Marriage of Inconvenience (19 page)

“Why are you out of charity with your cousin?”

“We used to have so much fun together. Before she came.”

His insides jarred. His pulse accelerated. “What are you implying?” Peter was much closer to Rebecca’s age than he was. Surely she... No, not Rebecca. If she gave a vow of fidelity, she would keep it. He felt certain of that.

She shrugged. “I thought Peter must have fallen in love with her, and I made similar accusations to her.”

He could barely get out the words, he was holding his breath so. “What did she have to say to that?”

“She told me Peter was very much in love with me and wanted to marry me more than anything.”

The air seemed to swish from his lungs. “You’ve only to look at him to understand that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. He’s so different.”

“In what way?”

She thought about it for a moment before answering. “He’s more mature, actually.”

He had thought the very same thing. “It appeared you two were getting along well during the play.”

“We all had great fun practicing and painting sets every evening.”

“And we all had great fun watching it. I look forward to the next. Have you decided what your next project will be?”

She got to her feet. “No. I believe I shall go take a walk all by myself. That’s when I think most clearly.”

* * *

The dining room had never been more somber than it had been earlier that night, without Rebecca. The absence of Dorothy’s portrait only served to remind all of them that Dunton Hall had a new mistress, a new mistress who took her mothering duties seriously. He felt wretched he had treated her in so vile a manner.

Emily and Peter barely spoke. Had Rebecca been present, she would have kept up a lively banter.

He had to admit it—he missed her—even if he was angry with her.

When bedtime came, he knew he would have to see her because he needed to peek in on Chuckie. He knocked on Rebecca’s chamber door.

“Come in.”

As he moved into the semidark chamber, she parted the bed curtains, and when she saw him, she opened them wider. She wore that snow-white nightgown, spectacles, and held a book in her hand.

“I wished to check on Chuckie,” he said.

“I was obliged to send for Beaver an hour ago to administer more drops in his ear. He’s been very sick. The fever hasn’t abated for a single minute.” She could not conceal the worry in her hoarse whisper. “He’s asleep now, but the pain will awaken him anew.”

He nodded and spoke in a low voice. “I’ve been through this with the other children. Nasty business, but he’ll probably be better again in the morning.” He walked to Chuckie’s side of the bed and pulled back the curtain to peer at him, not without his heart swelling. Aynsley’s lashes lifted, and he met Rebecca’s grave expression. “I will expect you to awaken me should you need me for any reason.”

A solemn nod was her only response.

She did not awaken him that night, but on the third night she did.

His son was critically ill, and his wife was just short of hysteria.

Chapter Eighteen

N
either the physician’s visits nor Beaver’s mint drops made any difference in Chuckie’s condition. His fever continued to rage. He no longer cried out from the ear pain, though Rebecca thought she might have preferred that pitiful sound to the complete listlessness that now decimated the child. For hours he had lain in her bed, oblivious to any comment she would make.

She had asked if he would like her to read him a story, but he did not respond. That alarmed her because he was always begging her to read to him. She tried to think of all the things he liked best. What about toad-in-the-hole biscuits—which he’d always happily devoured? But he barely managed to shake his head. The thing he loved most—other than riding the pony, which was out of the question now—was to climb upon his papa’s shoulders for a piggyback ride. She asked if he would like that, but he made no response, other than a halfhearted blink of his eyes.

Even Beaver, who had vast experience with sick children, was baffled and worried. “Do you mean none of the children have ever had complaints like this?” Rebecca asked.

The old nurse sadly shook her head. “Not to where they wouldn’t talk no more.”

The words were like the slash of a saber to Rebecca’s already bruised heart. Yesterday she had thought nothing could hurt worse than losing her husband’s affection; now, she dreaded something even worse. Getting Chuckie well was the most important thing in her life. The sicker he became, the more fearful she grew.

The very thought of losing him brought tears to her eyes and a physical depression like nothing she had ever experienced, nor could she
undersplain
it, she thought, a feeble smile on her lips as she watched the rising and falling of his little chest. Since she felt that as long as she was watching him closely he couldn’t die, she was afraid to remove her gaze from him.

When she’d gone for two days without sleep, she knew she would have to renew herself. For his sake. That’s when she and Beaver started spelling each other watching over him.

On the third day of his illness Emily came to visit her youngest brother, which Rebecca felt must have taken a great deal of condescending on the girl’s part. All their estrangement was forgotten the minute Emily clapped her eyes on the pitiful sight of the dangerously ill three-year-old. Her tears came immediately, and as if to assure herself he wasn’t dead, she took his listless hand.

She looked up into Rebecca’s troubled face. “I had no idea he was so sick.”

All Rebecca could do was nod. Her own eyes kept filling with tears.

“What does Mr. Mostyn say?”

Rebecca shrugged. “It gives me no satisfaction that he’s finally agreeing with my worries.”

Emily gasped.

“Does my father know?”

