He had not written any poetry since Cambridge and the early days with Elizabeth and in all honesty he knew he'd never had a talent for it. After one or two tries he had impatiently crumpled the paper in his fist, tossing it aside in favor of the brief note he had finally written to accompany the gifts to Sophy.
But that was not the end of it, apparently. Tonight he had received further, disquieting evidence that some of his youthful idealism still survived even though he had done everything he could to crush it beneath the weight of a cynical, realistic view of the world. He could not deny that something in him had responded to Sophy's demand for proof that he respected her sense of honor.
Julian wondered if he should have agreed to let her spend the night with Fanny and Harriett. Not that he could have influenced her decision to do so, he reflected wryly. From the moment Sophy had received Guppy's message, she had been unswervable in her determination to go immediately to Fanny's bedside.
Julian had not argued the matter. He was genuinely worried about his aunt's condition. Fanny was eccentric, unpredictable, and occasionally outrageous, but Julian realized he was quite fond of her. Since the death of his elderly parents, she had been the only member of the Ravenwood clan he genuinely cared about.
After receiving the message, Sophy had delayed only long enough to change her clothes and wake her maid. Mary had bustled about, packing a few necessities while
Sophy had collected her medicine chest and her precious copy of Culpeper's herbal.
"1 am almost out of several herbs," she had fretted to Julian in the carriage that he had ordered to take her to Fanny's. "Perhaps one of the local apothecaries can provide me with some good quality chamomile and Turkish rhubarb. It is a shame that Old Bess is so far away. Her herbs are by far the most reliable."
At Fanny's they had been greeted at the door by a distraught Harriett. It was the sight of the normally placid Harriett in a state of anxiety that brought home to Julian how ill his aunt must be.
"Thank God you are here, Sophy. I have been so worried. I wanted to send for Doctor Higgs but Fanny won't hear of it. She says he is nothing but a charlatan and she will not allow him through the door of her room. I cannot blame her. The man loses more patients than he saves. But I did not know what else to do except send for you. I do hope you don't mind?"
"Of course I do not mind. I will go to her immediately, Harry." Sophy had bid Julian a hasty farewell and flown up the stairs, a footman hurrying behind her with her medicine chest.
Harriett turned back to Julian who was still standing in the hall. She looked at him anxiously. "Thank you for allowing her to come out like this at such a late hour."
"I could not have stopped her, even had I wished to do so," Julian said. "And you know I am fond of Fanny. I want her to have the best care and I rather agree with her about the doctor. The only remedies Higgs knows are bleeding and purging."
Harriett sighed. "I fear you are right. I have never had great faith in bleeding and believe me, poor Fanny does not need any further purging. She has already experienced quite enough of that sort of treatment because of this vile ailment she had contracted. Which leaves only Sophy and her herbs."
"Sophy is very good with her herbs," Julian said reassuringly. "I can personally testify to that. I have the healthiest, most robust staff in town this season."
Harriett smiled distractedly at the small attempt at humor. "Yes, I know. Our staff is getting along very well, too, thanks to her various recommendations. And my rheumatism is much more manageable since I began using Sophy's recipe for it. Whatever would we do without her now, my lord?"
The question brought Julian up short. "I don't know," he said.
Twenty minutes later Sophy had reappeared at the top of the stairs long enough to inform everyone that she believed Fanny's distress to be caused by bad fish at dinner and that it would take hours to treat her and monitor her progress. "I will definitely be staying overnight, Julian."
Knowing there was nothing else to be done, Julian had reluctantly returned home in the carriage.
The restlessness had set in almost as soon as he had dismissed Knapton and finished preparing to climb into a lonely bed.
He was wondering if he should go down to the library to find a dull book when he remembered the black ring. Between his concern over discovering Sophy in the gardens with Waycott and Fanny's illness, Julian realized he had temporarily forgotten the damned ring.
Daregate was right. It must be gotten rid of immediately. Julian determined to remove it from Sophy's small jewelry case at once. It made him uneasy even to think about it being in her possession. She was far too likely to give into the impulse to wear it again.
Julian picked up a candle and went through the connecting door. Sophy's bedchamber seemed empty and forlorn without her. The realization brought home to him just how accustomed he was now to having her in his life. Her absence from her bed was more than enough to make him curse all sellers of bad fish. If it were not for Fanny's illness, he would even now be making love to his stubborn, gentle, passionate, honorable wife.
Julian walked over to the dressing table and opened the lid of the jewelry case. He stood for a moment surveying Sophy's meager collection of jewelry. The only item of value in the case was the diamond bracelet he had given her. It was carefully placed in a position of honor on the red velvet lining.
She needed a pair of earrings to go with the bracelet, Julian decided.
Then his gaze fell on the black ring in the corner of the chest. It was resting on top of a small, folded slip of paper. The mere sight of the ring aroused a quiet anger in Julian. Sophy knew the ring had been given to her sister by a heartless rake who had no compunction about seducing the innocent. But even she could not know how dangerous the band of metal was or what it represented.
Julian reached into the case and picked up the ring. His fingers touched the folded paper underneath. Motivated by a new uneasiness, he picked it up also and unfolded it.
Three names were written on the paper: Utteridge, Varley, and Ormiston.
The embers of Julian's quiet anger leaped into the white hot flames of fury.
"Will she truly be all right?" Harriett stood by the side of Fanny's bed, anxiously studying her friend's pale face. After hours of spasmodic vomiting and intestinal pain, Fanny had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep.
"I believe so," Sophy said, mixing another pinch of herbs in a glass of water. "She has gotten rid of most of the noxious food that was in her stomach and as you can see, she is no longer in much pain. I will keep watch on her until morning. I am almost certain the crisis has passed but I cannot be completely sure yet."
"I will stay here with you."
"There is no need for you to do that, Harry. Pray get some sleep. You are as exhausted as Fanny is."
Harriett brushed that advice aside with a casual flick of her hand. "Nonsense. I could not possibly sleep knowing Fanny might still be in danger."
Sophy smiled in understanding. "You are a very good friend to her, Harry. Fanny is most fortunate to have you."
Harriett sat down in a bedside chair, absently adjusting her purple skirts. "No, no, Sophy. You have it backward. I am the one who is fortunate to have Fanny for my dearest friend. She is the joy of my life—the one person in the world to whom I can say anything, no matter how silly or wise. The one with whom I can share the smallest bit of gossip or the most monumental news. The one in whose presence I can cry or laugh or with whom I can occasionally indulge in a bit too much sherry."