A Reckless Promise (16 page)

“In other words, your childhood was a bloody bore.”

She smiled. “That would sum it up nicely, yes, along with constantly fighting the impulse to break at least one rule, one time. To my everlasting shame, I never did.”

Darby chuckled softly. “I'm sorry. I'm just imagining your thoughts when first presented with Vivien and the others. You must have thought them all mad, at the least, and me into the bargain.”

“Oh, no,” she corrected quickly. “I may have been shocked when you first introduced them to me, yes. But Marley and I had also stepped into a fairyland. I don't believe I've ever been so happy, or even imagined such exotic creatures existed, and I love them all so much. You may think what matters is the mansion, the clothing, simply being in London. But it's not—it's them, how they've taken us to their hearts. I...I keep waiting for that happy bubble to burst.”

She hadn't meant to be quite that honest. She had so, so much to lose, not the least of which was this maddening man who sat smiling at her as if she'd just said the most wonderful things.

But then he sobered, and she knew the time had come.

“I know where to begin. I'll begin the day John arrived home from the war. He'd been in hospital in Calais for months, until he was deemed recovered sufficiently to survive the Channel crossing, so that it was late October of last year when we finally saw him.”

She closed her eyes, and an image of her brother, reduced to a bent old man too weak to walk without his cane, made her wince. “I thought my nursing would help him, that months of good food would serve to make him stronger, but he never gained much ground, no matter what I did. Although his mind remained clear, I had to continue managing the infirmary, so that we could remain in the cottage, so that he could sit in his office in his bath chair and give me orders on how to attend to everyone's needs, outwardly in charge once more.”

Darby came to sit beside her, take her hands in his. “I'm certain you did the best you could.”

“I wanted to take us back north to Huyton, to the cottage my parents left to us. But not only had I leased it to the church when Marley's mother, Susan, died and John summoned me to Dibden, but the journey might have proved too much for him. No, that's not the whole truth. He wouldn't have allowed me to take him there in any rate, which you'll soon understand.”

“In your own good time, Sadie Grace. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing will change that.”

We are, after all, human, and we might say what we truly believe at the time and with the best of intentions, only to, upon reflection, find we were incorrect.

She smiled wanly. “You feel sympathy for me now, but that's because you've yet to hear the rest.” She tugged her hands free and got to her feet, asking him to please remain seated. She couldn't look at him as she told her story, nor could she sit still.

“With this past summer's heat, John grew weaker. He said nothing, never letting me see how he suffered, but I knew. He barely ate, and he looked nearly skeletal. That tall, strong man. He took to prayer.” She sighed at the memory. “So much prayer. Sermons. Readings from the Bible. There were nights I prayed he'd die, just to be freed of his quiet misery. And then...and then he was gone.”

“You didn't
pray
him dead, Sadie. He was slowly dying from the moment he was shot in that camp. You can't feel guilty about that.”

She turned to look at him. “I know that, but thank you. That last month I actually believed he'd begun to rally. Not recovering, for that was always impossible, but he had gained some weight. I could see the difference in his face. He'd begun to avoid the bath chair, which he'd always hated. He even took Marley for short walks. I thought, perhaps all those prayers were working.”

“Yes, and your good food and even better care.”

This was hard. This was so hard...even more difficult than she'd imagined.

“No matter the reason, I...I had hope again. But then suddenly, he took to his bed, telling me the pain was unbearable. It was I who brought him his laudanum, for the pain. He couldn't get to it, you understand, was too weak to leave the bed on his own. He'd beg me for more laudanum, and more often. Day and night, he demanded I obey him. I believed his pain made him...unpleasant. He'd never before spoken to me that way, had never raised his voice around Marley or anyone, not ever. He was a good, kind man, Darby, you know that. But he kept telling me that he had to die, that he had to die
now
. I feared for him, for Marley, for my own sanity, because I couldn't help him anymore, nothing helped him anymore but the laudanum. Watching him suffer like that, turning away from him when he called me stupid and swore I didn't love him or else I'd do what he asked. Three days and nights, without sleep, losing hope...”

“Sadie, that's enough. I understand.”

