Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (31 page)

Lyon saw the old woman’s gaze
travel down his legs to his feet. 

“Is this any improvement?” he
asked, touching his smoothly shaven face.

“Some,” she responded. “Have you
told her?”

“That’s what
I
was asking
‘slordship,” the valet chirped in as he gathered up the shaving equipment.  “No
disrespect, m’lord, but ye look like a different man than the one her ladyship
hitched herself to. An’ we dunna want her to boot ye out of Melbury Hall,
thinkin’ ye’re somebody else now.” 

“Get out, you prattling scarecrow.”

With a broad grin on his face, Will
left the room. Ohenewaa did not repeat her earlier question, and Lyon made no pretense of misunderstanding her.

“No, I haven’t told her yet. But I intend to, this afternoon.” He flexed the fingers of his right hand. “I have been waiting,
hoping for the moment when I could make some grand gesture like taking a step,
or sweeping Millicent off her feet, but I guess that isn’t to be.”

“Those things will come. You have
to exercise your patience as well as your muscles.” Ohenewaa put the bottles
she was carrying on the table beside the bed. “Your wife takes her pleasure out
of the little things in life. Small joys are rewarding, but the monumental ones
can be overwhelming. She is much different than what you are accustomed to.”

“Has someone been talking to you
about my first marriage?”

Ohenewaa snorted.

“Are you so attuned to Millicent’s
moods and feelings?”

Ohenewaa simply stared at him with
her slitted eyes, but said nothing more. Then she turned to the table.

Lyon studied the old woman for a
long moment in silence. He watched her capable hands moving purposefully among
the bottles and jars.

“Are you able to look into people
and heal their souls as well as their bodies, Ohenewaa?”

The dark gaze turned and met
his.   

“I have met many men with vast
experience in science and medicine in my life,” he continued. “I have even run
across a few spiritual men over the years. But none of them have had your
confidence. Or your knowledge of healing.”

“There is no magic involved in what
I do, or in what I see. But I have seen too much real suffering. And what I have learned from those experiences is that wounds heal or people die. But I have also learned something else. Sometimes the suffering that plagues the body when there
is no physical reason is caused by some memory that holds that person captive.”

“Do you think guilt stopped me from
improving before?”

“You say guilt. I did not say it.
Guilt, regret, sorrow. If you look deep enough into your heart, you shall have
your answer. But all of these--” she waved her hand at the bottles before her--
“have been little more than trifles to distract you. You were on a path to destroy yourself. For your wife, I could not allow that. You are healing now because you
have started to push open the door and let the pain that is past seep out. You
are allowing the present to move in.”

Lyon didn’t think he would ever
totally recover from the blow of his past. But Ohenewaa was right: He had
stopped letting it rule his existence. He was no longer consumed by it.

He looked up to see the old woman
gliding across the floor to the door with amazing self-possession.

“Do not forget,” she said, stopping
at the door. “Little steps.”

*****

“I need to get out to greet them.
We’re not ready. They weren’t expected. We need to think of where to put them.”

Overwhelmed by the sight of the
visitors’ carriages driving into the courtyard, Millicent glanced out the
upstairs window.

“The dinner—”

“Cook shall see to it,” Mrs. Page
said hastily. “There will be plenty.” 

“Mr. Gibbs, please tell his
lordship that the dowager and Sir Richard have arrived. Arrange for him to be
brought down to the drawing room at once.”

“Aye, m’lady.”

She turned desperately to the
housekeeper. “As far as rooms for everyone to stay in, is there any way we
could avoid displacing Ohenewaa?”

“Surely. We’ll move Mr. Gibbs into
the steward’s apartment,” Mrs. Page responded. “His bedchamber should suit the
gentleman. And if you don’t mind giving up your bedchamber and moving in with
your husband, m’lady, then we can quickly fix that up for her ladyship.” 

“Yes. Yes. That will work just
fine,” Millicent whispered, hurrying away through the house to greet their
guests. Although she had invited the dowager to Hertfordshire, she was
flustered with the abruptness of the visit. Naturally, she had hoped for a
little warning prior to their arrival so that she could plan a perfect stay for
the older woman.  

