Chapter 20
The footman who opened the front door was knocked off his feet as Rian came crashing over the threshold. Muttering his apologies, he extended a hand to help the man back up before taking the stairs two at a time, calling out Catherine’s name as he did so. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain his absence or the fact that he had spent the night at Isabel’s house, but his only concern was to see his wife with his own eyes. He could make everything right once he knew she was safe. Nothing else mattered.
He flung open the door to the master suite, expecting to find her with an arm pulled back, prepared to hurl something at his head. Either that or curled up and weeping at his disgraceful behavior. He hoped for the former. Her anger and fury he could deal with far better than her tears, but Rian would accept either. How his wife sought to punish him was her prerogative. He deserved whatever she gave him.
What he did not expect to find was an empty room. It was now early afternoon and the chamber looked exactly the same as when they had left for Isabel’s ball. Although the room ought to have been attended to at this hour of the day, he could tell it had not. The day dress Catherine had worn yesterday was still draped across the chaise when it should have been put away, and the bed itself was still turned down. Catherine’s nightgown, waiting to be filled with her shapely form, stared accusingly at him.
“Rian, whatever is the matter?”
Turning around, he came face to face with his brother, and noted with some puzzlement that Liam was also still wearing his clothes from the night before. He appeared physically drained, with exhaustion showing in every line of his young face. It was as if he had aged suddenly overnight, and his condition was such that it made Rian pause before asking, “Where is she?”
It was obvious the younger Connor had not yet been to bed. A state made all the more obvious by the show of weary confusion on his face. “Where is who?” he asked.
“Catherine.”
Liam stared at Rian as if he had suddenly grown another head. “I have no idea. I—we—assumed she was with you.”
“She didn’t come back?” Fear seized him, cruel fingers twisting around his heart, and Rian could not hide the escalating anxiety in his voice.
“No, I haven’t seen her. I thought it strange when you did not return, but I imagined something must have kept you at Isabel’s.”
“Why in God’s name would you think that?”
Liam shrugged and rubbed his hand across his face. His fingers rasped the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t know, Rian. I wasn’t thinking.”
Something in his voice, the hesitancy, the unspoken plea for understanding, made the hairs on the back of Rian’s neck stand up. A warning that something dreadful had taken place. “Liam, has Felicity recovered?” Rian asked. “Does she know what happened to Catherine?”
The younger Connor stared at him, his mouth moving, but the ability to form coherent speech deserted him. Rian had never seen so much anguish reflected in another human being’s face. Liam’s dark eyes swam and his breath hitched as he tried to speak. “Sh-sh-she…lost the b-b-baby,” he managed to say before a torrent of grief overcame him.
“Oh, dear God in heaven, no!”
Pulling his brother into a fierce embrace, Rian offered what comfort he could as he momentarily put aside his own concern. Waiting for Liam to compose himself as best he could.
“What happened? Did Dr. MacGregor get here?” Rian asked gently, keeping his hand on Liam’s shoulder.
“Yes, Dr. MacGregor arrived almost at once. He agreed with Dr. Wilson that losing the baby was not a natural occurrence.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, the gesture suddenly making him look very young and vulnerable. “He asked me if anyone would want to hurt her. Hurt my darling Felicity? Why would he ask such a thing, Rian?”
The stricken look returned, filling Rian with a sense of overwhelming guilt. Liam had always asked so little from him, and the one time he had truly needed the comfort of an older brother, Rian had not been there for him. He would punish himself for this transgression at a later date. Now was not the time.
“Did the doctors say what might be the cause?” Rian asked quietly.
“They both seem to agree that somehow Felicity took some sort of highly potent sleeping draught. One strong enough to harm our baby.”
Reaching out, Rian put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “How is Felicity now?”
“She is sleeping.” Liam’s mouth twisted at the irony of his words. “She was almost insensible with grief when she realized what had happened, so much so Dr. MacGregor feared we might lose her also. He was forced to give her a very mild potion to settle her. He stayed with me all night, watching over her.” Liam allowed Rian to lead him to a chair and he sat down wearily. “He said we must keep Felicity calm and quiet for the next few days, and she is not to be moved until he says she can be.” He nodded as if making his mind up. “But then I intend to take her back to Oakhaven.” Rian squeezed his brother’s shoulder in agreement. It was the most sensible course of action. “Emily and Charles will be here soon. It was selfish of me, but I wanted to wait until Felicity had passed the crisis before sending for them.”
“They will forgive you,” Rian said, watching Liam chew his lower lip in worry. “And I’m sure they will understand your reasoning.”
“But where were you?” Liam asked, his voice suddenly cracking under the strain.
The words sounded more like an accusation than a question, but Rian was not about to color the truth no matter how painful or how much it might compound their collective misery.
