No Greater Love (28 page)

“He asked me to marry him, missus. I don’t know what I should do!”

“Why ever not? Do you love him?”

“Oh, yes, but there’s the children, aren’t there?”

“Lily, don’t you worry about all of that. Your aunt is looking after them beautifully. There’s no need for you to sacrifice your own happiness.”

“Well, it’s been harder and harder being under the same roof, specially in the nights, with Lionel so close. You understand, feeling about the master the way you do. A body has urges, doesn’t she? And you know what the men can be, all impatient-like.”

“Oh, yes,” Georgia said, smothering a laugh. “I do know. Well, perhaps you had better accept him and have the banns called, Lily, before there’s a child to baptize. If you love him, and you want to be with him, then there’s nothing in the world that should stop you.”

“Oh, thank you, missus,” Lily said with a great sigh of relief. “I wasn’t sure that you’d approve. I wasn’t even sure it was the right thing to do, marrying a man not from my village, what with living here and all.”

“What has that to do with anything?” Georgia asked, frowning.

“Well, nothing, really, missus, except people already say that I’ve overstepped myself.”

“Overstepped
yourself? How, Lily? It isn’t as if you’ve been living in a palace. You’ve been struggling harder than most of the villagers.”

“No, it isn’t that—it’s not that at all, for folks know how it is here. It’s Lord Brabourne, missus, and all the time he spends here, and things he’s been saying at Ravenswalk about him and me, and they’re not true, missus, sure as the day is long.”

“Oh, Lily … oh, of course. I see. I do see. I know how awful it feels to be subjected to such rumors, believe me. I’ll have a word with Cyril. Don’t you worry about it. I’m sure no one really believes it anyway. Gossip is only the work of idle tongues. Lionel Martin doesn’t believe it for a minute, does he?”

“No, but it angers him. You’ll notice how he stays out of his lordship’s way, for fear of losing his temper and knocking him down.”

“He’s a fine man, Lily, and a handsome one.”

Lily giggled. “Well, missus, he’s brawny enough, isn’t he, and he’ll be a good provider too. I’ll have a word with him today, and we’ll be making our plans. His mum will be glad enough that he’s settling down, that’s for sure, for she’d been after him to get a wife and babes. And we may stay on here afterward?”

“Yes, naturally. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Your water’s cooling, missus. Thank you, missus.” She curtsied and hurried out.

Georgia felt a surge of impatience with Cyril for bandying Lily’s name about so. There were times she wanted to shake the boy until his teeth rattled, despite his improved attitude. Cyril would have to do an extraordinary amount of improving before he was actually likable. For him to be roostering around, crowing that he had in some way compromised Lily when the situation could not have been more different, was absolutely infuriating.

But there were a great many things on her mind, and Cyril was the least of them. She also had to find a way to broach the subject of Lord Raven and the monkshood to Nicholas, now that he was well. She knew how upset he’d be and so she was reluctant, but it really couldn’t be put off. Someone had to intervene. She’d been thinking for weeks on it, wondering how to counteract the harm that had been done, playing with different herbs in her mind. Now that the spring had finally arrived, she had the opportunity to cull new, fresh herbs, if she could only think of a combination that might be fitting. There was no time like the present, she decided, for if she was going to give Nicholas the news, she really ought to have some sort of remedy in hand.

She slipped out of bed, looking down at her naked body with a certain degree of amazement. And then she gave herself a thorough wash and, wrapping herself in a towel, went next door to dress.

Georgia was busily collecting hawthorn from among the hedgerows alongside the road into the village when a female voice came unexpectedly over her shoulder in a slight French accent.

“Ah,” it said mischievously, “the sign of rebirth, and also the flower of lovers. I wonder which it is in this case?”

Georgia straightened to find a most attractive woman regarding her quizzically. She was beautifully dressed, her pelisse cut in the latest fashion, her chestnut curls most becomingly arranged beneath her fashionable bonnet. But her face was open, her expression warmly amused, and Georgia relaxed, relieved to see the woman had not spoken mockingly. Georgia knew exactly how she looked in her worn dress, down on her knees in the dirt. “You seem to know something about herbs, ma’am,” she said, standing and brushing off her dress as best she could.

