A Lady of Secret Devotion (16 page)

There was no response.

Cassie opened the door fully and entered the room. “Mrs. Jameston?” She looked at the bed, but the older woman was not there.

As Cassie drew closer, it was clear why the bed was empty. Mrs. Jameston was on the floor. Unconscious.

With a presence of mind that Cassie hadn’t thought possible, she rang for the servants, then hurried back to Mrs. Jameston’s side. She couldn’t see well enough to tell whether the woman was injured and quickly went to light Mrs. Jameston’s bedside lamp.

Cassie brought the lamp to where Mrs. Jameston had fallen. Relief coursed through Cassie when she didn’t find any blood or obvious wound. Mrs. Jameston’s fragile form was so completely still, however, that Cassie knew things were not right.

Kneeling, Cassie felt the woman’s forehead and called to her once again. “Please wake up, Mrs. Jameston. It’s Cassie. I’m here to help you.”

She didn’t so much as stir and Cassie shuddered. What if she were dead? Cassie quickly bent her head to the woman’s chest and listened for a heartbeat. A very faint
thud-thud
could be heard, but it did little to ease Cassie’s worries. The beat was slow and very weak.

A knock sounded on the outer door. “Come in!” She knew the urgency in her voice would send someone to her aid.

“Miss Stover?” It was Brumley. He appeared disheveled and confused.

“Mrs. Jameston has fallen, and she’s unconscious. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but please help me get her back into bed.”

The man came quickly to her side. He was clothed in a dark blue robe, but his nightshirt was clearly evident beneath.

Cassie realized she hadn’t even bothered to don a robe and immediately became self-conscious. She hurried to put the lamp on the nightstand and then went back to help Brumley as he scooped up his employer and placed her on the bed.

“We need a doctor,” she told the man. “Can you send someone immediately?”

“I will see to it, miss.” He exited the room more rapidly than Cassie had ever seen him move.

In his absence, Cassie went quickly back to her room and retrieved her dressing gown and slippers. She had just returned to Mrs. Jameston’s bed and was securing the ties to her robe when Mrs. Dixon showed up. With her mobcap askew, she came to Cassie’s side.

“What has happened?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “I heard a crash and came to investigate. I found Mrs. Jameston on the floor.” Mrs. Dixon gasped. “Brumley helped me get her back into bed and then went to send someone for the doctor.”

“I’ll get more light in here,” Mrs. Dixon offered. “Poor dear. I knew she wasn’t well. She didn’t eat a thing for supper. Said her stomach pained her too much.”

“I know,” Cassie said, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

“Miss, I’ve sent Wills for the doctor. It shouldn’t be long now,” Brumley said as he returned. “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie admitted. She sat down beside Mrs. Jameston and took hold of her hand. “I feel completely useless. I am living here so that I can help her, and I have no idea how to make this right.”

“You found her, miss,” Brumley said in a sympathetic manner. “You have done exactly what needed to be done.”

Cassie met his gaze and saw the support in his expression. “Thank you, Brumley.” She drew Mrs. Jameston’s hand to her breast. “I just wish we could do more.”

It was another twenty minutes before the doctor showed up with an anxious Wills following close behind. The doctor entered the room with authority, and just seeing his familiar face gave Cassie a feeling of hope. This man was Mrs. Jameston’s regular physician. He knew her better than anyone—at least in regard to her physical health. Surely he would know what was wrong.

“Dr. Riley, I found her unconscious on the floor,” she told him as she got up off the bed.

“She hasn’t been feeling well for several weeks,” Mrs. Dixon offered as she placed two lamps on the nearby dresser. “We tried to get her to come see you, but she thought it nothing more than a summer complaint.”

“What were her symptoms prior to the fall?” he asked as he took out some of his instruments from a well-worn bag.

“She complained of pain in her head earlier in the day, and her stomach has bothered her for some time,” Cassie told him.

Mrs. Dixon nodded, wringing her hands. “Yes, and she’s also been tired. She takes more naps now.”

Dr. Riley immediately began to examine her, and as he did, Mrs. Jameston moaned softly and began to regain consciousness. She looked rather startled at the gathering, then turned her attention to the doctor.

