The Wary Widow (16 page)

And perhaps find a more appropriate home for her family as well.

***

Chloe threw off her cloak and knelt down beside her sister’s bed. The rest of her family had risen when she entered, but no one spoke or tried to stop her with hugs or greetings. A somber pall hung in the room, along with the dank smell of sick—a smell Chloe remembered all too well—as everyone waited to see which way Grace’s fever would turn.

“What does the doctor say?” Chloe finally asked.

She brushed a piece of damp hair from Grace’s forehead and grabbed on to her clammy hands. Grief threatened to grip her, but she would not allow it. Grace was still alive—they just had to keep her that way.

“Influenza. It’s not good, Chloe,” her mother said, stepping closer. “We just have to wait.”

“Wait? What do you mean wait? She's dying, mama, we cannot just stand by and do nothing!”

“But there is nothing to be done.”

Chloe finally took her eyes from her sister to look around the room. Her mother and father held vigil along with James and Stevie, but her littlest siblings were not present.

“Cassie and Jonathan are at the parsonage,” her mother informed her, having read the question in her eyes. “Until...” She broke off on a sob.

“It’s all right, mama.” Chloe turned back to her sister and clasped her hand tighter. “Gracie will come through, I know she will.”

Silence ensued for a few moments, until Stevie returned with fresh rags and water.

“Blimey, Chloe, you brought a gentleman back with you and didn’t even tell us.”

Chloe spun around to better look at her brother. His clothes were a bit tattered and his hair scraggly, but she had to admit both her brothers were awfully handsome.

“Stevie, that’s Andrew. My
friend,
” she stated definitely, keeping titles and last names out of it. She wasn’t about to tell them she’d brought back cousin Lizzie’s fiancé.

“A good friend to have, by the looks of him,” her other brother, James, declared.
“Come have a look at this carriage, mum.”

Both her parents gave her questioning looks, but her mother crossed the room to the window anyhow.

“Apparently your daughter’s been holding out on us, Father,” she said. “She has indeed brought back a gentleman.”

Her father rose from his chair on the other side of the room with a warm, but somber smile. “Well, then, I best go welcome the young man to our home.”

With a welcoming kiss to Chloe's forehead, her father left and took her brothers with him. Chloe tamped down the apprehension she felt at introducing Andrew to her entire family. There was nothing she could do about it now, since he was already downstairs. And with her little sister laying on her deathbed, Andrew Wetherby was the least of her worries. Though she did send up a little prayer that he would have the foresight to introduce himself simply as Andrew.

Gracie stirred a bit in her sleep and Chloe tried to soothe her with a cool cloth to her forehead. Her mother knelt down on the other side of the bed, and for the first time since she’d arrived, Chloe got a good look at her.

Dark circles rounded her eyes, which drooped with weariness, and she looked thin. Like she hadn’t eaten in days. Her mother was typically rotund and rosy-cheeked. Chloe hadn't seen her this way since Sam had died.

“Mother, I’m here now. You should go and get some rest.”

Her mother shook her head. “I can’t leave her, Chloe,” she choked.

Chloe put a hand on her mother’s arm. “I promise I will wake you if anything happens. You need your rest and Gracie will need
you
when she wakes up. Please, Mama.”

Her mother sighed, but resigned in the end. She nodded her head in acknowledgment of Chloe’s words and then placed a kiss to Gracie’s forehead. Silently, she slipped from the room.

Alone with her sister, Chloe began to pray. She was not the praying kind, and she’d rarely stepped foot in a church in her twenty years, but she didn’t know what else to do. If God couldn’t save her, then no one could, she supposed.

Sixteen

Heavy footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of three men. Andrew rose from his spot at the kitchen table while the
older
of the three extended a hand to him.

“Jamie Clarke,” he said with a wan smile. “I’m Chloe’s father.” He stepped aside to present the younger men. “These are my sons, James and Steven.”
They all shook hands and Steven informed him that he tended to go by the nickname Stevie.

