"Shall I send for your abigail?"

"No, thank you."

"Why don't you say 'No, thank you, sir'?" he demanded angrily.

She turned her head toward him, her face stained with tears. "I'm terribly's-sorry, Toby. I wish. . ."

"Yes, so do I." He clenched his fists and thrust them into the pockets of the riding breeches he still wore. "You know, I always thought that falling in love ... really falling in love . would be a marvelous thing to happen to me. I always wanted to fall in love. But it turns out to be a lot like falling off a horse. It hurts all over."

"Yes," came a small voice from the bed. "I know." He shut his eyes in pain. "Then, for G.o.d's sake, why-?" She gave a small sob. "One of these days. . ."s-soon ...you'll understand."

He stormed to the door. "No I won't. You can give me a hundred explanations-a thousand, even-for why this is happening to us, but I'll never understand. Never, as long as I live."

He threw open the door, crossed over the threshold, and made as if to slam the door with a good, loud crash. There was nothing that would give him more satisfaction at that moment than making a noisy, stormy, angry exit. But a glance at the dimly lit figure lying motionless on the bed stayed his hand. He gave her one last look and closed the door quietly behind him.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Ever since Toby Wishart had dismissed her from her post at Emily's bedside and sent her to her bed, Kitty had been trying to cry herself to sleep. The feeling of misery, which had overwhelmed her when she'd been dismissed from Lord Edgerton's study, had worsened while she'd been sitting at Emily's side with nothing to do but watch her friend sleep. With nothing else to occupy her mind, she'd reviewed the entire incident in Lord Edgerton's study, and she soon realized that she'd made a terrible fool of herself. She'd been hideously hoydenish and vulgar and had embarra.s.sed his lordship and herself. He was a man who was drawn to elegant ladies with graceful hands, and she had behaved like a trollop. She'd never be able to look the man in the face again.

Sleep had been eluding her for two hours or more when there was a tap at her door. It was Peggy with a message from Toby, requesting that she resume her vigil at Miss Jessup's bedside. "I'll sit up fer ye, if y're too weary," Peg offered kindly after getting a glimpse of Kitty's reddened eyes.

"That's all right, Peg, I'll go," Kitty said. "I can't seem to fall asleep anyway."

She slipped quickly into her bombazine and hurried up the stairs. She opened Emily's door stealthily to keep from waking her, but Emily was not asleep. To Kitty's astonishment, she found Emily with her face buried in her mound of pillows and her shoulders shaking with sobs. "Emily! Good heavens! Are you in pain? Please, love, don't cry. I'll fix a laudanum drink for you and you'll feel better in a trice."

Emily raised a hand and made a negative gesture. "Everyone wants't-to ply m-me with 1-laudanum!" she wailed into the pillows.

"I don't want any d.a.m.ned laudanum." "Emily!" Kitty gasped, shocked. At school all the girls used naughty words at some time or other (and when they were caught Miss Marchmont administered the soap herself), but no one had ever heard Emily Pratt swear. "What's come over you? I know you've had a bad fall, and you must be suffering greatly, but-"

"This has nothing to do with the deuced fall!" She tried to turn herself about and sit up, but the stiffness of her hip made her swear again. "D-d.a.m.nation," she muttered, still choked with tears, "I can't even's-sit up by m-myself." Kitty helped her into a sitting position and piled up the pillows behind her.

"Oh, poor dear, you look terrible," she exclaimed. "What on earth-"

"If I I-look terrible, it's all your f-fault!" Emily blubbered, feeling about for her handkerchief under the pillows.

"My fault?" Kitty eyed her with surprise while her hands searched her ap.r.o.n pocket for a handkerchief. "What have I done?"

"I should n-never have agreed to change p-places with you! Never! If only I had r-remained at's-school, as Miss Marchmont wished me to! Or kept my p-position as your abigail. But no ... you had to force me to ch-ch-change places with you!"

"I'm sorry, Emily. truly. I never should have done it." She found a handkerchief, pulled it out, and handed it to her friend. "But what is it that's happened to upset you so?" Emily stared at the handkerchief.

"There, you see?" she cried, holding it up before Kitty's face. "It used to be I who had the ap.r.o.n p-pocket and who supplied everyone with handkerchiefs and pins and n-necessaries. You're turning into me, and I'm turning into y-y-you!"

"Just because I had a handkerchief in my pocket? I think, Emily, that you're a little over-agitated. Not that I blame you, considering the day you've had. But you mustn't permit one bad day to put you in a pucker."

"Heavens, you even sound like me! That's just the sort of thing I used to's-say'at the school! It was always I who would c-calm the hysterics. Now I'm the hysteric!"