“No, I have to say it. That last night, I gave him what he wanted. I poured the laudanum straight into the glass, not diluting it in water, as he'd taught me to do. I lifted his head and held the glass to his lips as he drank. Me, I did that! I felt as if I was someone else, watching a person in a dream. I kissed his forehead—something I'd never done, we'd never done—and sat in the dark in my small bedroom, in the blessed silence that had been absent those other days and nights. I sat there until dawn before I went to check on him.”

She wiped at her eyes and turned to face Darby. “Your friend, my brother, Marley's father. I knew what would happen, and I did it, anyway. I killed him.”

“No, damn it, you didn't. You were very brave. You granted his last wish, took away his pain, gave him peace,” he said, gathering her close.

She remained stiff in his arms.

She wanted to stop now, cling to his sweet sympathy, keep his memories of John pure, not tell him the rest, even as she knew that wasn't possible.

He had to know the rest. She'd confessed her secret, but now it was time to tell him John's secret.

She pushed away from him, to gain the strength to finish. “I've told you only what I
thought
had happened. I didn't know. I didn't realize... I should...I should have sensed something
.
He was growing stronger. How had that suddenly changed? Why, after fighting for so long, was he suddenly so desperate to die? What hadn't I seen?”

“Ah,” Darby said, and his soft tone had turned harder. “So now you're God, Sadie Grace? He who sees all, knows all? Humans make mistakes, but helping John gain peace wasn't a mistake.”

Suddenly Sadie was filled with the rage she'd felt after John died, and the same wild anger and hurt that he hadn't asked for her help, hadn't confided in her, had turned himself into a martyr and her into a murderer.

“You don't understand. He
lied
to me! He made
me
do what he couldn't do himself, and left me alone to deal with everything. I'll never forgive him for that, for not trusting me to help him, for not allowing me to help find some way other than the one he chose.”

“Sweet Jesus, Sadie, what are you saying?”

She'd held her jumbled emotions inside ever since that fateful night. Comforting Marley, struggling with her own grief...trying to separate her anger toward John from the love she felt for him.

She wiped at her tears with hands that trembled, and then reached into the pocket of her cloak to hand him the letter. “When dawn came and the room lightened, I saw this had been slipped under my door. Delivered to me by the man who couldn't walk, the man too weak to so much as lift a spoon to his mouth. I found him slumped in his bath chair, probably because the drug had overtaken him sooner than he'd supposed and he couldn't make it back to his bed. Here. Read it.”

Darby took the folded page from her as she avoided his gaze. “Are you certain?”

Sadie nodded. “Only because you have to know. For Marley.”

She folded her arms tightly against herself and turned her back.

“So I am dead. Finally I have convinced you to do what I could not do for myself, or else never be reunited with Susan in heaven. Her parents have somehow found us. I could not run, and Marley must be made safe. You cannot help her and would be foolish to try. Deliver the child into Lord Nailbourne's keeping. He will stay true to his promise. Even the Dobsons haven't the power to defeat him. Bury me beside Susan and leave this place. Tell no one you're going, or where.”

“A list of your residences was with the letter.” She turned back to Darby, needing to see the expression on his face. It wasn't a kind expression, not by a long chalk. But where was he aiming his anger? “He'd long ago told me about your promise to him.”

“You think he tricked you into dosing him with the laudanum. Taking to his bed those last days—also part of some insane plan?”

“You read his letter. I also found a letter from a solicitor in the drawer of his night table, demanding the return of Marley to Sam Dobson, her grandfather. It had arrived a week earlier, and put the last pieces together for me.”

“Yet there still are a few things missing, aren't there. Not a word of thanks to you, and without asking your forgiveness in the way he tricked you. He doesn't even seem concerned about what would happen to you once you
delivered
Marley into my hands.”

Sadie felt now as she'd done when she'd read the letter.
Used and discarded...and yet guilty.
“I know. I've had a lot of time to think about that.”

“Damn it, Sadie Grace, look at me.” Darby waved the paper in the air. “This is not the John I knew, nor the John you knew. Everything he did, everything he wrote and didn't write, means nothing. Do you understand, Sadie? Less than nothing.”

He crushed the paper into a ball and flung it out onto the grass. “And now it's gone. It's the past, one we can't change, but we can begin to understand for what it was. It's not you who needs forgiveness, but John, and only you can forgive him. That will take time, I know, but one day you'll be able to remember him as the man he once was, and not for that damned letter.”

“Will I? At the moment, that doesn't seem possible.”

