The Rake (18 page)

It wasn’t nearly as nerve wracking, she
discovered, to climb up the ladder as it had been to go down it.
When she’d climbed through, Fitzhugh took the ladder down and
disappeared into the darkness with it. Letting out a tremulous sigh
of relief, Demi tugged the gown off, hid it in the bottom of her
armoire and dragged her night gown over her head.

Staring at her bed uncertainly for several
moments, she finally tiptoed across the room and listened at the
door. In a few moments, she heard footsteps coming quickly down the
servants’ stairs, striding down the hall and a few moments later a
low voiced conversation between the servant and her aunt. She
couldn’t make out what either of them were saying, but she was
fairly certain she had the gist of it. He was telling her aunt that
Sarah was the only maid missing, no doubt.

After a few moments, her aunt’s door was
closed and the servant made his way back down the hall and took up
his position near the main stairs again.

He’d been sent to catch her when she came
out.

Poor Sarah.

Unsettled by the chaos she’d created, Demi
moved back to her bed and climbed in, wondering if she had done the
wrong thing by taking the coward’s way out, despite Sarah’s
insistence. She knew Sarah was right in one respect, though. She
couldn’t help Sarah if she couldn’t help herself, and Sarah had
already taken the step of coming down. She would still have been in
trouble, but possibly not nearly as much. She might have been able
to think of a reasonable excuse for being downstairs in the middle
of the night, or at least something that wouldn’t get her instantly
dismissed. Now she didn’t have that option.

She was still wondering what Sarah would do
when she heard a door open. Leaping from the bed, she raced across
the room on tiptoe and planted her ear against the door panel.

“
There ye are, ye brazen
hussy! Lady Moreland left word yer to pack at once an’ take yerself
off.”

“
Did she?” Lord Wyndham
said coolly. “Well, in that case, I think I should take myself off,
as well. Have my carriage readied. I’ll send my man around in the
morning to collect my things.”

“
But … but, my lord! It’s
the middle of the night. The stablehands’re all abed … and her
ladyship won’t be at all happy with this.”

“
Her happiness, of course,
is my first concern,” Garrett responded sardonically.

“
I beg yer pardon, my lord.
I only meant that her ladyship would not want ye ta feel as if ye
must leave tonight.”

“
Nevertheless, as it
happens, I find I’m far too eager to shake the dust of Moreland
Abbey to wait for a more agreeable hour … and, in any case, I must
see that Sarah is safely settled at the inn. I might just as well …
enjoy the remainder of the night there.”

The door was closed again. After a few
moments, she heard Sarah and the manservant move off. Devastated,
Demi turned and stared at her bed for several moments and finally
moved across the room and climbed in.

She’d thought she was willing to face
anything only to be with Garrett one last time before he vanished
from her life forever, but she’d never expected anything even
nearly as horrendous as what had happened. Not only had she
succeeded in thoroughly disgusting Garrett of her, but she’d gotten
Sarah discharged.

She was almost sorry she hadn’t leapt from
Garrett’s window.

On the other hand, it seemed unlikely it
would have ended things for her, or changed anything for the better
for anyone else. Sarah had rushed to her rescue the moment she’d
heard the commotion. Her aunt would probably still have blamed her
for Demi’s faults, probably would still have discharged her without
a reference--and she would probably have ended up crippled, still
married to Flemming, but no longer able to outrun him.

The only thing she could’ve done to help
Sarah was not to have gone at all and, upon reflection, it had been
disastrous all the way around. She wondered what had possessed her
to say the things she had, to make Garrett think she was such a
terrible person. She’d been angry and hurt, but that wasn’t an
excuse for adding stupidity to the situation. She supposed, maybe
in the darkest part of her mind, she’d thought some of those things
or it wouldn’t have occurred to her to say them at all, but she
hadn’t done any of it for that reason, and now she’d never be able
to convince Garrett that she hadn’t. Even if he allowed her to
explain, even if he accepted it because he wanted to, in the back
of his mind that seed of doubt must always remain.

