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“Your mind aches more than your injury.”
Theresa’s curious observation elicited no response, nor was Ariana taken aback by its accuracy. She’d known Theresa all her life, for the tiny, eccentric old woman with the sharp black eyes, beaklike nose and abrupt movements of a sparrow had raised both Ariana and Vanessa from birth. Many called her daft, but Ariana knew better. Theresa possessed the wisdom of a scholar and a unique prophetic insight that few others were wise enough to perceive, much less understand.
“Yes, my mind aches,” Ariana concurred softly, after a lengthy silence. “A great deal happened tonight, and I am dreadfully confused.”
“Confused … or distressed?”
“Both.”
Theresa adjusted her apron pocket, which bulged with a volume written by the seventeenth-century essayist Sir Francis Bacon, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Confusion can lead to distress … or distress can lead to confusion. Which is it, in this case?”
Ariana thought for a moment. “Partially, the former. And partially, the latter.”
“Which is more severe, the confusion or the distress?”
“The confusion.”
“Then let us discuss the latter first, and dismiss it quickly so we can get to the former.”
“All right.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve placed the compress there.”
“Pardon me?”
“Your right ankle. I’ve placed the compress there,” Theresa repeated, checking the swelling.
“No, Theresa,” Ariana explained with customary patience. “I meant it’s all right to begin with the latter.”
“The latter?”
“My distress,” Ariana reminded her.
“Yes, I’m waiting for you to speak of it.”
Ariana laced her fingers together and rested them on the quilt. “I’m distressed because Baxter’s betrothal was severed tonight.”
“I cannot feel sadness over a union that did not include your brother’s heart.”
Ariana sighed. “I agree. No, my distress is caused, not by the fact that Baxter will remain unmarried, but by the consequences of his parting with Suzanne … or, rather, the Covingtons. Which, by the way, is integrally related to the real reason why Baxter wanted this marriage to begin with.”
Rather than appearing flustered by Ariana’s muddled explanation, Theresa nodded sagely. “To gain access to the Covington wealth.”
Now Ariana was surprised. She raised up on her elbows, staring at Theresa’s impassive expression. “You knew?”
Theresa shrugged. “There are some things one does not need to be told in order to know. Your brother is as he is. ‘It is in life as it is in ways,’” she said soberly, quoting Bacon, “‘the shortest way is commonly the foulest, and surely the fairer way is not much about.’”
“He is a good man, Theresa,” Ariana defended instantly.
“Goodness wears many faces. Who is to say which of them are real?”
“He is afraid. So am I. From what he says, our financial circumstances are quite bleak.”
“It will take the viscount much time to find another wealthy young woman around whom to weave his charming web.”
“He does not intend to find another woman. He intends to find a man … for me.”
Theresa blinked. “He wishes you to marry?”
