Chapter Thirteen #2
“I do not like leaving you.”
“Good. I am glad. But I still wish ye to see to yer own rest whilst I see to mine. Please?”
“You are impossible, you know that?”
“Aye. Mother has told me that a time or two, and I believe Malcolm mentioned it once or twice as well.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, relieved to discover no fever had set in just yet. He was warm but not overly so. “Go to sleep.”
“I will, my own.” His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. “I love ye, Merry,” he said with a softness sweet as a caress.
She kissed his forehead again. “I love you more. Now sleep.”
“Aye, my love. Aye.”
She eased away, treading gingerly across the room toward the door. Duncan didn’t move and appeared to be resting comfortably. Stepping out into the hallway, she quietly closed the door behind her, then spied the valet waiting farther down the hall. “Mr. Brown?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“He refuses to let me sit with him. Won’t sleep unless I leave. Swear you will come and fetch me at the first sign of the slightest change.”
“Of course, my lady.”
“I mean it, now. I know he appears to be doing as well as possible, but should that change, I want to be informed immediately.”
The valet placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. “I swear to fetch you and keep you informed, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brown.” Merry didn’t wish to be harsh with the man, but he simply had to understand that she didn’t wish to be coddled or shielded when it came to Duncan.
Oddly numbed by the events of the evening, she returned to the room she shared with Serendipity, Lady Evelyn, and the maids. As she entered, their conversations halted. “Duncan is resting,” she said. “Much to his dismay, Dr. Hatler tricked him by lacing his whisky with laudanum.”
Pressing a hand to her chest, Lady Evelyn lifted her face to the heavens and smiled. “Praise the Almighty.” Then she rose and urged Merry to sit on the bed. “Fetch her some fresh tea,” she told the maids without taking her gaze from Merry. “Are ye all right, lass?”
A bit addled, Merry shrugged. “I am not sure yet.”
“’Tis the shock of all that has happened.” The dowager gave her a motherly hug. “It will pass.”
“While you were in with Duncan,” Serendipity said, “Dr. Hatler informed us that Lord Brixham is no longer suffering.”
The knot in Merry’s chest, the tension she had carried since the night of Lady Atterley’s party, relaxed the slightest bit. She pulled in a deep breath, then let it go. “God rest his soul. I hope he finds peace.”
Her maid eased the teacup into her hands. “Here, my lady. Drink and find a bit of peace for yourself.”
“Did ye not give her any brandy?” Lady Evelyn asked. “She’ll not rest without some brandy.”
Merry covered the cup with her hand. “No brandy. I must stay in control of my faculties in case Duncan needs me.”
The dowager smiled. “Ye are a good lass, ye are. I am thankful my Duncan found ye.” Eyes glistening with tears, she slowly shook her head. “I feared he would never find happiness. Not after the way his father beat it out of him.”
“Why was he so cruel to Duncan? Malcolm mentioned it once as well.”
“As eldest, Duncan felt it his duty to protect his brother and sister from his father’s rages.
Whenever the devil started toward them, Duncan would throw himself into harm’s way and bring down the hell upon himself rather than them.
” Nodding to her maid to freshen her cup of tea, she folded her thin, blue-veined hands in her lap.
“I tried to save them once. Left the demon and took them away. He dragged me back and made it clear that if I ever tried that again, he would kill me as well as them. I had to stay alive. For them.”
Sick at heart, Merry couldn’t comprehend the horrors that Duncan and his family had survived. She turned to Lady Evelyn, wrapped an arm around the grande dame’s thin shoulders, and hugged her. “You showed great strength in shielding them as best you could. Thank heavens all of you survived.”
The dowager gave her a reassuring pat. “My Catherine came back and saved us all, sending the devil back to hell where he belonged.”
Merry wasn’t sure if it was the brandy, her weariness, or her sensibilities shutting down after the tumultuous evening, but she didn’t understand. She arched a brow at Serendipity, who replied with a faint shrug that said she had no idea what that meant either.
