The doctor had come past and given William a strong sedative, along with instructions to feed him bland food and plain water for the next week. They were told to expect vomiting and shaking and a fight from him, which was why the footmen had bound his hands.
It broke Charlotte’s heart to see him like this, but at the same time, there was a sense of relief. He was getting the help he needed. The help she couldn’t provide.
“Charlie?” His voice was hoarse, and she crossed to his side immediately.
“Brother, I thought you were asleep.”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. “Can’t sleep. Too much screaming.”
There was no screaming in Wildeforde House, which meant it was in Will’s head.
Breathe. Just breathe.
She took a washcloth from the table beside his bed and wiped his brow, trying to ignore the ropes around his wrists that prevented him from doing it himself.
“Can I get you anything?”
“A drink?”
She picked up the glass of water and held it to his lips, but he knocked it away, the liquid splashing over her skirts.
“A proper drink, Charlie.”
She should have expected that. She squared her shoulders, readying for a clash. “I cannot, Will. You know the doctor has given strict orders. No laudanum and no alcohol.”
The look he gave her was a hateful, hateful expression that resembled nothing of the sweet, mischievous brother she knew. It filled her with anguish.
“You won’t help me?”
She could understand his shock. Ever since they were children, he’d been able to rely on her to hide his scrapes or distract their mother or to shield him from the dowager’s wrath. On the occasions when Charlotte couldn’t, she would sneak in to see him afterward and give him the food and comfort their mother wouldn’t. She’d spent her entire life solving William’s problems.
“No, Will. I cannot help you.”
He snarled, as if the withdrawal of alcohol and opiates was making him barely human. “Since when have you obeyed orders?” he asked. “You meddle in everything. Be on my side for once, Charlie.”
The words were a knife to her chest. When she inhaled, the wound cut deeper. “I am always on your side, my darling. Which is why I cannot help you with this.”
She flinched as he turned from her and spat, “Then get out.”
* * *
Charlotte had been unable to sneak away until after dinner. Every time she reached the door out into the garden, a servant found her. Edward had calmed down and needed a full account of William’s story. William had called for her. When Fiona mentioned she was visiting John, Charlotte sighed with relief that someone was with him—at least until Fiona returned with a scowl on her face.
It was only when both brothers had retired for the evening, Edward to his rooms and Will finally falling asleep, that she could escape to check on her other patient.
Then she took the back stairs outside, only seen by one maid, who was sure to keep Charlotte’s secret. By now, she knew the path to the door in the wall by heart. She didn’t need a light to guide her. Her feet took her straight to the double glass doors of his study.
Mosely, too, didn’t say a word when he saw her in the corridors. She gently opened the door to John’s room. A lamp was on by the bed, and John was sitting upright, his eyes closed. Newton was lying on the floor. He raised his head at her entrance, yawned wide, and then settled back down on his paws.
Charlotte crept forward, gave the dog a scratch behind the ears, and then slid as quietly as she could into John’s bed.
He started, eyes flying open, mouth pressing tight at the movement, then relaxed as he saw her.
“What a day,” she said. He put an arm around her and she snuggled into his shoulder, inhaling that now-familiar scent of bergamot and graphite. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” he muttered, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “How was your day?”
She sighed as though she could breathe out all the conflict the day had brought. “William came home. It was bad. I cannot even begin to describe it. He and Ned are fighting; Ned and I are fighting; Will isn’t speaking to me. Edward has him tied up in his old bedroom while the liquor makes its way out of his system.”
She’d held on to her composure all day, but now, in John’s arms, the tears fell. “I failed him.”
He kissed her hair and stroked her arm. “You did not fail him.”
She sobbed into John’s shirt, her breath mingling with the scent of him. His arms wrapped around her created a hidden refuge she did not want to leave. “I did not fix him. He’s as broken now as he was when he first returned.”
John’s long, gentle strokes continued, each touch slowing her breath and calming her thumping heart. “He was never your problem to fix, love. You can give him all the love you can. Edward can keep him tied to a bed in the short-term, but neither of you is responsible for solving William’s issues.”
