Finding Bliss (17 page)

When they arrived at the townhouse, a butler hurried them
in. Lady Westford welcomed them graciously into the sitting room and indicated
that dinner would be delayed slightly due to the fact that her husband was detained
by his responsibilities at the museum.

The images in Bliss’s brain came into sharp focus at the
mention of the museum. There again was the dusty room, a darkened hallway, some
sculpture and other works of art spaced around in the foreground.

When Lord Westford arrived a few minutes later with
simpering apologies, Bliss needed only a moment to realize the significance of
the visions’ new clarity. With painful recognition Bliss was certain that Lord
Westford would be the man holding the weapon!

Her pulse ratcheted up, and Bliss mentally raced through possible
reasons for the scene while innocuous pleasantries were being exchanged.

What on earth could make this respectable man, with a
lovely wife and son, treat me so abominably? Is it something I say or do?

Bizarre scenes began to come alive in her mind, and it was
all that Bliss could do to keep up her end of the conversation as they were
escorted into the dining room. She took her napkin and shook it out to place it
in her lap. Without even looking at the menu, Bliss commented on how fond she
was of cool bean soup. Lady Westford colored.

“The menu says turkey and potato. Why would you comment on
cool bean soup?” Lady Westford asked in shock. Bliss felt instantly that she’d
made a terrible error in judgment. But Eric laughed at their confusion and made
a humorous comment thinking he was helping.

“Lady Bliss has always played a game at dinner parties where
she tries to guess the menu without looking. Looks as though her record has finally
been broken,” Eric chuckled and removed his own napkin.

Bliss sensed disaster in the air. A few minutes before the
soup course was to be served, a footman walked quietly up to Lady Westford to
whisper something into her ear. Lady Westford’s face took on a look of pure
astonishment as the words reached her brain. She cleared her throat as the servant
retreated as silently as he appeared.

“It would appear that we are indeed having a cool bean soup
this evening. My cook has just sent word that an unfortunate spill has
prevented there being enough of the turkey and potato soup for the meal! Lady Bliss,
however did you do that, my dear?”

Lady Westford’s face was alight with the triviality of
Bliss’s accurate “guess” at the soup. But the more noticeable change was in
Lord Westford. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her without making a single
comment about her trick.

“Actually, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Lady
Westford. I’m able to smell my favorite soup no matter the distance to the
kitchen,” Bliss tried desperately to control the damage.

It wouldn’t have mattered if the soup had been in the room,
it was clear that Lord Westford did not believe her cover-up. Her mind became
suddenly inundated with various scenes that didn’t appear to go together. She
saw the earlier scenes, of course. But a few new ones joined the group.

A vision of Lord Westford at Osterburg manner, shooting
several people and taking her forcefully was now the most vivid. Another new
vision of her struggling with him and feeling the sting of metal as a bullet
entered her chest. That vision visibly changed her demeanor. Eric noticed her distress
and quickly made a comment that she looked unwell.

“Oh, dear, I hope she’s not getting ill. She looked very
peaked this afternoon when we were leaving your office. It brings to mind the
funny story of what happened to Little Robert today! Oh, Bernard, you’ll never
guess what our little angel did today,” Lady Westford said with no hint of
dryness in her endearments.

During the hostess’s retelling of the event, Bliss composed
herself as best she could. It would take every ounce of her strength to get
through the dinner with the evil Lord Westford looking at her like a prized treasure
to steal. Bliss let the visions come without flinching even at the worst ones
and ate her meal with minimal delay as each course was presented.

Lady Westford invited them to stay for cards and sherry as
soon as they stood up from the table. Bliss knew she looked dreadful despite
all her efforts to remain stoic. Luckily Eric noticed. He graciously declined
the offer and insisted that they postpone the rest of the activities until a
future date.

Eric obviously wanted to make light of the fact that Bliss
was altered since the meal commenced, making excuses and apologies for it being
his own fault that they were having to leave so early. Lady Westford insisted
that they come back some evening before the ball and join them for a round of
whist. Bliss gave her best smile and assured the woman that she would be in
touch soon.

