Complications (6 page)

“Everything is well. Mr Saverney is not as
badly injured as we feared. The injury is in his side not his stomach, which
apparently means he will soon be better.”

Amelia embraced her. “I never dreamt of a
day when news of Mr Saverney’s good health could give me pleasure.”

THE DUEL HAD not gone according to plan, Mr Brightford mused,
as his carriage slowed to a halt, but at least the outcome had been about as
good as one could ask for and Harrington would soon be back to full health. Still,
he had left his home at a time when most people were getting back after a good
evening’s entertainment so he would be glad to relax for an hour or two. He descended
from his carriage to the welcome sight of his city house and headed inside,
barely making it into the hall, before he was metaphorically pounced upon by
his guests.

“We expected you back hours ago,” Alex said
as the three men came into the hall and watched Brightford remove his wet
tailcoat and hat and hand them to his butler.

“Something went wrong.” Nathan’s normally
amiable countenance was grave. “Is Mr Harrington ..?”

“Harrington has a minor arm wound which he
will quickly recover from,” Brightford reassured them. “I waited with him for
word of whether or not Saverney would recover from his injury, but he is now on
the mend so there is no need for further concern.”

“That is excellent news,” Alex said,
slapping him on the back.

Nathan and Wrackley echoed these sentiments,
Nathan looking as if a burden had been lifted from him at the words. Brightford
then recalled that he had not yet eaten breakfast and since it would shortly be
time for luncheon, he had better hurry to do so. He asked his butler to see to
it then walked into the dining room, his guests wandering after him like
ducklings after their mother. They all sat down around the mahogany dining
table and Wrackley and Alex began to discuss their plans for the evening.

Nathan picked up a salt cellar from the table,
turning it in his hands. “Do you think Mr Harrington will want visitors? I am
not well acquainted with him, of course, and perhaps you think it would not be
a good idea?”

Brightford kept a straight face with
difficulty. “I have a strong intuition that Harrington would be delighted to
receive a visit from you.”

* * *

“You are very quiet,” Mrs Daventry observed
as they sat in the drawing room, embroidering, awaiting a call from one of
Mama’s friends.

Amelia looked up from her half-finished
cushion cover with a frown. “The older I get the more I realise that life is
not as simple as it ought to be. I keep expecting things to happen in a just
manner and they do not.”

Her mother’s lips twitched. “What brought
on this observation?”

Amelia explained about the duel and how she
had been so convinced Benjamin would prevail. At least he was recovering and
Lottie could relax and stop worrying about him. Amelia could not help but feel
that Mr Brightford had handled the duel badly, allowing the situation to get so
badly out of control, but Lottie had insisted that he was of great assistance
in its aftermath, which was something.

“He behaved in a brave, if foolhardy,
manner and thankfully both he and Mr Saverney will recover,” Mama said. “It is
good, though, that you see the consequences of thoughtless actions. For a woman
in particular, good behaviour is vital as even an ill-advised word can come
back to haunt her.”

That was not what Amelia had meant and she
found it vexing that her mother had taken the opportunity to deliver another
lecture. It was not her own behaviour she was concerned about but the behaviour
of the world where good people did not always succeed in their endeavours and
bad ones were not always punished. Now, more than ever, Benjamin’s actions
seemed brave to her and she wished it was possible for ladies to achieve as
much instead of just worrying about their stupid reputations.

* * *

Benjamin had been half-heartedly reading,
already feeling caged by the doctor’s insistence he remain indoors today, when
the butler announced Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge’s arrival. Boredom turned to
pleasure and he raced downstairs to the drawing room to his guest.

After exchanging greetings, Mr Fenbridge
said, “I am happy to see you up and about after your injury.”

“Oh, I feel quite the fraud.” Benjamin
indicated his arm in its white sling. “My family and doctor are fussing over me
all for this tiny gash. I have had worse injuries from being given a shave.”

