Wedgewick Woman (13 page)

Chapter
20

“But I cannot wait.”  Doctor Heys.  “You said yourself, as did Dr. Kane, that it was of the utmost importance that we do the surgery as quickly as possible.”

“I’m afraid you will have to wait my dear.  I must make my journey to Oxford, for we are studying a new progressive type of surgery.  You must realize that it is entirely possible I may return with a more preferable method of repairing your child’s foot…and Eleanor will be much the better for it. Please understand.”

“Dr. Kane will accompany me.  He is a good surgeon, even though young, and shall bring back to London hope for others who find themselves in your daughter’s condition.” 

“Yes, of course.  You are right, it’s just that I…”

“You will bring her back then at the appointed time?” He inquired gently.

“Yes.”

Annabel walked from the doctor’s office, disappointed and yet hopeful…perhaps waiting a month would be best.  She stopped to see James at his office and told him the despairing news.

“Oh James, it’s just that it seems there’s one interruption and then another.” She whispered. 

“Annabel, it will be better for Eleanor if you wait.  Look, she is so happy today.  Shall we eat luncheon?  There is a nice restaurant at the hotel that will suit us. Perhaps it will lift your spirits.”

“Thank you James.  You are good to me.  You are right, I am melancholy and I shall work to alter my condition.” she smiled wanly.

“Now that’s my girl.” He said in his familiar way.  “’Tis not the end of the age…you will survive another month’s time, and so will Eleanor.”

“I must decline your offer however…I do not wish to be seen among London’s cafés.  You understand?”

“Of course, how foolish of me to suggest.”

“I am grateful for your support, James. I have no one else to talk to.” She lifted Eleanor onto her opposite hip whispering to her softly, “Soon you will be a little one walking everywhere and I shall say how sorry I am that I grumbled at all this day.” She laughed as she waited for her carriage, James already walking back to work.

When she returned to the cottage and Phoebe put Eleanor down for her nap, Annabel noticed a written note on the table.  It was on the Clan Carmichael letterhead.

An invitation to a celebration?  Whatever for? She wondered as she removed the wax seal, noting Bria’s precise hand.  Annabel thought for a moment…there was no holiday coming.  She read on and discovered it was to be a fun day, food, sporting and games, and her favorite music with the bagpipes, which were hardly ever heard in England.  Why had she been invited?  She wondered.  “Surely the Laird does not wish to see me…” she whispered.

She could not go, of course.  Eleanor would not be able to attend and she would not leave her alone.  Annabel sat at the small table and with her own letterhead, politely declined.

James, having arrived back at his post, found two gentlemen awaiting his return.  He nearly fainted dead away when he saw them.  Two of Laird Carmichael’s second guard stood in his office.  What was he to do?  He had no choice but to face them squarely. 

“Caddock, Galven.” He greeted them as officially as his countenance would allow.  “Would you have a seat?” James looked for some sort of intent in the eyes of both but read nothing there.

“We bring word from Laird Carmichael,” and he handed James a note, “that he would like your presence, Tuesday two weeks forward.  Will you accept?”

“Yes.” He answered and let his eyes fall to the note.

“Laird Carmichael would have you answer personally.” Galven’s deep voice penetrated his scattered thoughts.

“Of course.” He said formally, then quickly scribbled a quick reply and handed it back. 

“With regards.” The one said and then both men were gone.

James fell into his chair.  It was finally here…the day of reckoning he had known would come…perhaps he would be taken into the courts. Sighing, he let the idea drop.  The note could have just as easily been a trial summons, he reasoned…and since it wasn’t…

He called his secretary and made arrangements to leave on Tuesday two weeks hence.  “May as well get it over with.” He mumbled.

* * *

The drive North to Dunbeernton Castle was one of beauty and serenity.  At least,  James reasoned, if he was going to be hauled into some sort of disagreement, he’d had a most pleasant ride.  The fall colors had put him a most fortuitous mood.  He wore his fashionable tweeds and had on a new pair of brown leather boots straight from an exclusive London shoppe and carried a black umbrella, more for support than for the threat of rain. If he were assaulted, he would, at the very least, have a weapon to protect himself, paltry as it may be.

Chapter
21

“Come in James,” Laird Carmichael looked up from his work, pointed to a chair.

“As you wish,” James tried to be cordial but found himself crossing and uncrossing his slender legs.

“You need not be worried, James.  ‘Tis not my plan to do you harm.  You’ve already been sacked.  How much worse could it be? Although slithering away in the night did cause me some concern.” 

Comically, James swallowed.  The Laird watched his Adam’s apple go up and then down again.  Feeling almost sorry for the poor man, he turned from him and entwining his hands behind his back, paced slowly, calmly. 

“As I see it, we might, in future, become friends.” 