"Hush, my love, you're not a hysteric. Come, let me help you lie down. You can drink a soothing draught of laudanum and get a good night's sleep. You'll feel ever so much better in the morning."

"If anyone mentions laudanum again I shall scream!" She blew her nose vigorously and dashed away the last of her tears. "It's not the sprained shoulder that worries me, or the blasted hip, either. It's what's becoming of me."

"You know, Emily, if you keep this up, I shall take offense. If you are becoming more like me, I fail to see why it should so upset you. What's wrong with me, may I ask?" "Nothing. I'm very fond of you ... and admire you, too. But that doesn't mean I wish to turn into you. I can't afford it, you see. I was perfectly content with the prospect of teaching school and playing the piano and living out my life at Miss Marchmont's." Her face crumpled and the tears began to flow again. "I didn't w-want to wear silk d-dresses and eat fine d-dinners and f-fall in l-love!" she wailed.

"Oh, so that's it," Kitty said knowingly. "Toby's at the bottom of this."

Emily, weeping into the handkerchief, merely nodded. Kitty sat down beside her and patted her shoulder until the weeping subsided, Then, when Emily at last became calm, Kitty washed her friend's face, brushed her hair, and settled her back against the pillows. "I am sorry, Emily," she said, sitting down beside her on the bed. "When I first concocted this scheme, I thought I'd considered all the eventualities. But I never antic.i.p.ated this. "

"No, of course you didn't. One can't antic.i.p.ate all the possibilities. That's the trouble with scheming. One can never be certain how things will turn out."

"Yes, you're right. My scheme has been unfortunate for both of us. But I've learned my lesson, Emily. I've concocted my very last scheme."

"Has it been unfortunate for you?" She peered at Kitty suspiciously. "I don't see why. Surely Lord Edgerton will not wish to have you for a sister-in-law after he learns what you've done. That part will be just as you planned, will it not?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Kitty agreed ruefully. "Lord Edgerton will not only not wish to have me for a sister-in-law ... he'll not wish to have me for anything."

Emily didn't understand the answer, but she didn't really heed it because a dreadful thought crossed her mind. "Good gracious, Kitty, you haven't changed your mind about Toby, have you?"

Kitty snorted. "Just because it's bellows to mend with you, my dear, doesn't mean the whole world feels likewise. I haven't changed my mind. You may find Toby Wishart a paragon of manhood, but he seems a callow youth to me."

"Callow youth?" Emily was so affronted that she lifted herself erect, disregarding the pain it caused her. "How can you say such a cruel thing?"

"I can say it, Miss Pratt, because it's true. We servants hear a great deal belowstairs, you know. You have no idea of the gossip that's exchanged over the dusting."

"You've heard some gossip about Toby, then?" Kitty hesitated. "Are you certain you want me to tell you? It may hurt to hear it."

"Oh, dear! Is it as bad as that? Well, if it is, perhaps it will cure me. Fire away."

"Then here goes. I've been told on very good authority that he kept a mistress in London."

"A mistress?" Poor Emily turned quite pale. "I don't believe it!"

"There's no need to look like that, you Puritan. I understand that such a thing is not uncommon among the fashionable set. Besides, he doesn't keep her any longer."

Emily sank back upon the pillows. "A mistress! That is the most revolting-! I knew he was roguish and somewhat fast, but I never dreamed ..."

"Don't think of him any more, my dear," Kitty advised, lowering the pile of pillows behind her and covering her gently to her neck. "He doesn't deserve your tears. Go to sleep now. In a few days, when you are feeling more the thing, we'll make plans to go away. In a month or so we'll both have forgotten all about this experience."

Emily turned her head away. "I don't think I'll forget it ever," she said sadly. "Not as long as I live."

Kitty blew out the candle. Oh, Emily, she said to herself, neither will I.

Emily, alone in the dark, felt utterly miserable in body and spirit and couldn't fall asleep. She had never considered herself to be really happy at Miss Marchmont's school, but she now realized that her life there had been quite pleasantly contented. And when she was free to practice the piano, she'd felt as close to happiness as she ever expected to be. But now she yearned to return to the modest contentment she used to have. What made her present misery almost unbearable was her realization that even when she returned to the school her former contentment would be out of her reach. She was doomed to yearn forever for something-someone- she could not have. She tried to tell herself that she couldn't really love Toby Wishart. He was a rudesby and a spoiled child. He'd been sent down from Cambridge. He didn't really like music. He was not well read. He even had kept a mistress! Of all the horrid things he'd done, that was the horridest! There was nothing about him that matched her vision of the man she dreamed she'd one day love.

