Lisa Bingham (18 page)

“By all means.”

“The child will never recover. Never. In my opinion, the best recourse would be to return her to the asylum, where professionals can manage her.”

“Manage her?” Louisa stiffened. “Do you call locking a growing child in the attic ‘managing’ her?”

The doctor sighed. “I would not expect a woman of your delicate breeding to react to the situation with anything other than a soft heart, Mrs. Winslow. But the fact of the matter is that caring for the insane is neither pleasant nor easy.”

“Evie is not insane.”

The doctor eyed her pityingly. “It is only a matter of time, Mrs. Winslow.”

Louisa drew herself up to her full height. “I refuse to believe your doomsday predictions.”

“One day you will be forced to believe them. Even you must admit that her condition has deteriorated visibly since her return from Hildon Hall. I must agree with your sister-in-law in begging you to consider Evie’s stay here a short holiday.”

Incensed, Louisa gestured to John. “Thank you for your time, Doctor, as well as your…personal opinion. Mr. Smith will see you to the door.”

The doctor was not so obtuse as to misunderstand that he’d been given his marching orders. Bowing slightly, he gathered his things and strode down the corridor.

It wasn’t until she’d heard the click of the door closing that Louisa lost her temper. “How dare that man say such vile things!” she hissed aloud as she stormed into the sitting room.

“He is a physician,” John stated.

“Is he? Is he really? So far, I don’t like the kind of medicine that he’s peddling, thank you very much. I have always believed that doctors were humanitarians. But what kind of humanitarian would condemn a child to the kind of life she would have in Hildon Hall? He’s offered her nothing, nothing at all.”

“There is the tonic.”

Louisa hissed in disapproval. “Frankly, I’m beginning to wonder about the harm such a powerful medicine could have over time. I don’t even know what is contained in the brew! The doctor insisted the ingredients were a secret concoction that had not yet been patented, so he refused to give me any details at all.”

John was watching her carefully. “So what do you want to do?”

Biting her lip, Louisa came to a stop in front of the window. Rather than seeing the blackness outside, she saw her reflection, and behind her, that of John.

“I want to take her to another doctor.”

“According to Beatrice, Evie has seen every specialist.”

Louisa’s throat grew thick with tears as logic wrestled with instinct within her.

“I don’t care,” she finally said, her voice gruff with emotion. “I refuse to accept the fact that nothing can be done. I—I won’t have Evie sent back to…to that place….”

In an instant, John was turning her toward him, his arms folding her against his chest as she wept openly. “Shh, shh, we’ll find someone.”

She gazed up at him through her tears. “We?”

“Yes, we.” John’s thumb gently wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “You aren’t the only one who is upset by the thought of sending her back to that place.”

For long moments, Louisa could only stare at him, basking in the warmth she saw in his eyes. She found it amazing that, of all the people who should care about Evie’s future, the person to give her the most support was someone outside of Evie’s family.

“Why would you help me?”

His expression grew so still, so intent, that she trembled. “Don’t you know?”

She shook her head.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze focusing on her lips. Softly, gently, he traced his thumb over the fullness.

“I’ve grown quite fond of you, Louisa Haversham Winslow.”

It took every ounce of strength for her to keep from melting into his arms then and there. He cared for her—moreover, he’d been willing to voice his feelings, something she never would have expected of the great John Smith.

In that moment, the last of her defenses tumbled and she was left open and vulnerable. When had John ceased to be her adversary? When had he become her closest ally, her…

Her what? Their relationship had grown much too personal for employer and employee. How should she describe it?

Louisa instantly shied away from calling him a beau; the term was far too childish. And yet to refer to him as a lover was not quite true.

Even if she wanted to become his lover.

The thought shocked Louisa to her very core. Her hands clutched fistfuls of his shirt and she stood in indecision, wondering if she should push him away or bring him closer.

How could she have allowed this to happen? How could she have let her feelings for John grow so…personal? For they were personal. In fact, if she dared to probe her emotions, she knew she would have to admit that she was more than slightly in love with her bodyguard. She had grown so attuned to his vitality and power that she had begun to rely on him with much the same intensity that a flower needed rain.

Resting her head on his chest, she closed her eyes, listening to the beating of his heart.

What was she going to do? It would be the height of impropriety for her to suddenly marry her bodyguard.

