The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) (19 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

If Amelia had to look at the same four walls another day she would
scream. After the gentleman, Mr. Spencer, had rudely invaded her chambers the
previous day, it brought on a whole new round of questions. Questions she
wanted answers to. Today seemed as good a day as any to get those answers.
After her maid assisted her in dressing, Amelia ventured toward Wentworth’s
study, ignoring the stabbing pain in her head. She was determined to have
Wentworth fill in the missing years.

She knocked and opened the door without waiting for an answer.

“Wentworth,” she said as she sank into the comfortable chair facing his
desk, smoothed out her light-blue morning dress, and waited to be chastised for
being out of bed. Truth be told, she’d nearly swooned on the way. If she had
not arrived at Wentworth’s study when she did, she would have collapsed in the
hallway. She would not, however, admit to being weak or fatigued.

“Good morning, Amelia,” her brother, the duke, said as he studied her.
“Should you be up and about? You look pale, but your eyes are alert. Are you
feeling better?”

“Thank you for your concern, but can we forego all the pleasantries? I
only have so much energy and I want you to answer some questions for me before
my energy is depleted.”

Her brother coughed into his hand. “What would you like to know?”

“Do not play dumb with me,” Amelia said, suddenly enjoying herself. It
had been way too long since she had last bantered with Wentworth.

“Amelia,” Wentworth said as he studied her intently, “are you sure
you’re ready to hear all?”

“Yes. I need to. I might have forgotten the past two years, but I do
know myself well. I am not some frivolous, silly debutante who swoons at the
first sign of adversity. If Captain Rycroft is dead and I’m married to the Earl
of Bridgeton then it is important that I remember my past. My poor husband must
be beside himself. Which raises the question,
where is he
?”

“Where is he, indeed?” Wentworth squirmed in his seat.

What secret did her brother hide? “Please tell me?”

“He is in prison for attempting to murder you.”

“Attempting to murder me?”
Amelia sprang out of her seat causing
the room to spin and dark spots to invade her vision. The next thing she knew
Wentworth was holding her and helped her back into her chair.

“I do not think you are healthy enough for this,” Wentworth said as he
sat back down in his desk chair with a frown.

“I am ready. I stood up too fast,” Amelia said as she tried to slow her
racing heart. “Please, tell me everything.”

One hour later Amelia sat, stunned, her heart heavy inside her chest.
“I have a daughter?”
Who forgets her child? What kind of person does that?
Who forgets her husband? A person she is supposed to love?
“Dear God, what
type of person am I?”

“Amelia,” Wentworth said with sadness in his eyes, “you are a good
person, a good mother and wife. You suffered a terrible tragedy and injury. The
doctor says sometimes, after a trauma, people’s minds protect them by
forgetting. Do you remember anything about that day by the stream? The day—”

“No. But I do know this. My husband did not do it. I would never marry
someone capable of murder.” Amelia believed strongly in that. “Have him
released from prison immediately, or I will travel to London and attend to it
myself.” Amelia stood and curtsied. “Excuse me, Your Grace, I must attend to my
daughter. But before I do, I have one more request. Please have my husband
brought to me.”

She left her brother’s study with him sitting at his desk, his mouth
open as if he would protest.

Amelia wanted her life back. If she had loved her husband once, she’d
love him again.

***

Amelia stood, her arms braced on either side of the open doorway to the
nursery. Sheer determination gave her the strength to make it here. As she
watched a small boy and girl who sat side by side on a quilt, her strength
vanished. The boy, her nephew, Hamilton, played with a wooden toy soldier. The
girl cuddled a cloth doll. Amelia’s heart soared. Her daughter, her beautiful
daughter. Emma sat in a nearby rocking chair working on her embroidery.

“May I come in?” she asked a little breathless.

“Amelia!” Emma’s face lit up and she hurried over to her. “Come in. I
heard you were out of bed. How happy I am for you. Olivia, look who is here. It
is your mama.”

 Amelia sat down beside her daughter, pulled her onto her lap, and
wrapped her arms gently around her tiny daughter. Sitting here now and holding
Olivia close made her wonder how she could have forgotten her child when it
seemed so natural to be with her. Would she feel the same way when she met her
husband for the first time since her attack? She said a silent prayer to God
that she did. And while she prayed she also prayed for the return of her memory.
No one should have to live with voids in their life.

