Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (9 page)

Of course, Millicent thought, that
was before Wentworth had married her to enhance his social status. How ironic
that within a few years, Rebecca Neville would come back from the American
colonies, marry Lord Stanmore, and provide Millicent with an ally who would
help her fight for her liberty.

Despite the different roads that
they had taken, fate had certainly brought the two school friends together
again after nearly a decade apart. And Millicent would be forever grateful to
Rebecca and Stanmore for helping her climb back onto her feet and manage to
keep Melbury Hall after the squire’s death.

Mrs. Trent, the housekeeper at
Solgrave, was as friendly as ever when she led Millicent to the library.
Inside, the young woman had only just managed to remove her hat and gloves before
her friend rushed in to meet her.

“I was going to come to Melbury
Hall to see you myself this afternoon.”

Millicent returned Rebecca’s
embrace. “I couldn’t risk not seeing you during the short time you were here. I
heard you are only staying overnight.”

“We are on our way to visit my
mother-in-law in Scotland. Depending on the traveling conditions, we should
only be gone for a month, but we had to stop here.” Rebecca stepped back,
holding Millicent at arm’s length and studying her friend carefully. “Stanmore
and I couldn’t believe your news. You are
married
again.” 

“It is true.”

“To the Earl of Aytoun.”

Millicent nodded.

“But you didn’t know him before,
did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Seeing how puzzled her friend
looked, Millicent sat down on the settee with her and told her about the
dowager’s letter. Short of getting into the exact details of their financial
arrangement, she explained everything else.  

Rebecca listened quietly and then
chose her words carefully. “Did you know anything about the man? About his
reputation?”

“Yes. Sir Oliver forewarned me, and
I have heard a great deal since. But I consider much of it simply rumor and
gossip.”

“Then you know that some have
openly accused him of pushing his wife over the cliffs at Baronsford.”

“I believe she slipped and fell—as
he did, trying to go down and help her. She died, but his fate has been almost
as bad. He appears to be crippled, most likely for life.” Millicent shook her
head. “I spoke to the dowager at length about that accident, and about the
other accusations. Lord Aytoun is
a much different man now than he may
have been a year ago. He is quite subdued in every sense.”

Rebecca’s hands clutched
Millicent’s tightly. “You know I am not one to meddle in anyone’s life, but you
have been married to him only a week, and already I see the strain in your
face. You look tired.”

She tried to smile. “I am the one
to blame for that. Not him.”

“And why is that?”

Millicent rose from the settee and
walked to the large window overlooking the lake. This was the same question she
had been asking of herself. “When I agreed to marry him, I convinced myself
that I was simply offering his family a place where Lord Aytoun would be cared
for.” She turned to face her friend. “You know me, Rebecca. I have no illusions
about love. They were crushed out long ago. But at the same time I know
the
importance of having a husband. This marriage to the Earl of Aytoun presented
me with the most ideal situation I could ever have hoped for. By this union, I would have gained a husband without the fear that comes with having one. I am
married without having to be a wife.”   

“Things are not going as you
planned.”

“No. I…I find that I feel sorry for
him. He has no use of his legs, his arm. He spends most of the day in a silent
stupor. He is as wretched as any beggar on the side of a London street. Yet I
can see the pain in his eyes. He does not want this kind of existence.”

“Is there no way you can help him?
Perhaps different doctors. Or by finding ways of challenging his mind, at
least. There are many ways you might be able to improve the quality of his
life.”

Rebecca would know about this. For
ten years, she had lived on her own in the colonies and raised the earl’s son,
James. The boy had a misshapen hand and was partly deaf.

“But…but I fear I have married too
far above my position,” Millicent blurted out. “I am certain he sees how
deficient I am, and what Melbury Hall lacks.”