James looked bewildered…for the Laird was not known to dash about with fancy nor humorous words, nor to be about his business with other than a straight tongue. 

“Friends?”

He watched almost entranced as the Laird paced.  His sword lay across the huge desk and James could not take his eyes off it.

“Aye, ‘tis a most unusual situation we are in, James.  I find I need some assistance in acquiring some information that I know you must have.” For a long moment he gazed passively at James who was staring at the sword.

“Think you worthy of my sword?”

James started and reluctantly forced himself to answer.

“Nay, indeed I think your father’s sword greater than any I’ve had the occasion to lay eyes upon.”

“I have taken it up.”

James swallowed convulsively and could only hope that the questions were not about the secret he kept with Annabel.  God knows that he could not lie, yet he could not tell.  His hands began to sweat and without realizing it he began wringing them nervously.

“Is there anything you wish to say, James?”  The Laird turned suddenly riveting his agitated glare directly into James’ worried eyes. “You seem high strung for someone who has no secrets.”

His tongue became tangled so that he could only manage a squeaked,  “Oh? Nay I have no secrets,” his voice, a mere whisper in the quiet room.

“Your tone tells me you do.”  The voice came back at him quick, loud, and sure.

James opened his mouth then clamped it closed again.  He could feel the quiver in his jaw and prayed the Laird did not notice.

“Then there is a secret you carry?”

Quick thinking, James replied, “Aye, have you no secrets, Laird?”

Eyebrows raised, for he did not expect James’ curt reply.  “Aye, ‘tis the way of it, I’m thinking.” He agreed only so long as to let James think he was so inclined.

“I would have your word as a gentleman, James.” he countered quickly, stopping to stand in front of his former assistant who was still seated, so that James found himself being looked down upon as he spoke.

James refused himself the pleasure of tugging at his shirt collar, knowing he’d be giving himself away.  Choosing instead to be free of the Laird’s seemingly knowing green eyes, he stood, sidled past the Laird and walked on weak legs to the nearest window.  He placed his sweaty hands on the casements and looked out, hoping to stall for time.  His word as a gentleman required the truth…but in telling it, he may well ruin two other lives.

Not being a particularly religious man, he found himself praying. 
God, help me, for I am not about living lies
. The meek heart in his chest beat furiously now as he made his decision.

Pulling a breath deep in his lungs, he turned.  “Twas me that collected dues for Helen.  You have found me out and I have paid back all.” He began in his own defense.

“Aye, you have at that.” Laird Carmichael agreed, waiting.

“I confess I have been giving the monies collected to Annab…Miss Wedgewick.” He finished.

“First you say you collected for Helen’s debts and now I find that you continued giving funds to her young sister.  Why?” he commanded.  “Her own mother has fortune enough…at my cost.”  He reminded him.

“Aye, she does, for I wrote the cheque myself.” James reminded him.

“I will not stand here whilst you parry with me, James.  I have it that you made a mistake, corrected it and then ran out in the midst of my employment…fearing something else.  What is it, man?”

“Laird Carmichael, please understand…I cannot disclose the matter.”  He closed his eyes, knowing he had just admitted he indeed carried a secret.

“You use my employment to rob and cheat my servants and you tell me you cannot disclose the matter?”  His voice was dangerously deep-throated.

James, fearing for his position as a gentleman and finding himself deplorable, cringed at the words.  Actually feeling pity for the Laird because he knew not that he had a daughter…one that was in dire need of his assistance even now…the thoughts tore through his conscience.

“Anna…Miss Wedgewick has a child.”  He said quietly.  “One that is, shall we say, ill.  At this moment, she needs funds for a surgeon.” 

“Why didn’t you say as much, James?  I knew there was a child.  Ewan perchance made a visit for me at Miss Wedgewick’s and found it out.”

James turned quickly and sought the Laird’s eyes.  “Oh, ‘tis a weight off my soul, Laird Carmichael, that you finally know about your daughter.” He let out a long breath.

“Daughter?”  Pause.  “I have a daughter?” his eyes narrowed.

James knew instantly he had revealed what he had promised to keep secret and groaned aloud.  He dropped into a chair and held his head in his hands.  Sighing, he looked up and realizing it was over, confessed.

“She is Helen’s child…and yours.” He stated simply.

“The child…is mine?”  The Laird’s eyes bore into his.  “You knew of my wife’s… indiscretions.”

“Aye…” he agreed. “But the child has your looks.” He conceded.

Lee remembered the last rendezvous with his wife before she’d finally gone off to London to reacquaint herself with her lover.  Groaning aloud, he gave his back to James and walked to the window staring out over his beloved Scotland.  He had a child…

“Tell all, James.” He said in a muffled tone.

No one spoke for long minutes as silence filled the room.

“I would know it all.” He repeated and turned back to face the man who held the secret of his own child.

