A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) (31 page)

"I will have no grandchild from you. You are lying."

"Yes, well in seven month's time, we shall see."

Lady Alana, who had been standing close to her father and keeping a small distance, came forward. "Mother, please be kind. I know we have not been friends, but we could make an effort. I will even intervene with Gordon about your funds, if you will only come forward and be seen as happy for us."

"Your intervention would fall on deaf ears, I'm afraid." Sir Gordon and Nigel appeared at her right and moved to close the circle around the old lady, a third man standing nervously at Nigel's elbow. "Grandmother, I would like to present your new man of business. Sir Richard come forward please and meet the Countess of Champlay."

Sir Gordon stepped aside and ushered the gentleman forward, nudging him into action when the petrified man did not immediately make his bow. "Your servant, Lady Champlay."

"Who the devil is this? I have no need for a new man of business." She looked at their faces and her mouth still agape, she slumped back, understanding dawning in her eyes. "What mean you all by this?"

Speaking in a voice that was designed to carry though out the room, Nigel Pendleton addressed his mother with a clear and concise answer. "We do so regret your financial misfortune, mother. Sir Richard, however, is a veritable genus with investments and I'm sure in time you will recoup your losses."

His message was clear and no one within hearing distance could mistake it. Lady Grace had fainted because her finances were in desperate disorder and her children were coming to the rescue.

A neat little package, flawless and to the point. Sir Richard in reality had no knowledge of investments but had been hired to control the small allowance that would be hers.

There would be enough to keep Lord Champlay's country home in good order, and keep the old couple quite comfortably in the country. The townhouse would be sold to Rothburn and the rest of her funds would be dumped into the general family trust. Lady Grace was finished.

Lady Alana took her father's arm and he led her into the waltz, as was befitting the father of the bride. She smiled at him ruefully, and put her head on his shoulder. "Father I am so sorry for all this."

"Nothing to be sad about, little girl. I've long wanted to reign your mother in, but she has proven too much for me. I am quite content to stay in the country and Nigel has assured me that we will want for nothing."

He drew back and looked down at his daughter, his smile gentle. "Be sure to come see us once in awhile. I quite like your husband and I'm sure with him around your mother will be less abrasive. See, she has agreed to dance with him."

His eyes twinkled merrily as they followed his wife's stilted progress around the room with her son-in-law, who kept up a running chatter as he pushed the old lady over the floor. "All will be well, you'll see."

The evening ended on a good note when David Strongbow, who had danced with nearly every lady in the place, came forward to dance with Lady Alana. Bowing low, he spoke in a deep and respectful tone, "Rothburn, I vow, you have always taken the best of the best, but now you have quite outdone yourself. A dance with your lovely wife would give me something to remember in my declining years."

"Declining years, David?  You are fit as a fiddle. If you want to dance with my wife, I will allow it as long as you do not tire her." Rothburn leaned forward and whispered his news into David's ear, which caused his friend's eyebrows to rise.

"So, you see," Rothburn spoke aloud once more, "you should only take her around once and return her to me."

As the couple twirled away, Rothburn looked at his newly acquired nephew and spoke with some seriousness. "We should talk to David about his mother. She's a very impressive woman and has healing skills that might aid our Allie."

"David's mother?  Did you by chance write something about her to my father?  He brought up the subject of a healer the other day. Something about a blind child being healed."

"Yes, and it's true. Every word. Of course, we do not know the how or why of it, really. But it is worth a try, don'tcha think?"

His eyes followed Alana and David thoughtfully. "Didn't you once confer with Strongbow about pressing his suit with Allie? The fellow is well set up, not financially, of course. I refer to his manly good looks and personal charm."

"At the beginning of the season, yes. He turned me down, though. Said he wasn't good enough for her, for all that he is the son of a marquis. That fellow needs building up a bit. His father has kept him down too long, I should think."

"Let us invite him for dinner tomorrow night  and broach the subject of his mother." Rothburn was fully committed to his new family and had taken the initiative on more than one occasion, for his status as a peer gave him that authority.

It did not bother Sir Gordon overmuch, for what better thing in this world than to have an uncle who was also your best friend?

* * * * *

When they arrived home, Lady Alana went to see her niece and found Griffin and Tillie still with her. "So glad you are back. Something has happened." Griffin ushered her from the room, speaking in quiet tones. "She has gotten worse, I vow. We were having cake and lemonade."

At Alana's raised eyebrows, he ducked his head, "Well,
I
was having champagne, but didn't think Allie should have any spirits, don'tcha know?"

"What happened?"

"She ate the damnable cake with her fingers—won't use a fork anymore. And of a sudden, she spat it out on the bedclothes, and started tearing at her hair. She was screaming and calling out that she was in pain. Then she fainted.

"We sent for the doctor and he came, but he didn't do anything. Just gave her a sleeping draught. But the funny thing is, she hasn't gone to sleep. Not once. Just sits there staring now. Doesn't even respond when we talk to her."

