Wicked Christmas (Blackhaven Brides Book 10) Page 3

  Tamar smiled. “Let us hope for the former. It’s possible the roads are bad in Yorkshire. I have not heard, But, what persuaded you to spend the Christmas season in Blackhaven of all places?”

  “Your lordship’s sister, actually” Elizabeth said.

  Tamar’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. She had the feeling she had Lampton’s attention, too.

  “You’ve met Christianne? Mrs. Harcourt?” Tamar asked.

  “No, I don’t believe so. Lady Lewis.”

  “Anna,” Tamar said, as though stunned.

  “She bade me wish you a merry Christmas from Vienna.”

  Tamar let out a laugh. “She is in Vienna? Of course she is. And is she well?”

  “Radiantly so.”

  “And…er…Sir Lytton Lewis?”

  “Invaluable, I believe, to Lord Castlereagh.”

  Tamar laughed again. “Well, I’m very glad to have met you, Princess, and to learn Anna’s…” He paused, frowning faintly. “Forgive me for asking, but what is your Christian name?”

  “Elizabeth.” She inclined her head with a smile and began to move on.

  “I am at your service, Princess,” Tamar said politely.

  It seemed an odd thing to say at that moment. But then, Lady Lewis was quite a mysterious person. Although her brother seemed very different, he could also be up to his ears in political intrigue.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I must just take my leave of Lady Braithwaite.”

  In truth, as she walked away from Lord Tamar and Dr. Lampton, she did not really wish to leave. For one thing, Andreas appeared to be enjoying himself, trying to pull free of her hand again to play with the other children. For another, the interesting doctor was still present and she wished to tease him a little more. Besides which, the castle was oddly convivial. It felt more like a comfortable family home than the formal seat of a great nobleman, not least because they let the children mix with the adults. She doubted that was any more normal for England than it was for Rheinwald or the rest of Germany.

  Perhaps if she just sat down for a little, the pain in her side would go away and she could stay a little longer. Letting Andreas pull free once more, she leaned her hip against the arm of a sofa and breathed.

  She forced herself to smile and straighten as young Lady Braithwaite joined her and introduced her to another sister-in-law, Lady Torridon, of the earlier dancers, who seemed also to be enceinte, and to a Spanish lady with the un-Spanish name of Muir. Elizabeth tried, but it was too hard to concentrate through the pain. At the very least, she needed to remove her stays.

  When she could, with civility, she detached herself from the conversation and resolved to slip away as quietly as she could. She could not face an entourage to see her off, for she didn’t think she could hide her pain much longer. Already, it was making her feel faint.

  She looked around for Andreas—and found him right beside her, once again holding the hand of Dr. Lampton.

  “Thank you,” she managed. “I shall look forward to tomorrow’s account.”

  “For prompt payment, I can escort you to your carriage free of charge.”

  “But I may not wish to be prompt.”

  They were out of the drawing room by then, which was some relief, although there was still the staircase to face.

  Beside her, Lampton was speaking to a footman. “Send for the princess’s carriage, if you please.” And while the servant hurried off, the doctor took her hand and placed it firmly in his arm. “Hold on,” he murmured. “Just a few more minutes, so don’t faint.”

  “I never faint, and have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Liar.”

  “If I were a real princess, I’d have your head off for such an insult.”

  “If I were a real doctor, I would sew it back on.”

  The gulp of laughter took her by surprise and she had to hold her side until the tremor stopped. “You are ridiculous, sir,” she informed him shakily.

  They had reached the foot of the stairs and continued across the hall.

  Another footman opened the front door as they approached. “Your carriage will just be a moment, ma’am. Would you rather wait inside?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. The cold, fresh air at least drove away the dizziness, and she remembered to check that Andreas was still with them. She breathed deeply as she descended the stairs, trying not to lean on the doctor.

  “You made new friends today, Andreas?” she managed to ask her son, who immediately prattled off a list of names, some clearly mispronounced, and the toys and games he had played with them.

