The Chadwick Ring (13 page)

Chadwick suggested gently, “Why don’t you attend to her needs, Emma?. I am not the most adequate of ladies’ maids, and I am sure you could make her comfortable far more efficiently than I. While you do that, I shall consult with Dr. Perrin about Bysshe’s condition.”

“Yes, my lord.” She kept her eyes respectfully downcast as he donned his waistcoat and pulled his jacket over his broad shoulders. He picked up the flaccid cravat and let it drop to the chair again. He made as if to stride from the room, but Emma halted him. “My lord, if I may trouble you about one last detail?”

“Yes, what is it?”

She said, “Because of the limited time, only two bedrooms have yet been made habitable abovestairs: this one, and the once across the hall where Lord Bysshe is. That Frenchman—that is, the physician you brought—has already requested that the maids prepare for him the room adjoining his lordship’s, so that he will always be within easy call, should his patient require him.” Her mouth hardened, and Chadwick gathered that she considered the doctor’s request presumptuous. She continued, “However, that room is the master bedroom, the one used by Sir Charles Bryant whenever he was here at Dowerwood, and by rights it should go now to you. I must know, sir, may we give that room to Dr. Perrin as he wishes, or will you be wanting it for yourself? If you do not want it, then which room should we prepare for you?”

Chadwick looked down at her. The time had come to make his position clear, not only to his wife and Bysshe but also to the remainder of the household. Slowly his mouth widened into a lazy and disturbing smile. “By all means, give Perrin the master suite,” he said. “I want him to have everything he needs. As for me, trouble yourself no further. I shall be sleeping here.”

The maid was just bearing away the tablecloth, leaving the doctor to his port, a dish of cracked walnuts before him, when the marquess strode into the dingy dining room. He pulled back a chair from the table and flung himself into it. “Well, Perrin?” he demanded harshly.

Perrin bowed his head in mock deference. “Well, my lord?” he echoed.

Chadwick pulled up short at the undertone in the man’s voice, and he grinned with self-deprecating humor as he realized how he had sounded. “Forgive me, my friend,” he said contritely. “I did not mean to sound bumptious. Tell me, do you have everything you require for your comfort? How was your meal?”

“Everything is acceptable,” the doctor said.

The marquess nodded as he plucked a walnut from the bowl. “How discreet you are! Acceptable ... but not really good. I’m sorry, but you must appreciate that the facilities here at Dowerwood are limited at present.”

Perrin let his eyes roam over the peeling, mildewed wallpaper, the sun-faded draperies that looked as if they would fall apart at a breath. Even the flattering glow of soft candlelight could not disguise the decay eating away at the house. He observed, “Indeed the house is unique.” Chadwick reached for the decanter and splashed some sweet wine into a glass.

“ ‘Unique’ is hardly the word,” he said acidly. “The place is a mouldering ruin. It has been neglected for years, and I am not sure that it can be restored now. I suspect it is riddled with everything from dry rot to water rats. Of course I dare not tell Ginevra that, not yet at any rate. She loves this old house, even in its present state. I intend to have an architect look over the premises with an eye to their restoration, and woe betide him if he informs her that the building should be razed.”

Perrin pursed his lips sententiously. “I can sympathize with that,” he said. “Did you not tell me your wife lived here as a child? One becomes unreasonably attached to self the setting of one’s earliest memories. It is a common weakness. I know I returned to Beauclair more than once, even though once the mob had finished, there was nothing left of it but the chimneys and the foundation.” He paused, and his grey eyes darkened. “I went back one last time, just before I agreed to accompany your dear mother, Madame la Comtesse, on her journey to London. I discovered even the chimneys gone. An
haut bourgeois
silk merchant had built a very large, very vulgar new house over the old foundations. When I saw that, I knew at last that there was nothing left in France for me.”

After a moment Chadwick asked, “How fares young Bysshe? Will we soon be able to remove him to Queenshaven?”

Perrin spread his fingers wide in a gesture of indecision. “Only time will tell. For the moment I think it would be advisable to leave him where he is. He is reasonably comfortable, even if the rest of the household is not. He recovers rapidly from the fever. As for his hearing...”