Knowing, from the clearest of the visions, what she needed
to do, Bliss made an odd declaration to the room as they were leaving.

“I’m planning to take in some sights near the museum later
this week. My maid is so fond of walking when the weather is still fresh from
the rain, so we’ll probably go on the next sunny afternoon. But any day other
than that would be a wonderful evening for cards,” Bliss explained succinctly.

She didn’t hide the pointed stare toward Lord Westford,
though for all it meant neither Eric or Lady Westford made note of it. Bliss
recognized the moment the man’s plans began to finalize in his mind, because
the visions became as crisp as independent scenes from a play.

The butler handed Bliss her umbrella and told them that the
rain appeared to have stopped. Eric looked at Bliss and asked if she wanted to
walk to the carriage to clear her head a bit before they rode back to Whisper
Chase. She agreed absently, trying to organize her own plan for the day she
would see Lord Westford again.

As they walked, Eric asked her repeatedly if she was feeling
unwell. Bliss didn’t give him any false smiles. When they were several steps
from the front door, Bliss raised the umbrella and opened it just in time to
prevent them from being soaked to the teeth by the surprisingly abrupt shower
of rain.

Eric looked mildly amused at her as he hovered underneath
the waxed fabric. He took the handle and carried the umbrella the remainder of
their walk toward the carriage without saying a word. Behind them, Bliss could
feel Lord Westford’s eyes boring into her back as she walked away.

Bliss waited until they pulled up to
the drive of Whisper Chase to speak to Eric again. She swallowed her worried
tears and prayed silently during the drive that she could make her case
strongly enough to get his cooperation.

Everything was coming to a pinpoint now. Any mistakes could
have very costly or devastating effects. She fought with her own composure and
made her request.

“Eric,” she began with a trembling voice, “if you’ve ever
been my friend or cared at all about me, you will call upon me this coming
Tuesday once the holiday has passed. Make sure you say hello to Aunt Pen that
day. I’ve got so much I need to tell you, but it will have to wait for that
day. I’m extremely tired now, and I must go inside without inviting you in. Will
you promise me you’ll come Tuesday? It’s very important to me,” Bliss explained
while keeping her voice as steady as she was capable.

Eric gave her a look that spoke of doubts, but for the first
time in his life he agreed with her.

“I will be here before noon, barring any medical emergency
that delays me, of course. I hope you rest well. If you need anything at all
during the night, send for me at my boarding house. Mrs. Meaghan Taylor is the proprietress.
She is used to waking up surgeons at odd hours, so don’t hesitate.” Eric gave
her a warm smile of concern, and Bliss felt some of her chilling terror abate.

“Thank you, Eric! It means so very much to me to hear you
say that. Good evening,” Bliss added.

Without giving it any forethought at all, she kissed him
goodbye. Eric sat still as a statue until her lips left his. Disappointed in
his lackluster efforts, she exited the carriage. The tears began to fall before
she reached the first step, but nothing could have made her turn back and
reveal her pain to him.

If that was to be her last kiss, then it was pathetic. But
at least she was brave enough to make the move she knew in her marrow that Eric
never would.

Eric, Bristol, April 1811

The weekend passed too quickly for
Eric. Easter didn’t have any effect of people’s illnesses or accidents. Eric
was the surgeon working for the hospital that Sunday evening, and on Monday
morning his fatigue proved a worthy opponent.

When his first patient of the day arrived, he was surprised
to find out that it was none other than his newest client, Lord Westford.

“Good morning, my lord. I truly didn’t expect such an honor
so soon. I hope that you’ve not caught the spring fever that is going around
this year?” Eric offered a hand to the man in greeting, bowing respectfully
over the handshake.

“Oh, no, this isn’t a medical visit, I’m afraid. My wife
wanted me to personally invite you to our house this Thursday for cards. We’re
delighted with your young friend, Lady Bliss. My wife believes the girl is a
singular beauty and is interested in her prospects. I have a nephew—an earl in
waiting. Celia thinks young Lady Bliss would be an excellent match for him, and
she’s already schemed up a way to get the pair of them together in a social
setting,” Lord Westford remarked casually.