“Even without knowing him, I doubt
that is true. I know you never give yourself the credit that is due.” Rebecca’s
voice resonated with the passion of her belief. “You said yourself he spends
his days in a stupor. So there is no way for you to know what he thinks or
feels. Now, as far as improving on the condition of his life, I think you
should be yourself. Do what your heart tells you to do and help him as far as
he lets you. And there is no reason to worry about what happens beyond that.
The future is as mysterious as the man you have married. But that is true for
all of us. None of us can tell what awaits us down the road.”     

So true
, Millicent admitted.
She was worrying about forever, when tomorrow was the challenge that she had to
face.

****

Through the mist and the gloom, he
could catch only glimpses of Emma. She was holding up her skirts with one hand
and running like a doe, weaving in and out between the stunted pines.

The wind-driven rain was on his
face, in his eyes. Lyon wiped the wetness away, trying to see her. His legs
were heavy, as if he were running in deep sand. The trees and brambles tore at
his face and clothes, but he could not let her go. He glanced back at Baronsford, the walls rising gloomily in the gray of the gathering storm.

Turning, Lyon saw her again, her
golden hair flying behind her as she disappeared in the mist by the cliffs. The
rain was stinging his face, and he slipped and stumbled on the path.

Pierce’s startling revelation was
still clouding his mind. The hostile accusations of his brother continued to
stab at his sense of honor. But how could he defend himself against something
that he was ignorant of? Emma had the answers. She had to make Lyon understand. She had to come back with him and face the truth.

Lyon’s chest was burning as he
regained his balance and pushed himself to run harder.

The echo of Emma’s scream filled
the hills.

The break in the trees came
quickly, and the path was slick where it turned at the cliff. Lyon could not
see the far side of the river. All was bleak and gray. The path along the bluff was empty, except for the billowy mists.

And then he saw her--there at the
bottom. Her golden hair spread around her on the rocks. Her eyes stared up at
him, unseeing.

Lyon awoke with a start and stared
at the unfathomable darkness that surrounded him. He was dead. He had slipped
and fallen down those same cliffs. 

A shadow moved over him. Cold hands
pressed against the fevered skin of his face. He stared into the concerned face
of his wife. If he was dead, it was clear that he had not won heaven.

At best, this was only purgatory.

****

Millicent stared out the window of
the Morning Room at the shining new chaise the physician had driven up from London. A groom and his manservant stood at the head of the handsome pair of geldings,
talking and stamping their feet in the cold.

Though they had been out there an
hour, when Millicent had sent out hot drinks and asked them to come in for
something to eat, they had declined. Dr. Parker had told them to wait with the
carriage, as they would be staying for only a few moments before going on to
Lord Eglinton’s estate near Chiswell Green today.

She continued to pace the room. Dr.
Parker had been abrupt and dismissive when she’d greeted him upon his arrival,
and the doctor and his assistant had gone directly upstairs to Lord Aytoun’s
chambers. Aside from asking that some food be sent up, the physician had
declined with a wave of his hand her offer of spending the night at Melbury
Hall. His other patients, who were “too lofty in London’s social circles to
name,” needed him. He must return to the city immediately.

 The physician’s comment did not
sit well with Millicent as she again found herself being reminded of her own
social position. She would never have been in Lord Aytoun’s company if it were
not for his accident. But despite the slight, Millicent was quite happy that
he’d made the trip out, for she had dozens of questions about the earl’s
condition, and they were becoming more pressing with each passing day.   

Dr. Parker didn’t keep her waiting
much longer. While the man’s assistant went directly to the carriage, Gibbs
showed the doctor to the Morning Room. Millicent gestured for him to sit down,
but the man ignored her invitation and glanced at a watch he kept on a gleaming
gold chain in his waistcoat pocket.

“All is well, m’lady,” the
physician said in a slightly hurried voice. “There will be no need for any new
medicine, but I have directed Lord Aytoun’s manservant to increase the
frequency of the dosage that we began in London. So now, if you will forgive
me, Lady Aytoun, I shall be on my way.” He turned to the door. “I do not know
when I shall return to Melbury Hall, but perhaps now that the earl is under
such capable care, I could send out my very able assistant every fortnight or
so, and I shall keep you advised as to his lordship’s condition.”

