Chapter Nine
Percy bit back a curse. Now what was he going to do? How would he convince Georgiana that what she saw and heard in the parlor was only a farce? Everything in him wanted to follow her. Actually, he did try, though guilt chased him out the door for leaving his wife in such a sorry state. But when Percy had finally disentangled his hand from the dowager’s and run outside, Georgiana’s carriage was halfway down the street.
When he returned to the parlor, the whiny woman heaped more guilt on him until he truly felt as if he’d done something terribly wrong.
At the moment, he was hiding like a guilt-ridden boy in the kitchen, hoping to remain undiscovered at least for a time. How had his carefree life and having just met a wonderful woman at the Sanctuary detoured so quickly to where he was now? It was a nightmare.
Yet he knew it to be real. He might have blamed it on hallucinations brought on by too much drink, but with all the time spent with that woman in the parlor, he’d not even had the chance to imbibe. Not even a tiny glass of port.
Berating himself, Percy couldn’t believe what an idiot he’d been not to have told Georgiana in the note more details of what had transpired. Perhaps if he had, she might not have been so shocked when she saw and heard that atrocious witch pawing at him and insisting he tell her he loved her.
What a mess this all had become. Since in good conscience for the time being he could not leave the house, Percy was determined to send another note, this one telling her everything so she’d understand what was going on. She had to! While it was true he’d only just met her, something in his heart told him she was different. Special. The one woman for him who could make all his dreams of true love come true.
Hurrying, and hoping to be able to write his letter before being found out and screeched at by the dowager for leaving her presence, Percy made his way along a back hall to his room to retrieve some more foolscap. He would have gone there sooner but knew the footman could have easily found him. He did pity the footman somewhat. The dowager had made him her personal servant.
Still, it had to be better than having the wretched woman call him darling. He shuddered, nearly unable to hold the quill to compose his letter. He’d do whatever it took to convince Georgiana of the truth. Guilt scratched at him, reminded him of the physician’s warning about saying anything to anyone about the situation for fear word of it might get back to Miriam and upset her. He must do it, though. There was no other way.
Would it really be so bad if Percy just slipped out of the house? Went to see Georgiana and left the dowager to the care of her family and the physician?
Dr. Hervey had piled on the guilt. Made it quite clear that if Percy did anything to upset the dowager, her condition might worsen. Percy clenched his jaws together.
Leave it to me to develop a conscience now of all times!
He closed his door, hoping for a few uninterrupted moments, and tried to summon the right words for the note. Now that he was there with quill and paper, the words he needed to write seemed like a farce. Would he be able to make Georgiana believe that the strange happenings were true?
He must try.
My dear Lady Peregrine,
Let me start by saying how sorry I am that you witnessed what you did in our parlor. Not because I’m ashamed of being caught at something. No. Because what you saw was a lie.
In my previous note, I told you of the dowager’s accident here in the house. What I neglected to say was what took place after her injury. For some odd reason of which I cannot fathom, the strange woman has the notion that I am someone I’m not.
Believe me when I tell you that I was shocked and appalled. But to make matters much worse, the physician has cautioned me that were I to do anything to upset the dowager at this point, he couldn’t say how it would affect her recovery. In his estimation, it would not be positive in the least.
So, while everything in me longs to come and see you, I can’t. Guilt has taken a hold of me. Every time I’m ready to sneak away and see you, I have a sudden remorseful premonition that the woman might get worse or even die. I can’t have that on my conscience.
I am much aggrieved that this has happened, especially since I have developed such an incredible fondness for you, my dear. Examine your heart, remember my softly spoken words and our embraces. Then you will know the truth.
Yours most affectionately,
Percy
He read over what he’d written again. Would Georgiana believe his words? What else could he do, aside from actually leaving the house and dying of guilt? At first, he’d hoped that when Barrington and Cecilia returned home he might gain a respite. Alas, it wasn’t to be. Even with them and the Loftons present, the blasted woman only wanted Percy. Why was this happening? He barely knew her. She wasn’t in her right mind because of the injury, of course, but to mistake him for her long lost husband?
Perhaps it was as simple as she had loved the man so much and her injured mind latched onto the first man she saw. He’d have to ask Conrad if it was the case with his mother, that she suffered from a longing for her spouse. Might that explain at least some of the bizarre goings-on?
After handing the note to the footman to have it delivered, and he’d had to give his best severe look to the footman in order for him to comply, Percy went in search of the Loftons.
They were standing outside the parlor and the door was closed. Had something happened to the dowager? Guilt washed over him anew when the thought brought not only remorse but relief. “Might I have a word?”
Conrad turned, seeming to not quite have heard him. “Pardon?”
“There’s something I must—” He glanced at Amelia, inclined his head in greeting, and studied Conrad. “That is, might I ask you a question? About your mother?”
“Oh. Of course.” Conrad addressed his wife. “My dear, will you excuse me for a moment?”
She nodded and kept watch by the door. Was something bad happening in the parlor?
Percy tilted his head toward the library across the hall. After they entered, Percy closed the door.
“There’s something you wish to ask me, Percy?” His pallor was more pale than normal and a frown rested on his face. He looked more ill than his mother.
“Yes. But… Are you feeling unwell?”
“What? Oh. I’m fine. Physically, that is.”
“Worry about a beloved family member can cause heartache.”
Conrad shook his head slowly. “If I may be candid?”
“Please.”
“My entire life, my mother and I have been at odds. I was an unhappy child and, until I met my wife, an unhappy adult. In fact, the only thing spoiling my home life is that my mother insists on living in the house. With us.”
Percy nodded. He was aware that though it was common practice for a dowager to have her own quarters, Conrad’s mother did indeed reside with her son and his wife.
“But it has taken this terrible tragedy to help me see clearly what a terrible son I’ve been.”
“Pardon?”
“You saw her in there, lying on the settee, moaning, obviously in pain.”
“Indeed.” Percy ran his hand over his face. He couldn’t do it. It didn’t seem right in light of what Conrad had told him to burden the man further with inquiries of his mother’s love for Conrad’s long dead father.
Giving himself a shake as if to snap out of his morbid reverie, Conrad focused on Percy. “Do forgive me. We came in here to discuss a concern of yours.”
Percy put up his hand. “Under the circumstances, I believe now is not a good time.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
Conrad’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose I should be returning to the parlor.” He was halfway to the door when he stopped and turned. “Percy, I’m sorry about all the fuss happening at your house. And that my mother somehow has mistaken you for my father.”
“Please, think no more of it. I’m… I’m sure everything will work out as it shou
ld.”
“Thank you.”
Percy watched Conrad leave the room and head across the hall.
What shall I do now?