***

“Today is your lucky day, meeelooord.” William sat up on his cot and
tried to shake the sleep and fog from his brain.
His lucky day?
Did that
mean they would finally empty his chamber pot? Give him real food? Or had they
noticed how much he shivered in the cold at night and brought him another
blanket? Hopefully one without moth holes.

“You’s a free man today.”

“Free?” William had almost given up hope of ever being free.

“Tha’s what I said. There’s a carriage outside waiting for you.”

It took all William’s strength to shuffle down the hall, up the stone
stairs, and out the door. His hands shielded his eyes from the glare of the
morning sun. But he wasn’t complaining. He was free.

“Here, let me help you,” Spencer said as he grabbed William’s arms and
hauled him up into the carriage. “We’ll need to have the carriage scrubbed from
top to bottom because you smell like the sewers. Not to mention you are as
filthy as a street urchin.”

“Thank you,” William mumbled, “for your help, not the insults.” He was
as weak and helpless as a newborn babe. The ride to Bridgeton Manor had every
muscle in his body screaming out in protest as the carriage set off. Not to
mention his stomach.

“Give me your hat,” he cried to Spencer right before he vomited into
it.
Definitely not his best day.

“I cannot believe you did that,” Spencer said with concern. “That was
my best hat.”

“I’ll buy you a dozen new ones,” William said as he leaned back against
the cushions. “I feel like death. How did you get me out?”

“Wish I could take the credit, but I cannot. Wentworth did,” Spencer
replied.

“Wentworth. I wonder what made him change his mind,” William said as he
closed his eyes and sighed. “Have you heard anything from Smythe?”

“Not a word,” Spencer said. “I received a short and curt note from the duke.
It said, ‘Bring Bridgton to me.’”

“That’s it?”

“That is it. No explanation,” Spencer answered.

William opened his eyes and did not at all like the puzzled and worried
look on his cousin’s face. “Maybe Amelia got back her memory.”
Please, God,
give my beautiful wife her memory back, if she doesn’t have it already.

***

That night Bridgeton scrubbed every inch of his body and soaked in the
tub for over an hour, and still his skin crawled with its memory of the filth
from Newgate. He wondered if he would ever feel clean again. The scalding hot
water turned his skin red and itchy. Yet he had more and more hot water added.
He could not bring himself to get out. Every muscle in his body slowly relaxed,
and he enjoyed the sensation. But as he relaxed more and more, fears began
plaguing his mind, pulling forward visions and fears he would rather not visit.

Hopefully all his fears would end when he saw Amelia tomorrow. He also
hoped he would not frighten her with his emaciated appearance.

***

At the first sign of light he and Spencer saddled up and rode out of
London toward the countryside. William knew Spencer rode at a moderate pace to
accommodate his weakened state. “Thank you for accompanying me.”

“Would not have it any other way,” Spencer said as he pulled his mount
up beside his cousin’s, making it look easy to control the feisty animal. “I
will not let you face the duke alone. His friends are more powerful than you or
me.” He paused. “Feeling helpless while you were in prison did not sit well
with me. Most days I could care less whether I hold a title––the last few days
were not like that. I realized, unless I held the esteemed rank of duke to
equal Wentworth’s it would not have mattered anyway. If I held the ear of the
prince, it might have helped.”

“It might have mattered, although I’m an earl with a bad reputation,”
William admitted. “Wentworth might have had an equally scandalous reputation at
one time––but not anymore.”

“I have heard, since he took his seat in Parliament, he is to be
feared. Many of his peers are not pleased at his fight for the lesser classes,”
Spencer said, “but I admire the man for it.”

“As do I,” William agreed, “especially now that I have seen firsthand
what happens to the lower classes.”

“Have you considered taking your seat in Parliament? It has been over
twelve years since anyone occupied it. Don’t you think it’s time?” Spencer said
with a knowing look.

