The Seduction of Sarah Marks (9 page)

Chapter Ten

A familiar scratching at the door told Lilith that Tildy had come to see to her needs. When Lilith turned the key in the lock, she found the ashen-faced maid wringing her hands. “His lordship and the good doctor ask your permission to enter your chambers, miss.”

She couldn’t possibly face Eastleigh after what had sinfully transpired between them. Not ever. “Please inform Lord Eastleigh that I respectfully decline, and that as soon as this storm let’s up, I would be grateful if he would provide me with transportation to my parents’ home in Aylesham.” Her mother and father would lead her to a husband she had obviously run away from. Whatever it was that had caused her to flee, she was now prepared to face the issue head-on.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tildy backed away, chewing her bottom lip. “After I’ve delivered the message, should I return and see to yer needs?”

Lilith shook her head. “Since there is nothing to pack, I’ll be fine tending to myself.”

Tildy glanced over Lilith’s shoulder to the wardrobe. “But what of all yer lovely things…”

“They aren’t mine. I’ll be leaving them behind.” Oh, she desperately needed to be alone. “Please, Tildy, leave me.”

The maid nodded and turned toward the servants’ stairway. The book in Lilith’s hand grew suddenly heavy. “Wait. Give this to Lord Eastleigh, and inform him there is a note inside. Tell him if he fails to understand its meaning, he can ask Lady Willamette to kindly explain.”

Lilith closed the door, wrapped her arms around herself, and stepped out onto the covered balcony. She watched the rain fall in great, heavy sheets. No doubt she would have to wait until morning the way this weather kept up. She grew weary trying to think. What had happened to her still lay scattered about in her mind like so many pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t manage to find all of the pieces and fit them together into any kind of rational order. She didn’t know how long she’d stood there, trying to remember more of her life, when Tildy called out.

“I’m sorry to enter, miss, but you didn’t seem to hear me scratching on the door. The doctor sent me back with a note.” She handed the folded scrap of paper to Lilith. “Should I wait in case there’s a reply?”

Lilith nodded and opened the missive. So, he insisted on accompanying her to her parents’ home. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he was right—she couldn’t very well travel alone. And who else was there to go along, Tildy? That wouldn’t do. He’d made no mention of Eastleigh. But why should he? And why would Eastleigh care to respond to a married woman? Oh, Lord, help her.

She swiped her hand across her forehead. “Tell Doctor Hemphill I’ll be eager to travel as soon as the weather cooperates. If it is clear in the morning, we should leave first thing.”

“Yes, miss. Will that be all?” She fidgeted as though she’d something else to say.

Lilith regarded the chambermaid. “Why are you suddenly acting so queerly?”

Tildy shrugged. “I shouldn’t be telling tales lest I be let go, miss.”

A small laugh choked Lilith. “Since I’ll be keeping to my room, and depart when the storm abates, who pray tell would I gossip with?” And why was she so suddenly curious? What should anything having to do with Easton Park matter?

“Well, ‘tis his lordship, miss. He’s very upset after the argument he had with the doctor, and he’s come down with one of his terrible headaches. He’s locked away in his chambers, and there’s been a lot of noise behind his doors, like things breaking. Big things. Perhaps if you went to him…”

“I…I wouldn’t know what to say, Tildy.” Mindful of the pain lancing her chest, Lilith shuddered involuntarily and rubbed her arms as if she’d taken a chill. “I’m sorry for Lord Eastleigh, I truly am, but there is nothing I can do.”

A great sadness swept over Tildy’s countenance. “I’ll see to bringing your meals, then. Ring if you need me, miss.”

She opened the door to exit, and there stood Mum, looking sorrowful, and with a bottle in her hand. Not waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside, and excusing the maid, set the vessel on a side table holding a porcelain tea set. “I brought some of my good cider to take along. Just in case you won’t be back for apple season. ‘Tis a shame you have to leave us so soon. It’s near time to make my cherry cordial. We would’ve had a time of it, you and me.”

Tears popped out of nowhere, but Lilith laughed through them. “Oh, Mum, how I will miss you.”

“Then don’t go. You have yet to see my collections. And I’ve many more stories to tell.”

“But I must, Mum.”