“Andrew We
—
” Andrew cut off suddenly, wondering how much Chloe's family knew about Elizabeth and her intended. Chances were they at least knew his name. “Andrew,” he repeated. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

They all stood quietly for an awkward moment. Clearly, no one was sure how to carry on in such odd circumstances. What must they think of him? He still wore his evening clothes from dinner the night before, and he’d brought Chloe home in a crested carriage in the middle of the night. Surely there were going to be questions, but for now, Andrew thought it best to keep the focus on what was truly important.

“Is there anything I can do for your daughter?” As long as he was there, he might as well be of some use. “Has a doctor come to see her?”

“Aye,” Mr. Clarke remarked. “But there’s little to be done now.”

Andrew had to wonder at that. Surely something more could be done to help her. He feared that perhaps the country doctor did not have the resources or that the family did not have the funds to pay for proper treatment. But he did not wish to push the matter further with Mr. Clarke. Even simple farmers had their pride. He would broach the subject later with Chloe.

“Then might I ask to be shown to the local inn? That is, if it’s no trouble.”

Suspicious glances passed amongst the three men, but finally the older of the two brothers stepped forward. He had forgotten which was which, but he assumed the eldest was James, named after their father.

“Stevie and I will take you,” he said. “It’s no trouble at all.”

***

Chloe’s father entered the tiny bedroom not long after her mother had retreated to her room and the
Eastleigh
carriage had trundled off down the dirt road. Chloe heard him shuffling around for a moment, heard the scraping of wood against wood as he dragged a chair to the bedside, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Her father’s scuffling gait was unmistakable, and anyone else in her family would have been quick to make their presence known. And she could smell him, like an old boot covered in mud. It was one of her favorite scents in the world.

Both were silent for a moment, but the silence was killing Chloe. She knew what he wanted to ask, but what could she possibly say?

And then he surprised her by saying, “Does Lizzie know you’ve brought her betrothed to Essex?”

Chloe’s heart stopped. How had he known? Did Andrew give his last name? Oh, heavens, what was her family going to think of her now?

And what was the answer to that question? In a way Lizzie did know. But the real truth was that she thought Michael had left with her evening last. And she believed that it was Andrew with her in London now.

Chloe shook her head, still not wanting to look at her father. How ashamed she was for what she’d done to her cousin. She hadn’t meant to fall in love, and she’d certainly never planned on kissing the man.

Her father sighed heavily and Chloe finally dared a look at him. “Does Mama know?” she asked tentatively.

“So it
is
him
.” He blew out a long breath and threw his head back. “No. I don't think anyone else made the connection, though I daresay it will come out sooner or later. These kinds of deceptions have a way of catching up with a person.”

“I know.” Chloe released her sister’s hand for the first time since she’d arrived and placed it gingerly at her side. “But Andrew is a twin...an identical twin. Lizzie was under a guise when we left last night. She thinks I left with his brother, Michael.”

“Ah,” her father said simply. And then he looked with those warm, dark eyes at Chloe. If she wasn’t mistaken, they held a hint of disappointment. Or perhaps it was hope. “Well, I trust you will do what you know is right, Chloe. You’ve always been my brightest girl, you know?”

Chloe smiled at her father’s praise and then turned back to look at her sister. “You shouldn’t say that, Papa. Gracie’s smile is like a ray of warm sunshine.”

“I don’t deny it,” her father replied. “But
you
are my brightest.” He stood and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to go check on your mother.”

He moved to leave the room, but Chloe stopped him. “Papa,” she said quietly. “Did he say anything...I mean, before he left?”

She couldn’t deny the slight pang she’d felt when she heard the carriage pull away only minutes before. And she wouldn’t have asked, but now that her father knew, what harm could be done?

“No, he didn’t,” he replied with a sympathetic half smile.

Chloe’s heart constricted. She’d known he would leave as soon as he dropped her off, but part of her had hoped he might stay, just for a while. Or at least say good-bye.

“Although...” Chloe looked up to find her father still standing in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“I imagine he’ll have plenty to say over dinner tonight.”

And with that, her father quit the room.

***

Andrew looked around the tiny room to which he’d been assigned at the local inn. Although the
Penwick
Arms Inn seemed old, it was clean and the bed appeared comfortable. Hopefully, for Grace’s sake, he wouldn’t be here long.