It wasn’t so much the need to
impress, Millicent told herself, but her desire to raise the dowager’s
confidence in her. She wanted Lyon’s mother to be reassured about her initial
choice of Millicent as her daughter-in-law.

She paused at the top of the wide,
curved stairs and ran a hand down the front of her green velvet dress. Taking a
deep breath, she tucked a stray curl behind an ear.
Why tonight?
Millicent thought. On impulse, she had sought Violet’s expertise to help her
dress differently. She’d wanted to look special for dinner with Lyon tonight. As a result, the gown was too revealing and the style of her hair completely
impractical. Of course, this would be the night that they would have guests.

Lady Aytoun and her lawyer had
already removed their cloaks in the entrance hall by the time Millicent reached
the foot of the stairs. 

With a pair of maidservants on
either side of her and a silver headed staff to support her frail frame, the
dowager received Millicent’s greetings with a wave of one hand. “I shall not be
making any apologies for the unexpectedness of my visit here.” 

“Nor should you, m’lady. We have
been expecting…hoping for a visit from you for some time now.” Millicent
offered her greeting to Sir Richard in turn. “And how was your journey from London?”

“Horrible and long.”

“We don’t need to serve dinner
until you have had some rest. But would you care to have a glass of wine or a
cup of tea in the drawing room while your luggage is brought up to your rooms?”
she asked pleasantly, trying to ignore the way the dowager’s keen stare was
taking in everything—from Millicent’s hair to her gown to the very tips of her
slippers. “There should be a nice fire going in there to help you warm up.”

“I should like to see my son
first.”

“Then we can accomplish two things
at once. His lordship is to join us in the drawing room as well.”

Millicent was not oblivious to the
look that passed between the dowager and the lawyer, but she said nothing and
took her time escorting the older woman past the bowing Gibbs toward the
drawing room.

“And how…” Sir Richard asked
casually as he surveyed the marble stairwell and painted ceilings high above,
“how is Lord Aytoun faring with the lack of visits from any physicians from London?”

“Quite well. In fact, as I have
been mentioning in my letters to her ladyship, I believe he has made a vast
improvement…in his disposition particularly.” 

“Have you engaged some country
doctor, then, to see to him?” the man asked.

“No, Sir Richard. There has been no
need for that.” Millicent slowed down to allow Lady Aytoun to catch her breath.
“But he has not been without medicinal care, either.” 

“And how is that?” the dowager
asked sharply.

Millicent saw no reason to hide the
truth. “If you recall the day of our first meeting, I had come upon an
assistant to a deceased physician in London.”

“The old African woman.”

“Yes. As it turned out, m’lady,
Ohenewaa’s experience and knowledge in traditional and herbal methods of
healing have proved invaluable in treating your son.” Millicent was aware of a
second look that passed between her guests. “As you shall see for yourself in a
few moments, his lordship is now in full control of his thoughts and actions.
He no longer depends on any sedating medications to calm his moods. He is
independent and willful, and Ohenewaa believes that it is only matter of time
before he overcomes the inability to move his arm and legs.”     

Neither of her guests appeared
convinced by her speech. Millicent nodded to one of the servants to open the
doors of the drawing room. She peered in, hoping that her husband was already
there.

Someone was indeed there. But the handsome, clean-shaven, and impeccably dressed gentleman sitting beside the fireplace
could not be her husband. The man’s confident gaze took in their visitors
before coming to rest on Millicent.

Her pulse raced. Millicent took an
involuntary step backward and looked away as her heart sank like a stone into
her stomach.

The future had arrived.

******

Lyon had eyes only for his wife.
She was stunning.

The gown fitted her beautiful body
like a second skin. The auburn hair piled on her head was perfect, and the
curled tendrils that framed her pale face accentuated her high cheekbones and
sensual mouth. But he could also see the look of uncertainty in the depths of
her gray eyes. More than anything else, Lyon would have liked to be left alone
with Millicent. He wanted to tell her how lovely she looked. Reluctantly, he
turned to the visitors.  

