The Awakening 0f A Forbidden Passion (Historical Regency Romance) Page 8

  “I will trouble you no further today,” George told her with a smile. “I have to get my things in order before the carriage comes to collect me.”

  Mrs. Chavers shook her head. “You are always bustling off somewhere. Be safe, Doctor Rowley.”

  George gave her another bow before he departed. He walked lighter knowing that was taken care of. Yet he still had to post his letter. Perhaps he could trouble Lord Chaplin to do it for him. George thought about that. It was indeed the man’s fault that George had to send the letter at all.

  He stuffed the letter into his coat and went inside. He found his good coat waiting for him upstairs where the housekeeper had laid it after ironing it. He exchanged the second-best coat for his good one and felt measurably better for its weight.

  From there it was merely a case of getting all the little things he needed together for any reasonable amount of time. There was no telling how long it would take the young lady’s memories to truly return, but he probably did not need to stay the whole time. Unless, of course, Lord Chaplin insisted that he stay.

  The man was quite formidable when he was determined and George knew that he would probably just relent to make the man happy if he were to truly put his foot down. After all, George wanted the best for his patient too.

  He just hoped that all his patients were well in the meantime. He trusted Danny, but there was always that thought in the back of George’s mind about the time he had caught Danny sleeping on one of his overnight shifts. He meant well, but George still worried.

  He had just finished with his suitcases when there was a knock at the door of the house. George hurried over and opened the door to find the carriage driver waiting. The man looked at George’s suitcases and smiled. “Look like I timed this just about perfectly.”

  “It certainly does seem so,” George agreed. He gratefully allowed the man to help him get the luggage on the carriage. He was no weakling, but the hours watching over Miss Morton and the little sleep before that were starting to wear on him.

  The carriage driver grinned as George yawned. “I think you might need a nap, Doctor.”

  “I think that might be just the right medicine for me,” George agreed.

  ***

  Priscilla felt better in her muslin dress than her nightgown. How lazy she felt loitering around all day in her bedclothes. Not that she had made it very far, regardless of her dress. She was still sitting on her bed, propped up with pillows.

  The embroidery that lay in her lap was left abandoned as she stared out of the window. The sun looked so lovely. Gwen had pulled the curtain back and opened the window to let in the breeze.

  Priscilla leaned her head back and breathed in the scent of the outdoors with her eyes closed. She had never noticed how wonderfully enticing the smell was until she was not allowed outside. Her eyes opened and she watched the large oak branch outside her window. The leaves danced in wind that pushed white puffy clouds across the horizon.

  “Good morning,” Doctor Rowley said as Gwen led the man into the room.

  Priscilla gave him a smile. “You have returned.”

  “Yes. I just had to go and take care of some things yesterday. And how are you feeling?” The man’s brown hair was wavy, messy even. The beard that framed his kind smile was neatly trimmed and for a moment Priscilla forgot to answer as she took in his appearance.

  Priscilla cleared her throat. “I feel a bit better.”

  “I know that there probably has not been much change,” Doctor Rowley assured her. “How is your head? Do you need something for the pain?”

  She put her hand self-consciously on the bandage that covered the wound on her forehead. “It is not so bad. It is more of a dull ache unless I try to get up too quickly.”

  “I know you have been eager to get about and out of bed,” Doctor Rowley said, his voice filled with sympathy.

  Priscilla looked over at Gwen, who gave her an encouraging smile. Doctor Rowley looked her over and Priscilla tried to her hide her amusement over the examination. “I feel like a much doted upon child,” Priscilla told the man as he put away his equipment.

  Doctor Rowley chuckled, and the sound of its rich, warm tones made Priscilla smile. “Well, I guess in a sense you are,” he told her. “I shall be back to check in on you around lunch. We will discuss then what sort of treatment we can do for your memory.”

  Priscilla fidgeted with the embroidery that still lay in her lap. “I am most anxious about that. I do hope I can remember and put everyone’s’ minds at ease.”

  “We shall talk about it,” Doctor Rowley assured her. “Until then, just rest and try not to give your head too much to think over.”

  Priscilla hid a laugh behind her hand. “I shall try, Doctor Rowley.”

  The man gave her a dip of his head before he took his leave. Once the man was gone she turned to Gwen, who sat down on the edge of the bed near her. “You look more like yourself today.”

  “Who did I look like yesterday?” Priscilla picked up her embroidery as she eyed her lady’s maid with curiosity.

  Gwen’s lips twitched with laughter. “Funny girl,” she intoned as if she were trying to be serious. “Doctor Rowley seems a nice chap.”