“I know,” he said, and something in his tone told her he did know. But how?

Sadie looked at him, at the concern and kindness in his face, and felt the heavy weight of her own guilt that she'd carried since John's death slip from her shoulders. She should have told him sooner, on that first day, except that she'd bungled everything, hadn't she? Mrs. Boxer indeed. He'd questioned her identity, and Marley's, as well, as rightly he should have done, and thoughts of anything else had disappeared from her head in her sudden panic.

Lies, hidden truths. Betrayed by her own brother, she had lost the ability to trust in anyone, and by doing so had made a bad situation worse.

But still she had been welcomed. Marley had seamlessly slipped into the affections of everyone, and Darby had proved, again and again, that he was a good man, worthy of her trust.

“I swear to you, Darby, I've learned my lesson. I will never lie again.” She attempted a smile. “Except, perhaps, if the duchess asks my opinion on one of her new gowns.”

“Good girl. There are always exceptions to any rule.” He held out his arms to her. “Nothing that's happened has been your fault. If I know nothing else, I know that you need to hear that, believe that. Everything else will sort itself out, I promise, and Marley is safe. Now come here.”

She wasn't about to protest, say he needn't worry about her. That she didn't crave the healing comfort of his strength. Because that would be the worst sort of lie.

She walked into Darby's arms, and finally allowed herself to mourn.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
HEY
SAT
SIDE
by side on the padded chaise, both lost in their own thoughts as Sadie composed herself once more. He'd never before held a weeping woman, whispered inane words of comfort, felt the shudder of her shoulders as she gave in completely to grief he could understand, even as he fought anger at what she had been forced to suffer alone.

As he had suffered alone, surrounded by the best of intentions, but too young to sort out the feelings inside his head, the conclusions that seemed so reasonable to that young mind. And too frightened to share those conclusions, for fear he could lose so much more than he'd already lost.

She would never be in that position again, not as long as he drew breath.

Darby longed to put his arm around her waist, tell her just that, draw her even closer, but he knew it was time to move on, for there were still questions that needed answers.

He'd begin slowly, and then follow her lead.

“It's grown cold, hasn't it?”

Darby watched as Sadie took a second sip of tea he'd poured from the pot. “It's fine as it is.”

“Liar,” he said jokingly as she put down the cup. “I believe we've already established that you're not exactly proficient at that. For most, it's an acquired skill.”

She smiled at him, her eyes only slightly reddened from her tears. She still seemed fragile to him, even as he was amazed by her strength and courage. “I've decided there's a difference between lying and being polite. Just now, I was being polite.”

“You'll improve the more you're in Society. But first you need to be educated on the different sorts of lies most employed in that society, and how they are intended.”

“I don't think my recent vow of truthfulness is quite up to such intricacies. How many sorts are there?”

“There are two, I believe, although there are many levels of lies within both categories. The polite lie, as we'll now call it, is the first.
Vivien, don't you look all the crack in that most delicious gown. Lord Havistock, what a coup to have purchased that magnificent animal for a mere two thousand pounds. Nonsense, Miss Melbourne, that wasn't my foot. You're as light as the proverbial feather on the dance floor.
”

Sadie smiled as she balled up the handkerchief he'd given her and slipped it into the pocket of her cloak. “I feel better now, thank you. There's no sense in telling the truth when it serves no good purpose and that truth can only bring unhappiness with it. Yes, that's what I meant. Please, tell me about the second type of lie.”

He had to admit to himself that he, too, was feeling much better than he had only minutes ago. How could he not be cheered by that brave, beautiful smile?

“You'll realize I'm betraying myself, telling you this. But very well. The second type of lie used in Society is meant to teach a lesson to the overly confident braggart, such as—
You've so impressed me with your self-confessed mastery at cards that I believe I've lost count of trumps.
Most, however, are meant to depress pretensions—
My dear man, I'm convinced you're delighted to see me, but I'm mortified to inform you that I've quite forgotten your name.
”

“I'd sink into the floor if anyone said that to me. You've done that sort of thing?”

“Both accomplished with great flair and accompanied by a touch of panache, yes. I'm an evil man, Sadie Grace. Shame on me. Although I'll admit I mourn the loss of my quizzing glass, used for effect in such situations, I believe the patch is nearly as impressive.”

