The Wish (The Blooms of Norfolk Book 3) Page 4

  “Very well, my lord.” The apothecary opened the door of the carriage and spoke to the passenger inside.

  Mr. Simpson assisted a young woman out of the chariot. Although she wore a bonnet, he recognized her determined chin and high cheekbones: the girl from The Lamb Inn.

  His breath caught. Ambrose felt his heart roll in his chest. He schooled his features into a polite mask, hoping to hide his pleasure at seeing the young woman again. He glanced at Sir Thomas to see the baronet looked as spellbound as Ambrose felt.

  “Lord Norfolk and Sir Thomas, may I present my niece, Lady Camellia Simpson.”

  Lady Camellia. The girl was a member of the peerage. She curtsied gracefully and when she rose, met his gaze unflinchingly. He was glad the day had turned sunny. All the better to view the lovely young woman. She was very tall, a fact that bothered him not one bit. It would be nice to dance with a woman he could talk to without having to look down at her. He shook himself from his wandering thoughts.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you gentlemen,” she said softly. A quick smile displayed a beguiling dimple.

  He executed a shallow bow. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Camellia. I do believe we have met before.”

  “Briefly.” She nodded as her cheeks bloomed a soft shade of pink, a lovely foil for the red lilac spencer she wore.

  “How extraordinary,” her uncle said. He studied his niece for a moment. “Camellia didn’t mention it.”

  “We weren’t properly introduced,” he replied. “It was only for a moment in passing.”

  Sir Thomas expressed his happiness to meet the lady and then with noticeable reluctance took his horse from a waiting groom and departed. Ambrose was relieved as his neighbor was declared by his own three sisters to be uncommonly handsome.

  The apothecary took his niece’s arm. As for himself, he led the way from the gravel courtyard up the main stairs of the house. When they entered the entry hall he motioned to a footman.

  “Please escort Lady Camellia to the small drawing room and see she is served refreshment.” He turned to look at the young woman. “Will that suit, my lady?”

  “It is quite kind of you, Lord Norfolk. I shall be more than content.” She nodded to the footman who proceeded to lead her down a corridor off the entry hall.

  The medical examination was to be performed in Ambrose’s bedchamber. He was still reeling from seeing the girl from the inn again. To have the woman he’d dreamed about in his home...

  Chapter Six

  Camellia was both happy and embarrassed to see the gentleman from the inn again. She hoped he wouldn’t think she accompanied her uncle to Marcourt Hall to cage a free meal.

  She’d been momentarily taken aback by the physical beauty of the man beside him. Sir Thomas looked to be perfect in every way, but her eyes were drawn to Lord Norfolk.

  When the marquess entered the house, he removed his tall hat. She noticed his hair wasn’t as dark as she’d first thought. It was dark brown rather than black. Slightly tousled from removing his headgear, his hair looked thick and luxurious.

  Lord Norfolk looked much healthier than the first time she’d seen him-his color was good, his features were relaxed. His clothes were still too large for him.

  Her outerwear removed in the entry hall, a footman deposited Camellia in a lovely room decorated in shades of peach and yellow and assured her tea would be forthcoming. When she was alone in the small drawing room, she looked about her. The outside of the house had been elegant; she was glad to see the inside was just as beautiful. It looked a true family home. Was Lord Norfolk married? Did the marquess have children?

  She took a seat on the edge of a rolled-arm settee as she heard footsteps in the corridor.

  A woman entered the room with a tea tray. “Good afternoon, Lady Camellia. I’m Mrs. Jennings, his lordship’s housekeeper.”

  The woman deposited the tray on a low table in front of Camellia. She took a seat across from her on a high-backed chair.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Camellia replied.

  “Shall I pour?” Mrs. Jennings asked.

  “Please do. I take only a small amount of cream.”

  The housekeeper said, “His lordship requested I sit with you until your uncle can join you. There are no other ladies in the house at present.”

  “That is very thoughtful of him.” She smiled. “The house is elegant, yet warm. This room is beautiful.”