He called for a tub of hot water and a hot meal and then undressed down to his breeches. When the little maid arrived with the requested items, she blushed and curtseyed before leaving the room with a giggle. Several weeks ago, Andrew might have been tempted to enjoy a dalliance with the girl, but not today. Not ever again.

The only person I care to dally with is my wife. I’m sure you’ll feel the same way...one day.

His oldest brother’s words rang in his ears, and he finally understood what he’d meant. And that it could only mean one thing: he’d fallen in love with Chloe Hawthorne. The petite, ginger-haired beauty had stolen his heart.

But what now?
He decided to write home to Michael and ask his advice in the matter. Perhaps he’d be willing to bring Lizzie here, so they could explain in person, for he couldn’t countenance leaving Chloe—at least not until it was for certain that her sister would pull through her fever. On second thought, perhaps his brother would be willing to maintain the charade until they could return.

Either way, a letter to Michael was in order.

***

Chloe sat with her sister all day while the rest of the family rested and tended to
neglected
household chores. Periodically, they stopped in to check on Grace’s progress—or lack thereof, in this case—but it was nearly sundown when Andrew stepped into the room.

He wore the same clothes from the night
before,
only he’d forgone the intricately tied neck cloth. She couldn’t blame him. People did not dress so elegantly in their little parish. But there was no denying his status even without the
neckcloth
. Tall and lean, he walked with an air of confidence, and he had the face of an aristocrat. A face that made Chloe’s heart leap when she saw it.

“May I?” he asked from the doorway.

Chloe nodded. Andrew ducked through the small doorway and came to stand next to her at her sister’s bedside. He looked first at Grace, then Chloe, and she could have sworn her heart ceased its beating. His eyes held so much concern it made her want to cry.

“I thought you had gone back to London this morning,” she admitted, unable to take her eyes from his.

“You should have known better,” he replied with a little smile.

“I suppose I do now.” She looked back to Grace and then motioned for Andrew to take the seat on the other side of the bed. “How long will you stay?”

“Until I am certain your sister will be all right.”

Chloe blinked up at him, surprised. She’d thought perhaps he would stay a night or two, but who knew how long it would be before Gracie showed any sign of improvement. That was, if she showed any at all.

“I’ve sent a letter to Michael,” he continued. “We will figure out a way to handle our...
situation
.”

Their situation.
It was more of a predicament than a situation. One that she was sure would not be easily solved. “My father knows,” she blurted out suddenly.

It was Andrew’s turn to look surprised. “What do you mean? How?”

“He just assumed you were
that Andrew
. Father doesn't say much, but he's awfully perceptive.”

“And what did he say?”

Chloe took a deep breath and released it on a sigh. “Nothing. He believes in letting his children make their own decisions—figure out their own course. Though he does make it clear that he hopes we will make the
right
decisions.”

“What do
you
believe is the right decision, Chloe?” Andrew’s voice was low, his eyes searching.

She shook her head, uncertain of how to answer. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I’ve always believed in following my heart, but look where that’s landed me. To follow my heart would mean to break my cousin’s, and to betray her trust.”

“But can you betray your own heart?”

Tears began to fill her eyes. Life had suddenly become so complicated. Only a few weeks ago, she’d been living quietly in the country, content with her status as a widow. Now she sat at her sister’s sick bed, in love with her cousin’s fiancé, wishing she could go back to the way things were before. But knowing she never could. Knowing that now that she’d tasted bliss, she would never
be
able to forget him.

“Chloe?”

Chloe swiped at her dewy eyes and then spun around in her chair at the sound of her mother’s voice. She looked so much better now, having rested the better part of the day. Andrew had already risen and offered a little bow to her.

“Will you introduce me to your friend?” she asked.

“Of course. Mother, this is Andrew.” She looked at Andrew. “Andrew, this is my mother, Mrs. Joy Clarke.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and her mother thanked Andrew profusely for having brought Chloe home so quickly. Andrew, in turn, assured her that he had been happy to do so.

When the conversation dwindled, her mother asked after Grace.

“There’s been no change, Mama,” Chloe said grimly. “None at all.”

“Well, dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you and Andrew get some fresh air? You will join us for dinner, won’t you, sir?” she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

Chloe’s mother smiled. “None at all. Now, go on, both of you.”