“You're an impossible man, do you know that?” Sadie said, picking up the cup and sipping from it again before making a face and replacing it on the tray. “That really is horrid. Can we spill the pot onto the ground so that Camy believes we drank it?”

“Camy, is it? And how did you manage that?”

Sadie busied herself folding one of the linen serviettes. “I didn't
manage
anything. The pot boy came into the sitting room with a large splinter in his palm, poor thing. I removed it. And I may have sung to him as I worked, and then kissed his palm to assure him he was all better now, as I do with Marley when she suffers a scrape.”

“You should have thought of that with Rigby—the singing, that is. He enjoys a good tune, although I would have balked at you kissing his knees.”

“I enjoy feeling useful, and said as much to Camy, and suddenly I became Miss Sadie and Mrs. Camford is now Camy. I hope it doesn't disturb you that I told her about assisting John, and acting as his housekeeper.”

“On the contrary, I've probably just grown in stature in Camy's eyes, having had the genius not to bring home a brainless debutante who'd insist on a French cook and drive the staff batty with demands, all while emptying my pockets on gowns and jewels.”

“I wouldn't know what to do with a French cook, and it's already clear to me that Camy and her husband have everything here well in hand. I wouldn't change a thing.”

“Which makes you, to Camy, a treasure beyond price, especially since you bring Marley with you.”

“Yes, Marley. I suppose we've avoided that subject long enough, haven't we?”

Darby took her hand and held it between his. “I was content to wait until you were ready.”

“I know. As you may have already guessed, Susan's parents did not approve of the marriage. Sam Dobson is quite wealthy, up to his hips in coal mines, and with that money Mrs. Dobson planned to marry Susan well, holding out for a minor peer, much in the same way Mrs. Henderson planned for her Belinda, which is the only reason I have any sympathy for her after what she did to poor Marrakesh. In any event, a country doctor was a totally unacceptable match for her only daughter.”

“It's a common failing among mothers. What did John do? Take his Susan and run off to Scotland, to marry over the anvil?”

“How did you guess? I believe that was the only rule John ever broke in his lifetime, but he and Susan were wildly in love. We didn't realize what had happened until Sam Dobson arrived at our door demanding my father produce Susan at once or he'd have John run down and personally take a whip to him.”

“Lovely man. And your father?”

“There was nothing for him to say, since John hadn't confided in us. Mr. Dobson offered money, quite a generous amount of it, if we told him John's whereabouts. I believe my father would have taken it without a blink and moved us to Cambridge, where he'd once studied. I was not allowed to say John's name again after that.”

“John never contacted you?”

Sadie shook her head. “Not for years. And a good thing that he didn't, because Mrs. Dobson never ceased to come knocking on our door with her threats and demands. My parents died within months of each other during a particularly nasty winter, so that when a letter to me arrived the following spring, I actually saw it, rather than have one of them intercept it, which would have been terrible.”

“And what did John have to say in that letter?”

“Only that Susan had died, and that he had already agreed to join the king's army as a surgeon. They had a daughter, Marley, who had just reached her third birthday, and I needed to tell no one, but hasten myself to Dibden to care for her in his absence. I left immediately, and spent three months working beside John before he was called to his new duties, learning all he could teach me so that we could remain in the infirmary during his absence. It...it has been a whirlwind in the four years since then, I'll admit to that, but we managed. Frankly, I never gave a thought to the Dobsons.”

“But Mrs. Dobson never gave up, did she?”

“John never believed she would. The solicitor's letter, the one he hid from me, contained the information that Mr. Samuel Dobson knew of the death of his daughter and demanded the return of his granddaughter, with the promise that she would be given every advantage she deserved, along with a loving home.”

“Marley, but not John.”

“But not John, no, although he would have been
compensated
,” Sadie agreed. “The solicitor believed John would see the advantage of not having to concern himself with Marley's future, not in his current sad state of health. But if he did not agree, other action would be taken, proving John was not capable of remaining Marley's guardian, of giving her the life she, as granddaughter to the great Sam Dobson, deserved. It was all rather threatening, but wrapped up to sound as if they'd be rendering John a great favor by assuring him Marley would have a good home after he was gone. John would never have the strength, or the money, to fight him, of course. I...I copied that high-nosed tone when I composed my letter to you.”

