Page 40 of Mistress of Misfortune

“Would you tell me about your friend Nigel?” Meredith asked after a time. “Before the battle, did you spend much time together?”

“We were inseparable.” Thorne smiled a little. “He was a fine soldier, but the best of men. He always knew how to keep the troops in good spirits, charm the natives, and even befriend some of the monkeys that would plague the camp. I never knew him to be cross or disagreeable. He looked upon every day as a new adventure, every campaign as an exciting journey.”

He related to her the time when Nigel had gotten lost in a market while purchasing tea and other supplies for their men. None of the vendors spoke English, and had little love for British soldiers. Yet without speaking a word of Hindi, Nigel managed to convince some raggedly-dressed children to lead him out of the confusing maze of stalls and tents, and then rewarded each of them with a guinea, emptying his own purse.

“He beggared himself for beggar children,” Thorne said. “It seemed foolish, but I secretly envied him his gallantry. I think all the officers did.”

“Just as you were gallant when he fell injured,” Meredith said softly. “You tried to save him, Alistair. He died knowing that.”

Thorne had only ever dwelled on his failure to save his friend. He had never once considered what Nigel might have thought of his efforts. “I often wished that I had died, and he had lived, because he was the better man.”

“If he had, I think Captain Robbins would wish the same.” She lifted her head to gaze into his eyes. “You tell me I must not blame myself, and yet you do the same thing.”

Thorne pulled her close.

“You are right,” he murmured against her hair. “And you are marrying me, my dear, just as soon as we may arrange it. Now, about my one weapon…”

* * *

Meredith roseat dawn and borrowed Thorne’s dressing gown before she glanced at her sleeping lover. He had barely moved for hours, so deep was his slumber, and she suspected he wouldn’t wake for some time yet. She slipped out of the chamber and walked down the hall to Lucetta’s room, taking a deep breath before she gently tapped on the door.

Her cousin opened it and said, “I will be down for…Meredith.” She looked over her and took a step back. “You did not leave yesterday.”

“No, I stayed the night.” She smiled. “With Alistair. In his bed.”

Lucetta hauled her into the chamber and shut the door. She started to say something, closed her mouth, walked across the room, came back and pressed a hand to her forehead.

“I am not ruined, exactly,” Meredith assured her.

Her cousin peered at her as if she had gone mad.

This was not proceeding as well as she’d hoped. “The colonel has asked me to marry him. Well, he told me that I am marrying him, but I am in agreement. There was also a small fire that burned my gown. Might I borrow one of yours before I go home to tell Mama and Papa? They will take the news better if I am dressed.”

Her cousin blinked. “A fire?” When she nodded she went to the closet and began looking through the gowns hanging inside. “Meredith, start from when I left you yesterday, and tell me everything.”

As Lucetta helped her dress Meredith related the bewildering events, from discovering Emerson’s troubling journal entry to the sudden explosion that had caused her to black out. She did not go into detail as to exactly what had happened between her and Alistair in his bed, or the nightmare and what he had told her about his affliction, but otherwise she freely admitted to confessing her feelings and encouraging his love making.

Lucetta remained silent as she adjusted the too-large sprigged muslin dress, pinning it at the waist and hem to keep her from tripping over the long skirts. By the time Meredith had finished recounting the events she stepped back and surveyed her with a narrow gaze.

“You are being very quiet,” she told the older woman.

“I am trying to choose if I should accompany you to Starling House, go down the hall and shout very loudly at my employer, or find a large bottle of brandy and drink it. The brandy may win.” Lucetta tapped her chin with a finger. “What troubles me most is the cause of all this: the fire. A hearth does not simply explode.”

“Alistair found a glass shard on my face,” Meredith said. “He believes someone dropped a lamp down the chimney in order to cause the fire. I am not so sure. Perhaps one of the workmen upstairs knocked it over, and did not realize where it fell.”

“Only if he were working atop of the roof. There is no other access to the chimneys but there.” Her cousin frowned. “I must relate this to Harshad, and we will investigate the cause. I will have him wake the colonel so he may accompany you.”

“Please, don’t,” she begged. “Alistair has not been sleeping well since his return to England, and he needs to rest. I wish to speak to Mama and Papa before he does.”

“You intend to be truthful with your parents about what has occurred between you and the colonel.” When she nodded Lucetta sighed. “Given their expectations I imagine they will be very angry at first, but the news of your impending marriage may soften the blow.”

Meredith grinned. “I am going to live here now, and be Alistair’s wife. Would you ever have imagined that?”

“I am very happy for you, my dear.” Her cousin hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Now come. You will want some breakfast before you brace the family.”

Meredith did not linger over the tea and scones Lucetta provided, for she knew her mother would be worried again over her absence. At least this would be the last time she would have to explain herself to her parents, for she knew Alistair would keep his promise. She expected he would obtain a special license so they could be married within a few days.

When Kshantu drove up to Starling House, Meredith didn’t wait but climbed out herself and hurried inside. She expected at this early hour to find only the servants about their work, but Annie intercepted her on the way to the stairs and told her she should go to the sitting room. The maid wouldn’t look at her at all, Meredith noticed.