Louisa’s eyes squeezed shut in horror at the reaction her highbrow neighbors might have at the news. Even after a suitable period of mourning had passed, she would cause plenty of scandal by marrying an employee….

But wasn’t she presuming far too much? Louisa stiffened, pushing away from John. There had been no mention of marriage, no mention of love, merely a growing fondness. True, they had exchanged fervent kisses and stolen embraces, but she had no guarantees that John was in love with her.

When she looked up, she discovered that he was watching her closely. Embarrassed, she prayed that he had not been able to read her thoughts. If he had…

“I do care for you, Louisa. More than you will ever know.”

Before she could respond, he bent down, his lips softly caressing hers. But when she would have lifted on tiptoe to deepen the embrace, he stepped back, his hands circling her wrists and drawing them away from his neck.

“No,” he murmured softly.

“But—”

“If I kiss you, Louisa, I won’t stop.” He waited for his pronouncement to sink in before continuing. “When we make love, it will be for all of the right reasons, not because you are worried or sad or lonely. It will be because you want it as much as I do.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, knowing that he was right. There was still enough of the Puritan in her to make her balk at lovemaking without commitment.

Silence filled the room around them, a sticky, uncomfortable silence fraught with might-have-beens. Then, when Louisa was sure she could not bear it any longer, John nodded in her direction and said, “I’ll be on the porch if you need me.”

Within seconds, she was left alone with her whirling thoughts. Yet, through it all—her worry over Evie, her distrust of the doctor, her weariness and her inner angst—one thought stood out.

He loves me.

John Smith loves me.

T
he next day Neil stood in the shadow of a tree, watching as Louisa directed an army of gardeners in how best to plot out the formal rose garden at the rear of the house.

“What have you discovered?”

“Nothin’ you’ll be wantin’ t’hear.” Tucker shook his head. “Matter of fact, it wasn’t difficult fer Parker t’get the information. Seems folks are more than willin’ to gossip about Charles Winslow and his poor unfortunate brides.”

Neil felt a prickling of warning slither up his spine. When Albert Parker had joined them, Neil had sent him nosing around the community to gather information.

“Go on.”

“Seems the first Mrs. Winslow died in childbirth.”

“Sad, but hardly unusual.”

“Ahh, but it gets better.” Tucker nodded his head in Evie’s direction. “The girl’s mother managed to live nearly three years after marrying Winslow. Then she went mad and committed suicide.”

Neil winced. “So the…condition Evie suffers afflicted her mother as well?”

“So it ‘ppears. Accordin’ to reports, the woman was fragile from the start, but as time went on, she became overly emotional. She would scream about how her joints ached. She would tear her hair out in fistfuls and scratch at her skin until it bled. One day she couldn’t take the torment any longer and she leaped from the roof of the castle. Some say that Evie witnessed the suicide and she’s never been right since.”

Neil stared up, up to the battlements, suddenly understanding Evie’s reluctance to live in the place.

“What about the other wives?”

Tucker shook his head. “Bad luck plagued them all. The third one died in a riding accident, and the fourth after an extended illness. She all but wasted away in bed.”

Neil’s unease deepened. At that moment, he would have liked nothing better than to carry Louisa away from this house, but she was already too deeply embroiled in her role as lady of the manor for such a thing to occur.

“So what are you goin’ t’do, Cap’n?”

Neil inhaled, holding the air in his lungs before releasing it slowly. “I don’t know. But I think it’s time we hired some men to help us.”

“Y’think something’s going t’happen?”

“I don’t have any doubts.”

Neil had spoken the truth to Tucker. With each day that passed, his worry increased—and not just because of the aura of imminent danger that he could sense in the air around him. No, what worried him even more was that he was starting to believe Louisa might never consent to leave Boston and become his wife.

As he watched her overseeing the flower beds and the placement of rose bushes, it was clear that she was enjoying her life as a woman of society. She had every luxury that a woman could ask for—money, servants, fine clothing, good food. She had the pleasures of Boston a short drive away and the privacy of the walled Winslow estates when she wished to remain apart from the bustle of the world.

What could possibly entreat her to exchange everything for life on the frontier? And as comfortable as Neil’s house might be, it wasn’t a castle by any stretch of the imagination.

As for her possible pregnancy…

Was he three times a fool? With each day that passed, the thought of a baby worried him less, because he could no longer ignore the fact that he loved Louisa.