“How did you know?” William answered. “I just decided myself while I
sat rotting in the bowels of hell. I swore to God I would be a better man. That
if I were free, I would attend Parliament sessions and fight for the poor and
the sick. Newgate is full of people who did nothing more than steal a loaf of
bread to feed their starving children. After spending the short time I did
behind bars, I cannot imagine many live long there. Starvation and disease must
take them. The cell beside me overflowed with men whose wives and children were
also imprisoned. What kind of society punishes women and children for crimes
someone else commits?” William said as horrific visions flashed before his
eyes.

Truthfully, he never saw the other section of Newgate that held women
and children. Until his stay there, he had never thought innocent women and
children were imprisoned there. William wanted to believe God sent him to
Newgate for a purpose. And that purpose was to take his place in Parliament and
fight for the poor.

And bloody bugger, his heartbeat raced with the anticipation of that challenge.
That and he would see his beloved Amelia again soon. He fought the urge to kick
the horse to full speed. If he did, Bridgeton knew it would only be a matter of
time before he was thrown. Best to take is slow and steady.

***

Amelia sat at her dressing table while Gretchen attended to her hair.
“Nothing too fussy, please, Gretchen.”

“Yes, my lady,” her maid replied as she pulled her hair back into a
soft chignon. “You look lovely, my lady.”

“Thank you, Gretchen. That will be all.”

After her maid left, Amelia studied herself in the cheval mirror. There
were dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks looked pale and sunken. Amelia
had chosen this particular pink dress because of its high-waisted style and
loose flowing skirt. The dress hid her body’s weight loss, yet her face
announced it regardless. Butterflies took flight inside her stomach.

Would her husband find her lacking? How should she behave when she came
face to face with him? Her hand flew to her chest. What if she disliked him?

“No, no,” she murmured, pushing the thought aside. She would not have
married him if she had not liked him, even loved him. She must be brave.

Brave?
She laughed nervously and wondered how one behaved brave.
She did not have to think upon it long as a bell rang out, signaling afternoon
tea.

Where is everyone?
She pondered this question as she exited her
chambers and descended the staircase, gripping the railing for dear life. As
she entered the dark green drawing room her steps faltered.

She was the last to arrive. Besides her family, there were two others
present in the room. One gentleman she knew as Mr. Spencer. Could the other be
her husband? He did resemble Mr. Spencer. Were they not related?
Yes,
cousins.

“Amelia,” Wentworth greeted her, escorting her to the settee where she
sat between her mother and Bella. “You look well and rested today.”

“Thank you.” Why did her voice sound so distant?

“Let me serve you,” Bella said as she poured tea into Amelia’s favorite
china cup and handed her the cup and saucer. “Just how you enjoy it, one sugar
and a splash of cream.”

The rattling of the cup and saucer, once in her trembling hands, had
everyone’s attention on her. “Please, everyone, stop treating me as if I’m fragile.”
Amelia leaned close to Bella and whispered, “Is that gentleman standing over by
the windows with Mr. Spencer my husband?”

“Yes,” her sister replied, caution in her tone.

Amelia sipped her tea and studied her husband. Why, she thought, he
must be twice her age. She had married an old man. She tilted her head and
stared right at him without embarrassment. His eyes locked with hers. His pale
blue eyes belonged to a younger man, but one who had experienced pain and
heartache. Had she caused it? She did notice something else about his eyes.

They were kind. Her heart beat slowed in relief.

As she took in his face, she noticed he had dark circles beneath his
eyes. His cheeks were also sunken, obviously due to weight loss.
Newgate.
She shivered. The place was not fit for any human being. At least that is what
she had been told. His overly long, dark hair had streaks of gray running
through it. On him, it suited. He stood tall and thin and was dressed in a dark
brown cutaway riding jacket and white shirt. Tan breeches tucked into his
leather Hessians.

Amelia admitted to herself that though he’d been in prison and suffered
hardship, he still cut a fine figure. Suddenly he smiled at her and her heart
flipped. His face softened and she knew without a doubt he possessed a kind and
loving soul. And even if she did not remember him, she believed wholeheartedly
she had loved him. Remember him she might not, but being here in close
proximity with him awoke certain sensations in her body. Her mind might not
remember him, but her body certainly did.