“My father brought me to Brighton when I was ten,” Jack said. “He said the Prince had just had the Pavilion interiors decorated in the Chinese style.”
Gray rolled his eyes. “My father cursed every time anyone mentioned the Pavilion. He said the cost would eventually drive England into the sea.”
“I should love to visit it.”
He shaded his eyes to look out over the channel. There were at least a dozen ships coming toward land. “We will. It’s enchanting. The Prince always serves such splendid banquets that you leave the table with your stomach bulging.”
He stopped cold. She was crying, silently, the tears gathering and just rolling down her cheeks.
19
“IT’S ALL right,” he said against her ear. “It will be all right.” He thought of the message on that damnable piece of foolscap he’d so hurriedly unfolded: Your sister is very ill. If you want to see her before she dies, you’d best come immediately. HWS.
What was one to make of that? He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the comfortable squabs. He held her until it began raining. She straightened, looking out the window. “Perhaps he lied.”
“Yes,” he said, “that’s possible, given the few times I’ve met your stepfather. Remember you said that he’d do anything against us now, for revenge. Calm yourself. Relax against me, Jack. I like the feel of you.”
They arrived at Carlisle Manor late that afternoon. Sir Henry was riding with Mrs. Finch, they were informed by Darnley, the hollow-checked butler who’d taught Jack how to polish the silver fourteen years before.
Jack grabbed his sleeve. “My sister, Darnley. How is Georgie? Please, she’s still alive, isn’t she?”
The old man looked surprised. “Of course your sister is all right,” he said. “She’s ill, that’s true, but it isn’t grave. At least Dr. Brace hasn’t indicated that it’s grave. He worried a bit that the cold could go to her lungs, but that hasn’t happened.” He paused a moment, then his face spasmed. “Oh, dear, is this why you’ve come in the middle of the day without warning? You believed Miss Georgie to be deathly ill?”
“That was the letter my stepfather sent us, Darnley. He said she was dying.”
“No, no, Sir Henry mistook the matter. He must not have listened carefully to Dr. Brace. However, she is ill enough that Mrs. Smithers is with her now, as well as her nanny, Dolly. I’m dreadfully sorry you’ve been so worried, Miss Winifrede.”
She looked ready to crumble. Then, just as quickly, she looked ready to kill. She said to Gray, “He did lie, for revenge. I’m going up to see her now.”
Gray watched her gather herself together, stiffen her spine, and walk up the wide staircase. Halfway up, she turned to look at him. “Gray, I’ll be back in a while.”
“Do you want me with you?”
“No. If you would see Sir Henry when he returns. I really can’t face him just yet.”
“Don’t worry, Jack. It would be my pleasure.”
“Don’t kill him, Gray, unless you’re very certain you won’t hang for it.”
“I will consider all consequences before I act, Jack.”
“My lord, I’m very sorry about this news Sir Henry sent you. I’m certain Sir Henry labored long over whether to interrupt your wedding trip with Miss Winifrede—or rather, her ladyship. Lady Cliffe. What a pleasant ring that has to it. None of us ever wanted her to be Lady Rye. It is not a pleasing thought. Ah, but Lady Cliffe, and you a pleasant young man who doubtless has a blameless reputation, despite the things Sir Henry was yelling about you. It is a pity Sir Henry interrupted your sweet time together for no reason.”
Gray merely nodded and followed Darnley into the long, narrow drawing room, quite a charming room, with floor-to-ceiling windows at the southern end. It was a lovely prospect outside, an expanse of finely scythed lawn blending into a maple forest.
“Will you and Miss Winifrede be staying at Carlisle Manor, my lord?”
Gray hadn’t even thought about that. What else should he be doing? “Yes, if Sir Henry doesn’t object, which he might, I suppose.”
“I will take your valises to the Oak Room,” Darnley said. “I don’t imagine that Miss Winifrede would like to stay in her former bedchamber.”
“Why not?”
“Sir Henry tied her to a chair in the middle of that bedchamber and left her there for three days. She escaped by tying her bedding together. We were all quite pleased with her ingenuity. Now, my lord, I will see it done immediately. Then there will be no question. I will inform Mr. Potts that there will be two more to dinner.” He added, more to himself than to Gray, “I must remember not to speak of Sir Henry in such a manner as to make one believe me unapproving of his actions.”
“Thank you, Darnley.”
When Darnley returned, Gray asked, “Oh, yes—who is Mrs. Finch?”