His lips twitched in the barest semblance of a smile as he watched her bend over a delicate peach-colored bloom. The silky texture of the rose paled compared to the beauty of Louisa’s skin. Indeed, he was sure that the blossom’s petals could never be as soft as Louisa’s cheek.

Resting his hand against the pillar of the porch, he admitted to himself that he was totally besotted. The emotion was completely new to him and even more disturbing because of its intensity. True, he’d enjoyed the company of women on more than one occasion. He’d even fancied himself in love once or twice. But now that he had experienced the true depth of caring, he realized that he’d never really known what it meant to be in love.

He had only to look at Louisa for his pulse to quicken. But more than that, he felt each of her emotions as his own. When she ached, he ached. When she laughed, he experienced her joy. He
knew
this woman and her character, in a way that went beyond outer trappings. He knew what gave her joy and what regrets lingered in her heart. She was a good woman, a caring individual. She had an infinite capacity to inspire the best in others…including himself.

If Louisa had encountered trouble in England and her virtue was compromised, Neil didn’t care. He would help her to see that the incident meant nothing to him. He would raise her child as his own.

A few evenings later, Louisa settled heavily onto the porch swing. Her body was weary and her head throbbed.

She’d had another trying day with Evie. The girl had alternated between being dazed and glassy-eyed, and violent.

Louisa rubbed her temples, wondering what had happened to make Evie so angry. Even the sight of her beloved doll hadn’t been able to calm her. Louisa had barely managed to save the toy from destruction.

She sighed. Unfortunately, a good many of the ironstone dishes hadn’t fared so well. Evie had nearly emptied the cupboards, smashing the stoneware onto the floor and throwing it against the walls before John had been able to restrain her.

Unfortunately, it was Evie’s latest outburst that had forced Louisa to concede to at least one of Beatrice’s suggestions. Tomorrow they would all move back into the castle. Once there, Louisa would have a full staff to help her with the girl—as well as a nursery suite, which had been updated and carefully furnished with Evie’s “special needs” in mind.

So why did Louisa feel as if she’d failed the girl? Why did she feel as if she were abandoning Evie?

Her only comfort lay in the fact that John had located a physician who specialized in “nervous ailments.” Louisa had arranged for him to examine Evie at the end of the week.

Pushing at the floorboards with her toe, Louisa set the swing in motion, hoping that the gentle swaying would ease the tension gripping her muscles.

As she pondered the upcoming doctor’s visit and her stepdaughter’s decline, Louisa decided that, come morning, she wouldn’t force Evie to take her tonic anymore. The new dosage only seemed to aggravate the girl—indeed, her newfound aggression could be directly linked to the hour preceding her next dose.

Several times, Louisa had noted that delaying the tonic caused Evie to grow more and more volatile and agitated. But on the other hand, her eyes lost their glassy sheen and she seemed to grow more coherent.

Perhaps the tonic no longer agreed with her. In any event, Louisa hoped the new doctor could offer some alternate methods of treatment.

As for herself, Louisa feared she was working too hard and worrying too much. Her nights had become sleepless and her body ached with weariness, despite her efforts to rest. But what concerned her most was her inability to concentrate. She felt as if she were moving in a fog, sleepwalking through her days and pacing the floor all night. Worse yet, her nervous stomach was a constant affliction. She was unable to eat anything more than the tiniest portions of bread or soup. If not for the calming effects of Beatrice’s hot chocolate, she didn’t know what she would have done. She was swiftly losing weight—so much so that she knew her physical state was attracting far too much attention from John Smith. She knew it was only a matter of time before he forced her to see a doctor herself.

Sighing deeply, she supposed that maybe she should see someone. Heaven only knew she hadn’t been feeling well since her arrival in America. If only…

Not for the first time, she wished there was someone to talk to. She had written at least a dozen letters to Phoebe, sending them to be mailed via one of the groomsmen, but she had yet to receive an answer. She would have given anything to have a friend to converse with. Even writing in her diary failed to clear her thoughts. More and more she discovered that she didn’t have the energy to put pen to paper--and her dreams of becoming a novelist had been put on the back burner.

Sadly, she realized that in severing her ties to her old life, she had not taken into account how much she would miss her correspondence with Neil Ballard. She had grown so used to pouring out her sorrows and triumphs on paper. She truly missed the comfort and advice that her friend had offered on countless occasions.

