“That might take time. Certainly more time than a single day, and I do think you have a chance to be friends again but only if you stay.” He glanced ahead and saw Mrs. Clemens and several children coming to meet them. He had no time to make his case now so he finished with the truth. “Running away will solve nothing. Please. I’m not willing to let you go, Mellie.”
Fifteen
Ignoring Walter after his confession that he wasn’t ready to let her go proved extremely difficult, but for Mrs. Clemens’ sake, Melanie buried her heartache deep and focused on the task at hand. “It is not settled that you must give up your children but he has expressed an interest.”
“No.” The woman stood and turned her back to them. “My Francis never had a kind word to say about his elder brother. Said he was a bully as a boy.”
“Sometimes what we perceive in childhood isn’t always the truth. Perhaps he has changed.” Melanie turned to Walter for his opinion. “What did you think of him?”
He described the man he’d known once. “His letter does sound sincere in his desire to offer aid.”
“By stealing my children.”
Walter stood. “I have your answer. Do not overset yourself. I shall write to him immediately and let him know you decline his offer.”
Melanie caught Mrs. Clemens’ arm and guided her back to a chair. “Kindly worded, of course.”
“I will be eloquent.”
He grinned and the pain of leaving him intensified. They worked well as a team. She turned her attention back to Mrs. Clemens. “Now I want your promise that you will not fret over the matter. Walter has delivered his message and that is that. The children worry so when you become upset.”
“I won’t.” Mrs. Clemens took Melanie’s hand. “Promise me you will take care of yourself too. You will be a long way away and you’ll be in my prayers every day.”
“As you will be in mine,” Melanie promised. She said her goodbyes and moved down the narrow hallway toward the front door to where her maid had waited. Walter followed close behind. He touched her shoulder briefly and an ache to seek comfort from him built. She always hated saying goodbye to her friends.
Words failed her and they returned to Cavendish Place in silence. Melanie was uncomfortably aware of Walter’s presence so close and yet so far away, and while she’d love to stay in Brighton for friendship’s sake, it would be impossible to change her plans now. Valentine would want to know why she’d changed her mind and she couldn’t tell him. Her parents had already been warned to expect her arrival.
Her doorway loomed. “Would you care to come in?”
“I intended to.”
In the entrance hall, he removed her coat and the brush of his fingers across her body sent a thrill through her. The maid smiled briefly then fled down the hall.
“Is that you, Melanie? Come quick!”
Her brother’s wail sent her flying toward the sound. Valentine was bent over the settee where Julia rested, pale as a sheet. “What happened?”
“She fell from a window.”
Melanie took a step back as nausea swamped her. Walter grasped her about the waist and hoisted her out of his way. He moved forward to inspect Julia. “Has a doctor been sent for?” he asked Valentine.
Melanie averted her eyes and held on to the nearest piece of furniture. She wasn’t any good with the injured and sick. She never knew what to do and anything she said was tinged with panic. She peeked at Julia and her stomach dropped again. She was so pale and clearly in pain. Melanie shuddered and perspiration broke out over her skin.
“Her shoulder,” Walter murmured.
“I tried to stop my fall,” Julia whispered brokenly.
“Yes, darling.” Valentine kissed her fingers. “I hope it is only dislocated.”
A dislocation meant a resetting of bone into place. Julia would scream from the pain, and after that she’d be forced to rest for weeks and weeks. She would hate both things.
The door swung open and Brighton’s apothecary, Mr. Rigby, hurried across to his patient. Walter returned to her side and put his arm around her back. She huddled against him, even as she fought her fear.
The apothecary peered at Julia over his spectacles. “I always wondered when I would have to come and call on you, young lady.”
“Well, now you have your turn,” Julia whispered. She moaned as the man moved her right arm. He wriggled fingers and toes and checked her eyes and tongue. By Julia’s halting account, only her right upper body hurt.
“Dislocation of the shoulder,” Mr. Rigby confirmed. He removed his spectacles carefully, his stare disapproving. “You are a very fortunate woman.”