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“That’s not entirely true,” Mama said. “Thomas and Isobel are here, although Isobel does need to rest a great deal these days, and Thomas will be taking on your father’s responsibilities in addition to his own . . .” Her words trailed off.
Rebecca suddenly realized that her first reaction to Susan’s news had been about Rebecca’s own selfish desires and not her concern—or happiness—for Susan. “Never mind, Mama,” she said, flooded by guilt and remorse. “I was thinking only of myself; please forgive me. I shall be fine. I am getting along on my crutches well enough now; I shall move about the house for exercise and concentrate on my music and reading while you are gone. Your attention should be on Susan at this time.”
Mama rose to her feet. “Thank you for your generosity of spirit, my darling.” She wrapped her arms around Rebecca in a hug that brought tears close to the surface. “I promise I shall see what I can do so you aren’t entirely bereft of company. Now, I must see to the packing. Your father and I will need to leave early tomorrow if we’re to reach London in time to have a decent discussion with your sister and this Duke of Aylesham.” She strode to the door. “A duke, imagine that!” Mama muttered to herself. “Only our Susan could accomplish something like that—either a beggar or a duke, no middle ground for her.” She disappeared through the door.
After Mama left, Rebecca hobbled to the french doors and gazed outside, tears flowing silently and freely down her face now that Mama wasn’t here to see them. She wanted to be happy for Susan, she truly did. Susan was clever and witty and didn’t suffer fools, and if she’d found a gentleman whom she felt she could marry, he must be an exceptional person. But it had happened so fast!
Rebecca had barely come to terms with the fact that she was missing out on another Season, and now this. She should be there with Susan! She felt like she was abandoning her elder sister when she needed her most. Susan had been her best friend growing up, even though she was her sister and ten years older than Rebecca. Forget old Bonaparte and the end of the war; Susan becoming betrothed was justas historic, in Rebecca’s mind, andmuchmore personal and important. But Rebecca was trapped here, an invalid, missing it all, feeling alone, guilt and remorse and frustration and anger warring within her.
She couldn’t even reach her handkerchief to wipe the tears from her face because she had to hold on to her dratted crutches to remain safely upright. She wanted to shove them from her and listen to them clatter to the floor. It was all so frustrating! She was so tired of feeling hampered by her injury—now even more so.
She hobbled back to the chaise longue and sat, letting her crutches drop to the floor. It wasn’t as satisfying as tossing them away from her would have been, but a tantrum would do no one any good. Instead, she curled up, tugged her handkerchief from her pocket now that her hands were free, and wept until sleep overcame her and gave her solace from her heartache.
* * *
Ben strode to the barn to have his horse readied for his call at Alderwood but changed his mind, at least about the horse, before he arrived. Rebecca Jennings had been housebound since her injury. Would she, perhaps, enjoy a ride through the countryside? She might appreciate a bit of fresh air. The day was sunny, crisp but not cold, and with a few warm blankets to ward off the chill, a carriage ride might be a nice diversion for them both.
He knew there was an old but well-maintained conveyance in the carriage house, so his first order of business was to find MacKay, who was typically in the barn, tending to the cattle at this time of day.
“MacKay,” Ben said when he found the man doing precisely that. “I wonder if you would hitch up the old phaeton for me when you’ve finished here. I’m of a mind to offer Miss Rebecca Jennings an opportunity to spend time outside, if she is so inclined.”
“Now, that’s a thoughtful gesture, sir, and no mistaking,” MacKay said. “I’ll get right to it.”
“Thank you,” Ben said. Then, as an afterthought, he left the stable in search of Mrs. Snow, hoping she might know of blankets or pillows he could bring with him to support Miss Rebecca’s foot.
“Blankets? Oh, certainly, sir!” Mrs. Snow said when Ben located her in the kitchen and posed the question to her. She wiped her hands on her apron and bustled away from the counter and the dough she’d been kneading.
By the time Ben left the house with the blankets and pillows, MacKay was at the front door with the phaeton. “You managed all of that rather quickly,” Ben said.
“Didn’t wish to keep the master of the house waiting,” MacKay said with a cheeky grin. Ben climbed in and set the blankets next to him on the seat. “I have a question for you, sir,” MacKay said as he handed the ribbons to Ben.
“Yes?” Ben said.
“Would you mind explaining why you’re not using your title? For I know full well, as do the Snows, that the Earl of Winton was our Mr. Arnold’s heir, and if you’re here claiming ownership, that means you’re the earl.”
Ben sighed. It seemed his desire for a bit of anonymity was being thwarted at every turn. “Iamthe Earl of Winton,” he said, “and perhaps this may strike you as odd, but I have been in need of a respite from my title, and coming to Lincolnshire seemed the perfect opportunity.”
“Well, I suppose the nobility has their reasons for the things they do, as I suppose you do too, although pretendingnotto be noble does indeed seem right odd to me, if you’ll forgive my saying so.”
Ben felt the urge to chuckle despite himself. “Perhaps it is ‘right odd,’ as you so eloquently put it. But indulge me for a while longer, eh?”
“Very well,my lord, sir,” MacKay said, breaking into a grin. He doffed his cap and performed an elegant bow, waving his cap in an overly dramatic manner, which made Ben laugh outright. “Have a wonderful day,my lord, sir.”
“You are a rogue, MacKay,” Ben said, and then he snapped the ribbons and set out for Alderwood. He was looking forward to hearing Rebecca perform once again. Music had a way of lifting one’s spirits—although he understood, too, that it depended upon the music being performed. Rebecca herself had illustrated that in the selections he’d heard her play.
All in all, he was in rather good spirits. It was pleasant to be outside in a phaeton for a change. Also, it was something of a relief to have shared the truth about his title with MacKay. Rebecca’s words yesterday regarding the deception on his part had troubled him; he hadn’t considered how his neighbors and servants learning of his title after the fact might prove detrimental. He’d been too caught up in his own problems to see it. He was glad that MacKay had reacted with humor. He liked the man, had felt a connection with him since Ben had arrived here, and was relieved that he hadn’t done something to jeopardize that connection.
When Ben reached Alderwood, he could see that something unusual was happening. The Thurlby traveling coach, its coat of arms emblazoned on the doors, was at the front entrance, and servants were rushing about, loading trunks and boxes onto it.
Ben leapt from the phaeton and handed the ribbons to a stableboy who scurried over, then strode to the front entrance. “Ah, Mr. Fortescue,” a harried-looking Hawkins said upon opening the door. “Please, come in.”
“I’m here to call upon—”
“Miss Rebecca, yes,” Hawkins said, completing Ben’s sentence. “Albert,” he barked at the poor footman lumbering down the stairs with a seemingly heavy box. “I thought I sent you into town for provisions.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“Never mind, Albert. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Fortescue,” Hawkins said. “I shall let Miss Rebecca know you are here.”