  The housekeeper returned her smile. “That would be the doing of his lordship’s mother. She was always conscious of creating a comfortable home for her family.”

  Teacups sorted, Mrs. Jennings sat back in her chair, teacup in hand. Camellia eyed the sweets on the tray and selected a ginger biscuit. The aroma of the spices in the freshly baked sweet tickled her nose.

  “Does Lord Norfolk have a family?” she asked, hoping the other woman wouldn’t take offence at her inquisitiveness about her employer.

  “His lordship isn’t married. He does have three younger sisters. All three are currently in London.” Mrs. Jennings took a sip of her tea.

  She remembered something she’d heard a few years ago. A peer and his wife from this part of the county had died tragically. They were in a boat on a small lake. She didn’t know all the details, but she was rather afraid the couple had been Lord Norfolk’s parents.

  Small portraits were assembled on the mantelpiece. There were four in total: three girls and a boy.

  Mrs. Jennings noticed her staring at the portraits. “Those paintings are of his lordship and his sisters. Are not the young ladies handsome?”

  Camellia set down her teacup and saucer on the tray. She stood and walked to the cold fireplace. The portrait of the current Lord Norfolk looked to have been painted when he was old enough for university. There was a devil may care look in his eyes. A look she hadn’t seen today.

  “They are all quite lovely.” Two of the girls in the portraits looked to be several years younger than their brother. The last portrait was of a very young girl, not more than five years old.

  “The youngest is Lady Rose. Poor child. Only nine years old when her parents died so tragically. Lord Ambrose has had the care of his sisters since that day.”

  She turned around. “Lord Ambrose?”

  “I spoke without thinking.” The housekeeper shook her head. “Although quite unorthodox, his lordship is referred to by his Christian name by family, close friends and his oldest retainers.”

  “Did his parents die in an accident near a lake?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Yes. Such a devoted couple. I can’t speak of it.” The housekeeper looked down at the cup in her hands.

  The deaths would have occurred some three years ago. How very sad for their children. Camellia retook her seat. She sampled a ham sandwich to find something to do with her hands.

  “This sandwich is very good,” she said. “The cakes are lovely.”

  Mrs. Jennings looked up, her composure back in place. “We are quite lucky to have an excellent cook.”

  “I heard recently that his lordship’s sister Iris had married. I wonder that his other sisters are not in residence to help care for him.” Camellia kept her tone light. She thought it strange indeed the gentleman’s sisters were not in the house.

  There was a short silence and she wondered if she had overstepped her place with the housekeeper.

  “His lordship thought it best not to worry his sisters with his condition,” the woman finally replied stiffly.

  She was shocked. The man might well have died from his condition and he didn’t want to worry his siblings. Her uncle didn’t believe Lord Norfolk had a brain tumor but what if he did? He would simply die and let his family be informed about his death? She bit her tongue to keep from expressing her dismay and disbelief that a man would behave in such a manner toward his sisters.

  Sound could be heard in the corridor outside the room. The marquess and her uncle entered the room. The housekeeper stood, teacup in hand.

  Lor
d Norfolk inclined his head and said, “Thank you for your assistance, Mrs. Jennings. You will be glad to hear Mr. Simpson is happy with my recovery.”

  The housekeeper smiled briefly. “That is very good news. I will take my leave now and see to a fresh pot of tea.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jennings,” her uncle replied. “I appreciate your helping his lordship stay the course in regard to his diet.”

  The woman smiled awkwardly and made a noise of pleasure. She looked embarrassed to be singled out for praise. When Mrs. Jennings was gone, Camellia’s uncle took a seat beside her on the settee, Lord Norfolk took the chair Mrs. Jennings vacated.

  “Would you like to wait for fresh tea?” she asked both men, her gaze somewhere near Lord Norfolk’s shoulder.

  “Please,” the marquess replied. Her uncle nodded.

