Page 24 of The Spinster’s Stolen Heart (Willenshires #5)

He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

The words went round and round in Pippa’s head, as they had all night. Bridget was clearly displeased with Pippa dancing with Nathan, although there wasn’t exactly anything she could have done about it.

She wanted to sing, dance, and skip through the halls. Of course, Pippa did none of these things. Not only would it make her mother suspicious, but it was barely past breakfast time.

She’d woken early, too excited to sleep. How would their meeting with Nathan go? He was arriving at ten o’ clock, and it was currently half past nine.

Mama will be angry, she thought, but if I’ve secured a decent proposal, she can hardly object. Besides, Nathan is a friend of Henry’s.

She was nervous, to be sure, but most of her feelings were a bubble of happiness and excitement.

This is the day I reclaim my life. I hope you can see how well I’m doing, Papa.

A voice echoed up the stairs towards her.

“Pippa? Are you up there? What in heaven’s name are you doing?”

Pippa’s heart sank.

In hopes of finding some time to herself, Pippa had retreated into one of the little white attics at the end of the guests’ wing. They were small rooms, tidy and clean but seldom used, and when they were used, they were for guests when the house was too full. Apparently, governesses and tutors once slept up here.

This particular room had a window seat which looked down on the gardens, which made up for the steep set of stone stairs that led up to the room.

Thumping footsteps approached up the stairs, and Pippa bit back a sigh, putting her violin aside. The music must have been what led her mother here.

Bridget’s reddened face appeared at the top of the stairs.

“ There you are,” she huffed. “What are you doing up here?”

“I just wanted some peace and quiet,” Pippa murmured.

Bridget hauled herself into the room, glancing around with distaste. “This isn’t the sort of place for a future Marchioness, Pippa.”

It would have been sensible to bite her tongue and say nothing, but Pippa found words spilling out anyway.

“I’m not going to be a Marchioness, Mama,” she blurted out.

Bridget narrowed her eyes. “We’ve been through this, Pippa.”

Pippa stood up, breathing in deeply.

“Lord Whitmore – Nathan – confessed to me last night that he is in love with me. He plans to visit today to speak to you and formally ask me to court him. I don’t want to go against your wishes, Mama, but your threats of ruining me and casting me off mean nothing, not if I can marry Nathan.”

Bridget gave a choked noise. “You can’t mean it.”

Pippa hurried towards her mother, taking her mother’s hands in hers. “Mama, please don’t be angry. Don’t you want me to be happy? I know I won’t be happy with Lord Barwick, and you know it, too! But I love Nathan, and that’s the best start any marriage could have. I’ll be a viscountess, and I know he’s rich! More to the point, he knows that I am not, and doesn’t care about it. Please, Mama! Give us your blessing for our courtship.”

Bridget tore her hands away. “You don’t know what you’re speaking of, child. Do you plan to humiliate me? Only this morning…” she paused, pulling out a crumpled letter from her sleeve and shaking it in Pippa’s, face, “… only this morning I received a letter from Lady Barwick, informing me that you meet with her approval and that Lord Barwick intends to make you an offer soon. Today, even! We are so close, Pippa, so close! You can’t possibly falter so close to the finish line.”

Pippa bit her lip. She felt like crying.

I’ll never get her to understand.

“Mama, please ,” she begged, voice cracking. “Papa wanted us to stay together, to support each other. Why must you do this to me?”

“Why must you do this to me ?” Bridget snapped. “Why can you never listen?”

Pippa stepped back, composing herself. She felt like crying, like throwing herself on the ground and sobbing.

Mama will never give her permission for me to marry Nathan.

I think I might marry him anyway.

And what would be the results? If she refused to marry Nathan at her mother’s request, Pippa knew in her heart that she could never marry Lord Barwick. So she’d finish the Season as a sad little spinster, reliant on her cousin’s good graces. Maybe their good graces would continue, maybe they wouldn’t. It was hard to tell. Either way, her Season, such as it was, would be a resounding failure. An irrevocable one.

And if she went ahead and married Nathan, there was no telling how Bridget would react. Might she make peace with it? Mayhap. But if she did not, there would be a chance for reconciliation later. Pippa would be a viscountess, safe at last.

And that was what Mama wanted, wasn’t it? For me to be safe? For us to be safe.

