Nothing is so burdensome as a secret. -Proverb (French)

CHAPTER 9

Morning crept upon Madeline. A whisper of emotion flitted through her mind and settled gently into consciousness. A tug of memory, a shift...a shifting of dreams. She felt beside her for Nosey, but he had abandoned her, the spot still warm where he had lain. Then memory erupted, volcanic, steaming with embarrassment.

Madeline groaned. “What must he think of my behavior?” she said aloud into her pillow. When had her pain metamorphosed into such anger? Outspoken indignation had collided with vulnerability and insolence. It doesn't matter, she thought, sitting up in bed. I'm not going to see him, again.

A quick rap on the door jolted her thoughts away from Devlin and she jerked up. Agnes waddled into the room, a broad grin on her face. Madeline pulled the covers up over her head.

“Well that's a fine welcome,” Agnes complained. “Daisy's not feeling well, so I've come to help you dress. I imagine your head's spinning with thoughts of Lord Ravensmoore this morning.”

  “My head is spinning. I'll grant you that,” came the muffled response.

  “Come on out, dearie, and greet the day.”

“I'd really rather not, Agnes. I have a dreadful headache. The light hurts my eyes.”

  “I hope you're not too angry with Edna and me for playing the matchmakers last evening,” she prattled on ignoring Madeline's plea. “A blind man could sense   you were taken with each other right off. And Lady Gilling and Mr. Melton. Another grand couple to be sure.” Agnes continued, oblivious to Madeline's mortification.

Madeline forced herself to peak over the coverlet, blinking against the sunshine. “I would prefer you not talk about last night, Agnes. It is finished.”

Agnes froze in   her duties and stared at her mistress, aghast. “What's this? You can't mean it. Edna believes Ravensmoore most smitten and though we frequently disagree I believe she's right, this time.”

Madeline finally rebelled and sat up a bit too fast. Pressing her palms to her temples she said, “He may be smitten, but I most certainly am not. He's smitten with his work as a physician, possibly obsessed. The man is not normal!” Madeline seriously considered returning   to sleep. “It's a wonder he finds time to care for his estate.”

Agnes walked over to the chair where Madeline's robe lay and picked it up. “He goes home to be certain all is well with his lands, according to Edna, and tends to the business of a gentleman, but he always returns to study in York whenever Langford comes to teach. I'm so happy you have an admirer, dear.”

“He may be an admirer, Agnes, but he's not a beau.”

“A very handsome admirer, I must say,” Agnes continued, as if Madeline hadn't spoken a word. “I didn't realize how good looking he was the day he brought you home from the hunt. I was far too concerned about you at the time.”

Madeline slammed the bed with her fists. “Do you forget who he is, Agnes? He cut off my father's legs in the name of medicine. I will not forgive him for butchery!”

Agnes carefully laid the robe on the bed.   “Eventually you must forgive those things you do not understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You needn't concern yourself, Agnes. I'm all grown up. I can take care of myself.” Madeline sighed, uncertain if she struggled to convince the maid or herself.  

“Even grown girls need someone to look after them now and then, Lady Maddie. Take your mother for instance. She fancies herself taken with Lord Thorn. He's not what she needs, but it's not my place to say anything.”

“You mean you've noticed it, too?” Madeline didn't know if she should be alarmed or relieved. She scooted to the edge of the bed and threw her legs over the side. The cat appeared from beneath the bed and pounced on her cold, naked feet. “Nosey. You bad kitty.” She picked the feline up and gently set him on the bed where he chased his tail with determination. “What do you know, Agnes?

“She's happy, again.”

“Has mother shared her feelings with you?”

“No. It shows in her face.” Agnes poured water into a basin. “It would be hard not to notice, unless you weren't looking.”

“Come sit at your dressing table, Lady Maddie, I'll brush your hair. You'll feel better.”

