Читать книгу The Bargain - Mary Jo Putney - Страница 12

Sally tossed restlessly all night after she left the hospital, angry at the memory of the cool society beauty who had so casually used and discarded her brother. Even during her lessons with the Launceston children the next morning, her mind continued to churn.

As she left for her daily trip to the hospital, she realized she had been jolted out of her fatalism. For the last fortnight she had passively accepted the doctors’ verdict on David’s fate. Now her anger had given her a resolve not to give in so tamely. David was in no condition to fight for his life, but she was. If there was anything or anyone who might offer a chance of recovery, she would pursue it.

Before going to her brother’s room, Sally sought out her brother’s physician, Dr. Ramsey, determined to question every possibility. Dr. Ramsey was a solid man with an air of permanent fatigue. Unlike many of his colleagues, he was willing to admit the limits of his knowledge.

He blinked warily behind his spectacles when Sally caught him between patients, knowing from experience how persistent she could be. “Yes, Miss Lancaster?” he said with a rising inflection that implied he had very little time to talk.

“Dr. Ramsey, isn’t there anything more that can be done for my brother? He’s fading away in front of my eyes. Surely there must be something you can do.”

The physician removed his spectacles and polished them. “Major Lancaster’s case puzzles me. He’s holding on to life with remarkable tenacity, but there is so little that can be done in cases of paralysis.” He set his spectacles firmly on his nose. “Besides the paralysis, I suspect that he has sustained internal injuries which are beyond our present power to heal. All we can do is make his last days as comfortable as possible.”

Sally caught his wandering eye before he could escape. “I don’t wish to criticize your care. I know you’ve done everything you can, and I am profoundly grateful. Still—is there any physician or surgeon in London who might have a different approach, perhaps something that is radical by the usual standards? There is little to lose.”

Dr. Ramsey nodded. After a long moment of thought, he said, “There’s a mad Scot called Ian Kinlock at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. I hear that he just returned from Belgium and several weeks doing surgery after Waterloo. Very eccentric, but he’s done some remarkable things.”

The physician glanced at Sally’s modest dress. “He’s qualified as both physician and surgeon, and his fees for private consultations are very high. Apparently he charges people with money a great deal, then gives free care to gutter scum. Quite, quite mad. You’ll never persuade him to call on a patient at the York Hospital.”

“I have just come into some money unexpectedly. We shall see.”

She turned and strode down the hall. Behind her, she heard Dr. Ramsey mutter, “God help Ian Kinlock.” She didn’t dignify the comment by looking back.

Her mind was spinning as she walked to David’s room. Consulting a new surgeon was grasping at the thinnest of straws, but as long as there was any hope at all, it was worth trying. Besides, she liked the idea of spending Lady Jocelyn’s money in a way that might benefit David. St. Bartholomew’s Hospital was one of the oldest and busiest in London, and she recalled vaguely that it was a center for surgery. It was near St. Paul’s Cathedral, and she would need to hire a hackney coach. …

Distracted, she almost collided with a hefty young man in a powdered wig and blue livery outside David’s door. After a moment she recognized him as the footman who had been present at the mockery of a wedding the day before. Morgan, his name was.

“Come to see if your mistress’s husband is dead yet?” she asked caustically. She felt ashamed of herself when the young man flushed scarlet. He was too easy a target; it wasn’t fair to blame him for Lady Jocelyn’s want of conduct.

“I came to take my brother home, Miss Lancaster,” he said stiffly. “Lady Jocelyn asked me to inquire after Major Lancaster while I was here.”

“Your brother is also a patient?” Sally asked in a more conciliatory tone.

“He was a corporal in the light dragoons, miss. Lady Jocelyn has offered him a position in her household and the chance to convalesce in her home,” Morgan explained. “She sent her own carriage to make the trip as easy as possible.”

The footman’s words were intended to demonstrate his mistress’s kindness to a woman who clearly did not value her ladyship. Instead, they sowed the seeds of an idea that burst instantly into full, radiant flower. This ghastly hospital was enough to make a well person ill, and she would have removed David if possible. But she couldn’t take him to her employers or have afforded to hire lodgings and servants to care for him.

Now, however, an alternative had presented itself. Under English law, David owned the no-doubt luxurious house in Upper Brook Street that the Lady Jocelyn called home. The witch had no right to refuse him admittance. Sally would take her brother to Upper Brook Street, and if her unwanted sister-in-law objected, she’d bring the place down around her ladyship’s shell-pink ears.

“How convenient that you have brought a coach,” she purred. “We can use it to move Major Lancaster to Lady Jocelyn’s house.”