It was a small joke but Mr Fenbridge
laughed heartily, making him feel like the wittiest of men.

“Is there any more news of Saverney?”

“He is in no danger,” Benjamin said. “That
is all I care about. The last I heard he was still abed but he can stay there
permanently if it prevents him appearing at mutual social events and
distressing my sister.”

“And how is Miss Harrington?”

Benjamin grimaced. “I think my injury gave
her quite a shock. She will be well now, though. I believe Miss Daventry will
be calling later and she always cheers Lottie up.”

“Does that mean your family will be
attending Mrs McLeod’s ball tonight?”

“I imagine so. Will you be going?”

Fenbridge nodded and that was Benjamin’s
decision on the matter made. They sat drinking tea and discussed the running of
an estate for a while then somehow moved onto the subject of criminals, with
Benjamin promising to show Mr Fenbridge the place where the infamous masked thief
William Brodie had been hanged twelve years previously.

“We saw one poor fellow at the crossroads
on the way into Edinburgh, dead and in irons. I dislike seeing even criminals
treated in such a way.” His compassion made him even more appealing; Benjamin
had yet to discover anything that he did not admire about Mr Fenbridge and this
feeling was dangerous.

“They are normally used in anatomy class at
the College. I am not sure if that is a better fate, although at least it
serves to improve our physicians.”

“The College?”

“Edinburgh University,” Benjamin said. “The
city’s crowning glory.”

“I have heard that it has students from all
over the world.”

“That is true, not that learning is as
popular as it used to be, when all our best thinkers are accused of sedition
and sent off to Australia. But I should not criticise or I might be accused
myself.”

“I swear never to denounce you,” Mr
Fenbridge said and smiled as if they were sharing a secret. “But, if you are
right, at least you could be sure of good company in Australia.”

Benjamin laughed and agreed, but privately
thought that no company could be more enjoyable than that of his current
companion. He had a feeling he was going to get his heart broken again but the
lure was irresistible.

* * *

“What will you wear to the ball tonight?” Amelia
asked Lottie as they walked round the nearby park, a line of trees providing
some shade from the dazzling sunshine that had followed the earlier rain. The
grass smelt fresh and the colours of grass and flowers were richer after being
watered.

Lottie nodded to an acquaintance then
hesitated, a gloved hand brushing a leaf from her parasol. “I am not sure I
will go. The last couple of days have been so tiring…”

“You have to go,” Amelia told her, afraid
that Lottie could retreat altogether from society given the chance. “Think how
Benjamin would feel. He would blame himself.”

“But that is nonsense.”

“He would think you were so embarrassed
over the duel that you refused to attend.”

“Then you are right: I must go.” Lottie was
clearly unhappy over the decision.

“Remember how pleasant Mr Brightford’s ball
was? You danced nearly every dance and with just about every eligible bachelor
in the room.” Indeed, Amelia had hopes that Lottie may soon have another
suitor.

Lottie smiled. “Hardly that but it was a
pleasant evening.”

“And there is no reason to think this will
be any less so.”

“You are right. My mother would say that I
am having a fit of the mopes and must get over it.”

Amelia could well imagine it: Mrs
Harrington was a stern, autocratic woman. “Is your brother going?”

“Oh, yes. I believe Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge
will be there.”

Amelia digested the underlying message with
interest. That took Mr Fenbridge off the list of eligible men for Lottie but
she was pleased for Mr Harrington’s sake. As long as it did not end badly. “Do
you believe Mr Fenbridge might be someone who could return his feelings?”

“I do not know. It is impossible to judge. They
have certainly struck up a strong friendship, though. He came to visit Benjy
just this morning and nothing could have aided Benjy’s recovery more.”

“I am glad. How is Mr Harrington’s arm?”

“The doctor says he is entirely satisfied
that it is healing properly. Benjy has to wear a sling, which he does not like,
but it will not be for long. Have you decided which dress to wear to the ball?”

“Not yet.” She would have to look her best:
Mr Wrackley would very likely be there.