“I’m sorry I cannot get up,
Mother.” She was staring at him in open disbelief. “Come in. Please.”

Both guests appeared to be rooted
to the ground they stood upon, and now that he thought about it, so was
Millicent.

“Maitland, you do not look any
worse since I saw you last. And you must be well, too, Mother, gallivanting
about the countryside in the middle of winter. Come sit by the fire, all of
you.” He brought a hand up to touch his face and addressed Millicent. “What do
you think?”

“I…I…” Instead of answering him,
she turned to the guests. “If you would be kind enough to join his lordship, I
need to oversee some arrangements. I shall join you all shortly.”

Lyon sensed her discomfort. But he didn’t know if it was the suddenness of the unexpected company or if it was something
that he had done. Long Will’s teasing words came back to him; so did Ohenewaa’s
questions. He decided not to press her, and as Millicent disappeared from the
doorway, he turned instead to his mother and the lawyer, who finally decided to
approach the fire.

“You look a little tired, Mother,
but much the same as I left you.”

“I cannot say the same thing about
you.” She sat down heavily in one of the cushioned chairs and dismissed her
maidservants. The door of the drawing room closed and the three of them were
left alone. “You look rested and fit. I can see the Hertfordshire weather
agrees with you.” 

“My health is due to far more than
the weather,” Lyon corrected, drawing surprised looks from the other two. He
turned to Maitland. “I assume you received my letter.” 

“I did, m’lord. And I have in my possession the pieces you requested. We have also brought with us Peter Howitt,
a young man who was trained by Walter Truscott and was a clerk at Baronsford for—”

“I remember him,” Lyon said. “Any news of Pierce?”

Maitland shook his head, and Lyon was sorry that he had asked. Signing responsibility for the family estate over to his
younger brother some six months ago had been Lyon’s attempt at salvaging their
family. He planned to withdraw and let all the hard feelings gradually fade,
while Pierce could take charge and bring David back, and the people of Baronsford could continue with their lives peacefully, as they once had. Giving away Baronsford had been Lyon’s way of settling the future for everyone, but Pierce had thrown it all
back in his face by not returning from Boston in the American colonies. 

“And how are things at Baronsford?” Lyon asked, trying not to allow old wounds to begin festering again.

“Perhaps we could discuss this
later, m’lord, when we have more time.” The lawyer cast a cautionary glance at
the dowager, and Lyon respected his wish to wait. It had been so long since Lyon had cared enough to ask about the place that Maitland was obviously concerned that
once the discussion began, the dowager would become overtired well before the
two men covered all there was to talk over. 

He was right. Lyon had so many
questions. And he was well aware that his brothers did not share his passion
for it the way he did.
It was not the place that he missed so much, as
it was the people. And seeing the care that Millicent bestowed on everyone at
Melbury Hall, he now realized how neglected the people there must feel.    

“Before you two do that, I have
some things I should like to know.” The dowager studied him keenly. “These
changes that I see in you—these improvements—what is the extent of them?”

“I cannot walk as yet, if that is
what you mean.” Lyon took satisfaction in watching their stunned expressions as
he stretched his feet slowly before him. “But I think it will only be a matter
of time.” 

“This is wonderful, m’lord,”
Maitland exclaimed.

“Witch or no witch, the woman is a
maker of miracles,” the dowager whispered in awe, staring at his feet.

“So you have heard about Ohenewaa,”
Lyon said.

“We have, m’lord. But no report was favorable until your wife spoke of her upon our arrival. And now this!”

Lyon turned to his mother. “Who
else has been talking about her?”

“Dr. Parker is still braying like a
stung mule over your wife’s treatment of him. The man has been filling the ears
of everyone in London who will listen to him about the danger Millicent has
subjected you to.” The dowager smiled. “And from Dr. Tate’s description of the
situation, this black woman’s care should put you six feet underground in a
fortnight at the latest.”

“So that is the reason for this
unexpected visit?”