  She smiled at him for that, in genuine gladness. This afternoon had been so different from the austere formality of home.

  With relief she heard the rumble of carriage wheels on the gravel, and turned to Dr. Lampton with a word of thanks forming on her lips. But he took her hand when she would have withdrawn it, and simply handed her up into the carriage before scooping up Andreas and climbing into the carriage with him.

  “If you’ve a moment, send down my horse, would you?” he said to someone outside. “Otherwise, I’ll come up and get her this evening.”

  The door closed and the carriage drew into motion. She let Andreas pull her arms around him, even hugged him although it was agony pressing on her side.

  Fixing the doctor with her gaze, she said distinctly, “Why are you here?”

  “I’m stealing a comfortable ride back to town.”

  “Liar.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Stop making me laugh. The proof of your lie is no doubt eating its head off in Lord Braithwaite’s stable.”

  “Yes, but she’s not a comfortable ride.” He met her gaze, his own eyes quite serious. “I would like a quick word, once I have escorted you to the hotel.”

  She closed her eyes. “Call tomorrow. I am quite fatigued.”

  “I know,” he said gently, so gently that her eyes flew open again in quick suspicion.

  But her side felt wet and warm and she knew she was bleeding. She needed Lise.

  It was not a long ride by carriage, less than ten minutes probably, though it seemed like more. Dr. Lampton jumped down as soon as the horses pulled up at the hotel door, lifted Andreas, and reached up to take her hand. She allowed it, though she felt stronger now that relief was so close.

  “Thank you, Doctor. Good evening,” she said firmly, taking Andreas by the hand, and sailed into the hotel. She did not even register he was still with them until she wobbled slightly on the first-floor landing and he caught her arm. She shook him off with irritation.

  Lise had obviously seen her arrive, for she waited at the open door of their rooms, her expression anxious.

  “The doctor is not staying,” Elizabeth said firmly, sailing past her, and switched to German. “Gretchen, come and see to Andreas.”

  She turned to find Dr. Lampton closing the door.

  “I’ll be brief,” he said shortly as Andreas ran to his nurse. “You have to choose. I can examine you, or you must send for another physician. But it has to be now.”

  “Thank you,” she said coldly. “I shall send presently.”

  He stared at her, then turned, seized the pen on the table by the door, and scribbled two names and addresses on the back of one of her cards. Then he straightened, nodded curtly, and opened the door.

  She closed her eyes. “Dr. Lampton,” she said with difficulty. “Please stay.”

  She caught his sigh of relief as the door closed again. Without looking at him, she walked into her bedchamber and sat on the bed, desperate now for Lise to unlace her and relieve her of the monstrous stays pressing into her.

  But the door closed with a solid firmness that was alien to Lise, and it was the doctor’s fingers that unlaced her.

  Chapter Three

  Lampton was influenced only by his observation as a physician and his healer’s instinct. It wasn’t the first time he had attended a lady who had made herself faint through having her stays tied too tigh
tly. However, he knew there was more to this. He had noticed her occasional, involuntary clasp of her side and the grimace she tried to hide as her son leaned on her.

  Now, as he unlaced her gown and stays and peeled them away, he saw the blood staining the corset and the chemise beneath.

  Slowly, she turned her head and gazed at him. Her beautiful eyes held fear and desperation as well as pain. Why had he not seen that before? Because he was too angry at himself for noticing her as a woman? Or because he had been too busy showing her how over-anxious she was for her son? And of course, she had distracted him with her own anger, her own sparring. All of that was over now.

  “Lie down,” he said quietly. “And let me see.”

  Wordlessly, she lay back against the pillows, and he covered her modesty before drawing off her clothes. Then, lifting only one side of the cover, he knelt on the floor and examined her wound, which was still sluggishly bleeding over her ivory skin and dripping onto the sheet.

