amelia waited for her to say something, but her stepdaughter remained quiet.
“Is it…not what you wanted?” she ventured.
Christine crossed her arms, clenching her shoulders as she turned to face Amelia. “My father didn’t give me this gift. You did.”
Something in the girl’s voice warned Amelia not to argue. And so she simply nodded once. “I thought you might like a place of your own where you can write your stories. We could even build a seat beneath the window and add cushions where you can curl up and read.”
The girl let out a breath and touched one of the pieces of paper. “I never told him I like to write. Papa doesn’t know.”
“Was it meant to be a secret?”
Christine shook her head. “But he never asks me what I like to do. He’s kind enough, but for so long, he never seemed to notice me.”
Amelia saw the vulnerability the girl was trying to mask. “He abandoned you for too long.”
Christine shrugged. “I don’t suppose I was very interesting when I was little.”
“It’s hard to be interesting when your father is always gone.” Amelia leaned back against the desk. “I think we should pay him a visit at Thornwyck, don’t you?”
“He’ll be furious with us.”
“Oh, undoubtedly. But don’t you think it’s time that we became interesting to him?” She picked up a piece of paper. “Why don’t you write a story about an earl who abandoned his only daughter, and she was rescued from her tower by a handsome prince?”
A smirk stole over Christine’s face. “No prince would come after me.”
“Or perhaps the daughter climbed out of the tower and ran off with the prince before her father returned?”
Her stepdaughter’s face softened at the story idea. “Perhaps.” She went over to the attic window and opened it, letting in the fresh air. “You’re not that bad, you know. As a stepmother.”
“I might have lured you here to lock you in,” Amelia suggested. “I might be worse than you expected.”
The girl climbed up on the desk, not responding to her teasing remark. She shielded her eyes against the sun and said, “There’s a widow’s walk on top of the house. Did you know?”
Amelia’s stomach lurched when she saw where Christine was pointing. “I see it.”
“I’m going to walk outside and look over the grounds. Do you want to come?”
The idea of standing on the rooftop of the house was not a welcome one. “No, and I don’t want you to walk out there, either. You could fall and be killed.”
“There’s a railing up here,” Christine said. “It’s perfectly safe.” She took one step onto the roof, and Amelia scrambled forward.
“Please come back. Truly, your father wouldn’t want you out there. And neither do I.”
“It’s a lovely view.” Christine rested her hands upon the railing, staring out over the landscape. “You should come and join me.”
The thought of setting a single foot upon the rooftop terrified Amelia. “I can’t.” Her heart was pounding so fast, she could only bring herself to call out, “Christine, you must come back.”
The girl let out a sigh and said, “All right.” She took a few steps back toward the window, then suddenly swayed without warning. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed the edge of the chimney to keep from falling.
A scream caught in Amelia’s throat, but she clamped her mouth shut to keep from startling the girl more. “Hold on, Christine. I’m coming.” She ignored the shudder of panic rising in her stomach. Her stepdaughter was on her hands and knees, terror in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” The tears started to come, and the girl’s knuckles were white against the brick. “All of a sudden, my feet went numb. I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t feel anything when I took a step.”
Amelia climbed on top of the desk, and when she risked a look down, her fear doubled. Oh, dear God, if she made a single misstep, she would die.
Don’t think of that, she warned herself. Instead, she focused her attention on Christine’s pale face. The girl was shaking, and Amelia ventured onto the roof, keeping to her hands and knees for balance.
“I’m going to help you get back inside,” she said. Her words were calm, belying her own dread. “I want you to try and sit on the walkway.”
“I’m afraid,” Christine sobbed. “Why can’t I feel my legs?”
Amelia didn’t answer, but kept all her attention on reaching the girl. “Don’t worry about that now. I’m going to help you back inside first.”
Silent prayers rose up inside her when she finally was able to touch Christine’s hand. “Can you crawl forward?”
“I don’t know,” she wept. “I might fall. I don’t want to die.”
“That won’t happen,” she promised. Though inwardly Amelia wanted to join the girl in her tears, she had to be strong. “I’m going to crawl behind you, and I’ll make sure you don’t fall when you move back inside.” Blood pulsed hard within her veins, but she forced back the fear. “Don’t move.”