“Your Catherine?” Merry gently prodded.
“Aye. Duncan’s twin, who drowned in the carriage accident.
” Squinting her eyes tightly shut as if trying not to cry, Lady Evelyn forced a smile.
“She and her husband were so excited that she finally had a bairn on the way. So many years had passed without their having a child.” She shook her head, then cleared her throat. “At least they all died together.”
“Malcolm said your husband blamed Duncan.”
“The devil blamed Duncan for everything, but Catherine put a stop to that.”
“How so?”
Lady Evelyn threw out her chest with a proud nod.
“Catherine appeared to him. Shocked his heart that I never thought he possessed and threw him into a fit.” Satisfaction settled across her, making her sit taller still.
“He said she came to him, damning him to hell for the way he had treated Duncan, for the way he had treated all of us. He died the next day at sunrise, his face twisted in fear.” She patted Merry’s arm.
“Justice eventually comes, child. Sometimes it takes its time, but eventually, it comes.”
Remembering Lord Brixham’s end, Merry nodded. “Indeed, and now it is time for Duncan to be happy.”
“And yerself as well,” Lady Evelyn reminded her.
“When we return to London,” Serendipity said, “we shall have the banns read immediately.”
“We are not returning to London.” Merry braced herself. Serendipity would not be pleased. “Duncan wishes to continue to Gretna Green, and so do I. As soon as there is no longer any danger of infection, we shall go.”
“But there is no need now. With Brixham’s death, not only is the special license rendered invalid, but there is no one to bring a claim why the two of you should not wed.
” Serendipity started pacing, a mildly irritating habit she had whenever things didn’t go as she wished.
“We can have a church ceremony, and a fine wedding breakfast. Would that not be lovely?”
Merry handed her teacup to Lady Evelyn, rose from her seat on the bed, and stopped Serendipity in her tracks.
“It would be lovely for someone who wants that. I do not. I wish to marry at Gretna Green as soon as Duncan is well enough. That is what he wishes as well. It would more than likely make us husband and wife faster than returning to London and having the banns read for the next four Sundays in a row, then planning a wedding.”
“Faster?” A leeriness settled across Serendipity. “Is there something I should know?”
“Yes.”
Serendipity’s eyes nearly bulged from her head.
Merry couldn’t help but grin. “What you need to know is that I wish to be Duncan’s wife. Now.” She poked her sister. “And when have you ever allowed me out of your sight long enough for anything untoward to happen?”
“Well, you are most ingenious at times, and I cannot always be with you.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
Arms folded and her nose in the air, Serendipity huffed. “That was not how it was intended.”
“We should sleep, or at least attempt to,” Lady Evelyn announced. “The hour grows late. Let us all settle into our beds and on our pallets and try to close our eyes before dawn creeps in and catches us chatting.”
“Yes, Duncan will know if I do not rest,” Merry said. “I am not sure how, but I know he will know.”
The dowager smiled. “My Duncan misses nothing, lass. Alert as a hawk, that one.”
Once they were all settled in the beds and on the extra pallets the inn had provided for the maids, Merry stared up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, wondering if Duncan had allowed Dr. Hatler to give him another dose of laudanum so he could rest as well.
“Close your eyes,” Serendipity whispered.
“I feel like Papa’s watch that Chance overwound that day. Remember how its back popped off and all its innards flew out?”
“Breathe deeply and slowly and close your eyes.”
“That never works.”
“Stop talking and try it.” Serendipity’s tone left no room for further argument.
Knowing her status as little sister would change very shortly, Merry relented and did as she was told for old times’ sake.
*
Propped upright in what had served as his sickbed for the past week, Duncan scowled at the constable who dared question him about the night of Lord Brixham’s death.
He tipped a nod at his bandaged arm. “The man shot me while I embraced my bride-to-be. I fired back, and my man, whom I pay well to guard me and mine, shot into the darkness as well. I dinna ken which of us gutted the bastard. All I know is that we succeeded.”