  She wouldn’t ask about the marquess’s health. Right now, she felt a peculiar irritation with the man. He should tell his sisters of his illness. If he were to perish, they would have no warning at all. They would most certainly want to help care for their brother if they knew he were ill.

  “The village doctor will visit on the morrow. I’m not sure how he will react to an alternate diagnosis.” Lord Norfolk broke the silence, his words directed to her uncle.

  The fact he spoke about such a private matter surprised her. His words made her think he might not agree with her uncle’s diagnosis. Her uncle was a mere apothecary. His place was to dispense medicine and help the lower classes with their health concerns. The peerage would use the services of a doctor.

  A maid brought fresh tea and more cups. She poured for Lord Norfolk and her uncle. His lordship took his tea black, her uncle, a splash of cream. The sandwiches were teasing her, so she took one more. Her uncle helped himself to both sandwiches and cakes. She noticed Lord Ambrose confined himself to the bread and butter sandwiches.

  Her uncle reminded Lord Norfolk to call on him in three days’ time. “If it is convenient.”

  “You have traveled far enough to care for me. I shall see you in three days.”

  “Very well.” Her uncle looked at her with a raised brow. She took it as a signal they would be taking their leave.

  Camellia stood, curtsied and thanked Lord Norfolk for his hospitality. The gentleman bowed to her, a pleasant smile on his face. A faint whiff of sandalwood reached her along with a scent of something deep and mysterious. His dark brown eyes, ringed with thick lashes, held her gaze for several seconds until she looked away.

  It really was a shame Lord Norfolk had no finer feelings for his family. He really was a very charming man.

  * * * * *

  Once they were settled in Ambrose’s bedchamber Mr. Simpson had performed the urine glucose test. “As I suspected, you have an excess of sugar in your urine, Lord Norfolk. You have diabetes mellitus.”

  “There is no other reason for the sugar?” he asked, still not quite believing the man’s diagnosis.

  “None,” the apothecary replied.

  “My migraines were a symptom of diabetes?”

  The other man hesitated. “Headaches can be a symptom of the condition but not usually in the frequency and severity you describe.”

  “You admit that my headaches and nausea could be unrelated,” he said with a frown.

  “That could be the case,” Mr. Simpson replied with a nod. “You said your headaches had stopped.”

  “They ceased once before for a few days and then came back.”

  The apothecary replaced his equipment in his black bag. “And exercise?”

  “I walk daily. When do you think I can ride?”

  Mr. Simpson replied, “You may ride but only for short distances. If you go out, you must have someone with you.”

  He didn’t like the idea but didn’t ask why a companion rider was necessary. It was ostensibly for his safety.

  Ambrose wanted to speak to his own physician about Mr. Simpson’s diet. Since the start of his headaches over six months ago there had been one other time they had ceased. The diet might not have anything to do with his recovery.

  “There may be something I’m missing,” the apothecary muttered. “Something else causing the headaches. I must do some research on the matter. I will return in three days.”

  Although Ambrose didn’t think Mr. Simpson could help him further, he would consult with him one more time if only to relay what his own physician thought about the apothecary’s diagnosis and treatment plan.

  “In three days, I will visit you in your shop.” He used his aristocratic tone. “I will be sure to take the journey in a coach.”

  Mr. Simpson nodded. “As you wish.”

  “It was kind of your niece to accompany you today. I should not like to inconvenience you both again.”

  “It was no inconvenience,” the man replied with a chuckle. “Camellia wanted to see more of the county than Rutley House and the village.”

  He raised a brow. “Lady Camellia is staying at the home of Lord Rutley? I went to school with the earl.”

  “Camellia’s sister Helena is married to the gentleman.”

  The apothecary had some exalted relatives, if only by marriage.

  “Are you done poking and prodding me, Mr. Simpson?” he asked lightly.

  “For now, Lord Norfolk. You are making excellent progress. It has not been too difficult to adhere to my instructions?”

  He nodded. “Easier than I expected. I thought I would be ill from the lack of laudanum, but it appears that won’t occur.”

