Chapter Thirteen
July 3, 1817
Sarah glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantle of her sitting room. Half past eight in the evening. Dinner would be served soon, and no doubt she’d take the meal alone. She’d been a married woman for a week but hadn’t seen her husband since their disastrous wedding night.
Though her anger with Andrew had long faded, she hadn’t sought him out, neither had she actively avoided him. He was either out of pocket or keeping to his rooms, for she hadn’t come upon him during meals or while wandering the corridors. Even walking the grounds hadn’t produced him.
No doubt he assumed he wasn’t in the wrong. Muscles in her stomach knotted. She pushed her spectacles onto the bridge of her nose. Or had the mysterious attacks he suffered gotten the better of him? Was he even now in need of medical attention but pride kept him from asking for help? Yes, she wanted to talk with him. If he were suffering, she wished to assist him, for she couldn’t stand to see anything in pain.
Perhaps that makes me doubly foolish or stupidly hopeful.However, it wasn’t in her nature to avoid confrontation or live her life in frosty silence.
No sooner had she settled into her novel than a soft knock sounded on the sitting room door. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. Had her husband finally come to his senses? She stood and laid her book on the chair. The silk of her gown whispered about her legs. During the week, she’d had a whole new wardrobe ordered, and this frock had been delivered earlier in the day. The bright coral bodice, trimmed with delicate lace, with an ivory and coral striped skirt had rapidly become a favorite. The lace on the hem made her feel deliciously decadent. At least if the earl were absent, she could look the part of a composed countess.
When she swung open the door, instead of Andrew, her gaze fell upon Barton, his valet. Cold concern coiled through her insides. “What is amiss?” For he wouldn’t have come to her if the earl were well.
“You are as intelligent and forthright as he said.” A faint grin touched the man’s lips. “The earl is having a fit.”
Sarah snorted. Her eyewear slipped down her nose. “When is he not?” Then she sobered. “Though I’m sad to hear he remains in a temper.” That disappointment snagged in her chest. It meant he hadn’t learned anything.
I had hoped—
“No, my lady.” The valet shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He’s suffering a mental break, I fear. As the week progressed, he’s grown worse. Since he wed, the earl hasn’t been himself.” He met her gaze, speculation bright in his. “It’s different from what he usually has.” Concern rode heavy in his hushed tones.
Oh, dear.His anxiety was besting him. A tremor of unease pushed down her spine. She shoved her spectacles back into place. “Where is he?”
“At the moment, I’m not certain.” Barton shrugged. “A half hour past, he had been in his rooms. Rarely has he left his rooms this week, but my worry hit the breaking point when he went unconscious not long before he disappeared. When he came to, I told him I intended to fetch you. The earl became agitated. He fled.”
That didn’t bode well. Sarah’s compassion flared as well as her concern. “Did he go riding?”
“He wasn’t dressed for it, so I assume not.”
“Is there somewhere on the estate that might be special or meaningful to him? Somewhere he might hide himself away from others? Perhaps to think?”
Barton cocked his head to the side. Strain lined his forehead. “When the earl was a younger man and his family annoyed him, he enjoyed his mother’s roses found at the center of the hedge maze. It’s on the south lawn.”
Though Sarah wasn’t familiar with the feature, she nodded. “It’ll be dark soon.” She bit briefly on her bottom lip and brought up a hand to clutch her ever-present locket. “Have you been inside the maze?” In her time at Hadleigh Hall, she’d not had an opportunity to explore it, for she would dread becoming lost and needing to rely upon Andrew to rescue her.
“Vaguely. It’s been a few years, but I think I remember the turns well enough to see you through.” The valet cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “That is, if you wish to go after him.”
Did she? It was one thing to be married to him, but quite another to summon enough patience and fortitude to stick with him for as long as it took until he healed.
If at all.
“Is he in a bad state?” No longer did she wish to argue with her husband. It simply made him more stubborn, but if his mind were truly plagued and his life would soon be forfeit, she had to try and bring him back. Not only for his sake, but for their marriage. Regardless that he had a tendency to act like an arse and his temper was horrid, she rather liked the man he was when not struggling with his problems.
Barton nodded. Fear flickered over his face. “It’s worse than any of his previous attacks, my lady.”
Sarah nodded. “He needs help.”
“Desperately.” The valet rubbed a hand along the side of his face. “I fear we might lose him if nothing is done soon.” His voice wavered and he cleared his throat. “I’d rather not see my friend fall to his own thoughts.”
“I feel the same.” She heaved a sigh. “I shall go after him. Please write down the instructions for the maze while I find a wrap and my slippers.”
Relief rolled through the man’s eyes. “At once, my lady. And thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” Finally, she had a chance to be of use to someone. The life of leisure was grand for a day or two. After that, she’d grown bored and wished for a purpose.
Barton stepped away from the door but paused. “And, Countess?”