Page 31 of Weave me a Rope
“Your uncle is understandably upset,” Mrs. Austin scolded. “Tell me, Miss Milton, is it true you can remember nothing of your day in the tower?”
Cordelia nodded, slowly. “Nothing even of coming to the village,” she said. “The last thing I remember is arriving back in London three weeks ago.”
“I see. Miss Milton, may I be frank?”
“I wish you would,” Cordelia assured her.
Mrs. Austin sounded pleased. “The purpose of the tea, which contains pennyroyal and some other herbs, is to help your courses to arrive as they should.”
Cordelia shook her head. She had no idea what Mrs. Austin meant. “My courses are always regular,” she said, her cheeks warming at the intimate nature of the conversation.
“Miss Milton, when I examined you, it was obvious you had had relations of a marital nature.”
Oh!The heat in her cheeks flamed higher. “You mean… You think Lord Spenhurst and I…”
“I assume it was Lord Spenhurst,” Mrs. Austin said. “Your servant escorted you to the tower, and Fielder apparently brought you straight back after your fall.”
Cordelia frowned. How unfair! She had succeeded in convincing Spen to bed her, and she remembered nothing about it, though now she came to think of it, that part of her body did feel a little tender, as if muscles had been worked that had never worked before.
“It will, of course, remain a secret between us,” Mrs. Austin assured her.
“And my uncle,” Cordelia clarified. “That is why he has turned against Lord Spenhurst. When it was my choice as much as his. More, indeed, for I was the one who climbed to his window. And, though I don’t remember it, I daresay he needed to be talked into—well. My uncle is being unfair.”
“Your uncle is concerned about the possible consequences,” Mrs. Austin said. “Hence, the tea.”
“What consequences,” Cordelia wondered out loud. “If the three of us say nothing, who is to know and how can tea…” she trailed off as the answer occurred to her. “A baby?” She could not help but smile, and both hands drifted to her belly, where Spen’s child might even now be growing. “It is unlikely, surely?” She must arm herself against disappointment.
Mrs. Austin’s voice was sympathetic. “It is not easy having a child with no husband,” she warned.
“Spen will marry me when he is able to,” Cordelia said, more to the possible baby than to Mrs. Austin. “We just have to be patient until he is free and comes for us.”
“He has gone,” Mrs. Austin blurted.
That broke Cordelia out of her daze. “Gone? Where? How?”
Mrs. Austin shifted uneasily. “The marquess left and took his son with him. I attended Lady Deerhaven’s confinement two days ago. The servants said the marquess was expected, and later that day he had arrived. I didn’t see him, but when I went back yesterday to check on my lady and the little girl, they toldme the marquess and his son were gone. I cannot tell you where, Miss Milton.”
“A little girl,” Cordelia noted. “The marchioness has a daughter.” The poor lady. Cordelia remembered how kind and welcoming she had been. The marquess, obsessed as he was with having sons, would not be happy. “Are they well, she and her daughter?”
“The child is healthy,” Mrs. Austin confided. “Her ladyship is… sad.”
And Spen is safe.The marquess could not risk anything happening to the one legitimate son he had sired. No doubt he would try again, but Spen would be of age in just a few months. The marchioness could not deliver another child for at least ten months. Probably longer.
Mrs. Austin put a packet into her hand. “Here is the tea, Miss Milton. I daresay you do not intend to take it, but perhaps your uncle will be less angry if he believes you tried, and it failed. It is not always successful.”
Cordelia shook her head. “I will tell my uncle the truth. He will not hurt me, Mrs. Austin. And he will not put me out on the street, either. He will shout, perhaps. Probably, in fact. But in the end, if I do have a child, I trust him to support us until Spen is able to come for me.”
Mrs. Austin sounded doubtful. “I hope you are right, Miss Milton. I wish you well.”
“Uncle Josh,” Cordelia called out, “Mrs. Austin is leaving, and you and I need to talk.”
Chapter Twelve
They traveled forfour days. Spen spent each day chained to a ring that had been bolted to the floor of the carriage. At night, he was released from the ring, but the shackles remained on his ankles. He was escorted to a room in whatever inn the marquess had chosen, then chained to the bed.
No one would tell him where they were going or even the names of the towns they were in. Not that Spen cared. All he could think of was Cordelia. The marquess said she had fallen to her death. The man would tell whatever lies suited him best. Spen didn’t believe him. Couldn’t believe him. Cordelia could not have paid with her life for their glorious afternoon.
Had she been hurt? Had she been taken captive? Was his father, for once in his life, telling the truth?