  “He does,” Priscilla agreed with a nod. She frowned. “Do you really think I will ever remember all the time I have lost?”

  Gwen put her hand on Priscilla’s arm. “I certainly hope so.”

  “That poor man,” Priscilla whispered.

  Gwen frowned. “Doctor Rowley?”

  “No, my fiancé,” Priscilla clarified. “How can I not remember him at all?”

  Gwen pinned some stray auburn hairs behind her ear that had escaped her bonnet. “The doctor said it was normal to forget things. You do not recall anything from the time of your engagement, so likely you would not remember him.”

  “I just hope he forgives me for it,” Priscilla said as she looked at the flower she had been stitching onto her embroidery frame. “I do not recall starting this.”

  Gwen moved up onto the bed beside Priscilla and put her arm around Priscilla’s shoulders. “That’s because you started it while you were engaged. You wanted something to work on to ease your mind.”

  “Was I so troubled?” Priscilla did not think that sounded right. Surely she would have been happy to be engaged.

  Gwen shook her head. “Planning a wedding can be stressful.”

  “I see,” Priscilla whispered. That sounded right. Such things were meant to be straining, they had to be. Or at least Priscilla imagined they would be so. “I feel so foolish that I cannot remember. All I do is apologise for not remembering.”

  The maid clucked her tongue. “You need not apologise to anyone. It is not your fault that you lost your memory.”

  “Is it not? We do not know what happened,” Priscilla said with a frown. “I am terribly clumsy. I most likely was not watching what I was doing and nearly killed myself.”

  Gwen gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Don’t say that, Miss. Accidents can happen to anyone.”

  “Was I happy?” Priscilla whispered the question, almost afraid of the answer.

  Gwen pushed her lips out as she thought. “I would say that you were. You were nervous over the wedding as most brides are.”

  “I have tried so hard to remember,” Priscilla said in frustration.

  Gwen shushed her. She stood up and smoothed down the white apron she wore over her black dress. “You should not be straining so to remember. It will likely give you nothing more than a headache. Doctor Rowley said to rest, and that is exactly what you should do.”

  Priscilla nodded. Yes. She should rest. “Thank you, Gwen,” she said with a smile at her friend.

  Gwen gave her a wink. “Any time at all, Miss. I shall go and fetch you some tea. Tea with honey and lemon, perhaps?”

  “That sounds lovely,” Priscilla said with a nod. Gwen left the room all bustle and skirts. Priscilla was left with the walls and the breeze again. How could she forget her fiancé
but remember a man she had seen one time? Priscilla wondered if the trees knew. Trees were very old and wise, after all. Too bad they also did not speak so people could hear them.

  The afternoon passed in a haze of naps and quiet conversations with Gwen. It was nice in a way, but it did not stop the walls from seeming to get closer every time Priscilla looked around at them. Every time the door opened, Priscilla expected Doctor Rowley and yet it was not him.

  Her door opened yet again and her mother came in, trailing the smell of jasmine in her wake. “Your color is much improved,” her mother declared as if the statement was an assurance of Priscilla’s continued health.

  Priscilla gave her mother a smile. “Good afternoon, Mother.”

  Lady Chaplin came over and gave Priscilla hug, and immediately cut to the chase by asking, “Have you remembered anything?”

  Priscilla frowned. “I have tried but Doctor Rowley said it may take a while.”

  “He probably knows best,” Lady Chaplin said, her faced etched with the concern she seemed to be trying to hide. “Lord Ridlington is here to see you.”

  Priscilla’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Oh,” she whispered. She added swiftly, “That would be lovely.” Would it be lovely? Why did she get such a bad feeling in her stomach when she thought of it? Perhaps she really had had cold feet as Gwen had said.

  Lady Chaplin caressed Priscilla’s cheek as she used to do when Priscilla was a little girl. “I know this all seems so odd to you. It seems rather odd to the rest of us as well.” She gave Priscilla a smile. “Do you know that I heard of a woman once who forgot her own child after an accident of a similar nature?”

  Priscilla gasped. “How awful!”

  “Fret not, her memory returned and I hear they are quite close even to this day.” Lady Chaplin gave Priscilla a gentle pat on the leg. “There is hope, Priscilla. Do not give up on His Grace before your memory returns.”

  Priscilla nodded and whispered, “I will not.”

  “Good. Now, I shall grant His Grace entrance, that is if you are ready?” Lady Chaplin arched her eyebrow as she awaited an answer.

  Priscilla felt there was really no choice. “I am ready.” She might as well get it over with. Perhaps something in her would jar loose from talking to him and she might remember. That would be a good thing, of that she was sure. Was she not?

