Ann Lethbridge - Regency Society

‘My lord?’ The footman seemed surprised, and a little confused at the question.

‘It is my eyes, you see.’ He passed his own hand in front of his face, to indicate the imperviousness of them. ‘Not as blind as a bat, perhaps. But near enough.’ Blind. Saying the word aloud felt good, as though it had been trapped on his tongue for an age, waiting to be shaken off. ‘Take my hat and gloves. But my stick must remain with me.’ Then he added, ‘And I would appreciate a brief description of the room and its occupants.’

Once he was aware of what was required, the servant was totally amenable to the task, and not the least bit shocked or embarrassed by the request. He explained, sotto voce, who and what were to be found on the other side of the threshold. Then he said, ‘Will there be anything else, my lord?’

‘A drink, perhaps. Whatever the others are enjoying. You may bring it to me, once I have found a seat. And please announce yourself when you do so, for I might not hear you approach.’ Then he turned back to the difficult task of re-entering society.

He stood for just a moment, taking a deep breath of the familiarly stuffy air. It was a trifle too hot in the room for him. But hadn’t it always been so? He could smell alcohol and tobacco. But not the foul stuff he’d grown accustomed to. The smell of quality was as sharp as the ink on a fresh pound note.

‘Folbroke!’ There was a cry of welcome at the sight of him, followed by the sudden silence as his old friends realised that something had changed.

‘Anneslea?’ He started forwards, towards the voice of his old friend Harry and forgot himself, stumbling into a table and almost upsetting a game of cards. He apologised to the gentlemen in front of him, and turned to go around, only to feel Harry seize him by the arm and draw him forwards.

‘Folbroke. Adrian. It has been almost a year since I have seen you. Where have you been?’ And then a quieter, and more worried, ‘And what has happened? Come. Sit. Talk.’

He smiled and shrugged, allowing the help of friendship. ‘I have not been very good company, I am afraid.’ Anneslea pressed him to a chair, and almost instantly the servant returned with a glass of wine. Adrian took a sip to steady his nerves. Suddenly, speaking a few simple words seemed more fearsome than a cavalry charge. ‘My eyes failed me.’

‘You are …?’

‘Blind.’ He said it again, and again there came a small lightening of spirit. ‘It has been all downhill since that flash burn in Salamanca.’

Harry gripped his arm. ‘There is no hope for recovery?’

Adrian patted his hand. ‘The eyes in my family are no damned good at all, I’m afraid. The same thing happened to my father. I had hoped to dodge the condition. But it appears I am not to be spared.’

There was the pause he’d expected. Then Anneslea burst forth with a relieved laugh. ‘Better to find you blind than foxed before noon. When I saw you running into the furniture, I feared I’d have to take you home and put you to bed.’

The men around him laughed as well, and for a change he laughed with them, at his own folly.

‘Folbroke?’

Adrian offered a silent prayer for strength. ‘Rupert. How good to see you.’

‘But you just said, you cannot see me.’

Some things had not changed. He still enjoyed the company at White’s—except for the days when his cousin was present. ‘I was speaking metaphorically, Rupert.’ As I was when I said it was good to see you. ‘Although you are not visible to me—’ and that is a blessing ‘—you can see that I have no trouble recognising you by your voice.’

‘Your other faculties are not impaired?’ Rupert sounded almost hopeful to be proven wrong. Could the man not pretend, even for an instant, that he was not waiting in the wings to snatch the title away?

‘No, Rupert,’ he said as patiently as possible. ‘You will find that I am still quite sharp. And since my brief period of reclusion is nearing its end, I will be returning to my usual haunts, and my place in the Parliament.’

‘And I suppose Lady Folbroke spoke the truth as well?’

About what? he wondered. And then decided to give his wife the benefit of the doubt. ‘Of course. She would have no reason to lie, would she?’

‘I suppose not. But then, congratulations are in order,’ Rupert said glumly.

‘Congratulations, old man?’ Anneslea addressed this to him. ‘You come to me with your dead eyes, and nothing but bad news. But your wife spreads the glad tidings, I suppose. What is it that we are celebrating?’

Not a clue. ‘I will let Rupert tell you, since he is obviously eager to share what he has learned.’

Rupert gave a sigh, sounding as far from eager as it was possible to be. ‘It seems that there will be a new heir to Folbroke, by Easter.’

When Hendricks came to her that afternoon with news of his errands, Emily could barely contain her excitement. It seemed the blind beggar had done more in the space of a few moments than she had managed in a week. ‘He saw himself in her, I am sure. And has been reminded of the advantages of his rank. Thank you so much, for helping to lead him the rest of the way.’ She leaned forward and clutched Hendricks by the arm, as he sat taking tea with her, so overcome with emotion at the thought of a brighter future that she thought she would burst from happiness.

At her touch, Hendricks gave a start that rattled his saucer, and glanced down at her hand as though he did not know quite what to do about it. ‘You give yourself too little credit, Lady Folbroke. It is your devotion to him that made the difference.’

‘And did he say anything of me?’ she asked hopefully. ‘Emily, that is. His wife.’ And she began to realise the extent of her confusion. It was as if she was two people, and unsure which of them would deserve Adrian’s attention.

‘I asked if I should go to you with this news. And he acknowledged that you would need to hear of it sooner, rather than later, and that he wished to speak to you himself. You will have some contact from him in the next day or so. I am sure of it.’

‘That is good,’ she said, closing her eyes in a silent prayer of thanks.

‘Perhaps his outing this afternoon will shed more light upon his plans.’

‘An outing?’ This was news, but she could not tell whether it was good or bad. ‘Did he say where he was going? Or when he might return? And who accompanied him?’ She peppered Hendricks with questions, until the poor man held up a hand to stop her.

‘He would not tell me, nor would he accept my escort. He left word that he would not be dining at home. But I assume he means to return long enough to dress and then visit you here, this evening. Beyond that, I know no more than you.’

‘That leaves me nothing to do but wait,’ she said, getting up to pace the room. ‘I did not give two thoughts to the risks he was taking, for all the time he was gone. I just assumed that he would be well.’

‘And he managed well without your help,’ Hendricks reminded her.

‘It is not as if I do not trust him to take care of himself,’ she said, trying to convince herself that it was a fact. ‘But now that I have seen him, and know how reckless he can be—’ she looked desperately at Hendricks ‘—what shall I do? What shall I do if he does not come back?’ When she had come to London, she had been worried about household economies and the loss of her freedom. But now the thought consumed her that, if she should never see him again, it would mean that he would never know who she was, or how she felt for him.

Hendricks stared down into his teacup. ‘Lord Folbroke would be most annoyed with me should I leave you to worry over nothing. You need have no fear for yourself, for even if the worst should occur, you are not without friends. You will not be alone, Emily. You shall never be alone.’