But the truth was that she did love him. In their last few times together he'd been so different. He'd been kind and loving and tender and even sensitive. Perhaps that Toby was the real one. Perhaps, if they'd been able to wed, she could have made him into the fine person he could be. Oh, my dear, she wept in the wee hours of the morning, you'd be a better man with me!

But healthy spirits do not wallow in misery forever, and Emily was a young woman with a healthy spirit. She was determined to find a way to lessen the depression that weighed upon her. The best way to do that, she decided, was to get away from this house as soon as possible. Kitty had promised that she would make plans to leave in a few days, but Emily didn't want to wait so long. It was then that Emily sat up with a shocking realization: she didn't need Kitty to scheme her own escape. She could devise her own scheme! By the time the light of dawn crept around the edges of the draperies, she had worked it out. She got out of bed and threw the draperies open. She was astonished to discover that it had snowed during the night and that the landscape was covered with a thick white blanket. She couldn't be sure, but there seemed to be almost a foot of snow on the ground. And it was still falling. This certainly was a setback for her plans. She sat down on the bed and reconsidered. Perhaps she should wait for Kitty after all. Kitty was so wonderful at over coming setbacks and obstacles. But that was just it! If she wanted to behave like Kitty, she'd have to learn to overcome the obstacles herself! Would Kitty let a snowfall deter her? Never!

With renewed determination, she pulled herself to her feet, hobbled to the clothes chest, and pulled out the warmest garments she could find. It took her a long time to dress herself, for she could only use one arm, and every movement brought a sting of pain. But by the time the clock in the hallway struck eight, she was fully clothed. Then she sat down and wrote a farewell note to Kitty.

She'd barely finished when Kitty herself arrived with her breakfast on a tray. Emily slipped the letter under a book and gave Kitty a nervous good morning.

"Don't good morning me," Kitty scolded. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Well, I'm feeling much better, you see, so-" "You must be feeling better," Kitty remarked as she set down the tray. "However did you manage to do yourself up?"

"It wasn't easy," Emily admitted. "I've quite exhausted myself. I don't think I want anything to eat this morning, Kitty. If you don't mind, please take the tray away. And if anyone wants to visit with me, tell them I'm resting."

"I'd be happy to oblige, ma'am," Kitty said with a bob and a wink, "but you'll have to see the doctor. I saw him coming up the stairs. When he sees you out of bed, he'll surely kick up a dust."

But the doctor's reaction was admiring rather than angry. When he saw his patient up and dressed, he smiled at her proudly. "Y're a remarkable young lady, Miss Jessup," he said, taking her pulse. "I didn't look to see you up and about for at least a week."

"I'll get her back to bed right away, Dr. Randolph," Kitty offered, "and I'll keep her there by force if I have to."

"No, no," the doctor said, "that's not necessary. I'm no great believer in mouldering away in bed. Let her stay up and dressed as long as her body allows it. If the pain becomes too pressing, she'll know to lie down."

After the doctor departed, Emily convinced Kitty (by using every ounce of tact she possessed) that she wished to rest quietly-and alone-for the remainder of the morning. As soon as she was alone, Emily propped the note to Kitty on the mirror of her dressing table, pulled out from the wardrobe the cloak she'd worn on her arrival, pulled on a pair of heavy gloves, and hobbled to the door. She was about to open it when someone tapped again. "What is it, Kitty?" she asked uneasily. "I told you I'm resting."

"It's I, my love," came Lady Edith's voice. "May I come in? I must speak to you."

Emily, frustrated beyond words by this latest obstacle, looked about her frantically. She quickly thrust the cloak under the bed, pulled off the gloves and crammed them into the pocket of her dress, and opened the door. "Lady Edith!" she said in breathless greeting. "Good morning. Do come in." Her ladyship returned a feeble smile. "I'm sorry to disturb your rest, my love," she said, "but I most urgently require your a.s.sistance. A dreadful thing has happened. Alicia is in hysterics, Hugh is in a fury, and I am at my wit's end. It isn't that I blame you, of course, but-"

"Blame me, your ladyship?" Emily noticed that Lady Edith's voice was unusually tremulous, that her hair was in disarray, and that her shawl was slipping from her shoulders. Realizing that Lady Edith was in a more perturbed state than she herself, Emily became more calm. "Have I done something wrong?"

Lady Edith, with an agitated shrug, hitched her shawl higher on her shoulder. "You could not have realized ... it is not your fault. But perhaps you could come and speak to her. Or to him. Or to Greg. Perhaps Greg might think of some way to straighten it all out. Would you, my dear?"

"I'd do anything you wish, my lady, but I don't understand just what it is you're asking me. Perhaps it would be better if you sat down and told me just what has happened from the beginning."