“I going to marry him if he asks me, Mama,” she heard herself say, voice choked with tears. “I wish you would give us your blessing.”

Bridget held her gaze for a long minute. For an instant, there was anguish in her eyes, quickly replaced with anger.

“I know where all of this began,” she hissed, shaking a finger in Pippa’s face. “With that wretched violin!”

Before Pippa could understand what her mother meant, Bridget had stormed past into the room, snatching up the violin which still lay on the window seat.

Ice-cold fear surged up into Pippa’s throat.

“Mama, no!”

Bridget sidestepped her easily, holding the violin aloft.

“Well, I am your mother, and I take away anything you have as easily as that ,” she snarled, dodging again. “If I say no more of this wretched scraping, then there will be no more , do you hear me?”

She lifted the violin into the air, holding it by the neck, and at once Pippa saw what she meant to do. She meant to smash the violin down on the empty hearth, splintering it into a million pieces.

Pippa gave a wordless cry, and threw herself forward, trying to snatch the instrument out of her mother’s hands. Bridget dodged again, backing towards the staircase. Pippa tried to grab it once more, and Bridget grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her away.

Pippa staggered backwards, and suddenly there was no more ground beneath her heels. She just had a moment to see shock and horror in her mother’s face before she tumbled backwards, falling down the stairs.

Falling tended to be a rather strange thing. A handful of seconds, all stretched out to last a moment or two in one’s perception, but without the ability to actually do anything about the extra time. Pippa faintly recalled flashes; the ceiling above her, the coldness of the air which rushed past her.

And then, thump . Then nothing.

***

Pippa’s hearing returned to her first of all. There was a clamour all about her, half a dozen voices talking all at once.

Katherine’s voice emerged from the chaos first of all, speaking authoritatively.

“You must step back, Aunt Bridget. Give her some air. The physician will be here shortly.”

A bubbling sob erupted from somewhere above Pippa’s head. She raised her brow, unable to recall where she was or how she’d gotten there. She was lying on a stone floor, it seemed, the cold leeching through her thin morning dress.

I can’t move. Why can’t I move?

Panic surged through Pippa’s consciousness. She was faintly aware that there’d been a fall. Indeed, that was it, a fall. An accident. She and her mother had been fighting over the violin, she had been pushed, and then… then, nothing.

A male voice sounded. “Kat, a guest has arrived.”

Katherine gave a most unladylike curse. “A guest ? At this hour? Send them away, whoever it is. Oh, and somebody must go to tell Lavinia and William. This is serious. They’ll be concerned.”

A guest. A memory stirred. Was she expecting a guest?

In a rush, Pippa remembered. Nathan . Nathan was coming today, to talk about their future, to tell her that he loved her, to begin their courtship officially. She must speak to him!

Pippa managed to open her eyes a crack and tried to force out some words.

All that came out was an incoherent burble.

Her vision was blurred, but Pippa could make out the blur of Katherine, leaning over her, and her mother, kneeling by her head. At once, Katherine leaned closer, taking her hand.

“Pip, darling? Did you say something? I think she’s coming around.”

“She can’t stay here, lying on the cold floor,” came Timothy’s voice. “She’ll catch her death of cold.”

Bridget gave a moan of anguish.

“She can’t be moved yet, not until the physician says so,” Katherine said firmly. “But you’re right. Somebody go and fetch blankets, and for heaven’s sake, send away the guest. Pip, what did you say? What do you need?”

Pippa wanted to lick her lips to moisten them – they felt dry and cracked, as though they would peel off if she tried to smile – but her tongue was heavy in her mouth. A searing pain was shooting through her head, too.

“Violin,” she managed.

Bridget hiccoughed. “I have your violin, Pippa, darling. I’ll keep it quite, quite safe for you, I absolutely promise. Oh, my darling girl, what have I done?”

Katherine threw a sharp glance at her aunt. “Yes, Aunt, what have you done?”

Pippa was faintly aware of darkness nibbling at the edge of her vision, threatening oncoming unconsciousness. She didn’t have much long left, it seemed. However, she swallowed thickly and forced out another word.

“ Accident ,” she whispered.

The last thing Pippa saw before she melted away into unconsciousness was her mother, a hand pressed over her mouth to muffle sobs. The last thing she heard was Katherine’s voice, tinged with panic.

“Where is that physician?”