Morgan looked first startled, then alarmed. “I don’t know, miss. Her ladyship asked me to inquire after him, but she said nothing about bringing him home.”

Fixing the hapless footman with the quelling stare she used on her students, Sally said, “No doubt she was worried about moving him. However, I just spoke with my brother’s physician, and he agreed that there was nothing to lose by a change.” Which wasn’t exactly what Ramsey had said, but she’d sort that out later.

Since Morgan still looked unconvinced, Sally moved in with the killing stroke. “After all, they are married. What was hers is now his. Surely dear Lady Jocelyn cannot wish her husband to stay in this, this”—she gestured eloquently—“unwholesome place.”

“It’s true that her ladyship and the major seemed very fond,” Morgan said uncertainly. “And heaven knows my brother can’t wait to leave this hospital. You’re right, ’tis not a healthy place.” He furrowed his brows before giving a decisive nod. “I’ll move my brother to the carriage, then be back for Major Lancaster with a litter and someone to help me carry it. Will you pack his things, miss?”

“Of course.” As she watched him leave, Sally marveled at how easily he’d been convinced. She would have thought he’d be more wary of his spoiled mistress’s wrath.

She sought out Dr. Ramsey again. That gentleman agreed gloomily that if the trip from Belgium hadn’t killed the major, a journey across London probably wouldn’t, and if it did, that would just be hastening the inevitable.

Ignoring the doctor’s dire predictions, Sally returned to her brother’s room. “Good news, David. Lady Jocelyn’s carriage is here, and I have Dr. Ramsey’s permission to move you to her home. I’m sure that you’ll be more comfortable there than in the hospital.”

“She wants me to stay in her house?” he said with pleased surprise. “That was not part of our bargain. It’s most kind of her.”

The idea that his “wife” cared enough to send for him made David look so happy that Sally didn’t attempt to correct his misapprehension. Instead, she vowed that Lady Jocelyn would make him feel welcome if Sally had to hold a pistol to her head.

“I shan’t miss this place.” David’s tired gaze flickered over the drab walls. “Except for Richard.”

“He can visit you now that he’s getting around so well. I’m sure he’ll welcome an excuse to get out. I’ll give him your new direction before I leave.” She began packing her brother’s belongings into the box that had accompanied him from Belgium.

After finishing that, she lifted the bottle of laudanum. “Shall I give you a double dose? The trip is bound to be uncomfortable.”

“Too right. I think I’d prefer not to be aware of what is going on.” It was one of the few references he’d made to what Sally knew was constant pain. She uttered a fervent prayer that the carriage ride would not injure him further. If the strain severed his fragile hold on life, she would never forgive herself.

Hugh Morgan rode on the outside of the carriage, but the vehicle was still crowded with Sally, David, and the shy, crutch-wielding corporal jammed in together. Though Morgan had obtained planks and blankets and rigged a pallet across one side of the vehicle to hold the semiconscious major, Sally still winced as they jolted on every cobblestone between Belgravia and Mayfair.

When they reached Upper Brook Street, she said, “Please wait here until I’ve informed Lady Jocelyn that her husband has arrived.”

She marched up the marble steps and wielded the massive dolphin-shaped knocker. When a butler opened the door, she said, “I am Miss Lancaster, Lady Jocelyn’s sister-in-law. Please take me to her ladyship, so I can ask her where she wishes her husband to be carried.”

Husband? The butler’s eyes bulged; it was a tribute to Hugh Morgan’s discretion that none of the servants had heard of the marriage. Pulling himself together, he said, “I believe Lady Jocelyn is in the morning room. If you will follow me …”

The house was every bit as luxurious as Sally had expected, a perfect background for its flawless mistress. She glanced around, hoping to find evidence of vulgarity, but to her regret, the house was furnished with impeccable taste.

Refusing to be daunted by the towering, three-story high foyer, Sally set her jaw pugnaciously as the butler ushered her into the morning room. Lady Jocelyn sat at a writing table, her daffodil-colored gown a perfect complement to her warm chestnut coloring. Sitting on the desk was a vase of flowers and a tawny cat. It was no plump cozy tabby, but an elegant, thin-boned feline of obviously aristocratic origins. In Sally’s jaundiced view, the creature looked as expensive and unlovable as its mistress.

The butler said, “Lady Jocelyn, your ‘sister-in-law’ wishes to speak with you.” His inflection managed to imply simultaneously that Sally was an impostor, and that if she was indeed genuine, Lady Jocelyn owed her faithful retainer an explanation.

Jocelyn looked up with surprise. It was a rude shock to see an angry young woman intruding on her, a hostile reminder of yesterday’s unhappy events. “Thank you, Dudley. That will be all.”

