"Interesting," Lady Meriton murmured. She was silent a moment; then, a mischievous little smile lit her pale blue eyes. "Do you know what you are describing?"
"What do you mean?"
"My dear, you are describinglovein its ultimate expression."
"Oh." Cecilia fidgeted on the bench. "Then I would say love is something I do not want.”
"Nonsense, Cecilia. The problem you have, my dear, is that you see the exchange as imprisoning rather than liberating—which I assure you it can be."
"I don't see how."
Lady Meriton laughed. "Don't worry. You shall eventually, and I dare say Sir James will show you, too."
"Nonsense," Cecilia retorted. "And I do wish you would stop linking me with Sir James at every breath. I am merely a curiosity to him, for he senses some mystery. He is a much more awake gentleman than you, or anyone else seems to give him credit for being."
"So you've said."
"Excuse me, my lady," said a young footman from the open doorway.
"Yes, Harry, what is it?"
"A letter just come for Mrs. Waddley," he said, handing it to her.
Cecilia grabbed for it, anxiously breaking the seal.
"Thank you, Harry," Lady Meriton said for her remiss niece. She dismissed the footman with a wave of her hand. He closed the door after himself
"Dear Lord," murmured Cecilia.
"What is it? Bad news?"
"Yes. Though I gather it could easily have been much worse." "I beg your pardon?"
Cecilia roused herself. "It's from a Dr. Heighton. He is writing at the urgent behest of his new patient, Mr. David Thornbridge. Mr. Thornbridge was attacked last night and stabbed."
"No!"
Cecilia reddened and bit her lip, her brow furrowing as she fought the wave of guilt and panic that assailed her. "He is weak and has lost a great deal of blood, but he will live.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring the words on the page. She wiped her eyes. “He writes that Mr. Thornbridge would not comfortably rest until he appraised me of his situation. He says as soon as he is well enough, he will allow him to travel to the country and recuperate there."
Cecilia lowered the letter, her face wet with tears. She wiped at them again with her crumpled, damp handkerchief. "Oh, Jessamine, it is all my fault! When he wrote yesterday, I feared something horrible was about to happen. I should never have asked him to help me. I granted him a form of trust and look at the horrible burden it placed on him. It nearly got him killed!" Her body trembled, and guilt etched gray furrows in her blanched complexion.
"Cecilia! Stop it. Stop it at once! Mr. Thornbridge is not a stupid man. He knew the risks he was taking. I doubt you could have forestalled him if you tried."
"I don't know. Oh, I don't know," wailed Cecilia.
"Cecilia, self-flagellation will not help Mr. Thornbridge now. What's done is done. Perhaps you now realize the gravity of the situation and will cease in your endeavors to learn the truth. It is not worth another life—Mr. Thornbridge's or yours, which might be next if you persist in this manner."
Cecilia looked up at her aunt, the tracks of her tears drying on her cheeks. She shook her head. "But Jessamine, don't you understand? I can't stop now! It would be unfair to Mr. WaddleyandMr. Thornbridge. As things are, I hope I know better than to involve others in my quest—and I certainly shall not say anything to Sir James! Lud, it would be scandalous at this point. He thinks Mr. Thornbridge to be my physician. To try to explain otherwise would necessitate unraveling all the skeins, and I am not willing to do that yet!"
A soft knock on the door drew their attention. It was Loudon. "Excuse me, my lady, but Sir James Branstoke is below. He asks to speak with Mrs. Waddley."
Cecilia decisively shook her head. "I do not wish to see him. Tell him I am plagued with a dreadful headache—which is nigh to being true at this juncture."
"Begging your pardon, ma'am. Sir James felt certain you would say something to that effect. He asked that I tell you he has just come from a Dr. Heighton's and has seen Mr. Thornbridge."
"What? How?Are you sure he saidMisterThornbridge?"