“I seem to have spent the night at Isabel’s.” He turned away, unable to face the look of disappointment on his brother’s face. “I have no justifiable reason to account for my absence, and so can give no explanation for it.” Running his fingers through his hair, he winced audibly as they made contact with his wound.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have quite a sizeable lump on the back of my head.”
“Let me see.” Getting up, Liam made Rian take his place on the chair. “That’s quite a knot you’ve got there,” he remarked with concern.
“I’m sure it played a part in why I was not here, where I ought to have been,” Rian told him grimly. “I’m positive someone hit me from behind although, according to Isabel, I slipped and struck my head on a stair. She also said I was drunk.”
“Nonsense!” Liam retorted emphatically. “You were as sober as a judge when you helped me get Felicity into the carriage.”
“What did I say to you, Liam?”
“You said you were going to find Catherine and then come straight home. But this is the first I have seen of you since then.” He shifted a little as embarrassment colored his next question. “When you awoke this morning, whose bed were you in?”
“I was in one of Isabel’s guest rooms.”
“And were you…alone?” Liam’s face turned pink.
“Yes,” Rian answered somberly, adding, “and I was dressed as I still am.”
He saw Isabel again in his mind’s eye, her rounded belly proclaiming the presence of his child. She would not be able to hide her condition for much longer, and then the race would be on to see which tongue could spread the gossip fastest. If he were a betting man, his money would be on Charlotte Maitling.
“But Catherine was not with you?” Liam asked, interrupting Rian’s brief reverie. He shook his head as cold panic formed once more, and his brother looked even more worried, if such a thing was possible. “If Isabel had no intention of being intimate with you, why would she be so determined to keep you, incapacitated, in her house all night?”
“So you think she is behind this?”
“Of course,” Liam snorted. “Who else could it be? But the question remains, why would she want you to spend the night in her house, but not her bed?”
In a strange twist, Rian was glad to be the unintentional source of his brother’s focus. It meant Liam could put aside, at least for the moment, his own grief and sorrow. “Perhaps because I am now married?” he offered, but the look his brother gave him was one of disbelief. They both knew marriage was no deterrent for Isabel.
Liam muttered to himself as he thought. “Why would she? Why would she not? Well she wouldn’t, would she, not unless—” He suddenly stopped and grabbed Rian by the arm, staring at him in horror. “What if Isabel’s aim was to prevent you from being with someone else?”
“You mean Catherine? But why would she—you think she took my wife?” Rian could barely believe that Isabel was capable of such a monstrous act.
Liam nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Tell me exactly where Catherine was the last time you remember seeing her.”
Rian rubbed his hands over his eyes as he tried to get his thoughts into some sort of logical order. He rose and paced. “It was in the ballroom. I was talking with Lord Carfell, and I saw both Felicity and Catherine sitting across the room by the French doors. Catherine had been dancing, and I think she was warm—no, they both were—because Felicity was fanning herself.” He looked up at Liam with haunted eyes. “They must have gone outside on the terrace for some air.”
“Which was what you suspected, and where we found Felicity,” Liam said slowly.
“And Isabel was the one who said Catherine must be waiting for me in another room, staying in one place so I could find her.” Rian frowned. “I remember you leaving with Felicity, walking back along the hallway, following Isabel and then nothing until I woke up this morning.” He thumped the side of his leg with his fist. “God, I’m such an ass!”
“You were not at fault, Rian. How could you have possibly known?”
“I couldn’t, at least not with any certainty, but damn it all to hell, I should have suspected!” He put a hand to his forehead, shading his eyes as he shook his head.
“If Felicity took ill while Catherine was with her, and we have no reason to suppose otherwise, we both know she would never have left her side,” Liam continued. “And as she is nowhere to be found, there can only be one explanation.”
“Yes?” Rian mumbled morosely, not wanting to hear his brother’s conclusion for it would be the same as his own.
“She is being kept from you, brother.”
“Dear God, no!”
Liam, though emotionally exhausted himself, put a compassionate hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll wager Isabel’s hands are dirty,” he said gravely.
Rian stared at him, doing is best to contain his anger. “That may be, Liam, but she will never admit to it.”
“She could be made to.”
“No, not this time.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Because Isabel has other reasons for her actions, compelling reasons that have nothing to do with my wife.”
Liar! She’s carrying your child, and that has everything to do with your wife!
Liam gave him a puzzled look. He could always tell when Rian was keeping something back, even when they were children.
“Then you have spoken with Isabel since last night?” Rian gave a weary nod, grateful that Liam did not ask for an accounting. “Stuart Collins!” Liam suddenly burst out. “We must send for Stuart. If anyone can find Catherine, he can.”
“Of course!”
Rian’s need to find his wife was like a white-hot fire in the pit of his stomach, but he recognized that he owed his brother a duty as well. He prayed that Catherine would understand and forgive him, and hoped that a few minutes’ delay would not mean the difference in finding her. He would never forgive himself if it were so.