"No, no, there isn't time," her ladyship cried, seating herself on the bed anyway. "It's Hugh, you see."

"Dr. Randolph? Has something happened to him? I saw him only a few moments ago, and he seemed perfectly fine."

"Yes, I know. That's how it all started, when he came in to examine you and found you up and dressed. He admired you so greatly for that. So greatly!" The agitated woman pulled an already-sodden handkerchief from the bosom of her dress and sniffed into it. "Then he went to see my poor, darling Alicia, who had one of her migraines again and had decided to remain in bed this morning. When he questioned her, she admitted that it wasn't terribly severe, and that seemed to set him into a terrible temper. He ranted and raved quite unmercifully. It was simply dreadful. Alicia's migraine is fully blown now, I can tell you."

"Her migraine put him in a temper?" Emily asked, confused.

"Because of you, you see. He feels that if you, who are suffering real pain, could get out of bed and dress yourself, then she, who he claims has only imaginary pain, should have the character to do the same."

"But doesn't he realize that imaginary pain can be just as real to the sufferer as physical pain?"

Lady Edith blinked at her blankly for a moment, and then a beaming smile dawned on her face. "Oh, my dear," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "that's so true! How well you've hit on the nub of it! I knew you were a treasure the moment I laid eyes on you. You're just the one to help us. Can you come down and tell that to Hugh? Perhaps you can convince him not to cry off."

Emily gasped. "Cry off? Does that mean ... are you saying that Alicia and Dr. Randolph are actually betrothed?"

"Well, not actually. But haven't you noticed that the two of them have been smelling of April and May of late? We, Alicia and I, have not wished to announce anything yet, but Alicia believed that Hugh was on the verge of speaking to Greg. To ask permission to court her." She dabbed at her cheeks in a futile attempt to staunch the flow of tears. "We were so bliss ful, Alicia and I. To speak frankly, my love, we'd given up hope of Alicia's every marrying. Hugh may not be a magnificent catch, as these things are measured, not having a t.i.tle or even great wealth, but she does love him so." She sniffed into the handkerchief once more and gave her shawl another hitch. "So will you come, my love, and see if you can set things straight?"

Emily hesitated. She didn't see what she could do to help poor Alicia, but it seemed heartless not to try. On the other hand, she was determined to execute her plan for escape. However, she supposed that a brief delay wouldn't make a significant difference. "Very well, my lady," she said, pressing the anxious mother's hand, "if you think I can be of use..."

Lady Alicia threw her arms about Emily in an emotional embrace, causing so great a shock of pain in the girl's shoulder that she almost cried out. "Oh, my love, it's just as I've always said. You are a treasure!"

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Lady Edith had managed to keep the perturbed Dr. Randolph from storming off the premises by prevailing on him to drink some hot tea before venturing out into the snow. He had just finished when Lady Edith led Emily into the breakfast room. "There, now, tell him how wrong he is," she said with her customary tactlessness.

"I say, ma'am," the doctor objected, "ye didn't drag this poor, bruised creature all the way down the stairs just to involve her in this matter! Have ye no conscience? No pity?"

"That's all right, doctor," Emily said soothingly. "I'm-"

"It's you who have no conscience and no pity, Hugh Randolph," Lady Edith declared, her neck reddening in resentment, "or you wouldn't have left my daughter lying on her sickbed so distraught!"

"I only came down to-" Emily began.

"Distraught? I left her distraught?" the doctor snapped. "She made herself distraught."

"I only came down to-" Emily began again. "I suppose you had nothing to do with it, is that what you're saying?" Lady Edith demanded.

"-to ask you to reconsider," Emily continued, attempting to instill an air of calm into the discussion. "After all, Alicia is-"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying! She had the migraine before I arrived."

"But only a mild one. It's entirely your fault that it's now so much worse," Lady Edith whined, sinking into a chair.

"Alicia is a bit delicate, you know," Emily put in. "She needs-"

"I fail to see how I can be blamed. If I've told her once I've told her a thousand times that if she had enough mettle not to surrender to them, the migraines would disappear by themselves."

"You've no sympathy, that's what's wrong with you," Lady Edith declared. "The child feels pain, even if you believe it to be imaginary. Tell him, Miss Jessup. Tell him what you told me."

"What I said, Dr. Randolph, is that-"

"The child?" Dr. Randolph shouted, shaking a finger in her ladyship's face. "Your daughter is almost thirty! How can you call her a child?"

'-is that imaginary pain-"

"She's my child, and I can call her what I like!" Emily sighed. "Imaginary pain-"

"That's just the trouble. You treat her like a child. How can she be expected to grow up-"