“You should take your tonic and rest now,” he interrupted, his hand still holding her where she was. He glanced back toward the two maids who had remained, standing with their heads bowed, as if awaiting instruction which they now received. “Give Her Grace a spoonful of tonic and watch over her. She is not, under any circumstances, to leave this house.”
Gibbs nodded effusively. “Quite right. Goodness, what on earth wouldIdo with an invalid?”
He laughed as if this were not the worst moment of his daughter’s life; that she could remember, at least. And as she stared at him, she hated him more than she had ever done, wondering what was wrong withhimto make him such an unfeeling, wretched creature.
“Please…” Thalia whispered, but no one listened or heeded her, as Henry departed the room and Gibbs followed after him like an eager hound.
And when the two maids swept forward, preparing a spoonful of the tonic, she did not fight it as they fed her the medicine and tucked her back into that unfamiliar bed.
But when I have regained some strength, I shall not be so amenable…She made that promise to herself and clung to it; a tiny foothold of hope that she could not and would not relinquish, lest she lose herself entirely.
“What accident was she referring to?” Henry demanded to know, as he stormed into his study with Gibbs hurrying along behind.
Gibbs came to an abrupt halt, as if reconsidering his pursuit. “Oh, that? It was nothing. A trifling thing. Hardly an accident at all.”
“Do not lie to me, Gibbs!” Henry snapped.
They had long passed the point where the older man was worthy of respectful formalities. Years, in truth.
“She spoke of a terrible accident, and the physician seemed to confirm such a thing,” Henry added in a more even tone, for,though he did not like Gibbs much at all and was in a fractious temper due to this entire debacle with his wife, it was beneath him toshowhis aggravation.
The older man hesitated, fidgeting with the cuffs of his housecoat. Yet another cause for Henry’s annoyance: it was one thing if he, the duke of the household, had run to his wife’s chambers in a state of undress due to the urgency of her awakening; it was quite another for Gibbs, who had not been needed imminently, to show up in such a slovenly state.
“Very well, therewasan accident,” the man conceded stiffly. “Her carriage overturned.”
“When?” Henry interjected, his tone sharp.
“Four years ago.”
“Whenexactly?” Henry pressed, patience wearing thin. “I was told nothing about an accident, I suspect you kept it from me deliberately, but you will be honest with me now.”
Gibbs chewed his lip in consternation, looking anywhere but at Henry: a sure sign of residual guilt. “She… attempted to run away, shortly before your wedding. I was not careful when I told her of the union, so it was a shock to her and, in all her girlish foolishness, she acted rashly.”
In the four years that Henry had known Thalia, though he had, admittedly, not spent all that much time with her, he had neverthought of her as girlish or foolish. Perhaps, both their lives might have been easier if shehadsucceeded in escaping when she attempted it.
Still, he doubted Gibbs’ explanation; the wretched man wasstilllying to him.
“What happened?” Henry barked.
The older man started at the sound, as jittery as a cornered rabbit. “She took the carriage. I did not know about it until she had already departed. You see, I was in the middle of a party, to celebrate the coming nuptials.” He cleared his throat, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. “It was raining that night, I believe, and the carriage veered off the road. A wheel snapped and the carriage overturned, with Thalia inside it.”
“She struck her head?” Henry thought of what the physician had mentioned about an old injury, now overlapped with a new one.
Gibbs shrugged in a manner that made Henry want to shake him rather hard. “I do not know about that. The driver brought her straight back to the manor on one of the horses, and the maids tended to her there.” He paused. “She had some bruises and whatnot, here and there, but she was up and about the following morning. No harm done.”
“You did not summon a physician?” Henry’s voice dripped contempt.
“I did not see any need,” Gibbs replied. “She was fine. Perhaps, there was a bruise on her head, but if it was there, her hair must have covered it.”
Suspicion thrummed in Henry’s nerves like the shiver of a bad violinist scraping the strings, though he did not know where to begin with his discontent. Did he berate Gibbs for not fetching a physician immediately, those four years ago? Did he reprimand Gibbs for not checking on his daughter himself? Did he yell at the man for not mentioning all of this sooner, so that greater care could have been taken to avoid a second accident?
Imight have been more cautious, had I known.
“How long before the wedding did this occur?” he asked, the thought suddenly coming to him.
Gibbs’ throat bobbed. “It was the night your letter arrived, declaring you had acquired a special license. I cannot quite remember, but it was… maybe four days before?”
“Four days!” Henry erupted, conjuring a vision of the wedding day in his mind. “You still brought her to the church after an accident like that,four daysbefore?”
