A Wedding in Springtime (22 page)

“George! These are beautiful!”

“I thought they would look nice with your coloring,” said George like he had been living in Town all his life.

“Why, yes, yes, they will. Thank you so much.” Genie gave George a warm hug. “But how could you possibly afford them?”

“Like I said, I have had a run of good luck. The cards love me!”

“Father and Mama would not approve of you gambling.”

“They would not approve of me losing money, but you see, I’m winning money. I cannot lose!”

“I do not think that is exactly what they meant by not approving of gambling.”

“I told you I wanted to do something to help you. I have seen the way so many of these ladies dress, all flash and sparkle. I know you haven’t a single earbob from Mama, so I thought your baby brother could come to your aid.”

“Thank you, George, now please go to sleep.” She could not help but feel concern over his gray complexion.

“Yes, Genie,” he said with puppy dog eyes.

“And go back to school.”

“One more night tonight and then I’ll go.”

Genie gave her brother another big hug.

Outside the window, Grant snapped the reins and drove off in his phaeton. He had seen enough.

***

Penelope glanced around her bedroom to ensure she was alone. The outside letter was a note asking her to direct this letter to Madame X and no one else (this last part was underlined). Inside was another sealed letter with the simple direction, Madame X. No signature accompanied the missive and no identifying marks were given. She examined the handwriting, but she did not know it. She turned the letter in her hands, wondering what to do.

Of course there was no Madame X, except herself and the dowager. She wondered if she should turn the letter over to the dowager but stopped, pondering why the letter had been addressed to her in the first place. It seemed more reasonable if someone was trying to connect with Madame X that they would ask the dowager, so why was the note addressed to Penelope? Only one way to find out.

Penelope broke the seal. When she unfolded the paper, a hundred-pound note fluttered to the floor. She stared at it as if it might jump up and bite her. She scooped it up quickly and read the note.

Dear Madame X,

I write you for I am greatly distressed and do not know where to turn for help. I have accepted an offer of marriage that is not of my parents’ choosing. Unfortunately, I am already officially betrothed to another. How can I break this long-standing marriage contract and wed the man I choose?

I have included a small deposit. If you choose to help, please send me advice through Mrs. Roberts at 7 Chandos Street, London.

Sincerely,

Desperate

Pen read the letter again and again. Who was this “Desperate” character? And who was Mrs. Roberts and how had she heard about Madame X? No, Pen could guess the answer to the second question. She had overheard Lady Bremerton whisper to the Comtesse de Marseille that she had retained the help of an infamous matchmaker, Madame X. The news must have spread.

Penelope thought about the situation for a while, then composed a response. She rubbed the crisp hundred-pound note between her fingers. She had never felt one before. There must be a rationale that would allow her not to tell the dowager but still keep the money, but alas she could not think of one. Whoever “Desperate” was, she had gone to great lengths to prevent the dowager from reading her letter, and Penelope was determined to find out why.

With a longing glance, she folded the hundred-pound note back into the letter and sealed it, addressing it simply to “Desperate.” She then wrapped it in a second paper and sealed it also, addressing it to the mysterious Mrs. Roberts.

Penelope put the letter in a book to conceal it and walked downstairs to rejoin the dowager. Tomorrow, Pen planned an outing. This letter would not be franked; no, this letter she planned to deliver to Mrs. Roberts herself.

Twenty-two

“I am looking for Mrs. Roberts. Can you direct me?” Penelope Rose asked the young man at the apothecary. The day after she received the mysterious missive, she followed the direction in the letter to a storefront in a nicer part of Town. The sign on the door said “Dr. Roberts” and inside there was an apothecary with rows and rows of bottles on the wall behind a smart young man in an apron at the counter.

“No Mrs. Roberts here, ma’am. Just a Dr. Roberts.”

“Perhaps Dr. Roberts has a wife or a mother?” suggested Penelope.

“No, ma’am.”

“Are you sure? I received a letter from a Mrs. Roberts and I am looking for her.”

“No, ma’am. No missus and both of Dr. Roberts’s parents are deceased, ma’am. God rest their souls.”