“I feel fine,” Madeline said, stubbornly sticking out her chin. She wondered if her mother and she would be close again one day. Ever since Papa died, everything had changed between them. He'd been the glue. Without Papa true happiness always seemed just out of reach.

Madeline tried to shake off the gloomy feelings that attacked. She donned her robe and sat down at the dressing table to let Agnes brush her hair. “Work your magic, Agnes.”

“I haven't done this for you in years,” Agnes said. She began to untangle the mass of dark curls. “You still have the most beautiful head of hair, even more beautiful than your mother's hair.

Nosey jumped onto Madeline's lap. She stroked the cat as Agnes brushed. Hypnotic movements eased the tension in her muscles. “I wish I were a little girl, again, Agnes. Everything seemed easy then. Why does everything have to be so hard as we grow up?” Madeline watched Agnes frown in the mirror.

“Sometimes . . .” Agnes began, and then stopped, as though choosing her words very carefully. “Sometimes we make things harder than they need be.”

After several minutes, Madeline took the brush from Agnes. “Thank you, Agnes, it felt wonderful, but I think I'd like to go for a ride this morning. Will you help me dress now?”

“Of course.” Agnes looked worried. “I hope I didn't speak out of turn, Lady Maddie?”

“No, not at all. I just need to go for a ride. I want some time to myself, to think.”  

“Very well.”

Agnes dressed her mistress in a velvet brown riding habit.

“Are you quite certain you are all right?” Agnes asked, walking around Madeline, inspecting her carefully.

Madeline saw the concern in the old woman's eyes. “I am well, really I am. I just need a bit of fresh air.”

“Then don't forget to eat breakfast.” Agnes brightened. “You'd best be on your way.”

Madeline didn't eat breakfast, but headed straight to the stables. The blend of hay, oats and leather mingled with that of each animal to produce a scent that any horse lover could appreciate. She took a deep breath.

Madeline ignored the remark. Donavan meant well. He'd adored her father. She headed for the stall, still expecting to see her Papa walk through the stable door to go riding with her.

  “Good morning, Shakespeare. I've brought you a treat.” She held out a purloined carrot from the kitchen, loving the feel of the animal's soft muzzle against her hand as he munched the offering, then began searching for more treats.

Madeline grabbed a currycomb and brush and made quick work of cleaning him up. She loved caring for her own horse and she enjoyed doing what others would only consider fit for groom or stable boy. She sneezed. The hair and dust flew about the stable sparkling in the rays of the morning sun.

“Bless ye,” Donavan said as he approached her. “Would ye like company this fine morning?” Donavan opened the stall door.

“Thank you, Donavan. I prefer to go by myself.”

“But . . .”

“But what?” Madeline asked.

“Ye only have one good arm.”

“Now, Donavan. My arm is out of the sling. I'm much better. You know Shakespeare as well as I. He's a safe ride. I have no doubt I will be quite fine, thank you very much.”

“Still . . .” Donavan said, rubbing the stubble on his chin and looking thoughtful. “I don't think ye should go alone.”

“She won't be alone,” a deep male voice intruded into the conversation.

Her thoughts scrambled about like chickens pecking at feed in the stable yard. “Lord Ravensmoore, what are you doing here?”

“Trying to keep you in one piece. It sounds like you're trying to break your neck riding off with no escort and an injury that's not completely mended.”

Donavan bowed awkwardly then tipped his hat. “Humph. Exactly what I been trying to tell her meself, sir. Seems ye pull more weight.”

Devlin grinned at her. “I simply came to check on my patient. I believe I told you I'd visit as soon as possible. I'd be happy to ride out with you.”

“No. That is not necessary.” Madeline turned and continued to curry her horse.

Donavon said, “Now there's a fine idea. His lordship's going to be a doctor. I should think ye couldn't be in better hands. I'll tack up Shakespeare for ye, now”.

“I am honored to be of service, Lady Madeline.”

She frowned at him. “So it would appear.”

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