“Will you even consider impersonating Anthony?”
“Of course I will! I’ll play at being Anthony until he returns. Absolutely no one will know,” she vowed.
“And if he doesn’t return, darling?” pressed Roz.
“If you are going to keep insisting that, I won’t have anything to do with it,” Antonia cried in anguish. “I’ll take Anthony’s place to safeguard everything that is his, but only until he returns.”
Roz had to be satisfied. One step at a time. Perhaps they’d never get away with the deception, but it was worth a bloody good try. Of that she was totally convinced. Roz took a pair of scissors from her pocket. “The first thing we– must do is cut your hair the same length as Anthony’s.”
Antonia picked up a dark, wavy tress of waist-length hair. “Must we? I can stuff it up under one of Tony’s tiewigs.”
“You know he didn’t wear a tiewig about the house or when he went sailing. He wore his own hair clubbed back unless he was going out and about. I want the servants to think you are Anthony, save Mr. Burke of course. That will be the test. If the household staff believes you are your brother, everyone else will.”
Off came the waist-length locks until her hair just fell to her shoulders. Tony closed her eyes in misery, hardly able to bear the thought of losing her lovely, shiny black curls. Suddenly she felt as if she couldn’t breathe and her face seemed to be getting very warm.
Roz gathered up the cuttings carefully so she could dispose of them discreetly, then brushed Antonia’s hair back and tied it at her nape with a black ribbon. “Put on Anthony’s bed robe and stand over by the balcony window while I ring for one of the maids.”
Antonia thought this was a waste of time. Their servants had no reason to be disloyal, why go through the rigamorole of trying to fool them? However it would be most interesting to see if she could carry it off.
It was Anna who answered the bell. Roz opened the door when the maid knocked and said, “Anna, ask young James to carry up water for Anthony’s bath. You can make the bed with fresh linen while you’re here.”
Anna dropped Roz a curtsy, then glanced from beneath her lashes toward young Lord Lamb. She blushed to see him in his bed robe, and to cover her confusion the words came tumbling out. “Would ye like me to get ye some breakfast, sor?”
“No, thank you, Anna. I’ll breakfast downstairs as usual,” Antonia replied, hoping her voice was as husky as Tony’s.
“Oh, sor, we were all that worried for ye. Praise heaven yer safe an’ sound.”
“Thank you, Anna,” Antonia said quietly.
The young maid blushed even deeper. It was the first time the young master had remembered her name. She slipped out to find James, and Antonia stepped out onto the balcony in a desperate attempt to fill her lungs with air. For a moment everything swam before her eyes, then all the strength seemed to leave her legs. She leaned against the balcony wall to steady herself. Her eyes went immediately to the boathouse, but there was no one about. Ironically today the water was calm as a millpond.
Antonia forced herself to go back into Tony’s room while James poured two buckets of boiling water into the small hip bath that sat in a corner. Before James took up the empty buckets he looked furtively toward Lady Randolph and saw that she was busy laying out the master’s clothes. He pressed a guinea into Tony’s hand and said low, “’Ere’s your winnings, sir. Paid twenty to one.”
Roz followed the servant to the door, then locked it. “So far, so good.”
Antonia removed the robe, then stood in front of the mirror to examine her bruises. Her breasts and rib cage had great dark splotches where blood had gathered beneath the skin. One of her hips had a long, tender bruise that spread from front to back. She winced as she touched the scrapes on her shins and elbows. She hoped the water would soothe her skin. That was the last thing she remembered.
Lady Rosalind Randolph had never been so afraid in her life. Her beloved granddaughter had pneumonia. When Antonia lost consciousness and had to be lifted into bed, Roz felt immediately that a fever raged in her body. She bathed her and nursed her continually for six days and nights, holding her hands tightly and talking to her in a soothing voice whenever Antonia rambled wildly or thrashed about the bed.
Mr. Burke stood vigil with her through the long nights, so that if Lady Randolph dozed off, he would be there to tend to Antonia’s needs.
Roz prayed as she had never prayed before. “Please, please, God, don’t take both of them. Leave me this child and I will ask you for nothing more.”
It seemed to Rosalind that God had indeed answered her prayers, for Antonia’s fever finally abated, and instead of thrashing about she slept much more peacefully.
Major Blount called every day, but Roz was too burdened down for visitors. She sent him a note thanking him for all he had done and asked him to still carry on the search no matter how hopeless it seemed. Major Blount wrote back saying he was afraid theGazettehad gotten wind of the accident, but that he had neither confirmed nor denied their tasteless speculation when they had questioned him,
Rosalind realized that even Jeremy Blount did not yet know it was Antonia who had cheated death, but she would wait until she could explain in person. It didn’t do to commit things to paper. Letters had a way of turning up to haunt you.
In the week since the boating accident there had been no further sign of wreckage on the beach. Roz accepted the heartbreaking truth that Anthony would never return. She felt so burdened down, she knew she was defeated. All she could do now was accept the loss with grace and dignity.
With Mr. Burke’s help she began to pack her things. She felt blessed relief when Antonia opened her eyes a couple of times and asked for a drink. At last her granddaughter was in her right mind again and her fever was almost gone. Antonia was very weak and there still remained two bright spots high on her cheeks, but Roz knew she was going to recover.
She took the glass from Antonia’s hand and placed it beside the bed. When Roz saw her eyes close peacefully, she went downstairs and sat at the elegant secretaire to pen a letter. She had been putting off the inevitable for days, but she felt it was her duty to inform Watson and Goldman that Lord Anthony Lamb was missing at sea and presumed drowned.
It was the hardest letter she had ever had to write. She brushed away a tear and sanded the wet ink. Then she straightened her back and summoned James. She gave him the letter to take to the posting inn in Stoke.
Two hours later, when Antonia awoke and Roz could see how vastly improved she was, she took hold of her hand and told her gently that all hope for Anthony was past.