  Rising, he poured clean water into her washing bowl, picked up the pristine white cloth beside it, and brought both to the bed. Cleaning the wound as gently as he could, he saw that it had been stitched, probably more than once considering the ragged state of the skin.

  “Who treated you before?” he asked.

  “Someone in Vienna.”

  “A physician? A surgeon?”

  “An apothecary,” she said reluctantly.

  “Perhaps,” Lampton said doubtfully. It looked more like the work of a butcher. “Are the Viennese doctors so in demand that none could tend a princess?”

  She looked away. “There are reasons why I did not wish…society to know of my…injury.”

  “What did this to you? The ball of a pistol? A rifle?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Some kind of gun. How did you know?”

  “I have become alarmingly familiar with gunshot wounds since coming to Blackhaven.”

  “You are jesting,” she said doubtfully.

  “You would be surprised what lurks beneath the genteel and amiable exterior.” He placed a dressing over the wound. “Hold it there for a few moments.”

  She obeyed, and he rose, fetching a clean glass and a bottle from his bag.

  “What is that? Laudanum?” she asked.

  “Something very similar. The good news is, the ball seems to have been removed surprisingly cleanly, considering the mess of the stitches, without leaving any fragments of bone or shrapnel behind. The bad news is, repairing it is going to hurt.”

  “I won’t take laudanum. Andreas needs me.”

  “Andreas has his nurse and your maid, and if you are still worried, any number of good people in Blackhaven will look after him for a day. You won’t sleep for very long, and I would rather not hurt you more than I need to. Come, Princess, let me deal with this once and for all, and you can be comfortable enough to look after him as you wish.”

  It appeared to be the right approach. She all but snatched the glass from him, drank it down, and gagged.

  “Good girl,” he said, smiling. “Now, let’s have another look at that.”

  *

  When at last her wound was closed, anointed and properly bandaged to his satisfaction, her eyes closed in exhaustion. Lampton wasn’t surprised. She had borne his ministrations with silent courage, but her face was white and the drug was still doing its part. Although he had asked her nothing, she had babbled a little, and he gathered she had been shot in Vienna and had come to England to hide from any repeat. Which made the shooting rather less of a random, botched theft than he would have liked.

  As he stood to go, her eyes flew open and she grasped his hand. “Don’t let anything happen to Andreas. He is everything.”

  “Nothing will happen to him,” Lampton soothed. “He is in good safe hands and you will see him when you wake.”

  “He likes you,” she said, releasing his fingers and letting her eyes close again. “I’m glad he likes you.”

  “So am I,” Lampton said quietly and left the chamber, leaving the door ajar.

  Andreas had fallen asleep on a sofa beside his nurse, who was busily sewing.

  The princess’s maid hurried across the room to him. She, too, spoke in English, although her accent sounded more French than German. “How is she?”

  “She should do better now, but if you are at all worried, you must send for me. You can give her a few drops of this in water,” he added, leaving a small bottle of laudanum, “but not before midnight. And then, no more before breakfast. She must stay as still as possible tomorrow. Don’t let her lift the boy, and he must be gentle in his affections and when he’s playing around her or the stitches might open yet again. Do not let her wear stays under any circumstances, only soft, light fabric worn as loose as possible. I’ll come back in the morning to see how she does.”

  He hesitated a moment. “Can you manage the child between you? Did I not hear talk of a governess?”

  “She hasn’t arrived yet,” the maid said, “though it would be useful if she did in the next few hours.”

  “I agree. If you need help, send to me. My housekeeper is entirely trustworthy and can look after him for an hour or two.” He had to bite his tongue to prevent himself offering the services of Kate Grant, too. But Kate was not really in any condition to chase after a lively three-year-old. Instead, he nodded curtly and left the room and the hotel.

  It was fully dark outside now. Further up the high street, he heard carol singers, saw their lanterns swinging as they turned into Church Road. It was a joyful kind of noise, and he found he was glad of it to accompany his footsteps back to his lonely house.