  “Your housekeeper shared the receipt she used to make your medication. The quantity of the drug was mixed with several spices, citrus juice and some brandy. It was not a heavy dose. I don’t want to carry tales, but Mrs. Jennings was worried you would become too dependent on the laudanum and lessened the amount of opium in the receipt over time.”

  Now he knew why the mixture had stopped alleviating his headaches. He couldn’t be upset with his housekeeper, her miserliness with the opium resulted in his not being extremely ill when not taking it any longer.

  “Shall we join your niece?”

  Lady Camellia had removed her bonnet and gloves. Her high color of earlier had faded, leaving her with a lovely peaches and cream complexion. Her hair was done in a prevailing style his sisters wore; a bun joined by ringlets around her face. Her russet colored hair was exquisite. Her gown was a grayish shade he had often seen in London. The color was fashionable if not especially flattering to her complexion. He did approve the snugness of the bodice and waist of the dress.

  Ambrose was gratified to see her hands shake just the tiniest bit when she poured the tea and handed him a cup and saucer. It would not do if he was the only one affected by their proximity.

  He must temper his elation at seeing her again. Perhaps his closeness to death made him feel more attracted to the girl than was wise. He knew little to nothing about her family although Rutley wouldn’t have married a crouching mushroom. Her uncle might be a mere mister, but he exuded good breeding.

  Lady Camellia didn’t appear interested in speaking to him. She looked rather uncomfortable to be in his presence in fact. Something had happened in the few minutes she had been alone with his housekeeper. The smile with which she’d greeted him earlier had looked heartfelt when she’d alighted from her uncle’s carriage.

  After a few minutes of stilted conversation, the apothecary announced their departure.

  Ambrose stood. “Thank you for your visit, Mr. Simpson. It was lovely to meet you, Lady Camellia.”

  When his visitors were gone, he found it difficult to concentrate on estate business. He would not gossip with Mrs. Jennings about Lady Camellia. Ambrose was disappointed to realize it was highly unlikely he would see the girl when he journeyed to Downham Market. He’d never been to that part of the county before and would probably have no reason to go there in future.

  Chapter Seven

  “Would you care to explain your icy demeanor toward Lord Norfolk?” her uncle asked once they were sea
ted in Rutley’s carriage.

  Helena had insisted her uncle take the travelling chariot for his and Camellia’s comfort. The horses and coachman were also borrowed from Lord Rutley’s stables.

  She shook her head. “It is hard to explain.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d met Lord Norfolk before?”

  “We didn’t speak to one other. I saw him going into an inn. That is all.” Her gaze was drawn to the window of the coach. The clouds were few, the sun was bright in the sky.

  “And you don’t want to tell me what happened when you sat with his housekeeper that caused you to take a sudden dislike to the man?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t dislike the gentleman. I am disappointed in his treatment of his sisters. He evidently thinks they don’t deserve to know about his illness.”

  “I see.”

  She looked at her uncle. Nothing in his expression reflected his thoughts. Their conversation after that was confined to generalities. The weather, her impressions of the countryside.

  As they didn’t need to stop for refreshment on the return journey, she was back at Rutley House in time to dress for supper.

  “How was your visit to Marcourt Hall?” Helena asked her over the first course.

  “It is a large estate,” she replied, her attention on her plate. “The house is quite lovely.”

  “We invited Lord Norfolk to our wedding. He was in mourning for his parents and sent his regrets.”

  “I had tea with his housekeeper. She told me a little bit about the family.” She looked up from her plate.

  Helena raised an eyebrow. “Tea with the housekeeper? That is rather unusual.”

  Camellia recounted the circumstances, leaving out how attractive she found the marquess.

  After dinner Helena complained of an upset stomach and retreated to her room. Once she was gone, Rutley asked if Camellia would mind if he left her. “I am off to fetch your uncle. Helena has felt poorly today. If your uncle thinks it is necessary, I can send for a doctor in the next village.”