The defeat in the Laird’s voice caused James to come to his full senses.  He truly respected the man standing before him.

“My conscience will not allow me to bear this burden a moment longer…” James stood to his feet and faced him.

“It began when Helen wanted me to collect the dues.  At first it was so ludicrous I laughed; but not for long because I fell under her commands.  She had my entire soul believing I and the others would be turned out in the streets to beg food should anyone deny her wishes.”

“Aye.”  The Laird agreed.

“She effectively created a resource for funds that neither showed on the accounts nor would be whispered about; for each was made to feel ashamed for not giving.  I continued the farce after Helen extracted a promise from me on her deathbed that I would continue collecting the monies and give them to Annabel for the child.  I felt I had no other choice.”

“She died in childbirth, then?” 

The Laird’s quiet voice haunted James’ soul.

“Yes.  She made Annabel and me promise that we would care for the child; I was to see to the funds, Annabel would raise the child as her own.

“Helen did not want me to know.”  He stated quietly.  James saw his back, the Laird’s arms outstretched on either side of the window his head hanging low.

“No.”  James admitted.  “She was cruel to the end, Laird Carmichael. ’Twas not you she hated but herself.”

“When was the child born?”

“She is nearing the age of two.”

“Two?  I have a wee lass and no one, no one thought I might like to know?”

James cringed at the truth.

“Who else knows?”  The words tore from his throat as he turned back furious pinning James with his eyes.

“No one except Annabel, me and Annabel’s housekeeper, Phoebe.” He was ashamed at the look of sadness he saw in the Laird’s eyes.

When the Laird said no more, James was quiet for awhile, then spoke…

“Laird Carmichael, may I ask your forgiveness for my most regrettable actions?”

“I will withhold my judgment until I have heard all.”

“You may go James, but I ask you not to inform Miss Wedgewick that I know.  It is all that I will ask of you.”

“As you wish.” James agreed.  “You will tell her won’t you?”  James had to ask it.  “For I wish no more to be a part of this deceit.”  For long moments James waited.

“Think you that I would abandon my own child?”

“Aye.  You would not.”

Silence.

“What is wrong with the lass that she needs a surgeon?”

“The child is lame…her foot is turned.” James spoke quietly.

Lee’s heart belied him.  His own child and she was in need and he knew her not.

“Is that all, James?”  His defeated tone affected James’ own voice.

“That is all.”  He choked.

“Then be on your way; but do not mention this to anyone.” 

“You have my word, Sir, if you can find it in your heart to accept it.”  James did not fault him for his bitterness.  It had been a cruel telling and he, for one, was more than ashamed.  Now it seemed as though they had all been wrong.  It should have been he who told the truth long ago.  James felt less than a man as he watched Laird Carmichael turn and leave the room, his wide shoulders bent slightly.

* * *

As for the Laird, his mind registered nothing but his own sorrow.  He heard, in some distant part of his mind, James’ carriage pulling away, feeling as if he had been defeated in battle.

Ross was not at his doorpost and for that he was grateful.  He did not wish to see anyone.  He walked slowly to his own bedchamber.

Throwing the door closed he lay flat on his back on the bedstead at mid-day and let the tears fall from his manly eyes.  He had a child…a wee lass.  And she was lame. And he, her own father, had not so much as known she existed.

At odds with his own heart, he stood and paced for an hour then slumped into an overstuffed chair as darkness settled around him. Taut with emotions, he finally broke and let his head fall into his hands and wept.

Helen had borne his child and died forcing a promise out of Annabel and James not to tell him.  Had she hated him so much that she sought even at death to punish him? Perhaps, the thought entered his mind abruptly, the child was not his after all.  Helen had lovers, several that he knew about. 

Then he remembered James’ comment that the little one possessed his features. 

For several hours he replayed in his mind each moment of the last three years.  His foolishness at the games.  Falling in love with his young wife only to learn she knew not what love was.  Her faithfulness to him was lost within months of their nuptials and now this.  She had borne his child and deprived him even of that knowledge.

Suddenly angry, he stood to his feet. Helen was gone and Annabel Wedgewick was a deceitful woman.  The same as her sister. 

He must see the child for himself.

“Ross, gather The Four.” He shouted, for he had known Ross had returned to his post just moments before.  “We are riding to London.”

Ross appeared instantly, made the Carmichael sign and wondered what was about.  He sensed a look of betrayal in the face of his employer, his hair in disarray, his voice not his own.  The intensity he saw in his red eyes disturbed him. 

“Blithers, see that Knight is brought immediately.”  Lee shouted to his valet when he attempted to enter the room only to be stopped by his chief guard.

“Aye.”  He said and hurried away to relay the message.  Blithers knew something was about the castle and if he knew anything at all, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.