A Match of Honour (The Hartleighs of Somersham Book 1) by Margaret Brazear

Author:Margaret Brazear [Brazear, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-21T06:00:00+00:00

***

Christopher went straight to the Duchess on his arrival at Somersham Abbey. He felt he ought to take her hands, at least, as a familial gesture of condolence, but his dislike of this aunt made it difficult to do.

“Your Grace,” he said, briefly touching her fingers with his own. “Forgive me, please, for not arriving sooner. It was thoughtless to change our travel plans without informing the family.”

“It certainly was,” she answered stiffly. “Thankfully, your father was able to preside over the funeral.”

“It has already taken place?”

“Of course it has! Did you think I would allow him to rot away in this heat whilst waiting to see if you could be located?”

Christopher made no reply. There was little to say to that and the Duchess was obviously furious with him. She had been furious with him almost his entire life, certainly since it became apparent that he would one day take the title and estate, but this time she was justified. He bowed his head once more.

“Once again, forgive me. No doubt you have documents for me to inspect, papers for me to sign.”

Veronica, now the Dowager Duchess, stretched her neck and peered over his shoulder at the doorway; she frowned.

“Where is my daughter?” She demanded.

“I regret, Aunt, that Susan is unable to attend. She…”

He got no farther.

“What do you mean, she is unable to attend?” The Duchess shouted. “Her father is dead! How can she not attend? It is bad enough she has missed his funeral, but to not come at all when I need her, when her sisters need her…I cannot believe this!”

“If you will allow me to finish, Aunt, I will explain,” Christopher replied, trying to summon the courage to tell more lies. “Susan is unwell. She is confined to bed.”

“Confined to bed? Explain, please.”

Christopher swallowed to give himself courage. A sickness or something else? Which would be more likely to keep her away?

“She is in a London hospital, suffering from suspected typhoid fever.”

The Duchess’s face drained of colour and she sank down into a nearby chair.

“Typhoid?” She sounded incredulous and Christopher could almost predict what her next words would be. “Our sort of people do not get typhoid!” She cried. “Just what sort of conditions have you forced her to live in, that she would get a pauper’s disease?”

“I doubt the disease thought it best to avoid the upper classes.”

“Please, keep your sarcasm to yourself,” she said. “Are you sure?”

“No, Aunt, I am not sure. The doctors aren’t sure either, but they have her in isolation, and I am not permitted to see her. That is why I must hurry and get back to her, lest there is any change.”

“Of course, and I shall come with you.”

“No. I cannot allow that.”

“You? You cannot allow? She is my daughter!”

“And she is my wife. She would not want you to risk contamination and her sisters need you here. Please, for the sake of her peace of mind, stay here. I promise I will send word as soon as I know for certain how she fares.

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