“A little something. I could not help but notice that your basket also contains shepherd’s purse and deadnettle. I therefore deduced that you knew something of the healing arts yourself.”

“A little something,” Georgia replied with a smile. “Nowhere near as much as I’d like.”

“Yes, one can never learn too much. Is it a particular remedy you are gathering? You must forgive my curiosity. l am a stranger here. My carriage had a small problem and I am walking while it is being seen to. I could not resist intruding, for I find herbs a fascinating subject.”

“You do not intrude in the least, ma’am. It is not often that I meet someone who has any real knowledge. In truth, you might be able to aid me, for I confess I am confused.”

“I would be pleased to try,” the woman said, appearing delighted. “Why don’t you give me the instance?”

“There is an elderly gentleman, ma’am, who was stricken by apoplexy—at least, that much I believe is true. However, since the original incident, he has been administered a strange herbal tisane. Peppermint, chamomile, a number of other harmless ingredients make up the majority of the herbs, but there is also a small amount of monkshood.”

“Monkshood—good heavens!” the woman said, looking shocked. “What fool would add such a dangerous thing?”

“That’s just it, ma’am. Very few people are aware of the long-reaching effects. It is not given in such a quantity as to be deadly. In my estimation, taken twice daily in the amount present, it is just enough to be extremely incapacitating to the nervous system, certainly enough to render the poor man useless. The person who prescribed the herb was either very ignorant or very, very clever.”

“Yes … I would have to agree. And my first assumption would be ignorance, although human nature is unfortunately flawed in other ways. Would there be a reason for deliberate mischief here?”

“I believe so, although that would be a terrible charge to bring. Unfortunately, the circumstances are not such that there is much I can do. Even if I could find an antidote, administering it would be very difficult, for I do not have access to the gentleman in question. And in the meantime, the poor man suffers. But even if I could help him, what antidote could I give him? I thought a nerve stimulant would be helpful, but I cannot think what would counteract the effect of the actual poison.”

“No, I cannot think of anything directly,” said the woman, tapping her mouth. “He would have to have his system cleaned of the monkshood first. So initially a purifier would be necessary—speedwell, perhaps, the entire plant infused and given three times a day. And then, something to restore strength and clarity. Vervain? It grows down here, doesn’t it?”

“But does not flower until June, ma’am. However, I do have some dried betony.”

“Yes—yes, that might do. Let me see. Let me see…”

Georgia listened carefully as the woman rattled off a list of possibilities. After a long and elucidating discussion, a footman appeared.

“My lady, we have repaired the damage to the wheel. We are ready to proceed.”

“Thank you, Penally. My dear, it was a great pleasure speaking with you. I do hope you find a solution to your difficulty.”

“Thank you. And thank you so much for your advice. I shall give it great consideration.” Georgia went back to her collecting, her mind working over the information she’d been given. It made her smile to think that Frenchwomen not only knew their clothes and their food, but apparently they knew their healing herbs as well.

Not much later, her collecting done, she made her way back to the Close, thinking that it surely must be coming up to lunchtime and wondering if the boys had returned from Ravenswalk. But the garden was quiet for once, and she went through the back door. Her ear was caught by the murmur of voices in the sitting room, and she started toward it, then stopped directly outside the open door in astonishment as she recognized the voice of the woman she had been conversing with not even an hour before. She could see only her profile, but she was sure she was correct.

“Nicholas, I do not understand this nonsense,” the woman was saying. “I have not come all the way from London to have you fly in the face of reason and your own reputation. What must I say to you to convince you?”

“There is not much, Marguerite. Let Jacqueline do her worst. She’s done it already. I can’t see how I can possibly pretty the picture at this point.”

“But that is my point exactly. Jacqueline has only just returned to London from her Italian sojourn. She is already planting the stories in influential ears. Nicholas, she wasted no time. You never bothered to defend yourself the first time around—you simply left the country. What were people to think? I never believed the story myself, but then, I know Jacqueline. But you cannot allow the old rumor to resurface, nor this new nonsense she is putting about concerning your wife!”

