Secrets of the Heart (17 page)

“I do know something of loss. My mother died. A long time ago. I loved her very much.”

Madeline’s heart hammered in annoyance. She did not want to hear about his pain. She was the one who ached because of what he had done to her father. “Anyone who mutilates bodies surely cannot appreciate God’s gift of life. You cannot possibly understand.”

He sighed. “I don’t know how to make you grasp the importance of it all.” His frustration showed ever so slightly in his glance. “Surgery is not mutilation. It is an attempt to heal when the body rebels against itself.” He frowned. “There’s much to learn, much to be understood in the field of medicine. Until then we must live with the inevitable. Death comes to us all. And even the best medicine cannot prevent it.”

She couldn’t help asking, “How… how did you come to live with it, accept it?”

“My mother had a strong faith in God.”

“How did that make it easier for you to accept her death?”

“She always used to quote Scripture. I remember her saying that God would never leave us nor forsake us. That gave me comfort when she died. And I know it gave her comfort as well.”

“And you have the same strong faith as she?”

“I have faith, not yet as strong as hers. I still struggle. Death is so final. So quiet, so unchangeable.”

She nodded.
Perhaps he did understand more than she thought he did.
“Thank you for telling me about your mother. I can tell you miss her. I guess that’s why it’s so important for me to protect my mother. She’s my last surviving relation. And she wants to change our lives by marrying a man who”— she shook her head— “may not be a good choice.”

“Sometimes we cannot control the choices that other people make. No matter how much we love them.”

“Stop a moment,” Madeline asked. She could see a coach and four leaving Richfield from their vantage point on the hillside. “I believe that’s Lord Vale’s coach. I wonder why he is visiting so early this morning.”

Ravensmoore tilted his head toward her. “It will turn out well. Your mother is an intelligent woman.”

Madeline looked into his eyes. She’d never really studied those forest green windows of his soul. They were honest eyes filled with compassion. Yet she couldn’t allow her heart to feel the compassion she observed therein for it would cause her much distress. “Yes. My mother is an intelligent woman, but her heart rules her head. Loneliness fuels her heart. Love is blind indeed.”

“Why not speak to her?”

“I did so a few days ago. That is why I chose to go for a ride. To clear my head.” She nudged her horse with her heel. “Let’s return. I do not want to overexert Shakespeare, and perhaps you are right. Maybe I should talk to Mother again.”

When they approached the path to the stables, Madeline could see that Agnes awaited them. Anguish etched her face. Madeline pushed Shakespeare into a trot. “What’s happened?”

“Your mother’s gone. She’s left with Lord Vale.”

C
HAPTER 11

Man, while he loves, is never quite depraved.

—C
HARLES
L
AMB

S
HE DID WHAT?
” Madeline asked, incredulous. Agnes sobbed into her already soaked apron. “She left with Lord Vale, taking her best gowns and saying they would return within a fortnight. She asked me to look after ye.”

Ravensmoore stood next to Madeline in the stable. “It seems none of you are happy concerning the countess’s relationship with Lord Vale. What are you going to do when they return as a married couple?”

“Married! You think they are going to be wed?” Madeline asked, feeling weak in the knees.

He frowned. “It certainly appears that way. No gentleman would arrive so openly with his coach to leave for a fortnight with his mistress. Especially not someone like your mother. They are going to Gretna Green. I’d wager my future in medicine upon it.”

“I have to stop them,” Madeline said. “Mother cannot marry. It’s far too soon.”

“How do you plan to stop them?” he asked. “They are able to do this if both are willing, and it sounds like your mother has made her decision.”

“She’s confused. How could she think to marry so soon after coming out of mourning?”

Agnes nodded. “Beg pardon, Lady Madeline. She’s not so much confused as lonely. She’s left ye a note in your room.”

“Donavan, please see that the horses have water. Then saddle my father’s stallion.” Madeline straightened her shoulders. “I’m going after my mother.”

“Just like that?” Ravensmoore shook his head. “You are recuperating from a severe sprain and think you can go tearing about the countryside on a stallion? If you manage the ride, what do you plan to do when you catch them?”

“I don’t know. I’ll work that out as I ride.” She left them and headed toward the house.

He grabbed her hand. “Wait! There’s nothing to be done.”

“My mother’s lost her reasoning.”

“I don’t think she has, Lady Madeline.” He covered her hand with both of his. “She’s made a decision to love again.”

“Well then, she’s made the wrong decision. I know my mother. She is not rash. In fact, she is painstakingly cautious. That man must have done something to muddle her reasoning.” She pulled her hand away and determinedly walked to the house.

“Foolhardy as it is, I’m going with you. Someone has to look after you.” Ravensmoore caught up to her. “And you are my patient.”

“If you’re serious about coming with me,” Madeline replied, “I would be grateful for the company.” She entered the grand hallway, then turned and ran up the stairs.

She opened the door to her room and grabbed the note on her dressing table. There, scrawled in her mother’s handwriting, was proof indeed that her mother planned to wed Lord Vale.

Dear Madeline,

Forgive me. I know you disapprove of my relationship with Lord Vale. But life is short and I must have hope. We’ve left for Gretna Green. Wish me happiness.

Love,

Mother

She rummaged in a drawer next to her bed. “Where is it?” she grumbled in frustration. Reaching to the very back of the drawer, she felt the hard, cold object, then withdrew the small pistol and placed it in her beaded reticule.

Ravensmoore waited for her in the hallway. The most patient man she’d ever met, and she’d ordered him about like a common house servant. “We must hurry. You were right. They are traveling to Gretna.”

“We’ll catch up with them, Lady Madeline. They are riding in a traveling coach. A horse and rider will always be faster. You might want to think about what you plan to do when we overtake them.”