Jocelyn’s tone produced instant obedience. The butler beat a hasty retreat.

“Miss Lancaster. What an unexpected pleasure,” she said coolly. With a sudden deep pang, she wondered if Sally had come to say that her brother had succumbed to his wounds. No, she was unlikely to deliver the news in person. Probably she just wanted to harangue her unwanted sister-in-law again. “What brings you here today?”

The surly creature scowled. “I’m bringing David to your house.”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Jocelyn asked, startled.

If Miss Lancaster stuck her jaw out any farther, she was in danger of dislocating it. “A wife’s property becomes her husband’s on marriage. If you don’t let David stay here, I’ll … I’ll make him leave all of your property to the Army Widows’ and Orphans’ Fund. He will if I ask him to.”

Jocelyn could feel her hands curling into fists. She hadn’t felt such a desire to visit physical violence on someone since her nursery days. “What a touching example of sibling devotion. However, your brother himself suggested that my lawyer draw up a document waiving any claims against my estate.”

“He waived his rights?” Sally said in dismay.

“He did indeed. Obviously your brother inherited all of the Lancaster family honor, as well as any claim to looks.” Jocelyn reached for the bell cord. “If you do not leave in the next thirty seconds, I will have my servants remove you.”

Sally’s face crumpled. “Lady Jocelyn, I know that you don’t like me any better than I like you. But haven’t you ever had anyone in your life that you loved?”

Jocelyn paused, wary. “How is that to the point?”

“If you had a choice, would you leave someone you loved to die in that vile place?”

Jocelyn winced as she remembered the hospital’s grimness.

Seeing her reaction, Sally said, “You wanted to know if David could be made more comfortable. Well, he will be more comfortable here, and surely you have enough space and servants that he won’t be a burden. If you want to bar me from visiting, so be it. If you ask me to return the entire settlement, I will.” Her voice broke. “But please, I beg of you, don’t send David back to the hospital. Even if he has no legal right, surely you have a moral obligation to your husband.”

“Send him back—you mean he’s here now? Dear God, are you trying to kill him?” Jocelyn asked with horror, remembering how frail he’d been the day before.

“He’s in your carriage and has survived the trip. So far.” Sally said no more, but the implication that a longer journey might drive the last nail into his coffin hung in the air.

Jocelyn gazed down at the ring he’d placed on her finger, exerting himself to the limit of his strength to ensure that he didn’t fumble. Till death us do part.

Given David’s condition and Sally’s vehement rejection of any further aid, it had never occurred to her to bring him to Cromarty House. But her unpleasant sister-in-law was right. No matter how disruptive and painful it would be to have him here, he was her husband. She owed him this. Moreover, she found that she wanted to do anything that would ease his final days.

She yanked the bell cord. Dudley appeared so quickly that he must have had his ear pressed to the keyhole. “My husband is in the carriage outside. He is very ill and will need to be carried in. Take him to the blue room.”

After the butler left, Sally said brokenly, “Thank you, Lady Jocelyn.”

“I’m not doing this for your sake, but for his.” Turning to her writing desk, she lifted a jingling leather bag and tossed it to Sally. “I was going to have this delivered, but since you’re here, I’ll give it to you in person. Your first quarter’s income.”

Sally gasped at how heavy the bag was. As she tugged at the drawstring to look inside, Jocelyn said tartly, “You needn’t count the money. It’s all there—one hundred twenty-five pounds in gold.”

Sally’s head snapped up. “Not thirty pieces of silver?”

Jocelyn said softly, each word carved in ice, “Of course not. Silver is for selling people. Since I was buying, I paid in gold.”

As Sally teetered on the verge of explosion, Jocelyn continued, “You may come and go as you please. There is a small room adjoining your brother’s. I shall have it made up for your use for … for as long as you need it. Does he have a personal servant?” When Sally shook her head, Jocelyn said, “I shall assign him one, plus any other nursing care he requires.”

Sally turned to go, then turned back to say hesitantly, “There is one other thing. He thought it was your idea to bring him here, and that pleased him very much. I hope you will not disabuse him of the notion.”

At the limits of her patience, Jocelyn snapped, “You shall just have to hope that my manners aren’t so lacking that I will torment a dying man. Now will you remove yourself from my presence?”

Sally beat a hasty retreat, shaking in reaction. Any doubts she might have had that Lady Jocelyn was a brass-hearted virago had been laid to rest. But surely she would at least be courteous to David, who seemed to cherish the illusion that she was a good person. Discovering the witch’s real character would distress him.