Sighing, she lay back against her pillows
and pulled the covers up, trying to dredge up enough self pity to
indulge in a good cry. Unfortunately, the magnitude of her
transgressions was such that she was too shocked even to find that
tiny refuge of relief. Eventually, however, exhaustion overwhelmed
her.

Chapter Thirteen

The room was bright with light when the maid
tapped at her door the following morning. Demi bolted upright in
bed, certain at first that it was the summons from her aunt that
she’d been more than half expecting from the moment she’d escaped
detection the night before.

“
I’ve brought a tray to
break your fast,” said a feminine voice from the other side of the
panel that Demi didn’t recognize.

She stared blankly at the door for several
moments, trying to bring the blurred image into focus even while
she worked on making sense of the confusion in her mind. Finally,
she saw that she’d unbolted the door the night before and fell back
onto her pillows, grateful she’d remembered to do so since it meant
she didn’t have to get out of bed. “Come!” she slurred sleepily,
grabbing her coverlet and pulling it over her head as she rolled
onto her side.

The night before crashed down upon her,
driving sleep beyond her grasp as she listened disinterestedly to
the maid’s footsteps as she crossed the room and set the tray on
the table near the bed. The smells of tea and fresh baked bread
wafted to her. Instead of a welcome, familiar smell, it made her
feel vaguely nauseated.

“
Lady Moreland says to tell
ye the seamstress is here for yer final fitting and not to keep her
waiting too long. I can help ye dress if ye like, Miss
Demitria.”

Demi groaned. “I don’t see much point in
dressing if I’m to have the woman in here pulling it off directly,”
she muttered sullenly. “Just give me a few moments to wake up and
she can come up.”

“
Yes, miss,” the maid said
and disappeared again.

When the door had closed, Demi flung off the
covers and sat up. Her head was pounding, but that was hardly
surprising given her activities the night before and the fact that
she’d probably not slept more than four or five hours at the most.
With an effort, she dragged herself from the bed and moved to the
washstand to bathe.

She wondered as she did so what she was
going to do about the maid’s gown she’d filched from the laundry,
and the damaged pantalets. Sarah would have helped her cover her
transgressions, but Sarah was gone and she was completely on her
own now.

In truth, she couldn’t find that she cared a
great deal any longer whether her aunt found out or not. She wasn’t
certain that she’d ever cared. She simply hadn’t wanted to be
discovered before she could do what she set out to do and
afterwards she had been determined to make certain she wasn’t
discovered so that Garrett couldn’t accuse her of having done it to
trap him into marrying her. There was no longer much danger of that
now that he was gone. In a few days, she knew she would be marrying
Flemming, so it didn’t seem to matter whether it was discovered
after she’d left or not.

She finally set it aside, realizing that she
wasn’t in any state of mind to consider either the importance of
covering her tracks or a plan to do so that might have some chance
of success. When she finished bathing, she moved to the armoire and
found a fresh pair of pantalets, stockings, and a chemise and sat
down to dress herself. She couldn’t put her corset on properly
without help, but she donned it haphazardly, realizing the
seamstress would no doubt want to adjust it anyway.

She was tying her garters when a knock came
on her door once more. Listlessly, she pulled her dressing gown
over her shoulders and called out permission to enter. The
seamstress, followed by her two assistants entered the room
carrying several boxes. To her surprise, she had discovered the
first time they’d come for a fitting that her aunt had actually
commissioned two new day gowns and a walking dress besides the
wedding gown.

Under the circumstances, she hadn’t been
terribly excited, even though it was the first time that she could
remember actually getting gowns that had been made specifically for
her. She tried to dredge up some pleasure as the women opened the
boxes and displayed the finished gowns, but they had been designed
with her position as the pastor’s wife in mind and were far more
serviceable and practical than lovely.

Nevertheless, when her aunt came in to
observe the proceedings, she did her best to appear both
resigned--which she was--and pleased--which she wasn’t.