  The lead in her stomach seemed to say otherwise, but Priscilla could not think of anything that would make this anything less than a good thing. She drew in a breath as her mother left to go and fetch Lord Ridlington. She thought of the old memories of Philip and hoped that some of them would let her know of this man she was to marry.

  He had pestered her as a child. She remembered him from outings and visits between their families. Then something had happened and Philip had left for a time. She did not recall what that something was.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as Lord Ridlington came back into the room with Lady Chaplin right behind him. She took a seat near the door to chaperone as Lord Ridlington came to stand near her. Philip, Priscilla echoed the name in her mind. He seemed more like Lord Ridlington to her now.

  “Your mother was telling me that you felt somewhat better today,” Lord Ridlington said as he took a seat on her desk chair that he dragged near the bed. He eyed her eagerly.

  Priscilla took in his fine clothes. The man’s dark hair was trimmed short and neat, yet long enough for the strands to brush his forehead and ears. His green eyes were like moss-covered hills in the sunlight. Surely this was a man she could adore, and should adore?

  “I do feel a touch better. I am still quite sore, and I cannot move much without the room spinning.” Priscilla gave him an apologetic smile, although she had no idea why she felt she should apologise.

  He reached out and Priscilla watched him take her hand gently, hesitantly into his larger hand. It was an intimate gesture that brought warmth to Priscilla’s cheeks. Her mother seemed comfortable with it, but then her mother remembered this relationship and Priscilla did not.

  Priscilla instinctively pulled her hand free of his. There was something akin to hurt on Lord Ridlington’s face at her action. “Forgive me,” Priscilla pleaded. “I am trying to piece this all together.”

  “I was forward,” Lord Ridlington said as he waved off her apology. “I need to earn your faith again.”

  Priscilla gave the man a sad smile. “You should not have to do that. You clearly earned my affection before. To make you do so twice seems impossibly cruel.” She wrung her hands. “I just need time to adjust.”

  Lord Ridlington accepted this with a generous nod of his head. She felt guilt rise up in her. He was being so kind, so understanding. Would she be as kind if the situation was reversed?

  “Perhaps I can come to talk with you each day? If we talk about our times together that might help you remember, yes?” The man’s face had a look of earnestness that Priscilla could not help but smile at.

  Whatever feeling she had, she was certain now that it had to do with her and not with this kind man. What sort of monster was she to not adore this man? She could think of no reason she would have had any misgivings.

  “That sounds very nice,” Priscilla said. “This might be a good thing.”

  Lord Ridlington’s brows furrowed. “How so?”

  “It will give us a second chance and we can start over. I bet not many relationships have that,” Priscilla told him with a smile. It made her heart lighter to see his smile in return.

  He nodded his head. “I had not thought of it as so, but you might just be right.”

  Lord Ridlington gave her a bow and bid her and Lady Chaplin farewell. Once he was gone from the room, her mother came over to the bed. “I am glad to hear that you are making your peace with your engagement with Lord Ridlington. I had hoped you would be reasonable so that we could go ahead with the wedding.”

  Priscilla felt her heart leap up into her throat. Go ahead with the wedding? “While I understand how everyone else must be very anxious about the wedding moving forward, Mother, you must understand that I do not recall even being engaged.”

  Lady Chaplin put her hand over her heart. “My darling girl, I do understand, but a duke is not a man to keep waiting.”

  Priscilla thought about that. Dukes were not men to be trifled with, but surely he would understand. “If he cares for me at all, I think he will understand, Mother. Besides, he seemed willing to help me remember things.”

  “That does not mean that he would not prefer the wedding to happen soon,” Lady Chaplin said with a frown at her. “Jarring as it may be, it is something that you agreed to, Priscilla. This is not a sudden event as it seems to you, and it is most unfair to everyone else involved that you do not seem willing to give that credence.”

  Priscilla put her hand to her head, which was beginning to ache terribly. “I do not have to marry him today, do I? Can I just focus momentarily on the fact that I am missing weeks of my life?”

  “I must seem so cold,” Lady Chaplin said with a sigh. She put her hand on Priscilla’s shoulder. “Do not think ill of me. I just do not want your injuries to cause you to lose Lord Ridlington. When you regain your memories and realise what you have lost, it would break my heart.”

  Priscilla understood what her mother was saying. She put her hand over her mother’s hand on her shoulder. “I promise that I shall do my best to remember. And if I never can, then I shall have to learn to love him all over again.”

  “You are a good daughter, and I know you will make a wonderful wife and mother.” Lady Chaplin gave Priscilla a peck of a kiss on her forehead. “Get some rest. I am sure the doctor will be along in a bit to see you.”