But he was lost to her now. She had chosen this life rather than the one he would have offered her.

“Problems?”

Her eyes flew open. John stood with his shoulder resting against one of the porch supports.

How long had he been there? How long had he been watching her?

She couldn’t bring herself to answer him.

“You look tired,” he said when the silence grew fraught with awareness.

“Yes. Yes, I’m tired. But that’s to be expected, I suppose. I spent most of the day getting the north wing of the castle ready so that we could move in tomorrow morning. It’s a good sign, I think. When I showed Evie where she would be staying, she actually grew excited about having a larger room and her own water closet.”

So why did Louisa feel as if she wanted to burst into tears?

“You’re doing too much, Louisa.”

She shook her head. “I’m not doing enough.”

“You can’t right years of injustices in a few weeks.”

Was that what he thought she was doing? Making things “right” for Evie?

With a sigh, Louisa realized that he was correct. She felt a moral obligation to the girl. She wanted to erase Charles’s indifference and the years of abuse in the asylum. But would she ever really be able to do that?

“She’s my responsibility.”

“But she’s not your child.”

Louisa shrugged. “She may not be blood of my blood, but I already care deeply for her.”

“Why? Because you were commanded to oversee her future?”

“It’s more than that. This may have started because of the stipulations made in Charles’s will, but soon after meeting Evie I began to care for her.”

“But she isn’t your child,” John insisted again.

“Does that matter?” She bit her lip before whispering, “There was a time when I was sure that I would never marry and have children of my own. Now that I am experiencing the joys and tribulations of parenthood, I am discovering that there is nothing so wonderful—or so terrifying—as to have someone look to you for their every need.”

“So you like being a mother?”

Her smile was rueful. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“And Evie is to be only the first of many?”

Louisa shrugged, wondering at the intent of his question. Was he suggesting that he…that they…that the two of them might one day have a child? Together? Or was he merely speaking rhetorically?

Suddenly too weary to deal with the complexities of the conversation, Louisa stood. “I’d best be retiring myself,” she murmured softly.

As she brushed past him, he offered silkily, “Yes, you’d better…or there’s no accounting for what might happen.”

As Louisa settled her diary in her bureau and stood, she was suddenly overcome with a wave of dizziness.

Dear sweet heaven above, what was wrong with her? Sweat beaded her skin even as she was racked with chills.

Had she caught a bug? Or was it something more serious? Except for her nervous stomach, she’d rarely been ill.

As she struggled to catch her breath, she knew that she should seek medical attention as soon as possible, but she hesitated to do such a thing. Not because she feared doctors, but because she hated to show such a blatant sign of weakness.

Especially with Boyd nearby.

Boyd was clearly displeased at having the women move back into the castle, but he had yet to say anything. As Louisa and Beatrice lingered over hot cups of cocoa in the parlor, he’d entered the room, unaware of their presence until he’d come too far to gracefully retreat. Once he’d realized his mistake, he had glowered briefly at them both, then retrieved his newspaper, a cup of coffee and a handful of cookies, before retreating again, all without comment.

Louisa prayed that his actions meant a truce was imminent.

The waves of dizziness returned again. Closing her eyes, Louisa released the buttons of her bodice and stumbled in the direction of the balcony.

Air. She needed some air.

Her legs trembled as she stepped onto the balcony and reached for the wrought-iron balustrade. But as she rested her full weight against the railing, the moorings suddenly pulled free.

A scream ripped from her throat even as she clutched the iron with all her might. Sure that she was caught in the grips of a horrible nightmare, she watched as the world spun sickeningly. Then her arms felt as if they would be ripped from the sockets as the balcony grillwork slammed into the wall, being held in place by a single set of screws.

More screams ripped from her throat, and just when she thought she couldn’t hold on for another second, John appeared above her.

“Hold on, Louisa! Hold on!”

Sobbing, she clenched her teeth, using every last ounce of strength she could summon, until John’s strong hand grabbed her wrist.

She saw the muscles of his arm tremble and strain as he lifted her, inch by inch. Finally he hauled her back to safety with a rush that took her breath away.

For long moments, they clung to one another in panic and relief. Louisa wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, absorbing the frantic rhythm of his heart and the strident measure of his breathing.