Nightingale

by Ervin, Sharon

  She kept her tone carefully modulated, adding just a hint of hauteur. “Yes, Your Grace. Is there something you require?”

  “Am I …. ?” He frowned and turned his face from her.

  “No, Your Grace, you are not dying, although I am sure you probably would prefer it, at the moment. Your fever has broken and you are chilling. In a while, that will pass and the fever will probably reoccur and peak again. It may go on that way for several hours, but you are strong. You will survive.”

  “I want you here.”

  “I am here.”

  “In here.” Feebly he tried to lay the covers back.

  “I am not a pet, Your Grace, to curl up in your bed to warm your feet.”

  His teeth chattered. “Please. Come to me as you did before. Put your warm little bottom against my belly and banish this infernal chill.”

  Jessica watched his muscular arm tremble and fail at the sustained effort to hold the cover open. A glimpse indicated he might be naked beneath the sheets, a shadow his only apparel.

  Movement at one side of the room drew her attention to an older man packing vials and instruments into a dark case that sat on a table nearby. Until that moment, she had not been aware of anyone else in the room, yet, as she looked about, she also saw Lady Anne sitting stiffly in a rocking chair in a darkened corner wringing a handkerchief between her hands. The older woman did not look at Jessica and the girl speculated that the dowager duchess was probably praying.

  “If you can, you need to do as he asks,” the man whispered.

  “Who are you to direct me?”

  “I am Dr. Brussel, the duke’s physician.”

  “Was it you who started that ridiculous rumor?”

  “I asked Henry to send for you. Devlin had asked for you. Henry’s anxiety was contagious. I assumed he would enlist a maid to carry my message.”

  “So Sophia assumed …. ?”

  Dr. Brussel stepped closer. “Devlin is ill, my dear, but as you so aptly said; he is a strong man who will, no doubt, overcome this scourge.”

  Jessica relaxed slightly. “Truthfully, sir, must I do as he asks?”

  Brussel looked toward the bed. “If you can see your way to it, yes.”

  She gave the dowager another furtive glance, which apparently prompted the doctor to add, “His mother will remain here in the room. No one will suggest anything untoward about your being within the chamber, and they need not know of the other.”

  “Am I to assume a position here as family pet?”

  “Have you been better treated anywhere, even in your father’s house?”

  Jessica considered his question for a blink before she answered with equal honesty. “I have not.”

  She gave the man a haughty sniff, rewarding his attempt at levity. She thought of Devlin’s regard for Sweetness, another animal in his care, and then looked again to the bed. If he had looked weak or helpless, she might have agreed. Devlin’s uncovered eye was closed, but he wore a somewhat supercilious smile that she found suspicious, although his occasional tremors appeared genuine enough.

  “I will sit at the foot of the bed to warm his feet,” she conceded finally, distrusting Devlin’s expression.

  Dr. Brussel finished loading vials of pills and powders and tapped the latch closed on his case. “That is most generous of you, Miss.” He offered something in his hand to Jessica. “I’m leaving this.” He placed a vial on the bedside table. Devlin is to drink two spoons of this every four hours. Will you make sure he takes the dosage and at the proper times?”

  “Yes.”

  “His fever may come and go through the night, but I expect significant improvement by morning.”

  Jessica felt relief claw its way up from the pit of her stomach. The duke was going to be all right, and that was not just her uneducated, defiant declaration. It was a medical opinion from the doctor himself.

  She indulged the urge to hug the somber physician and kiss his cheek.

  The older man smiled and his eyes twinkled. “You assured me first, Jessica Blair. Now give the man whatever comfort you can and let me know if he’s not better by morning. I don’t expect to hear from you.” Grinning as if he had a private joke, the doctor left, catching elbows and turning servants away from the door. “The duke is going to be fine. Just fine. He needs a good night’s rest.” Brussel pulled the bedchamber door closed behind him.

  Jessica eased onto the foot of the bed where she remained stiffly upright for a time. Eventually, she lay on her side, cushioned her head on an elbow and curled around the duke’s feet.

  A sound startled her and she roused to see Lady Anne teeter forward in her chair, then jerk awake and right herself to keep from toppling to the floor. Jessica rose and tiptoed to the older woman.

  “You need real sleep, Your Grace. It will not do to have two nobles ill in the same house. Go on to your bed now. I will see to the duke. I will summon you if we need assistance.”

  Lady Anne looked relieved for a moment, and then cast a worried glance toward the man sleeping soundly in the bed.

  Jessica guided the dowager from the chair to the door and into the corridor to find Sophie slouched on a bench directly across the way. The girl leaped to her feet and hurried to give assistance.

  Compliant, the dowager shuffled, transferring from Jessica’s arms into Sophie’s, and allowing herself to be escorted to her quarters, several doors down the hall.

  Chapter Five

  “No, no, no, fool.” Nan, the officious upstairs maid, rushed to draw the window covering closed, jerking the cords from Jessica’s hand. The long velvet draperies snapped shut over the sunlight, casting Devlin’s bedchamber back into the pall of night, as well as cutting off the spring breeze that had whispered lightly about the room.