Madeline brushed past him and out the door where Donavan held her father’s dappled gray stallion and one of the stable boys held Devlin’s horse, Hippocrates. Agnes continued sniffling into her handkerchief.

“I will stop her,” Madeline told Agnes confidently and gently squeezed the old woman’s hand. “I must.”

They traveled the Great North Road, rough from the recent rains, but easier for them than for Vale’s coach. Still, Madeline had seen it worse, and other coaches and riders traversed the road with them. She found it comforting to ride her father’s horse, Samson, and though she would never admit it to Ravensmoore, she needed all her strength to manage the horse.

“He’s a big brute.” Ravensmoore rode beside her.

“He’s almost seventeen hands.” Madeline hoped she wouldn’t end up in the mud. It was a long way to the ground, and she’d surely break her neck.

“A handsome gray. Still I’d have preferred you’d chosen an easier horse. Your arms must ache by now. It’s been half an hour.”

“I’m fine,” Madeline lied. It seemed every time she was with Ravensmoore she found herself lying about one thing or another. Her arm weakened. Then thinking of self-preservation she said, “I suppose we should walk for a while and allow ourselves and the horses a bit of rest.”

He slowed. “A sensible decision. Perhaps we can enjoy a few moments.”

She glanced at him. Mud caked his boots and spattered his breeches—and even spotted his face. The sight amused her. “You, my lord, are covered with mud.”

“If that beast you’re riding was closer to the ground, you’d have had a similar experience.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good. Riding always cleared Madeline’s head, and this had been no different. But what would she do when she caught up with them? Her mother would be angry, and Lord Vale was certain to be furious. But she had to try and stop them. She needed to speak to her mother before this went further.

Madeline studied the road ahead. “No sign of them.”

“It’s just a matter of time.”

And it was. They spotted the coach within the next hour.

“Whoa,” called the driver when he saw Devlin wave him over. “Whoa.”

Vale glared out the open coach window. “So, you’ve brought reinforcements with you, Lady Madeline. Why could you not have just let us be?”

Madeline ignored him. “Mother, I must speak with you.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Grace protested. “And why are you on Samson? He’s too strong for you.”

“Shakespeare is not yet up to such a long ride. I just need to speak to you, Mother. Please.”

Vale opened the coach door, grudgingly handed her mother out, and stood beside her. “You may ask her your questions from there.” He kept her hand firmly in his own. “No need to come closer with those filthy horses.”

Grace stepped toward her daughter. “I’m so sorry, Madeline. I know I should have talked to you about our plans, but we decided that wasn’t a good idea. You haven’t been able to understand.”

“We?” Madeline asked. She looked at her mother and then at Vale. Anger and fear swallowed her. “Why are you doing this, Mother? Why run away to wed?”
God in heaven. If You are there, please stop this.

Grace looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Madeline, but I couldn’t bear your disapproval. Lord Vale understands how lonely I’ve been. His wife died two years ago. We just want to be happy.”

“Mother, don’t do this. It’s too soon. It won’t work.”

Vale intervened. “You don’t seem to understand, Lady Madeline. Your mother and I have already discussed this. We’ve made our decision. We’d both hoped for your acceptance and your blessing, but you cannot let go of the past. And we want to move on with our lives.”

“Give this decision more time.” Madeline wanted to force her mother to come home, but she had no way to do so.

“We did this for you, Madeline.” Her mother turned to Vale. “Didn’t we, my lord?”

“Indeed.” Vale slipped his arm through her mother’s arm. “You’re upset, my dear. Let’s be on our way.”

Ravensmoore moved his horse forward a few steps. “What harm could be caused by waiting, Countess Richfield?” he asked. “Perhaps more time would allow your daughter to accept your marriage.”

“This is none of your affair!” Vale stepped away from Grace and strode angrily toward Madeline, stopping just short of Samson’s nose. “Whether you accept it or not is
your
problem, Lady Madeline, not ours.” He reached up to grab Samson’s bridle.

Devlin quickly put his horse between Madeline and Vale. “I wouldn’t try that again.”

“You have no authority here. Who do you think you are to intervene?”

“I am Lady Madeline’s physician. I’m here to see to her welfare.”

“Perhaps you should give her a calming draught to settle her nerves. She’s a bit high-spirited.”

“Please, Mother.” Madeline started to dismount, but Devlin reached over and stopped her. She realized he was trying to protect her, but someone had to do something. She prayed for wisdom, but she could hear nothing but blood rushing to her head. She had to act.

Vale backed off. “Come, my dear. We are leaving at once. There is nothing they can do.”

“But shouldn’t we try to explain?” Her mother, obviously upset about the exchange of harsh words, placed her hand on Vale’s arm.

“There’s nothing to explain.”

Madeline reached into her reticule and pulled out the pistol. “Stop right there, Lord Vale.” She aimed the pistol at him with careful precision.

Vale, his face white, stepped in front of Grace. “Get in the coach, my dear. Your daughter has lost her wits.”

Grace pleaded, “Sir, she is overwrought. Give her but a moment.”

“She may shoot me in that moment, madam,” Vale said dryly.

“This will solve nothing,” Ravensmoore murmured urgently. “You might hurt your mother.” He snatched the gun out of her hand.

“What are you doing? He must be stopped.”

“Not like this.”

Vale took advantage of the opportunity and followed her mother into the coach, then yelled at the driver, “Get moving. We’ve wasted enough time here.” As the carriage rocked forward and passed them, Vale leaned out of the coach window. “Your patient should be locked away.”

“Look what you’ve done!” She swallowed back her tears as the coach continued its journey toward Gretna Green. “What am I to do now?”