Hat clutched between his hands, the nervous constable shuffled in place, nodding all the while.
“I understand, my lord, and do forgive the further questions, but the Archbishop of Canterbury sent word that the death was to be investigated thoroughly.” He shifted his stance again as if needing to locate the best place to leave a shite.
“Those working in the stable support your story, but I must speak with all concerned. I am sure you understand.”
Duncan clenched his teeth to keep from roaring at the man that the Archbishop of Canterbury’s favorite deceased lordling was a man who thought it well within his rights to take whatever he wanted from a woman, no matter how she felt about the matter.
But he wouldn’t say that. To do so might only worsen things, since it would provide yet another reason he wanted the man dead and buried.
“Well, now I have answered ye. Have ye any other asinine questions?”
The man shook his head. “Not at this time, my lord. Thank you for your time, and I do wish you good health and a full recovery.”
Duncan snorted, then gave Brown a nod to show the man out the door. He nearly groaned aloud when Dr. Hatler entered as the constable exited.
The surgeon arched his brows. “Is that any way to look at the man who kept you from bleeding to death?”
Swinging his legs off the bed, Duncan flinched as the wound in his arm reminded him that it had only been a scant week since he had been shot. “And I thank ye for yer services, but seeing as how I intend to leave for Gretna Green today, why have ye not resumed yer travels, Dr. Hatler?”
“I am en route to spend some time with my sister.” The gentleman made a face, appearing as though he had eaten something that wasn’t sitting well at all.
“I am in no hurry to get to my destination, and caring for a patient is an impeccable reason for my delay.” He pointed at Duncan’s injured arm.
“Roll up your sleeve, my lord, so I might check your bandage one last time before you are on your way.”
“I found my man Brown during the war,” Duncan said, but did as the surgeon asked. “He assisted men like yerself and knows how to tend wounds and keep them from festering.”
Dr. Hatler eyed the bandage, leaned in close and sniffed it, then pressed the back of his hand to Duncan’s throat. “No odor and no fever. It would seem you chose your valet wisely.” He stepped back and folded his hands. “I also spoke to the constable about Lord Brixham.”
“Did ye now?” Duncan refused to reveal his thoughts on that matter. He had told the surgeon as few details as possible about Brixham’s grudge. “I am sure the man appreciated that, seeing as how the archbishop is nipping at his tail to find someone to blame other than Brixham.”
“Lord Brixham confessed that he tried to kill you out of jealousy.”
The man was fishing. Duncan could smell it. “The Brixham I knew would never confess to anything.”
“He would if he wanted relief.”
Pain could make a man do or say many a thing, be it true or not. Duncan eyed the surgeon, seeing Dr. Hatler in a different light. “Ye helped the man on his way.”
Dr. Hatler gave the barest nod. “As a former man of the cloth, it seemed the most appropriate action…and the most merciful. I happen to carry morphine for just such emergencies.”
Duncan wouldn’t express his opinion regarding the man’s mercy. He would have let Brixham lie there and suffer until the Almighty took him. “I assume ye left that part out when ye spoke to the constable, aye?”
“The part about the morphine? Yes. But I did tell him of Lord Brixham’s confession. Even gave him the paper Brixham signed so he might send it to the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“Ye had the man sign a paper before ye helped him die?”
“Of course.”
“It would seem I am indebted to ye for making matters with the archbishop a great deal easier.”
“Ye owe me nothing, my lord.” Dr. Hatler bowed. “I was glad I was here to lend my services where they were needed.”
“Be that as it may, I never forget a kindness.” Duncan politely bowed in turn. “Should I ever be able to return the favor, dinna hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Dr. Hatler opened the door and held it. “On your way now, and congratulations and an abundance of blessings to you and your lady in the coming years.”
“Aye, I am looking forward to it.” The surgeon had no idea just how ready Duncan was to live a truly happy life.