“Your father is out of charity with me, so he comes but once a day to check on Chuckie. He’s been nothing but optimistic, assuring me that Chuckie’s recovery is imminent.” That was all she would say to Emily on the matter of her marital estrangement. The girl was bound to know the source of his anger with Rebecca since she had to be the perpetrator of their rift.

Late that night, after Beaver and Emily had left Rebecca’s bedchamber and after the household had fallen asleep, Chuckie went into convulsions.

Rebecca screamed, hoping her husband would hear and come to her chamber.

* * *

Aynsley had been sleeping soundly when a distant frantic noise awakened him. Even though the walls of Dunton were excessively thick, and two dressing rooms separated the earl’s and countess’s chambers, for some unexplainable reason, he’d been able to hear Rebecca’s forlorn call.

Immediately, he knew it was her voice that had severed him from sleep, knew that something dreadful had happened. He threw off his blankets and took off running to her chamber.

His first harrowing thought was that Chuckie had died. Surely only death could prompt such a woebegone wail. Unimaginably painful panic gripped him. He did not think he could bear to learn what he most feared.

Rebecca stood in the darkened room, illuminated by the bedside oil lamp as she leaned over the bed, prostrate. She was nearly senseless. “Please help. Dear Lord!” Her eyes were riveted to the bed.

Half afraid of what he might find, he approached the bed with a viciously pounding heart and whipped back the curtains.

Convulsions had seized Chuckie’s small body, causing him to jerk uncontrollably. “I’ll take him. Quick, go get Beaver, and send for Mostyn!”

He hauled the child’s hot, wet body into his arms and held him close, his own pulse pounding prodigiously. He paced the floor, holding the child tightly and trying to speak reassuring words of comfort, even though he knew his boy was not conscious.

The time Rebecca was gone seemed interminable. Though he had not given much thought to God in the past few years, he did now. In his time of greatest need, there was only one who had the power to answer his prayer. His tears now falling, he prayed fervently to the Lord.
I beg, my Lord, You not forsake me or my poor son in our hour of need as I have forsaken You. I thought I had become a nonbeliever until I was tested, and now all my former love for You has come back tenfold. I beseech You to hear my prayer, my Lord, and I vow to abide by whatever You decide. I vow to let You be my guide in doing Christian works, not only with my family and in my village but also in Parliament. I ask this in Jesus’s name. Amen.

By the time Rebecca returned with Beaver, the intensity of Chuckie’s convulsions had lessened.

Beaver nodded and winced when she saw Chuckie’s severe trembling. “I’ve only seen this once before, and it was when the fever was so severe it made the child delirious.”

Rebecca nodded. “That’s how he’s been the past several hours. Insensible.”

“Perhaps we should try to cool him,” Beaver said.

Aynsley nodded. “It’s worth a try.” He lay the lad back on the bed and began to undress him while Beaver went to fetch water to put in Rebecca’s washbasin.

Over the next twenty minutes, they attempted to cool his fevered body. The convulsions finally ceased, but Chuckie still did not regain true consciousness. He did manage to bleat nonsensical words, which Rebecca professed to be happy to hear. “’Tis his first utterance in many hours.”

“Then I daresay your prayers must be working,” he said.

“How did you know I’ve been praying?” Rebecca asked.

“I know you.”

Once Chuckie lay peacefully on top of Rebecca’s bedcoverings, Aynsley sent Beaver back to her bed. “We’ll send for you if you’re needed.”

As the door shut behind Beaver, he met Rebecca’s stormy gaze and was powerless not to open his arms to her. She rushed into his embrace, weeping. The two of them stood there in her dark bedchamber holding each other tightly. The wrenching sound of her cries was oddly comforting—not because he could ever take pleasure in her suffering but because her misery perfectly mirrored that which he felt but was incapable of demonstrating.

He had thought by holding his wife in his arms he could console her. Now he understood he needed her even more than she needed him.

“I’m so worried,” she managed between sobs.

“He’ll be fine.” He wished he could believe his own words.

“Have you prayed?”

He nodded. “It’s your prayers—not those from a sinner like me—which the Lord would see fit to answer.”

“You might not have worshipped God as you should have, my love, but you’re a good man, a man who lends his voice to those who have none.”

In the midst of the worst gloom he could ever remember, his wife had interjected a ray of shining hope. “What did you just call me?”

“What does it matter?” She shrugged. “I don’t care if I embarrass myself. I don’t care about anything except Chuckie getting well.” She peered up at him. “You see, I’ve fallen in love with you.” She gave a little laugh. “Just when you took me into dislike.”

He lifted her chin. “I wanted to dislike you, but it’s difficult to dislike one with whom you’re in love.”

Her eyes widened. “How can you love me if you believe I’m a liar as well as a woman who’d betray you?”

“I don’t believe you’re a liar, nor do I think you’d betray me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Can you ever forgive me those wicked accusations?”