“Goodness . . . what . . . whatever has happened?”

“You might well tell me that, Mrs. Jameston,” the doctor replied. He listened to her heart and breathing, then straightened to examine her eyes. “Do you remember falling?”

She considered the question for a moment as the storm once again rattled the windows. “I remember the thunder. I got up to make certain my window was closed, as I feared the rain would ruin my draperies. I just felt so weak. I don’t know anything else.”

“Your heartbeat is very weak. I believe you may have damaged your heart.”

Mrs. Jameston shook her head very slowly. “I am an old woman. Such things shouldn’t surprise either one of us. I think this is much ado about nothing.”

Cassie came around to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge. Reaching out, she took hold of the woman’s hand. “Mrs. Jameston, you gave me quite a start. I hope you will listen to the doctor and do as he says. You hired me to be your companion and help take care of you, but I cannot do that if you will not cooperate.”

She met Cassie’s eyes and nodded. “Very well. I suppose you are right.”

“I’d like everyone to leave now so I can better examine my patient,” Dr. Riley said in a tone that suggested he would brook no argument on the matter.

Brumley and Mrs. Dixon immediately left the room, but Cassie was slower to follow. “I’ll be just outside the door if you should need anything.”

Mrs. Jameston nodded, then closed her eyes as if submitting heroically to her fate.
She’s almost like a lamb being led to slaughter,
Cassie thought. She leaned against the doorjamb and tried to pray. It was only a matter of minutes, however, before she heard someone join her. She thought perhaps Mrs. Dixon had returned, but when she opened her eyes she found Sebastian Jameston staring at her like a wolf about to devour its prey.

Cassie crossed her arms to her chest as if to ward off his intense gaze. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to know what all this commotion is about. And maybe why you are standing here in your nightclothes. Were you hoping I might come along to . . . entertain you?” He chuckled.

“Hardly. Your mother fainted a little while ago and fell on the floor. The doctor is with her now.”

“The doctor? Why is he here?” Sebastian seemed rather upset by this and kept glancing back and forth between the door and Cassie. “Old people faint all the time.”

“He’s here because we sent for him. Your mother hasn’t been well for weeks. Not that you would notice.”

“You’re awfully impudent for a servant,” Sebastian countered. He stepped closer to Cassie, backing her against the wall.

“But I happen to like cheeky wenches.”

“I really have no interest at all in what you like,” Cassie said, lifting her chin in a defiant manner. “Your indifference toward your mother lessens my already poor opinion of you.”

“Miss Stover,” Dr. Riley called from behind the closed door.

“Would you join us?”

“I have to go,” Cassie said, pushing him away.

Sebastian reached out and took hold of her arm. He lowered his voice so that Cassie had to strain to hear him. “I’m not at all indifferent toward my mother, Miss Stover. I hope she dies and does so soon. I have a great many things to give my attention to once she’s out of my way.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes and scowled. “You are a hideous man, Mr. Jameston. Your poor mother deserves a much better son.”

He let her go and shrugged. “Then she should have been a much better mother. Nevertheless, when she is gone, I shall be your new master, and I shall take great pleasure in that position.”

Cassie could still hear his threatening tone the next morning when Mark showed up with flowers to brighten her day. She was greatly impressed by the bouquet of hothouse roses but reminded herself that Mark was only using these as a prop for his grand scheme.

“Thank you. They’re lovely.”

He looked at her oddly. “What’s wrong?”

“Did I say something was wrong?” she asked, burying her face in the roses. They smelled sweet.

“Your mouth might have refrained from it, but your expression did not.” He smiled and gently took hold of her. “Come sit with me and explain what’s happened.”

Cassie let him lead her into the sitting room. She sat in one of two chairs positioned by the window that looked out over the street. Mark took the other chair, flipping up his dark blue coattails before seating himself.

“Now tell me, why you are frowning on such a perfect day?”

Cassie glanced toward the doorway and then back to Mark. “I’m not sure that we should speak here.” She got to her feet. “It has to do with the topic we’ve often discussed.”

Mark took her cue. “Perhaps we should walk in the garden, then, if you are to whisper sweet words in my ear.” He grinned and stood.