“Yes, the ear infection. What about it? Ginevra was very worried. Do you think there is a possibility of permanent damage?”

“There is always a possibility,” Perrin said darkly. “Such complications are common after
la scarlatine,
but equally commonly they clear up with no lasting effect. The lad is of a strong constitution, and your wife has tended him with great care. I have lanced the eardrum to relieve pressure and reduce his pain, and if it heals without further suppuration, then probably all will be well.”

“Thank God!” Chadwick swirled his port, noting the fruity bouquet and the way the syrupy liquid clung to the sides of the glass. After a moment he murmured, “I should have been here. I never should have left her to cope with all this.”

The doctor popped a walnut meat into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I believe others are of the same opinion,” he said mildly. “The pretty but forbidding lady’s maid,
par exemple.
Mademoiselle ... Jarvis—that is her surname,
nest-ce pas
?”

Chadwick’s brows came together, as if the question puzzled him. “Her name? I really don’t know. Ginevra always calls her Emma, and I never thought to inquire further.” He glanced at the other man. “You’re interested in her?”

Perrin shrugged meaningfully. “
Peut-etre
. You must admit, she is
tres jolie, tres ... plantureuse
.”

“Buxom? I suppose she is,” Chadwick said, looking surprised. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Why should you notice the maid? You have just acquired a beautiful new bride to keep your eyes occupied.”

“Why indeed?” A fleeting vision of Amalie passed through the marquess’s mind, and he rigorously repressed it. He regarded his friend seriously. “Perrin, if you are serving notice that you wish to pursue the wench, you certainly needn’t ask my permission. However, I would advise you that Emma is very important to Ginevra, and I should not care to see her hurt in any way.”

The doctor nodded. “
Je vous ecoute, mon ami
.” He smiled sardonically. “You need not worry. I do not think the lady likes me very much.”

“I don’t think Emma has a very high opinion of any man,” Chadwick retorted dryly.

“
Quel gaspillage
! What a waste!” Perrin sighed as he reached once again for the decanter. For a few moments he concentrated on his wine and the nuts; then he piled the shells into a little mound on his napkin. Looking up, he glanced around the decrepit room and observed airily, “You are ever an original, Chadwick. Dowerwood is certainly a most remarkable spot in which to spend a honeymoon.
Formidable
!”

The marquess stared at him. “By God, man, I didn’t bring Ginevra here. I took her to Queenshaven, of course, which may be grim, but at least it isn’t falling down about our ears. She made her own way to this aging relic after I ... after I ...” He hesitated, uncharacteristically embarrassed by his own behavior. Considered under the wise and watchful eye of his friend, that headlong flight to London suddenly struck him as incredibly puerile.

The doctor reproved sternly, “Glover,
la petite marquise
is very young.”

“Yes, dammit, I know!” Chadwick gulped down his port, then grimaced at the cloying sweetness. He preferred claret after meals. He pushed the empty glass to one side and wound his long fingers together. When he spoke, he bit off his words savagely. “Don’t you think I am acutely aware that I am nearly twice Ginevra’s age? Don’t you think I realize I ought to have paired her off, not with me but with that boy she nursed so tenderly?”

“Then why didn’t you?” Perrin asked reasonably. “For that matter, why don’t you now? I believe I am not incorrect in my assessment that it is not yet too late for an annulment. With your wealth and position, the matter could be handled discreetly, I am sure...
”

Chadwick’s blue eyes narrowed fiercely, and he brought his fist down on the scarred tabletop so hard that the glass stopper rattled in the decanter. “Never!” he shouted.

The physician regarded him enigmatically. “You needn’t rage at me
mon gars,
I merely made a suggestion. But I admit I am curious why, if you are so sensitive to the difference in your ages, you did not marry her to your son.”

Lines of strain appeared around Chadwick’s hard mouth as he said tightly, “Bysshe is far too young, barely sixteen. Hardly an age to take a wife, as I well know.”