  None too well rested, Jessica flushed at the maid’s high-handed reprimand. Although little respected among the household staff, Nan had the audacity to call Jessica “fool” and attempt to instruct her on matters pertaining to her patient.

  The impudence probably sprang from the household’s confusion about Jessica’s position. Much discussion had not settled the matter of how they should treat the young woman in ragbag clothing who had brought a peer of the realm home.

  Jessica identified with the servants’ dilemma, having no idea how she had obtained such a lofty standing, which is why she did not erupt at Nan’s impertinence.

  Patterson had a different standing, of course. The old retainer had helped rear all three of the Miracle’s sons and treated the two survivors with thinly veiled regard when he agreed with their actions and disdain when they earned his disapproval. Patterson was regarded by the family as a venerable older relative, making him of more consequence than a servant.

  Neither Patterson nor the dowager were present when Nan arrived and began noisily gathering soiled dishes on a tray, and snapping out fresh towels and linens. Jessica held silent until Nan turned her attention to the bed where Devlin had at last fallen asleep. Anticipating, Jessica intercepted the housemaid.

  “That will be all, Nan.”

  The maid squinted as if to challenge the command.

  Jessica raised her brows. “I wouldn’t.” While not threatening in themselves, the words convinced Nan to wait for another time to test this visitor’s authority.

  As soon as Nan clattered out the door, Jessica marched to the window and threw back the velvet draperies. She started as Devlin’s deep baritone boomed in the silent room. “Good for you.”

  Jessica spun. “What?”

  “Don’t let them bluff you, Nightingale. Stand your ground. I will back you, even when you are wrong.”

  She tried to make her voice sound indignant. “Who is going to determine if or when I am wrong?”

  As she intended, the arrogance in her question ignited his deep, throaty
chuckle. Her giggling laugh mixed with his, lilting toward the rafters.

  “I am glad you are feeling better, Your Grace. We — that is, your family and I … indeed, the entire household, of course — have all been concerned.”

  “You have been concerned for me, little bird?”

  Jessica stealthily stepped to her right. His open, unbandaged eye did not follow. He could not see. Not yet, anyway.

  “Certainly, Your Grace. I understand from all of this,” she made a sweeping gesture, “that you are an important figure, not only to your family, but to the nation.”

  “Oh, am I?”

  “Well, that’s what everyone here seems to think.”

  “And you, my chirping little bird?”

  “I know too little of politics or politicians to have an opinion, Your Grace.”

  Devlin struggled to prop himself higher on his pillows. Jessica rushed to offer her arm for his use in pulling himself upright while she reached behind to readjust the cushions.

  He wrapped both hands about her arm and adopted a more serious tone. “You are strong, Nightingale, to be as thin as you are.”

  “Yes I am, Your Grace.”

  Steadying himself, leaning on her while bracing one hand on the bed, he used the other to finger the bandage wrapped about his head.

  “Thank goodness,” he said. “I thought I’d lost the ability to open and close my eye. It’s only this infernal wrap. Perhaps the covered eye has regained its sight.”

  Jessica bit her lips together to keep from blurting the truth, certain that he was equally blind in both eyes, at least for the moment.

  Jessica saw nothing to worry about yet. A sightless rich man could look forward to a far better life that a blind beggar. Jessica viewed the duke’s situation as an inconvenience.

  She glanced down on the top of Devlin’s thick blond hair and realized he had grown perfectly still, his face pressed against her upper arm while she continued to hold him upright.

  “Have you fallen asleep, Your Grace?” she whispered.

  He stirred only a little. “You smell of the woods, of fresh air and pine, Nightingale. I was taking advantage of a quiet moment to breathe you. Surely you don’t begrudge me the pleasure of your scent.”

  She shivered. There was something suggestive in the statement and in his manner. “No, Your Grace, of course not.” The tenor of his voice puzzled her. Was he grieving, suspicious that the damage to his eyes might be permanent? Or frightened, perhaps?

  No, not this marvelous man with his great house, vast expanses of land, family and staff to provide his needs and wants whether he could see or not.

  He exhaled as he leaned back against the pillows, but maintained his grip on her arm. When she attempted to withdraw, his fingers tightened. “Stay.”

  “I am not a pet to answer to one-word commands, Your Grace.”

  He puckered and frown lines deepened at both sides of his mouth as his jaws flexed giving him a defiant look. “You will do as I say for as long as you are in this house.”

  She jerked the captive arm free. “Then I shall not remain in this house, Your Grace.”

  Heaving forward, he flailed at air and almost threw himself out of bed in his effort to retrieve her. She started for the door, and then looked back. She did not like seeing that big, beautiful man floundering.

  Soundlessly, she eased back to position herself within easy reach.

  His flailing hand found her shoulder and clamped it.

  “I thought you had left me.” The arrogance was gone from his voice as he lowered it to a whisper. “Nightingale, you must promise not to leave me. Not in this awful darkness.”

  “Is that a command, Your Grace?”