Logically, she knew it was true. Will’s damage ran too deep. Restoring him to his usual self was beyond her capabilities. Her heart said differently. “He has been able to count on me his entire life. How do I abandon him now?” She looked up at John, genuinely searching for an answer.
He wiped her cheeks with a bandaged thumb, the tears soaking into the fabric. “You’re allowing him to stand on his own two feet. That isn’t abandoning him. It’s helping him to grow into the man he needs to be. You can’t coddle him forever.”
“I don’t know how to deny him.” How could she possibly keep from saying yes? She’d declined to chair three different committees in the past week, much to the surprise of those who asked, but there was a difference between carving out some space in the day for herself and allowing her brother to suffer when she could step in.
“You say no. And then you bite your tongue before you can say yes. And then you walk away before you can change your mind.” John made it sound so easy. He was so used to having thick barriers up that he couldn’t understand what it meant to have boundaries so blurred and porous.
“We cannot simply walk away. Brunel will not disappear just because Will has moved back home. Ned still doesn’t know about the threat. I fear I must tell him but that it will sever what fragile bond remains between Will and me.”
Because William’s returning had solved very little. True, he would get better care now than he had been getting, but his debt remained and John’s predicament hadn’t altered at all. The greatest challenges they had faced were still there—a wild and dangerous squall about to break.
John’s fingers tightened on her arm. “You don’t need to worry about that now. Not Will’s debt. Not mine. It is all resolved.” His words came out half-strangled, raising the hairs on Charlotte’s arms.
She pulled away, shifting so that she could face him. “What do you mean, it’s all resolved? In a day when we’ve been trying for a fortnight?”
John shuffled farther up so he could look at her directly. Pain flashed across his face as he did. He took her hands in his. “I’ve sold my shares in the firm. Fiona agreed to it this afternoon. They’ll be distributed amongst her, Asterly, and Amelia. The money from the sale can settle your brother’s debts and mine with no more gambling.”
She pulled her hands from his, recoiling from the news the way she would from a hot stove. “No, you cannot do that. The firm is your life.”
He reached out and caught her fingers. “You are my life. You and the family we’ll create. But in order to see that life come to pass, I must pay off my debts and set the estates to rights.”
That explained Fiona’s foul look this afternoon and why she’d hidden in her laboratory rather than joining the family for dinner. Fi understood as well as Charlotte what John was sacrificing.
She shook her head. “This isn’t right. You cannot give up your life’s work. We will find another way to come up with the money.”
John shifted and winced. “What way, Charlotte? An heiress’s dowry? I will not marry another, and we’ve exhausted all other options.”
He was right, of course. If there had been another way, they would have found it. They would have taken it rather than risking all in a gaming hell.
“We can adapt. We can beg Ned to give us my dowry no matter how hard he opposes the match. I can sell what I own to settle the rest.” She didn’t need dozens of ball gowns or jewelry that was only worn at state functions.
John sighed. “I’m not selling my shares only for us, love. I’m doing it for all the people who rely on the estates. It’s for all the small business owners who are struggling to keep their heads above water because of the debt I owe them.”
“The debt Walter owes them,” she muttered.
“The debt I now owe them. I inherited the title; I inherited the duty.”
He’d clearly made his mind up. He was correct; selling his company would enable them to start their life together free of encumbrances. Edward would be far more willing to approve of the match knowing that she’d have a home that was fully staffed. “You won’t come to regret it? You won’t come to regret me if you make this sacrifice?”
He leaned forward, grunting quietly, and gave her a quick kiss. “No, love. I’d make it a dozen times over if it meant having you as my wife.”
“Dratted Walter. It’s a good thing he’s dead or he would experience just how much you don’t want to wrong a Wildeforde.”
His mouth quirked a little. “Lucky for him, he is dead. But this is the right move. It’s the only way forward for us. Solicitors are arriving in the morning to draw up contracts. The sale should be final and all debts satisfied by the end of the week.”
As much as she hated this course of action, she could not help feeling relieved. She wanted this entire mess done with. She wanted the banns read, the wedding over, and for her and John to start their life together.
But first they had to tell Ned.
“When do you think we should announce it?” she asked.
“When the debts are settled. When your brother can see for himself that I can give you a life that makes you happy.”