“The boy might dispute that. While I was treating him, he called her name repeatedly.” Perrin rubbed his big nose thoughtfully as he studied the man sitting opposite him. “I think, Glover,” he ventured, “that you have a very ... delicate situation here. ’Tis said my late king delayed some seven years before consummating his marriage to Marie Antoinette, which sorry fact no doubt contributed to that good lady’s peccadilloes. Louis’s problem was physical—a slight defect that would never have troubled him had he been Jewish—and a surgeon’s knife ultimately corrected it. I trust you suffer from no such handicap?” Chadwick’s dark brows lifted. Perrin continued, “Then,
mon ami,
it might be prudent of you to—as they say—stake your claim at the earliest opportunity.”

“I ... intend to.”

The doctor frowned. “I denote a certain hesitation in your voice. May I inquire its cause?”

The marquess felt himself blushing, something he was sure he had not done since childhood. After a moment he rasped, “Damnation, Perrin, the girl is terrified of me! I ... I frightened her on our wedding night.”

The silence in the room was emphasized by the erratic whirring of the pendulum clock someone had tried to restart. Rust had corroded the teeth of one of the gears, and the hands moved fitfully or not at all. Perversely the chimes struck seven at the quarter and half hour, and were mute on the hour. At last the doctor said, “You frightened the little one? I am surprised. You are not usually so clumsy.”

Chadwick snapped, “I am not usually dealing with a virgin!” He laughed humorlessly. “In fact, after reviewing the procession of women in my misspent life, it occurs to me that I have never yet deflowered a maiden.”

Perrin smiled wryly. “It is a highly overrated experience, I assure you.”

The marquess did not seem to hear him. He snorted, “Oh, there were one or two who would have had me think I was the first, but I am an old campaigner and not easily gulled.”

“I see,” Perrin said. He rested his chin on his thumbs. “Then am I to understand that you are asking my advice as a physician?”

Chadwick’s blue eyes met his grey ones. “I suppose I am.”

“
Bien entendu
.” The Frenchman leaned back in his chair, absently rubbing the knotted muscles of his injured leg. “Well, then,” he began in the dry voice of a lecturer giving a tutorial, “you must remember that this is the one time when your first concern is not to give your partner pleasure, but to lessen her pain...” He continued in precise, clinical terms for some minutes, at last concluding, “Above all, be patient and reassuring, and help her to look forward to a more satisfying future.”

One of Chadwick’s brows had arched sharply upward. “A tall order, my friend,” he drawled.

The doctor eyed him squarely. “Oh, I expect you will rise to the occasion.”

Chadwick gave a yelp of laughter. “You may be right,” he declared as he pushed his chair back from the table. He stood up and clapped the other man on the shoulder.

Forgive me for deserting you, but I think I will bid you a good night now.”

“So soon?” the doctor mocked dryly. “Ah well, it has indeed been a long day.
Bonne nuit,
Glover.
Dormez bien
.” Perrin watched the marquess leave. It occurred to him that he should have inquired about the location of Emma’s quarters. After a moment he shrugged, and with a windy sigh he reached for the port once more.

Chadwick gazed down at his sleeping wife. She lay snuggled under the downy coverlet like a cygnet beneath the sheltering wing of its mother. Her left hand rested pale and defenseless on the pillow next to her smooth cheek, the jeweled rings only just visible under the flounced cuff of her white linen nightdress. Emma had brushed her long hair and braided it loosely into a thick plait that streamed over the top of the quilt, gleaming as brightly as her rings in the wavering light of the lone candle. Her repose seemed more normal now, more restful and regenerative than that near-cataleptic stupor he had noticed before, and she stirred slightly, as if she were dreaming. He wondered if he dared rouse her.

He perched on the edge of the bed and with moth like delicacy trailed the tip of one finger across her cheekbone, ruffling her gold lashes, outlining her soft mouth. Her nose twitched. He traced the line of her jaw back up to her ear; then his hand stroked lightly over her hair. Under his sensitive fingers it felt like satin, and he began to unbraid the fine strands. Soon her tresses spread over the pillow, over her shoulders, like a mantle of silk, with a sheen whose richness made him catch his breath. He swivelled away from her, and with uncharacteristically jerky movements he began to remove his boots.