Mum opened the bottle of apple cider and splashed the amber liquid into two of the tea cups, apparently forgetting she’d brought it as a gift. She handed one to Lilith and took up the other one. “Hemphill and Augie had a terrible tiff.”

Lilith started to say she knew, but clamped her mouth shut.

“Something about the doctor seeing you home,” Mum said. “Gave Augie a terrible megrim, I’m afraid. But don’t take his condition as a sign of weakness. He’s stronger than all of us put together for having come through his troubles thus far. Ridley’s gone to see what the terrible racket is. They’re close as twins.”

Lilith closed her eyes briefly to shut out more tears. Why, oh, why, did it break her heart to hear about this clan? Could it be that despite their odd ways, they were close-knit? Unlike her family? The sudden realization that she was an only child and had lived a cold, isolated existence struck her like a heavy blow. Some memories, it would seem, weren’t worth salvaging.

…

Lilith leaned her head against the red velvet squabs of Eastleigh’s expensive carriage and studied Doctor Hemphill. After five days on the road, bluntness was just the thing, she decided, since he’d been so insistent upon accompanying her to her parents’ home.

Her hand swept lightly over Daisy, who lay curled asleep in her lap. “I’ve come to realize these past few days that I do not care much for my father, Doctor Hemphill.”

Unperturbed, he said, “And why is that, Miss Stokes?”

She brushed at her gown and gave him a set-down glare. “Please, call me Lilith. At least until my parents can inform us of my married name.”

Hemphill gave a little nod of acquiescence. “Then tell me, Lilith, why do you not care much for your father?”

“Because he is the most self-absorbed man one would ever chance to meet. He is a pitiable vicar, in my estimation. Perhaps half the village is of the same opinion. I cannot recall at present.”

“And what makes him self-absorbed and poor at his position—in your estimation, of course.”

She leaned forward in challenge. “Ask him when the last time was that he actually wrote a sermon for the good people of Aylesham.” She sat back, smug. “He purchases a year’s worth of sermons from some chap in London and delivers them on a Sunday in the exact order in which they arrive, the devil with what the parishioners might require to feed their souls.”

She no longer smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt—she flicked at them as though they irritated her skin. “His only interest is land-grabbing. Buys it on the cheap when some poor fellow comes to him in dire straits. Ever so kindly, and with ever so much élan, he relieves the beggar of his despicable problem by purchasing his land. With little cash. Very little. Then he rents the land or farm back to the unsuspecting fool. Little by little, my father is eating up the area—like a mouse after an entire wheel of cheese, slowly, steadily until he has it all. He won’t rest until he owns more than his titled eldest brother. Which will never happen, and so he is a miserable cur for whom I have little respect.”

“You’re so very angry, Lilith. Mightn’t you be taking some of your rage out on your father? In case you haven’t noticed, the closer we get to Aylesham, the curter you become.”

She gave him a spiteful grin. “I do hope you are around when the good vicar decides to have a go at showing his temper.” She gave a flick of her hand. “Never mind. He only displays that in private—when the day servants are gone, and the live-ins are tucked away in their tiny little beds, in the farthest corner of the attic.”

Doctor Hemphill sighed. “Those are rather strong words coming from a vicar’s daughter who has displayed a fine upbringing, good moral character, and high intellect at every turn.”

She lifted a brow. “Perhaps there is another layer to me that went unexposed ‘til now, Doctor Hemphill?”

He shook his head. “We all have a dark side when pushed to our limit. You are likely merely frightened of what lies ahead because you have a spouse you cannot put a name or face to but are certain he mistreats you. Set aside your fears, if you will, for you’ll not be placed in the home of one who will abuse you. I’ll see to it.”

Her laughter came harsh and abrupt. “Then our destination is not my father’s home, after all?”

Hemphill pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your father mistreats you?”

“In all ways, I do not recall. I am only certain he does. He didn’t want me, you see. He desired a son. Which is why he named me Lilith.”

Puzzlement swept over Hemphill’s countenance. “Forgive me, but I don’t grasp the connection.”

She laughed again, this time lighter, pleased she knew something the good doctor, with all his education, did not. “Why, Doctor Hemphill, you must attend one of my father’s sermons. He makes it ever so clear that Lilith was Adam’s first wife. She was made of the same mud and earth as was he, but she was rebellious and independent and would not mind him, so Adam divorced her and cast her out. Then, while he slept, God took Adam’s rib and made Eve, a woman meant to be obedient.”