Cassie crossed the room without looking behind her to see if Mark had followed. She ran into Essie in the foyer and handed her the bouquet of pink roses. “Would you mind putting these in water for me?”

The young woman bobbed a curtsy. “No, miss. I’ll see to it right away.”

Mark took hold of Cassie again and led her down the hallway to the French doors. “I’m starting to sense that something is very wrong. I hope your feelings for me haven’t changed.”

She looked up at him, mesmerized by his nearness and the scent of his cologne. “No. They haven’t changed,” she whispered.

Was it a lie? Could she honestly say that without there being some falsehood in the matter?

Outside, the brilliance of the sun sent them to the shade of a large white oak at the far end of the gardens. Rather than sit, Cassie broke away from Mark and began to pace. “Mrs.

Jameston is ill. She collapsed last night in her room. I found her unconscious.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Cassie shook her head. “She’s been feeling poorly, as you knew, but this was something different. The doctor has put her to bed and wants her to receive very few visitors. He wants to keep her calm.”

“Sounds sensible.”

Mark watched her closely and Cassie couldn’t help but feel a sense of protection under his scrutiny. She stopped directly in front of him. “Mark, there’s something else. I was sent to wait in the hallway while the doctor examined her. It was the middle of the night and only a few of the servants had been awakened. They were gone at that point, and in their absence, Mr. Jameston made an appearance.”

It was Mark’s turn to frown. “What did he want?”

“Me,” she blurted. Rolling her eyes, she began to pace again.

“His nearness forced me back against the wall, but that wasn’t nearly as upsetting as what he said.”

“Which was what?” Mark asked in a very low voice.

Cassie stopped and stepped closer lest anyone hear her. “I chided him for his indifference toward his mother’s condition.

He told me he wasn’t indifferent at all; he hoped she would die and soon. And he added . . .” She stopped and met Mark’s gaze.

He took hold of her and pulled her close as a suitor might dare to do when certain that he wouldn’t be discovered. “And he added what?”

Cassie trembled. “That once his mother was dead, he would be my master, and that he would take great . . . great pleasure in that position.”

For a moment Cassie saw rage in Mark’s expression, but it passed rather quickly as he pulled her against his chest possessively. The action so shocked her that Cassie couldn’t speak. “He’ll never be your master, nor will he take any pleasure with you. I’ll see to it. Do not fret or be afraid.”

“That’s easy to believe when I’m here with you,” she said with a sigh. “So long as you are nearby, I know I needn’t worry.”

Mark dropped his hold and stepped back just a bit. “Cassie, I don’t want to have to tell you something, especially in light of what’s happened.”

She stiffened. “Just tell me. I want no other games between us.”

“I have to go to Boston. My employer has asked me to look at some evidence and information they’ve recently laid claim to. I have to go, but I wish I didn’t.”

She nodded, feeling a chill come over her. “We all have our duties.” She knew the words sounded rather stilted, even indifferent. Cassie quickly turned away. “Please don’t worry about me. My attention must be on Mrs. Jameston. I wouldn’t have time for our walks or work with Posie anyway.”

“Cassie, if I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t.” Mark took hold of her again and turned her to face him. “Believe me. I do not wish to leave you here.”

Letting her guard down once again, Cassie nodded and met his gaze. “I know.”

In Boston two days later, Mark looked over the deposition taken by a customs man who had given the latest stolen cargo a quick inspection before it left New York for Philadelphia.

“They were uncertain why the ship went to New York first.

But while it was there, one of the customs inspectors came aboard and gave a cursory look at the cargo before being chased off by another inspector,” Nelson told Mark.

“And this was what he found?” Mark asked, looking up.

“Rubber boots and umbrellas?”

“Among other common things. Certainly not the vast number of art pieces and artifacts that the other customs inspector suggested.”

“Obviously the other man is working with Jameston.”

“That’s what I surmised,” Nelson said. “However, when I interviewed the man, he simply suggested that the other inspector had no time to get to the areas of the hold where the most valuable cargo was secured.”

“And what of the information I shared with you—the notes Miss Stover read?”

“We’re still uncertain. My guess is that Jameston also has some sort of scheme going on in Baltimore. Probably with a different insurance company.”