“Of course, my dearest. I brought it upon myself by not being honest with you about P. Corpus. I swear I will never lie to you as long as I live.”

He savored the feel of her as his eyes filled with tears and his voice became choked. “I know.”

* * *

The physician arrived an hour later. By then it was three in the morning. He examined Chuckie and repeated the same impotent instructions, then stood there wringing his hands in much the same way she and John had. Rebecca was beginning to think he did not know any more about getting Chuckie well than she did.

“Do not be alarmed over convulsions,” he told them. “I will own, they’re frightful to see, but they’re actually quite common in children, and I assure you most of those children fully recover.”

That, at least, was reassuring.

Mr. Mostyn took his leave and told them he would be back the following day.

Rebecca would do anything in her power to send her precious stepson back on the road to recovery, but she knew such power rested solely with the Almighty. Since the first night Chuckie had felt poorly, she had not stopped imploring God to heal the child who meant so much to her. Now that John, too, had mended his breach with the Lord, she had renewed hope that their dual appeal would be heard.

Despite the heaviness in her heart, she was comforted when John climbed onto her bed. Chuckie’s limp body lay in the center, with her on his left and his father on his right. Her husband’s presence helped to ease the ache that gnawed her insides.

Though he was still listless the following morning, Rebecca thought Chuckie’s fever was much less intense. John kissed each of them on the forehead. “I need a shave. Would you like me to have tea sent up?”

“Yes, please.”

A moment later Emily was in the chamber, swiftly moving to Rebecca’s bed to check the patient. She closed her eyes tightly and sighed. “I have prayed so mightily, I had hoped for improvement.”

Teary eyed, Rebecca faced Emily. “We’ve all been praying.”

Emily’s gaze swept around the curtained bed. “It’s so dark and dreary, why do you not open these curtains to let in the morning light?”

“Chuckie fancies this comforting, being within the enclosing curtains—as long as someone is here with him!” She tried to sound bright.

“It’s a credit to you that you’re the person he most wants.”

Those were the nicest words Emily had ever spoken to her. “Thank you. I am honored to have won his affection, but I assure you I return it a hundred fold.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Emily’s voice had softened. “I owe you an apology. I’ve behaved abominably to you.”

“You’ve done nothing which could destroy my affection for you.”

“You don’t know how I’ve wronged you.”

Rebecca peered into her eyes, eyes that were so much like Chuckie’s. “I think I do.”

“What do you mean?” Emily’s brows lifted.

“Did you perchance look over one of the letters your father wrote to me that I carelessly left in the library’s desk?”

“You know!” Emily covered her face with her hands and began to cry. “I’m so ashamed,” she managed between sobs. “I’m s-s-s-so sorry.”

“I forgive you.
Judge not, and ye shall not be judged; condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned; forgive, and ye shall be forgiven
.”

“Why has my father not reprimanded me because of my wicked actions?”

“Your father doesn’t know.”

“Surely you told him?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I confess, at first I wanted to—to exonerate myself—but I did not want to do anything which might diminish the happiness in our family.” She moved to her stepdaughter and hugged her.

Which made Emily cry even harder as her arms encircled Rebecca.

“As important as your father’s duties in the House of Lords are, the most important thing in his life is his family.”

“I don’t see how he could possibly still love me.”

“You cannot destroy the kind of love a father holds for his daughter.”

“I have still another confession.”

Rebecca patted her back.

“I forbade Spencer and Alex to call you Mother.”

Rebecca was tremendously relieved to learn she had done nothing to destroy Spencer’s affection. “There’s nothing wicked in that, love. It’s perfectly understandable you’d not want your mother either forgotten or replaced. Now, let’s not discuss this further. All is forgiven and forgotten. From this moment, we will start anew. I beg that you dry your tears.”

“I don’t know how you can think of us as family when I’ve been so horrid.”

“I never thought to have a family of my own. I confess there were at least seven reasons I wanted to marry your father—other than my affection for him.”

Emily swiped at her slick cheeks and eyed Rebecca skeptically. “You truly wanted a ready-made family?”

Rebecca nodded. Had it not been for the fact that Aynsley had seven motherless children, she would never have been able to gather the courage to make the bold proposal that resulted in their marriage—and brought her to these children who had come to mean so much to her.

Thank You, God, for answering my prayers, for filling my heart with love for Emily and for allowing us to move forward with the affection of a mother and daughter.
“I will confess, my very dear Emily, that I’m often guided by the Bible. ‘Bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you.’ If you recite things often enough, I have found that the Lord makes everything right.”

Then Rebecca’s somber gaze swept to Chuckie lying so eerily still, and her eyes filled with tears, her heart with unspeakable dread. “I pray the Lord continues to answer my prayers, to make everything right.” She looked into Emily’s misting blue eyes. Rebecca was powerless to prevent her tears from spilling onto her cheeks, powerless to keep her voice from cracking when she said, “All of our prayers.”