"Probably asleep with her eyes open, Griffin. Happens sometimes. Just go in and close her lids. I'll fetch Gordon."

Lady Alana went quickly to the study where her husband and nephew were deep in conversation, related her news and returned to Allie. After she had gone, the two men looked at one another in perfect accord.

"Think he'd be home or White's?" Sir Gordon referred to David Strongbow.

"If he ain't, we'll find him quick enough." 

"Well, think I'll just go along and see to my wife. She must be held in check, for there is the child to think of." Rothburn used the excuse to leave, for he felt—and quite rightly—that Sir Gordon should handle the interview alone. Some things were not his business, though he often forgot that in his eagerness to serve. "If you need me, just send someone."

* * * * *

David Strongbow read the message with some astonishment, then looked up at Hobbs. "I'll come back to Pendleton House with you. Just give me a moment to dress." David had returned home exhausted and readied himself for bed at once, and was enjoying a nightcap when the knock sounded at the door.

He went into the small bedroom and dressed hastily, not bothering with his cravat, barely taking time to comb his hair. When he came back into the sitting room, the servant came to attention, bowing respectfully. David crossed the room and picked up the note, stuffing it in his pocket.

Hobbs stood to one side, holding the door open and as David passed through, he closed it behind him, then hurried to beat the gentleman to the door at the bottom of the stairs, that he might open it for him.

Just because the fellow lived in reduced circumstances he was yet a gentleman and Hobbs liked David Strongbow, despite the reputation he had for debauchery. Hobbs had worked for the aristocracy all of his life and knew the difference, and knew as well, true character often times had little to do with one's baser habits.

They flew through the streets, empty at this late hour, and arrived at the townhouse in record time. David hit the ground running, for the message had been explicit about life or death, though he was not certain who was ill, or what the situation was.

Coming up the stoop, he tripped in his haste and would have fallen but for the quickness of Hobbs, who steadied him. The door was flung open by a very harassed-looking March, who bowed the man in with a breathless greeting. "Evening Master Strongbow, good to see you again."

"Evening, March. Sir Gordon has sent for me."

"Of course, sir. He is awaiting you just here in the study."

David followed the aging retainer, slowing his step so that he would not overtake the man and perhaps embarrass him, and arrived at the door to the study at a pace designed to let him catch his breath. Little did he know that March had perceived his agitation and was slow moving for David's benefit, not his own.

He stepped into the cozy room and went forward, grasping his friend's hand in greeting. "Gordon, old fellow, what's amiss? Who is dying?"

"David, so good of you to come at this late hour. You read my note?" At the other man's nod, he continued, "Good, then I shall only tell you that my sister Allie lies desperately ill and the doctors hold out little hope. I was told your mother is a healer of some repute in her valley, and I would that she could come and see what she can do for the girl."

"I will send off a note to her tonight and we will have an answer tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?  That is quick. How then will it be delivered?"

"Carrier pigeon."

"Oh, of course."

"What did you think? That a broom would fly across the moon?" David asked.

His amused look made Sir Gordon uneasy, as he had thought that very thing. He didn't much like the feeling that his thoughts were so closely monitored by another, but dismissed it as fantasy, for his face must have shown something that had alerted the other fellow.

"Will you have a brandy?  I would that we could discuss this in depth, so you might give your mother a good grounding on the problem."

"Yes, it would be very helpful to her, I'm sure. And the brandy will be helpful to me, I vow." David followed his host across the room, and sat in the armchair indicated, accepted the brandy and settled down to listen.

Sir Gordon unfolded his tale, leaving out nothing, fearing the smallest detail might be important. "I have documented the entire incident as closely as possible and all medical treatment given to date. Do you think she might be interested in that?"

At David's nod, he continued with a recounting of the last week and how the girl had lost her senses so totally that she had to be spoon fed like a babe and had taken to staring vacantly at the wall.

"And so, you can see that we are at our wits end. There is nothing left to do—even the specialist we had brought from the continent could do nothing—shed no light. It is desperation that brings me to this."

Sir Gordon sat forward with an earnest look. "And please do not be insulted, it is just that in my world the learned men of our society are supposed to aid us in these matters."

He was relieved to see David had not been insulted. "Of course, I have a deal of respect for the mysterious and unexplained, as you know, and herbal healing is an ancient and time-honored art."

David crossed and uncrossed his legs, fidgeting in his chair. He wasn't certain his mother would be of any use in this matter, as her l healing  skills were limited to the usual illnesses. Chest colds, birthing, broken bones  and the occasional removal of a so-called spell.

David himself was a skeptic regarding many of his mother's activities, but of course would never say so. Choosing his words carefully, he kept his eyes on the dancing flames of the hearth. "If my mother does come, it is not certain that she can help, of course. Her healing is more in the line of birth fevers, common pneumonia, aiding one who has been beset with boils; that sort of thing.

"If this is a brain fever, mayhap, there is something she can do, but for a mental problem, or even the proposed damage that the blow might have given—well, I must tell you not to get your hopes up too high."