Eric wasn’t entirely convinced whether it was the man’s
information or his tone of voice that rubbed him wrong. But the idea of this
man playing matchmaker didn’t fit his first impression in at all. Eric took a
moment to think of the best way to respond.

“I’m afraid that is unlikely, Lord Westford. Lady Bliss is a
Penwood, you know. A duke’s daughter destined for a marquess at least, I would
imagine. I’m not sure her family would welcome anything less for one of their
daughters.

“And I also have it on good authority that the eldest Osterburg
Marquisate heir is being considered for her. But cards would be a welcome
distraction. I’ll be sure and pass along the invitation.” Eric replied lying with
a smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes.

Victor was not who the Osterburg’s were aiming to match up
with Bliss, but Eric felt the need to squash this man’s designs immediately. Something
about the man in front of him was wrong. He couldn’t quite put a finger on
anything substantial, but the idea of Bliss being around this man made Eric’s
skin prickle.

The realization of Bliss being considered for marriage by
anyone made him sad for reasons he wasn’t able to understand either. Not that
he harbored any delusions of having her for himself, especially since Bliss
warned him of his own upcoming marriage without mentioning herself.

His mood was less important than the affect it obviously had
on Lord Westford though. The man flushed an angry red, and his temper showed in
his steely gaze. Eric wondered momentarily if he’d somehow offended the man,
but he quickly realized he didn’t have the good sense to care.

“Well, this was not the reception I had hoped for my wife’s
news. But I suppose that cannot be helped. I’ll leave you to your work, sir,”
said Lord Westford with an uncalled for amount of acid. Eric bowed quickly as
the man rose from the examination chaise and stormed from the room without
acknowledging the respect.

Eric laughed darkly and wondered how the man’s constitution
was on a normal day. If he reacted to trivial nonsense like that every time,
Eric feared the man’s heart would suffer. In an odd way it made him reconsider
billing him for the pea retrieval. He was having a fair amount of difficulty
trying to work in the cost for the feather trick anyway.

Bliss, Bristol, April 1811

Given the number of possibilities
for how her life would change on Tuesday, Bliss didn’t sleep nearly enough over
the weekend. Variations of the possible outcome would appear the moment she
made a conscious decision to do anything differently. Every time she tried to
change the outcome by changing her mind, the death toll would rise.

If she ran back to Cardiff, Lord Westford would end up
killing dozens more people in his attempts to locate her. If she stayed at
Whisper Chase, Lord Osterburg’s household would be the scene of a gruesome
massacre. If she confronted the man, he would kill her rather than allow her to
escape and expose him. None of these outcomes was acceptable to her.

The only true solution was the kidnapping. Bliss would have
to let the man believe that he had control of her. It was the only way to
protect the others and have any chance of survival that suited her. Lord
Westford would need to be defeated, and she would need Eric’s help, or else her
life was over ... quite literally!

More importantly there was no room at all in this plan for
error. The part that was most confusing was that Bliss knew if she failed, or if
Eric was somehow too late, she would drown.

Bliss never had liked ponds or lakes. Her fear of sailing
was not linked to the motion sickness suffered by most women aboard freight
ships or schooners. Her true fear was falling overboard into the fathomless
deep without knowing where she might end up or what mysterious creatures might
be lurking to nibble away at her arms and legs. So the distress of her
possible
death sprouted directly from the involvement with water.

The rolling coin and the red cloth visions came back. The
cloth was there, and she could smell wax and dust. That fit in nicely with the
museum’s dusty rooms, which she saw with more and more clarity once her
decision was made.

Bliss also held it as certain that in order for her future
to become clear and sure she would have to endure a fair amount of trouble and
mistreatment. But Eric needed to be willing to put aside his fear and trust his
instincts, and more urgently to trust hers.