A wave of nausea washed over her again when
the wedding gown was brought out. The dress was not to her taste,
but she rather thought it was what the dress represented that
caused her distress. Regardless, she said nothing, allowing them to
push and pull and turn her once they had it on her and had adjusted
it.

The dress didn’t fit her particularly well
she saw when she was allowed to study it in the mirror above her
dressing table, but then, since everything she’d owned previously
had been made for Phoebe, she wasn’t accustomed to having gowns
that fit particularly well anyway. When she’d looked it over long
enough to appear at least a little interested, she turned away
again.

“
The veil,” her aunt
instructed, gesturing toward the one box remaining on her
bed.

Demi’s belly clenched and a feeling of
uneasiness washed over her. Without a word, she sat on the bench
and allowed one of the seamstress’s assistants to comb and arrange
her hair and then attach the cap and veil that went with the
gown.

“
There. Stand up and let me
have a look at you.”

Sighing, Demi stood and turned slowly so
that her aunt could examine her. Finally, Alma Moreland nodded. “It
will do. Thank you, Mrs. Sloan. You may go.”

When the seamstress and her assistants had
left, Lady Moreland fixed her with a look that brooked no argument.
“Mr. Flemming is waiting at the church. Can I depend upon you to
behave suitably? For I must tell you I have had quiet enough of
your belligerence of late and I don’t mean to deal with it today of
all days. It’s to be a quiet wedding, naturally, all things
considered, but we must have witnesses.”

The wave of nausea rushed back. “Today?”
Demi asked faintly. “It’s today?”

Lady Moreland shrugged. “You made it clear
you had no interest in the proceedings. You cannot complain now
that you were not kept informed of the arrangements. Now, you can
either comport yourself as the young lady I brought you up to be,
or I can summon a couple of footmen and have your dosed with
laudanum to assure us that you will be compliant. Which is it to
be?”

As horrifying as the suggestion was, Demi
felt an urge to request the laudanum. She rather relished the
thought of being oblivious to what was happening. “You do not need
to summon the footmen,” she said quietly. “But … perhaps a little
laudanum … just to settle my nerves?”

Lady Moreland eyed her suspiciously but
finally nodded and moved to the door and grasped the bell pull,
then hesitated and turned to look at Demi speculatively. “Come
along to my room. I’d just as soon it wasn’t common knowledge that
you’d had to be sedated to go through with the wedding.”

Meekly, Demi left the room and walked ahead
of her aunt to her aunt’s room. She’d never been in her aunt’s room
more than once or twice and once they were in the sitting room, she
glanced around curiously as her aunt disappeared into her
bedchamber. A few moments later, she reappeared with a small vial
and held it out. “A capful, I should think, will be enough to
settle your nerves.”

Nodding, Demi took the vial and studied it
for several moments. She’d never taken any, but she knew that both
Lady Moreland and Phoebe dosed themselves with it whenever they
were overwrought and unable to rest. Removing the lid with fingers
that shook, she studied it a moment and finally put the bottle to
her lips and turned it up, taking a long swallow. It tasted
ghastly.

Before she could take another sip, her aunt
slapped the bottle from her hand. “Are you out of your mind? You
cannot … gulp it as if it were nothing but water! You will kill
your fool self!”

Demi stared at her wide eyed. “I have taken
too much?” she gasped, horrified.

Lady Moreland shook her head, though she
looked distinctly unnerved as she picked up the bottle and examined
it. “Most of it has spilled now. How am I to tell that, you
wretched girl!”

Demi placed a hand over her stomach and one
over her wildly fluttering heart. “Do you think I should try to
bring it up?” she asked, feeling a cold fear wash over her with the
realization that she’d swallowed something potentially fatal. Her
aunt wasn’t inclined to worry overmuch about her. If she was
anxious, then Demi certainly felt that there was cause for
alarm.

“
And have you arrive at the
church smelling as if you’d just been sick!” Lady Moreland snapped.
Finally, she shook her head. “I’m sure it was not more than a
swallow and you will be fine. You have only just broke your fast,
so you’ve enough food in your stomach to make it safe enough, I
feel certain.”