“I do have a few questions, Dr.
Parker, which I was hoping you might answer for me.” She took a step toward
him, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. “They concern the earl’s general
health.”

The physician paused and turned
back to her. His bushy brows drew into a tight frown.

“I don’t believe you need to be
troubling yourself, m’lady. Lord Aytoun is in my care now, and I shall see to
it that his lordship gets whatever care he needs.”

“I am not doubting your abilities
in the slightest, sir. I am certain that the dowager would have enlisted your
services only if she had the greatest confidence in you.”

“As I may have mentioned earlier,”
he began, puffing up with a pompous air, “my clients consist only of the most
elite members of London’s
ton
.”

 “I am certain that is true, and to
have a physician of your stature journey all the way out to Hertfordshire is
greatly appreciated.”

Millicent watched as his attitude
settled into one of benign condescension.

“Of course,” he said slowly,
smiling as if he had just learned something profound about her. “Your concern
for your new husband is understandable, if not admirable. And I shall be certain to convey your concern to her ladyship, the dowager countess.”

“That is hardly necessary, I assure
you. But with regard to the earl’s treatment—”

He raised a plump hand to stop her.
“You do understand, m’lady, that I have never been involved with his lordship’s
external injuries.”

“I understand that. But—”

“I have been informed that a Scotch
surgeon from Edinburgh, named Wilkins or Wallace or something similar, set the
bones after his lordship’s…er, unfortunate fall from the cliff. Now, if that
man’s negligence has caused Lord Aytoun to continue having difficulty using his
legs and his right arm, I cannot say one way or another. But after such a fall,
I would tend to place the blame on the blow he received.”

“My question has to do with my
husband’s treatment
now
.”

The physician looked at her as if
she were a child intent on trying his patience.

“As I said, Dr. Parker, I
appreciate your coming to Melbury Hall. I simply want to know your view of my
husband’s condition and what your plans are for treatment. What, for example,
did you do today?”

“Very well, Lady Aytoun,” the
doctor said shortly. “If you insist on knowing every detail, I checked his
lordship’s pulse and had a sample of urine taken. Lord Aytoun’s condition is
unchanged from ten days ago, when I saw him last.” 

“Indeed, you’ve hit on it exactly,
sir,” she replied. “Since the second night of his stay at Melbury Hall, I have
been sitting with him for several hours each night.”

“Have you, m’lady?” he said, his
eyebrows going up in surprise.

“I have. And what I found was that
at night his lordship is unsettled. He does not sleep soundly, so far as I can
tell, and when he is awake he is not completely aware of his surroundings.”
Millicent’s fingers twisted together. “Initially, I thought that perhaps my
perception was skewed because of the hour of my visit, so I questioned his man,
Gibbs, as to the best time to come. But I was told that during the daytime Lord
Aytoun is particularly unfit for company.”

“I do not know what you mean by
these comments, Lady Aytoun,” Parker said defensively. He looked at his watch
again.

“Gibbs has confirmed that his
lordship’s sleep is fretful. Moreover, when he is awake, Lord Aytoun is far
more agitated than he has been in the past. Added to that, I have been informed
that he does not wish to eat. He does not drink. Any nourishment he takes at
all is forced upon him. I simply cannot help but think that something serious
might be wrong, and that his condition is getting worse.”

Dr. Parker fixed her with a
disapproving glare. “Lord Aytoun is being administered some very powerful
medicine, m’lady. To be exact, he is presently being given a tincture of opium,
the preferred treatment for someone in his condition. That is, the preferred
treatment for someone in his mental state and whom the family insists on caring
for at home. The opium functions to calm him, to control the melancholia and
avoid the need for securing him or locking him away.”

“Why should he be locked away?”

“To keep his lordship from injuring
himself during the blackest moments.”

“But he appears to be getting
less—”