* * *

This ball was less select than Lady
Treeton’s had been, the upper classes mixing with wealthy businessmen and the
more distinguished academics; the Scottish accents of the middle and working
classes mixing with the English accents of the upper class. However, there were
handsome men to talk to, pretty dresses to admire and music to dance to so
Amelia was content.

She saw Mr Harrington and Mr Nathaniel
Fenbridge talking, Benjamin looking so happy and Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge so fond
that she had great hopes for them. Lottie, her parents beside her, was talking
to Mr Brightford. Well, that would not do. Mr Brightford would likely never
marry anyone and certainly he was far too sharp and bad-tempered for Lottie. She
was about to go over and get Lottie away from him when she saw Mr Alexander
Fenbridge approach her; a moment later they left together to go to dance. Mr
Alexander Fenbridge was a little older than she would have liked for Lottie,
perhaps thirty, but this was not an unreasonable age difference. He had been
charming so far and had seemed to show a liking for Lottie, although it was
difficult to tell as he seemed more reticent than Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge. She
remembered how charming Saverney - the rat - had seemed and wished Mr Alexander
Fenbridge was not a stranger to the area; the character of a local man would be
easier to find out, although again Mr Saverney had deceived everyone.

A voice spoke her name and she recognised
it at once and turned to greet Mr Wrackley, trying not to look or sound too
eager, or too disinterested. She gave a smile that was hopefully friendly but
not excessive. “I am glad to see you again, Mr Wrackley.”

“You cannot be as glad as I am.”

She had had such flattery fifty times in
the past but it had never been anything beyond a pleasant boost to her
self-esteem. Now, when Mr Wrackley said any such thing to her she wanted to
laugh or throw herself into his arms. This would not do at all. She sternly
told herself to be calm. “Are you enjoying your stay in Edinburgh?”

“It is growing more pleasant by the
second.”

This comment made her feel over-warm and
flustered. “And have you visited all the sights?”

“Honestly, I prefer to converse, ride or
dance than visit museums or libraries. Does that sound shallow to you?”

“I hope not since I feel much the same way
myself.”

As the previous music finally came to an
end, Mr Wrackley’s dark eyes scanned the dance list. “Ah, finally a cotillian. May
I request the great honour of this dance with you, Miss Daventry, if you are
free?”

She was not but Benjamin would certainly
not object to the reprieve. “I would be delighted.”

They took their places and the music began.
Whenever the dance required him to touch her waist or hand she was acutely
aware of the warmth of his hand and of the tingling sensation his touch produced
in her body. She had never felt such awareness of another person and their eyes
frequently met in gazes that sent pleasurable thrills up and down her spine.

The dance, although some fifteen minutes
long with this many couples, was over far too soon and they walked through the
crowds away from the dance floor.

She fanned herself, suddenly made
light-headed by the extreme heat of the room. Mr Wrackley at once offered his
arm and said, “Shall we stand by the doorway to the garden? It might be
cooler.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

It was a little less warm by the open
doors. “There are people out on the balcony,” Mr Wrackley said. “If you are
still warm it would not be improper for us to go outside.”

She agreed and, once there, felt a lot
better. Mr Wrackley left to fetch her a drink and she stood looking in at the
ballroom brightly lit by a vast candelabra and full of talking and dancing
guests. No wonder she had felt faint: half of Edinburgh looked to be there. She
saw Lottie on Mr Alexander Fenbridge’s arm, moving away from the dance area,
only to be stopped by Mr Brightford and head back again with him. She smiled,
happy that her friend was enjoying the evening.

Her smile faded as she watched the dance
begin. Given his attention at this ball and the last one they had attended,
Amelia wondered if Mr Brightford could possibly be interested in courting
Lottie. It was a thought that alarmed her. Lottie would never be able to cope
with his insults and bad temper. No, she told herself, it was far more likely
that he actually did possess a speck of goodness and was being kind to Lottie.