She grinned. “Oh, dear. Eve did go and take that nasty little bite that cast the two of them out of Eden, didn’t she?”

At last, Lilith was enjoying herself. “I think I shall become an apple biter.”

…

Four days living in her father’s home and he’d yet to speak to Lilith, let alone look her in the eye. And her mother, pale and withdrawn, refused to discuss Lilith’s husband. The most she would say was that she didn’t know the man since he was not from the village surround, and that Lilith had run off and married him without first letting her parents know.

When Lilith learned Doctor Hemphill had sent a note ahead of their arrival telling her parents that Lilith must discover her husband’s identity on her own, she grew livid. “I don’t care that Lady Willamette had no business leaving Miss Marks’ gardening book in my room,” she said, fitting flowers, one by one, into a crystal vase. “Shocking as the event was, it gave me back my name and most of my memory, did it not?”

Doctor Hemphill shrugged. “Another bit of it, at least, but we could have lost you, entirely, Lilith. I’ve seen this occur with too many others when given a terrible shock.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Please, bear with me. I know what I’m about. You weren’t around when Eastleigh had a setback. It’s quite destructive to one’s system to remember a few things only to have everything swept away again by a single, foolish act.”

“What foolish act? Eastleigh did something to cause a relapse?”

Hemphill waved her off. “It’s of little importance now.”

Something sorrowful swept through her at the mention of Eastleigh’s name. Quickly, she dismissed it. “Speaking of whom. What kind of man would cast his own sister out because she didn’t follow his orders to keep the gardening book to herself?”

“Those were my orders, Lilith, not his. And I am not in the least concerned about Eastleigh ordering Lady Willamette off his property. Those Malverns squabble like noisy geese, routinely send one or the other on their way, but within a fortnight, there they are, together again. One wouldn’t know a cross word had ever passed between them.”

He glanced at the clock and chuckled. “Will’s likely having tea with Eastleigh and Mum, as we speak. They may be an unruly bunch, but the love they share is so full of passion as to be priceless. With them, one must be prepared to take the good with the bad. I rather enjoy their quirky ways.”

At the remembrance of high tea with Mum and Eastleigh, a sharp pain swept through Lilith. Well, of all things—she missed him. And she missed Mum. For pity’s sake, she even missed Easton Park and all that it represented. Tears clogged her throat.

When she spied Doctor Hemphill studying her, panic bit at her heels. It wouldn’t do to have him guess her secret feelings. Shoving the remaining flowers into the vase, she pulled off her apron and hanging it on a hook, headed for the door. “I’ll see to these later. I’m off for a walk.”

“But not beyond the property,” Hemphill said.

“Of course not.” But she knew exactly where she was headed—not to stroll in the sunny grazing field, where she’d once found solace, nor to her garden full of flowers where peace abounded, but to the smithy. If anyone in this village knew of her husband, he would. She’d known Jonathan since they were children, her learning to walk the horses to be shod, him learning the trade. Everyone from these parts took their cattle to him. He was the best around since his father had passed over to the eternal side.

Picking up her pace, she tried, to no avail, to keep her mind off Eastleigh. That first morning when she’d awoken in that unpleasant inn, when he’d touched her head wound and told her he’d not harm her—was that when she’d begun to trust him? Was that when the attraction had set in? Her mind captured poignant vignettes—his winsome smile exposing that one chipped tooth, his warm and wonderful kisses that left her boneless. Of his heated body rolling provocatively against hers while they rode along on his horse.

Her breathing grew labored, but not in the least from the brisk pace she kept. Oh, she couldn’t let herself think such sinful thoughts of him. She could not. Even if her husband was cruel, and she refused to live with him, he was still her spouse and would be for the rest of her days.

The memory of Eastleigh’s kisses caught at the corners of her mind once again, sending her pulse racing and her mood plummeting.

As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he
.

Those words her father preached had never meant much before. But now they took on a sorrowful depth that threatened to break her heart. She’d nearly sinned with Eastleigh. Or was she, a married woman, sinning even now—
as she thinketh
? Heaven help her, was she destined to suffer forever at the memory of him? Or would she soon forget him?