“Yes, quite so,” answered Penelope absently. This was not the answer she expected. She wanted to find this Mrs. Roberts, but apparently she did not exist.

“Can you tell me something of Dr. Roberts? Has he been in practice long?”

“Dr. Roberts is a fine gentleman physician, ma’am. Best in London. He has been called to treat the queen and other notable persons. He is quite well known.”

“I have never heard of him.”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but it is not the healthy who need the doctors.”

The sound of laughing and murmuring of happy conversation floated down from above.

“The doctor is seeing a patient,” explained the lad at the counter.

More laughter could be heard. “I do not remember my visits with the doctor being so diverting,” said Penelope under her breath. “I would like an appointment. May I see him next?” asked Penelope.

“Oh no, he is far too busy. He only accepts certain cases.”

Penelope opened her mouth to argue, but the door upstairs opened at that moment and out walked Lady Louisa.

“Thank you very much, Dr. Roberts,” she said in more sober tones. “My mother will appreciate your advice.”

“Please let me know if I can be of any greater assistance,” said the doctor. He was a young man, handsome and tall. His features were pleasing and his eyes were dancing and bright. If he were to be the physician, Penelope would hardly mind being sick.

“Dr. Roberts,” called the man behind the counter. “This young lady was looking for a Mrs. Roberts. Do you know who she is talking about?”

Louisa froze, recognizing Penelope. Louisa appeared to grow visibly pale, but the impression lasted but a moment. With crisp determination, Louisa continued down the stairs.

“You are looking for Mrs. Roberts?” The doctor followed Louisa down the stairs, his brows knit together.

“I have a letter for her,” said Penelope.

“I can take that,” said the doctor briskly.

“Is she here? I would like to deliver it myself.”

“No, no, she is…” Dr. Roberts glanced at the lad behind the counter, then at Louisa. “A cousin. She is a cousin of mine. She will arrive soon. I will see that she receives it.”

“Forgive me, but I have been given very particular instructions to hand this to no one but Mrs. Roberts herself.”

Louisa and the good doctor exchanged a glance, but neither said a word.

“Then I wish you luck in finding her,” said the good doctor. “Might I suggest you send it through the post? Perhaps you would have better luck in routing it to the right person.” He bowed to the ladies and caught Louisa’s eye once more.

“Good day, Dr. Roberts,” said Louisa.

“Good day, Lady Louisa,” he said gravely and disappeared back up the stairs.

“Lady Louisa, how remarkable that we meet here,” commented Pen.

“It is not terribly remarkable. My mother is a patient of Dr. Roberts. I come regularly to pick up her medication and get advice from the doctor.”

“I see.” Penelope was not sure she did see, but she was determined to find out. “How fortunate for me that you were here. I took a hack here, so if you would not mind, I should love to ride back to Marchford house on your way home. It is on the way, yes?”

Louisa shot her a glance that conveyed she would rather have hot pokers stabbed in her eyes than share a coach with Penelope Rose. Penelope merely smiled. She was accustomed to having that effect on people.

“Yes, please do join me.” Lady Louisa’s jaw was so clenched Penelope wondered that she could speak at all.

Penelope climbed into the Bremerton town coach, which was, naturally, quite nice and more than a little pretentious. Penelope took a seat across from Louisa, who averted her gaze in a feeble attempt to pretend Penelope was not there.

“Have you known Dr. Roberts long?” asked Penelope politely.

“He is our family physician,” Lady Louisa said in quelling accents. My, but the aristocracy did know how to give a set-down to the commoners. Unfortunately for Louisa, Penelope was not about to take a polite hint.

“I do hope Lady Bremerton is not terribly ill.”

“Nervous complaint,” said Louisa, still focusing her gaze outside the carriage.

“Did the doctor come recommended?”

“Indeed, from your mistress, the Duchess of Marchford. He has even served as a consultant to the queen, so yes, Miss Rose, he does come highly recommended.”

“Is that how you met him? Through the duchess?”