“It will be quicker if I go to him,” Rian said, “but before I leave, I need you to promise me something, little brother. I want your unbreakable oath.” He spoke so gravely, so seriously, that Liam was taken aback.
“Of course, anything at all.”
“You must not let Felicity think losing the baby was in any way her fault.”
Heartsick that such an idea would have crossed Rian’s mind, Liam felt his legs weaken, and he gratefully accepted the support of an arm at his elbow. “Of course, it wasn’t her fault! Why would you suppose I would ever—”
“I don’t think that, but she might.”
Closing his eyes, Liam took a deep breath to calm himself before opening them again and staring at Rian. “Why would she?”
“I don’t claim to know how a woman’s mind works, but it is a possibility you must deal with before it becomes something more. Something terrible. Something that could stand between the two of you for a very long time.” There was a horrible finality to Rian’s words. A somberness that showed a side of his brother Liam had never seen. He said nothing, waiting patiently for Rian to continue.
“It is only natural that the death of a child will affect a woman more profoundly than a man. They are more sensitive to the loss, will feel it more keenly and mourn more deeply. It matters not that your child did not draw a single breath outside his mother’s body. Believe me when I tell you, Felicity will carry this memory always in her heart until the day she dies.”
“What can I do for her?” Liam spread his hands. “How can I be of any help when I feel so useless, so inadequate.”
“Stay with her, be constantly at her side until she is strong enough to move on, no matter how long that might take. Nothing else is more important. Felicity needs to know that you do not hold her at fault, and do not now think her weak or frail because she could not keep the babe within her.” He held up his hand, silencing Liam’s protest. “She will not be in a rational state of mind at first, and may accuse herself for the babe’s loss or, worse, believe that you do. Talk to her, Liam. She must hear from your own lips that you do not blame her for this tragedy.” Rian suddenly dropped his eyes, unable to look at Liam’s face. “Do not, I beg of you, repeat my mistake.”
This last was said with such sorrow that Liam could only speculate as to the size and magnitude of the heartbreak that had left such a scar on his brother’s life. “Sophie?” he whispered hesitantly and Rian nodded silently.
What little Liam knew about his brother’s first wife had been gleaned from letters over the years. She was the only daughter of a neighboring plantation owner, and her father had vehemently disapproved of Rian and considered him an upstart. But he had not reckoned with his headstrong daughter’s willingness to defy him. She was in love—they both were—so she had married Rian against her father’s wishes.
For a while his brother’s letters were deliriously happy, and then inexplicably, nothing. No word from him, no correspondence for almost a year. The silence was finally broken by a short, tersely written page that told Liam Sophie had died, and nothing more. No details given, no circumstances shared. After a while Rian took up writing to his brother again, but he never mentioned his dead wife, and Liam did not press the issue.
“It was no one’s fault,” Rian said in a gruff whisper. “The baby came too early and I was away on plantation business. Sophie tried hard to be strong, to bring him into the world, but he never drew a breath.”
“He?” Liam said softly.
“My son.” Rian looked up, his eyes bright. “I know how it is to feel helpless, brother. Believe me, I know. I was unable to find the words to comfort my wife, so I said nothing. I did nothing. And my darling Sophie, who was so brave, mistook my silence for censure, believing I held her responsible for the death of our child. It became more than she could bear. Unable to face me any longer…she took her own life.”
Liam let out a gasp as his heart skipped a beat. Now he understood why Rian had kept this a secret from him. The guilt he carried was a choice he had made, and it was something he would never surrender or expect another to share.
“Rian, I am sorrier than you will ever know.”
Rian stared at him, wondering how, having suffered the loss of his own child just a few hours before, he could find the compassion to ease another’s sorrow. Shaking his head, he took Liam by the arm.
“I carry her with me still. And every day I think of her. I think of them both. They are always with me. It is a cruel fate that decrees that brothers should both lose their firstborns. Now”—he pushed Liam toward the open door—“go sit with your wife. Hold her hand, kiss her cheek, and speak kindly to her. Make certain that when Felicity opens her eyes, yours is the first and only face she sees.”
“I will,” Liam said, swallowing hard as he tried to reconcile himself to this shared sorrow.
“Promise me, Liam,” Rian said seriously. “Do not leave her side.” As they had when they were boys, Liam made his vow by covering his heart with his hand and closing his eyes for a moment. Rian gave a small smile at the childhood gesture and nodded, but the moment was interrupted when voices rose from the lower level of the house. “I think your in-laws have returned,” Rian noted, glad that he would not be leaving Liam entirely alone while he went to meet with Stuart Collins.
Shaking his head, Liam corrected him. “That is not Charles’s voice,” he said, but before either of them could speculate further, a footman, slightly out of breath from exertion and with his wig askew, found them.
“Oh, Master Rian, thank goodness you are still here!” the man exclaimed, clearly agitated. “There’s a man below, says he knows where Miss Catherine is.”