  The stiffness leached from his back and shoulders as he wilted against the pillows. “A request. Please. Stay within my reach. Allow me the use of your eyes until mine are restored.” His face etched with pain, he spoke softly, making her heart ache. “Promise me, Nightingale, that just as you did not abandon me on the road, you will remain with me until this nightmare has passed.”

  “Your Grace, I would stay gladly had I only myself to consider. However, others depend on me. I have responsibilities.”

  His open eye, the color as blue as the deepest sea on a cloudy day, fixed on her, as if he could see. “I will hire someone to take on your other duties.”

  She gave a mirthless chuckle.

  Obviously hearing the derision, he said, “Where are your charges, my child? What are your responsibilities?”

  “I am the sole provider for my widowed mother.”

  “Are you an only child then?”

  “No. I have an older brother and sister, but they are otherwise obligated. I see to our mother: provide her meals and bathe her, change her clothing and her bed, take care of her personal needs, duties no one else cares to perform.”

  He snorted his disdain. “For the right sum of money, I can hire a dozen to tend your mother’s needs while you remain here.”

  Jessica had never considered hiring anyone else to care for her mother when her own sister and brother refused to share the responsibility.

  “Perhaps, Your Grace, we could hire that same dozen to see after you. The accommodations here are far more compelling than those in my mother’s home.”

  He smiled. “I want you here with me and, because it is my wants I desire to satisfy, I am willing to pay to keep you here. Do we have an agreement?”

  She wanted very much to remain in this grand place with the handsome, doting duke and his mother, yet her conscience gave her little choice. “No, Your Grace, I’m afraid not. Others also depend on me as well.”

  “What others?”

  She was reluctant to say, thinking he might take offense or ridicule her, but he prodded her with his silence.

  “Ten months ago, a fox got into the hen house at Maxwell Manor, where I work in the scullery. Cook ordered the injured hens killed and buried, afraid to serve them at table for fear the fox might have been diseased and infected the birds.”

  “I interceded on their behalf. My work day was over and I volunteered to take the damaged hens and bury the dead ones on my way home.”

  Devlin nodded that he understood the story to this point. Apparently feeling surer of himself, his grip on her arm relaxed. Moving a step closer to the bed, she straightened to her full height, although he maintained a hold on her near forearm.

  The chamber door flew open and Nan rushed in. “Out, out, out,” she hissed. “Get away from the master this moment. Who do you think …. ?”

  Devlin’s roar startled both girls.

  “WHO IN THE HELL IS THAT?” His question reverberated off all four walls, the echo bouncing eerily.

  Taken aback, Nan looked at Jessica as if trying to think of a way to blame her for the duke’s outburst. Before either of them spoke, he roared again.

  “I SAY, WHO CAME INTO THIS ROOM AND BEGAN ORDERING PEOPLE ABOUT?” His voice dropped to a shout as he continued. “Jessica, I demand that you tell me who the person is.”

  Jessica answered rather than risk exciting him further.

  “It is Nan, a chambermaid, my lord. I am sure she was merely concerned that I might be pestering you.”

  “Does this Nan person appear to you to possess good sense, or is she addled?”

  Jessica regarded Nan briefly before she answered. “It is difficult to tell, Your Grace, with only appearances on which to judge.”

  “Nan!” He barked the name, making the girl jump again.

  “Your G-Grace?”

  “You are never again to speak out loud in this house within my hearing, is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” She began backing toward the door.

  “If there is a fire, send someone else to alert me. Moreover,” he
said, increasing his volume and stopping her retreat, “Jessica Blair is my dear friend, the person closest to my heart. You are NEVER to address anyone else in this house in that surly manner, most particularly not Miss Blair. From this moment on, your employment is tentative. Your standing is that of a kitchen cat, tolerated but expendable. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Nan didn’t raise her eyes, as she shuffled backward, again retreating toward the door.

  “You remain in this house under a cloud, Nan.” Again his words riveted her in place. “If I hear one complaint of your behavior or speech — even one — you will be discharged with no notice and without references. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” With that, she turned, stumbled over the threshold, and pulled the door closed behind her. Before the latch snapped into place, however, another figure slipped through and into the room. The dowager tapped her index finger to her lips, indicating she wanted Jessica to keep her presence secret.

  A pall hung upon the chamber, each of the inhabitants seemingly waiting for one of the others to speak.

  Jessica finally stirred the quiet. “You were harsh with the girl, Your Grace.”

  “I did that for you, Nightingale. I want my family and every member of the staff to understand your position here.” His facial expression changed to one she could not read.

  “Exactly what is my position here, Your Grace?”

  He disregarded the question. “I thought a damsel in distress would admire a gentleman who rallied to her defense.”

  This time her laugh was genuine. “I am a scullery maid — in truth, a scullery maid’s assistant — in the manor house of one of your overseers, a man whose position is minute compared to yours. It is wrong for me to be an honored guest in your marvelous home, wrong for me to be here in your bedchamber conversing as if we were equals. Under ordinary circumstances, you would never have occasion to utter a word to me.”

  His rolling laugh interrupted her, at the same time he removed his hand from her forearm.

  Jessica shook her head puzzling. “What was it I said, Your Grace, to cause such good humor?”