“Ha! I knew I was right. Clever girl. John believed he had two choices, as we've already established that he didn't believe you capable of caring for Marley on your own, fighting the Dobsons on your own. I agree with him on that, by the way. People with money tend to run over those without it, and you're a female into the bargain. John was left with either the grandparents he apparently despised, or the promise I made. In the end, he chose me. All he had to do was to die. Damn it, he should have come to me. He had to know I would have helped him.”

“As you've made me understand, he wasn't the John I knew anymore, the John either of us knew. He chose you because you have a title and probably much more money and power than even one of the wealthiest mine owners in all of Lancashire. For myself, I had no idea if you'd even remember the promise, let alone honor it, or if Marley would be in good hands. You could have been married, with a wife who didn't approve and children of your own. Or you could have been a terrible rake. I'm sorry, Darby, but I had to consider all these things before giving Marley over to you. I only knew the Dobsons shouldn't have her. Not after the way they attempted to use Susan for Mrs. Dobson's ambitions.”

“And so here we are.”

“Yes, here we are,” Sadie said, getting to her feet. She picked up the teapot and held it over the railing, allowing the cold tea to pour onto the ground. “Once I'd assured myself that Marley would be safe with you, I would have gone, you know. The solicitor's letter was accompanied by four five-pound notes, to pay passage for Marley. Sam Dobson was very sure of himself, wasn't he? I could have used that money until I could find a place of employment as a seamstress, or perhaps as a governess. Now, because of my lies and your insistence on being a gentleman, everything's...complicated. This betrothal? I know you've given me what you believe are valid reasons, but...”

“We're going to be married. You haven't taken me in total disgust, or you wouldn't allow Marley to stay with me. You wouldn't be here with me now.” He took the teapot from her and placed it back on the table. “You're not going anywhere, Sadie Grace. We've already established that.”

“I know you've said that, keep saying that. But with Marley safe and clearly happy, we've yet to really establish
why
, other than the fact that Clarice and the duchess seem to think it's a whacking great idea.”

She didn't know. Admittedly, how could she, as he'd engaged in all that nonsense about business arrangements and convenience. She enjoyed their friendship, yes, but marriage? That remained a far stretch for her, didn't it?

Unless she knew he wanted more from her than friendship. Unless she wanted more than friendship from him. He wouldn't ask for declarations of undying love, not from either of them. But they were adults, there was something between them that had been growing every day, with every touch, damn it, and it was time they addressed that subject.

Darby walked closer to Sadie, and took both her hands in his, just in case she felt the need to back away from him. “Lovely ladies, both of them, but I'd volunteer to be chained to a wall in Bedlam if I ever thought to take advice from either of them.”

Sadie smiled weakly. “That's not kind.”

“Ah, but true. I make my own decisions, Sadie Grace, and while we're on the subject of truth, I decided I wanted you from the first moment I saw you dripping all over my foyer, Marley clinging to your knees. I don't know why, since I'm being so self-damningly honest, but when I thought you were Mrs. Boxer, a married woman, I was immediately plunged into despair.”

“Is...is that a polite lie, or the sort where I should be looking for hidden meanings?”

“I'm not hiding from you. I don't think I've ever been so candid in my life. Seeing you wet and angry, seeing you glide across a room in fancy dress, oblivious to your own unique beauty. Watching you tend to Rigby's scraped knees, knowing how much you enjoy and care for my friends. Listening to you lamenting your idle state, making me see how much there is to be done in this world while I fritter away my life looking for something I only now know I need. You have to marry me, Sadie Grace. I've still so much to learn, and I want to see it all through your eyes. Those wonderful, honest, beautiful eyes. I want to see the expression in them as you look up at me from my pillow. There, have I embarrassed you?”

“Yes, actually, quite a bit. But I will admit that I've been drawn to you from the beginning,” she told him quietly. “When I didn't want to box your ears. I don't really understand it, this feeling I experience when you're near. It...you...you're nothing I've experienced before. I...I don't know what to call it.”

“Desire, Sadie Grace. It's desire. May I dare to hope it's mutual? I've already said it, but I'll say it again. I want you. I want all of you. I lie awake nights, wanting you. That makes me a bad man, but we've already established that. You're a grown woman, so I don't expect you to not understand what I'm saying. I can only hope you want me in return—everything else be damned—and I dare now to believe you do.”