  *

  Lampton was used to being woken up to thundering fists on his front door summoning him to some emergency or other. Since Mary died, he had welcomed the sound, since it heralded the start of a busy day that kept him from thinking of the emptiness inside him.

  The morning after he had attended the Princess of Rheinwald, he was wakened to the familiar banging. As always, he rose, threw water over his face, and dressed in the grey dawn light, leaving his housekeeper or the kitchen maid to open the front door. It was quicker in the long run.

  He was sitting on the bed to pull on his boots when the expected knock came on his bedchamber door.

  “Sir, it’s Mr. Winslow. He’s in the front parlor.”

  That surprised him. It was normally a servant who summoned him to Henrit to tend one of the family. But it was unlikely to be a social call at this time of the morning. Lampton stamped on his boots and reached for his coat before hurrying downstairs to the parlor, where a candle had been lit to supplement the pale light from the window.

  “Ah, Lampton,” Winslow greeted him, holding out his hand. “Sorry to disturb you at this ungodly hour!”

  “Not at all. What is to do?”

  Winslow dragged a hand through his greying hair. “They’ve pulled a body from the sea a few miles north of Whalen. My responsibility. Apparently, she’s very well dressed and clearly a lady of means. I thought you might help me work out how she came to be there.”

  Lampton curled his lip. If she hadn’t been wealthy and “clearly a lady”, he doubted he would have been troubled for his knowledge. He didn’t think the less of Winslow for that—it was the way of the world.

  “Of course. But I can’t spare long.”

  “Neither can I,” Winslow said cheerfully. “Miserable way to spend Christmas, so truth to tell, I’ll be glad of your company.”

  “Look on the bright side,” Lampton said, reaching for the coffee Mrs. Graham placed in front of him. “It’s worse for her family.”

  Missing the sarcasm, Winslow nodded sagely. “And for the poor lady herself.”

  “Oh no,” Lampton said and gulped down the scalding coffee. “She’s beyond misery. Shall we go?”

  They travelled in Winslow’s carriage, which was slower if undeniably warmer and more comfortable than riding. The sun rose on a bleak, cloudy morning. The sea was a sullen, dark grey
with traces of frothy fury to come, and the wind which managed to penetrate the carriage, was icy. Snow was on the way.

  “The body was washed ashore with the tide last night,” Winslow told him. “Found by a fisherman who said he’d never seen her before. Which, to be honest, is a comfort to me if not to the poor woman’s family.”

  Lampton nodded. There was always a guilty relief for him in not knowing the dead. If he did know them, there was just guilt because he hadn’t saved them. He dragged his mind back from that precipice, focusing on the sea.

  “Do we know how long she had been in the water?” he asked.

  Winslow shook his head.

  The dead woman’s body had been taken to the best inn in Whalen, which surprised Lampton since it wasn’t the closest to where the body was discovered.

  “If they took her this far, why did they not just bring her the other direction to Blackhaven instead?” Lampton said as the carriage pulled up in the inn yard. “They obviously knew she was in your jurisdiction.”

  “Let us go and discover,” Winslow suggested.

  The innkeeper took them upstairs to the bedchamber where the dead woman lay. Someone had tucked her dark hair behind her head and covered her with a blanket, almost like some queen or other great lady lying in state. She was youngish, perhaps thirty years old.

  “She wasn’t in the sea for long,” Lampton said at once. “She probably only died last night, no earlier than the night before that.” He drew back the blanket to reveal her still wet gown and sable-lined cloak. She wore no jewelry save a string of pearls which had somehow stayed around her neck, perhaps caught in the well-fastened cloak.

  “She probably fell in from the cliffs toward Blackhaven,” Winslow guessed, “and the tide carried her to where our man found her.”

  As Lampton began to examine the dead woman, the innkeeper said, “Poor lady. You’re right, sir, she can’t have gone into the sea before yesterday because she was here till the afternoon.”