It was awkward, trying to crawl around Christine on the narrow walkway leading to the roof, but she managed. Only when she was seated behind the girl did she coax her to crawl forward.
One of Amelia’s legs dangled down the side of the roof, and if she leaned too far to the right, she would tumble to her death.
God help us both, she prayed. Once, Christine’s knees swayed, and Amelia grabbed the girl by the waist to steady her. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “We’re almost there.”
The last three minutes seemed to become an hour, and Amelia could hardly breathe until Christine reached the window. Only when they were both safely inside did she allow her own tears to fall.
The girl launched herself into Amelia’s arms and sobbed out her relief. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did. I should never have walked out alone.”
Amelia hugged the girl back, and at the moment, she wasn’t certain if she could take a single step of her own.
“I think we both should have a cup of chocolate right now. With the biggest slice of cake Mrs. Larson can find for us.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes.
“Are your legs any better?” It was then that she realized that Christine was still holding on to her for balance.
Her stepdaughter shook her head. “I can’t feel my feet or my ankles.”
Amelia kept her arm around the girl’s waist. “Can you walk at all?”
“I can. But it feels so strange.” She leaned against Amelia, her feet shuffling along the floor. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
An awful premonition struck Amelia, and though she put on a brave face for the girl, inwardly she was shaking. It wasn’t right for her to be unable to feel anything in her legs, and her stepdaughter needed to see a doctor.
Her sister Juliette’s husband, Dr. Paul Fraser, was a skilled physician as well as the Viscount of Falsham.
He would know what to do, and she trusted him far more than anyone here.
She decided to write to him today and ask him to come and look at Christine.
Thankfully, Castledon was only a few days’ journey from Edinburgh.
She felt confident that Dr. Fraser would know what to do if something was wrong.
“I’m going to send for the best doctor I know,” Amelia reassured her stepdaughter. “But I don’t want you to worry. It might be some lingering problems from your cold. Your body may be overtired.”
Christine gripped her harder around the waist as they went down the attic stairs together. “What if it isn’t? What if I’m going to die, just as my mother did?”
“I don’t think it’s as bad as all that,” Amelia soothed. “And Dr. Fraser is the best physician I know. He’s married to my sister Juliette.”
Her stepdaughter said nothing more as they returned downstairs.
True to her word, Amelia ordered Mrs. Larson to fetch them a pot of chocolate, as well as cake for their tea.
Although Christine was able to walk, she seemed unsteady on her feet.
When they reached the parlor, the girl sank gratefully into a chair.
When Mrs. Larson returned with a tray containing a pot of chocolate, sponge cake, and plum preserves, she fussed over the pair of them. “Now, now, my lamb. Ye look as if ye’ve seen a ghost! Puir child, have some cake to put the roses back in yer cheeks.”
Christine brightened a little. After the housekeeper left the room, she leaned in toward Amelia. “She’s not at all like Mrs. Menford.”
“Thank goodness.” Amelia added a nip of sugar to her cup, then took a sip of the creamy chocolate. “Perhaps she might convince your housekeeper to mend her ways.”
Christine took a spoonful of plum preserves and cake.
From the way she was shifting her feet, Amelia knew the numbness hadn’t ceased.
“Mrs. Menford has been here for as long as I can remember. Even when my mother was alive.” There was a trace of guilt, as if the girl didn’t want the housekeeper to leave.
“I will allow her to stay,” Amelia said. “But only if she obeys my orders.”
Christine picked at her cake and ventured, “I wasn’t very kind to you when you arrived. I was angry that my father married you when I’d never seen you before.”
“Do you still wish he’d married your governess?” Amelia asked.
“Not anymore. Miss Grant would never have let me eat cake and drink chocolate.” She took another bite, then set the plate aside. “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling very hungry right now.”
“Why don’t you have a lie-down, and perhaps your feet will feel better?”
The girl nodded, but as she tried to stand up, her balance swayed again. “I’m having trouble walking.”
Amelia went to her side. “I’m going to help you back to your room. And once you’ve rested, I’m certain it will go away. Try not to worry.”
But though her words were cheerful, she couldn’t stop her own rise of fear. She’d never seen anything like this, and as soon as she reached her own room, she penned a note to Dr. Fraser with orders for it to be delivered with great haste.
Then she wrote to David, asking him to come home immediately.