Louisa turned toward her, a spark of anger in her eye. “I met him because he was the personal physician to the sixth Duke of Marchford. Dr. Roberts did everything he could, brought Frederick back from death’s door more times than I care to remember, and yet it was not the will of Providence for Frederick to survive. There now, Miss Rose, have you any more questions for me?”

Penelope sat quietly for a few minutes. She could be obtuse, but she tried not to be rude. Louisa turned to stare out the window. How difficult it must be for her, Penelope suddenly realized. To be engaged to be married, only to watch her fiancé slowly die and thus find oneself obligated to marry the brother. Even though the current Duke of Marchford was not a poor-looking specimen, he clearly held no particular regard for Louisa.

Penelope knew conversation was not welcomed, yet an opportunity to speak to Louisa without others overhearing may not come again soon. She had questions and she was convinced Louisa had the answers.

“It is very strange that I could not find Mrs. Roberts. I was given clear instructions to make sure this letter was delivered directly to her hands and none else.” Penelope drew the letter out of her reticule and Louisa’s gaze snapped to it.

“In your visits to Dr. Roberts, have you met a Mrs. Roberts?” asked Penelope, watching carefully to gauge Louisa’s reply.

“On occasion I believe I may have. Would you like me to give this to her?” She leaned forward, eyes still on the letter.

“I have been tasked with finding this Mrs. Roberts. Can you help me?”

“She is… reclusive, but I can get it to her. You can trust me.”

“Can I?” Penelope let the question hang and Louisa turned away. “Lady Louisa, did you write me a letter to be directed to Madam X?”

Lady Louisa said nothing.

“I can confirm the handwriting with Miss Talbot if I need to. Is that why you sent the letter to me instead of to the dowager? She no doubt would recognize your handwriting.”

“What do you want? Money? Do you wish me to buy your silence, Miss Rose?”

Penelope recoiled back into the squabs as if she had been doused in cold water. “Open your letter, Mrs. Roberts.” Penelope held out the letter, which Louisa took.

Louisa opened the seals and caught the hundred-pound note before it fluttered to the floorboards. She scanned the letter quickly, then put both it and the money away in her reticule. “I misjudged you. I do apologize.”

“The dowager has begun plans for the wedding.”

“I know. My mother has been planning for years.”

“Have you tried telling your mother you do not wish to wed the Duke of Marchford?”

“How could I? Mother was forced to marry Lord Bremerton when her sister eloped. She did so to raise the future of her children. She has lived on the expectancy that I would marry a duke since I was in my cradle.”

“Yes, I can see your point. But if you are determined not to wed the duke, you must be willing to stand up to your mother.”

“Speaking my mind is one thing, but how do I garner her support?”

Support? Get Lady Bremerton to dissolve her daughter’s engagement to the duke? Never! “You may need to recognize your parents may not support you in this. But it is always your choice whether or not you wed. They may be angry, very angry, but they cannot force you to wed. Nor will they disown you and toss you from the house; they are too proud for that and you are their only child.”

“Yes, but how can I get them to support my marriage to another?”

Insight finally flashed. “Dr. Roberts? Are you in love with Dr. Roberts?” asked Penelope.

Louisa colored and evaded her eye. “I am sorry I was beastly to you. When you saw me with him, I was ready to sink.”

Penelope leaned back on the squabs and pondered Louisa’s predicament. This was a puzzle. Lady Louisa marry a gentleman physician instead of the duke? Penelope shook her head. It was impossible to imagine Lord and Lady Bremerton would accept that.

“We fell in love over time,” said Louisa so softly Pen could hardly hear over the squeaking and jostling of the carriage. “We were in each other’s company many times when Frederick was ill. I did love Frederick. I wished to marry him at his bedside, but he wanted to give me the wedding he felt I deserved. He wanted to stand next to me, not lie on some bed. So we waited for him to recover, but it was never to be.”

Louisa took out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “Dr. Roberts was very compassionate. Afterward, he was kind, friendly. My mother took on nerves, so he was frequently at the house. He talked to me, made me laugh. The feelings came on so gradually, we never noticed them until it was too late.”