Page 8 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess (Marriage Mart Scandals #3)

He'd missed a dose. Neil only realized that the whole evening had gone by without taking his medicine when he was climbing the stairs to the parlour.

The innkeeper had been clearly thrilled to have a marquess and marchioness staying at his humble abode and had set aside a private parlour for their use, as well as the requested rooms. There was a great deal to be done. The booking of the rooms was easily done, but Harry had difficulty in convincing men to help clear the road. Neil was obliged to add his voice to the reasoning, offering money and favours, while the ladies retired to their rooms to recover.

The innkeeper dogged his footsteps too, fawning and excited, keen to offer anything he could, to earn a little extra money. It was a little irritating, but Neil reminded himself that the man was doing his best to make them all comfortable and tried to act accordingly.

Between all the chaos and arrangements, Neil quite forgot to take the next dose of his medicine. It could not be taken with food, as it gave everything he ate and drank the most vile sour taste, and the food would react in his stomach and rise as bile.

He remembered his father, once the disease had progressed to doses every hour, vomiting incessantly, unable to keep down food or water, wasting away to nothing.

Neil shuddered. He hoped he would not have a fit tonight. They were coming more regularly, but he had prayed to make it through his wedding day, and so far, his prayer was answered.

I feel healthy enough, he thought. My mind is clear. No hallucinations, no dizziness. I’ll take a dose before bed, and risk eating dinner without having taken my medicine.

He needed to eat, that was for certain. Neil’s stomach felt as though it were hollowed out, growling miserably, demanding attention.

First, though, a change of clothes was necessary. It didn’t seem prudent to stand upon ceremony at a grimy little road-side inn, but Neil’s wedding suit was damp and uncomfortable, the cuffs of his sleeves stained with dirt, somehow, and his boots dull and muddy.

Harry was waiting for him in the room that they would share. It was a simple enough room, clean and tidy, with an iron-framed bed and a trundle bed underneath it. Harry was crouching by one of the suitcases, in the process of taking out a new strip of linen to tie as a cravat.

“I thought you might need a fresh change of cravat, Neil,” Harry said, not looking up. “That delicate creation appears somewhat wilted, if I may be so bold as to remark.”

“I agree and I’m desperate for a bath.”

“The innkeeper’s wife had water brought up,” Harry answered, tossing the linen to Neil. “How are you faring? You look well, actually.”

“I feel better than I would have thought,” Neil admitted, dragging off the wilting cravat and tossing it onto the bed. “I’ve missed my supper-time dose, though. I’ll take it before bed. Don’t want to ruin supper.”

Harry pursed his lips. “I overheard Lady Emma complaining to Lady Cynthia about something the Marchioness had said. Something critical about Mr. Blackburn, I believe?”

Neil winced, stripping off his jacket. He sat down to pull off his muddy boots, which was no mean feat.

“It was nothing. Patrina seems like a bold sort of girl – I doubt she’ll let Mother push her around, and perhaps that’s for the best. I think she was a little shocked at Doctor Blackburn prescribing me the same treatment that my father was taking when he died. It’s alright, though. She doesn’t understand, I imagine.”

Harry pursed his lips. “I sense fireworks in the future. Between Lady Emma and the new Marchioness, I mean. I’m not sure which one I’d bet one.”

Neil shrugged. “Me, I’d bet on Mother. She’s got experience and tremendous force of will. Patrina is nice enough, clever and determined. Yet I am not sufficiently acquainted with her to truly understand her character,” he paused, one boot half-off. “That’s a terribly sad thing to say about one’s wife, isn’t it? I am not sufficiently acquainted with her. On our wedding day, no less.”

Harry got to his feet, moving over to pat Neil on the shoulder.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, cousin. It’s only the first day of marriage. You have plenty of time ahead of you, plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Neil muttered. “She hasn’t even seen me have a fit yet.”

“And maybe she won’t. You did well today. Maybe it’s a turn up for the better.”

“I wish I could believe that. Pray, allow me to take my leave for a moment to indulge in a warm bath before I attire myself for dinner. Shall I have sufficient time to do so?”

“I think so. Just try and be yourself, won’t you? For you, Neil, not much has changed. But for the new marchioness, everything is different. Everything.”

Neil flinched. Keen to get away from the finality of that last everything , he stepped into the adjoining washroom, dominated by a steaming copper tub, and closed the door behind him.

***

Supper was a bleak affair. Everybody was tired, and Neil seemed preoccupied by something or other. He ate sparingly and kept glancing at the clock.

Patrina felt more like an unwelcome guest than ever. Lady Emma and Cynthia whispered urgently to each other, or else sat and ate in silence. Patrina was left to stare out of the window, watching the rain speckle the windowpanes.

It was almost a relief to retreat to her bedroom. Lucy had made it cosy, and somehow it didn’t matter that it was small. There was a large bed for the two of them to share, with moth-eaten curtains around the bed to keep out the chill. There was a rug covering the bare boards, and a fire snapped in the grate.

“Not the finest wedding day in the world, I think,” Patrina commented, throwing herself down onto the bed. “Everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.”

“Not true,” Lucy responded, handing over Patrina’s night-gown. “The carriage wheels haven’t broken yet.”

Patrina shuddered. “Ugh. Don’t.”

The next half hour was taken up in the business of undressing and dressing for bed. With the wind howling and the rain pattering outside and the inn gradually plunging into darkness as people retired for the night, Patrina could almost believe that it was just the two of them in the whole building.