“And what nonsense is that?” he asked wearily. “That Georgia was her bloody seamstress? That Georgia has no proper connections?”

“That she was Herton’s whore, and after that, his son’s,” Marguerite said harshly, and Georgia, who had just been about to walk in, froze, her hand creeping to her throat.

Nicholas stared at Marguerite. “No—she wouldn’t go so far. Oh, damn the bitch!” And then he caught himself. “I beg your pardon, Marguerite. I did not mean to insult you in any way, but it is beyond belief.’’

“Nicholas, we might not know each other very well, but my husband and his sister have always thought very highly of you, and the few times we met, I shared their opinion. George does not know I have come down, for he would no doubt tell me not to interfere. But I thought that I must, for the situation does not seem right, and I feel a certain responsibility. Jacqueline told me why you married, and she was annoyed in the extreme about it, I might add. I know nothing about your wife, but your judgment—with the exception of leaving the country in the wake of Jacqueline’s accusation—strikes me as being sound. But I do not understand why you are being so stubborn. Why will you not go to London and defend yourself and your wife? Surely she cannot be that unpresentable?”

“Georgia is not unpresentable in the least,” Nicholas said, his voice tinged with anger. “However, she is shy. She also is uncomfortable with the idea of mixing with the
ton,
for she comes from a different world. She is accustomed to a very simple life.”

“Ah,” said Marguerite. “Perhaps that explains why you are living like this?” She waved her hand around her.

“We are living like this, Marguerite, because this is what Jacqueline allowed to happen to Raven’s Close.”

“Nicholas, it is no good trying to flummox me. You could easily have afforded to refurbish this house properly, and done it immediately upon your return. George has many interesting sources, and he tells me that you took the money your father left you and turned it into a substantial fortune. A very substantial fortune.”

Georgia waited for Nicholas to deny this. But instead he only rubbed his neck and then dropped his hand. “You surprise me,” he said. “It is not common knowledge.”

Georgia stared at him, not at all sure she had heard him correctly.

“Yes,” Marguerite said. “I think perhaps you must care for your wife very much to choose to live in these conditions, for I can think of no other reason. I assume your wife does not know the truth?’’

“You are far too astute, Marguerite.”

“It is my French blood.”

“And perhaps using that French astuteness, you will understand now why I am reluctant to take Georgia to London and expose her to a life she might find painful. My reputation is not of consequence next to her happiness. I am sure that in time she will be more secure in her position, but for the time being, we live quietly and simply.”

“Nicholas?” Georgia said from the doorway, her throat so tight it was hard to speak.

Nicholas’ head snapped around, and he stood, his face mirroring his dismay. Marguerite looked equally dismayed as well as very surprised, but Georgia did not even take her in.

“Georgia, I didn’t mean for you to hear—” Nicholas started to say, but she cut him off.

“Is it true? You have a fortune?” She walked into the room, so shocked she was almost numb.

“Yes,” he said uncomfortably. “It is true.” He rubbed his neck again and looked down.

“You’ve been willing to suffer these conditions when you didn’t have to at all? And you say you did it for me?’’

“Yes.”

“But why, Nicholas? Why? You did not even know me at the beginning! Why should you care how I felt?”

“You were my wife,” he said quietly. “I did not want to frighten you away from me.”

“Frighten me away? How would you have done that? You were nothing but kind.”

His mouth lifted in a half-smile. “If you recall, you made it very clear that you only married me because I was poor.”

Georgia slowly nodded. “Yes. That’s true. But at the time I believed you
were
poor. Why else would you have married me? No doubt there would have been a hundred women willing to marry you for a fortune.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. It doesn’t matter—you were the one I wanted. And you needed rescuing. And you loved the Close.”

“Yes … but so did you. You could have afforded skilled workmen to restore it, and yet you have labored until your hands were raw and your body stiff with cold, and you have gone hungry—oh, Nicholas, just think of all the sides of beef you could have had!”