Despite the fire, Patrina found herself shivering when she sat at the dressing table, with Lucy brushing out her hair to be braided for bed. Lucy, always a chatterbox at the best of times, had plenty to say. Apparently, she’d had quite an interesting journey with Mr. Harry Westbrook, Neil’s steward, seeing as the man enjoyed Shakespeare, poetry, and novels.

“You seem happy enough at our change in circumstances,” Patrina remarked, when Lucy finally took a breath.

Lucy shrugged. “It’s a step up in the world for me, isn’t it? I’m going to be a proper lady’s maid, for a marchioness . And not just any marchioness, but my dear old friend who deserves the position more than anybody else. But I can’t help but think that you feel differently, milady.”

Her eyes met Patrina’s through the mirror.

Patrina fidgeted, chewing on her lip. “I don’t know what to think, truly. I think Lady Emma might be troublesome, and Neil, my husband… well, I can’t make him out at all. He’s kind enough, but… but what if I’m not what he expects? What if I’m not a proper marchioness? I daresay there’s a thousand mistakes I might make.”

“I daresay,” Lucy said, nodding. “And I imagine you will make some of those mistakes.”

“Very reassuring, Lucy.”

Lucy clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I’m not in the habit of telling you comforting nonsense, milady. You shall make mistakes, I’m sure, and there’s no sense pretending otherwise. But it’s not about the mistakes, it’s about how well you respond to them, don’t you see?”

Patrina sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I’d just much rather do everything perfectly, right away.”

Lucy chuckled. “Wouldn’t we all?”

Having finished brushing out Patrina’s hair, Lucy began to braid it smoothly. Patrina closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. For a few luxurious moments, all that existed in the world was the rattle of rain against the window, the snap of the fire in the grate, and the smooth touch of Lucy’s deft fingers in Patrina’s hair.

A thought bloomed in Patrina’s mind, sudden but invasive, like a weed in a flowerbed.

“I don’t think he’s mad.”

Lucy barely batted an eyelid. “He certainly acts like a decent, coherent gentlemen. But then, neither you nor I are physicians, milady.”

Patrina opened her eyes, frowning. “But he was so clear , so confident. He worked out at once that we would not reach home tonight and made alternative arrangements in an instant. Our stay here, while not planned, was as smooth as anything. Could a madman do that?”

“No,” Lucy conceded, “but I always think that people have an odd idea of madness. A great-uncle of mine was committed to one of the asylums, but my mother recalled that before things got bad, really bad, I mean, he had long periods of clarity, when you would never think that a thing was wrong with him. I often wonder whether madness is just a word we use for an illness we can’t understand. Who knows what goes on in people’s heads?”

Patrina picked at her nails, a frown appearing between her brows. “Did you think he was mad?”

“I don’t know him well enough,” Lucy responded tactfully. “And with the greatest respect, milady, neither do you.”

She heaved a sigh, leaning back in the seat. “You’re very good at telling it like it is, Lucy. I can always rely on you to tell me the truth.”

Lucy inclined her head. “I do my best, milady. I’m only saying so that you don’t go getting your hopes up. What if you decide that he’s not mad, and then you learn later that it comes in fits and starts? From what I’ve heard, it does come and go. His father was the same, but it got worse over time. Much worse, and the fits more frequent.” She shook her head, heaving a sigh, running her fingers over the glossy braid of Patrina’s hair. “It’s a pity. Such a pity. He seems like a kind man. And a young one, too. Too young to have a death sentence hanging over his head.”

Patrina shivered at that. It was a death sentence, wasn’t it? Such a pressing one that he hurried to marry just about any woman he could, in hopes of providing an heir before it was too late.

“How long was his father ill?” Patrina heard herself ask.

“I don’t know, but I could find out, I reckon. A few years, from what I’ve heard. The man hasn’t been dead for long.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that the illness started at different ages? Neil’s father must have been much older, but Neil got ill so soon after his father’s death. It’s odd, don’t you think?”

“I expect it’s not that unusual. We aren’t physicians, milady.”

This last point was given with an air of finality, and Patrina gave up. It was clear that Lucy did not want to discuss the subject, and it was hard to blame her. Being married to a madman was bad, but working for a madman was worse. Or were they both the same? Patrina could not decide.

There wasn’t much else to do but go to bed. The roaring fire was dying down, and there was no firewood to keep it going. The room would cool shockingly fast once the fire was gone, so Lucy and Patrina dived into bed and lay there, waiting for the cold sheets to warm up.

“I can’t decide whether I want him to be mad or not,” Patrina said. With the dying fire, only the flickering candle on Lucy’s side of the bed illuminated the room. “If he’s a wretch and I hate him, then it would be better if I find myself widowed in a few years. Is that an awful thing to say?”

“I think it’s an honest thing to say, milady. But maybe don’t repeat it to anyone but me.”

Patrina chuckled. “Very wise. I suppose I’m afraid that I will like him, only to lose him to madness and ultimately death in the next few years. I never thought of that, you know. What if I like him?”

Lucy sighed. “We won’t know until it happens, will we?”

“I suspect you want to go to sleep, Lucy, and you want the conversation to stop.”

“Indeed I do.”

Without waiting for a response, Lucy rolled over and blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness.

Patrina knew already that she wasn’t going to sleep well that night.