Promised

by Leah Garriott

  “It is true. Lord Williams confessed to it himself.”

  “Did he?” Daniel paused, then tilted his head with curiosity. “What did they want from you?”

  Such a simple thing. A small thing. Too small for all that had happened, for all they’d gone through, and all I’d gone through, and Alice—“A kiss.”

  He smirked. “Who won?”

  I gaped at him a moment, then swung my hand up and slapped him. “How dare you make a mock of it, of me? Our sister lies dying and you’re laughing over how two men used me, used all of us. Yet for all that has happened, Lord Williams is more to be admired than you. At least he pursued what he wanted. You are nothing but a coward, laughing at the misfortunes of others while petrified at the thought of experiencing your own. You are not willing to risk even the smallest amount of gossip to do what honor dictates, nor to obtain what you want. You do not deserve Louisa, though for your sake, I hope she never realizes it.”

  Pushing past him, I strode up the stairs. And though my mind told me I’d done right, instead of feeling victorious I felt more despondent than ever.

  Thirty-Six

  The curtains were drawn and, though the fire was large, the room was dim. Alice lay with the covers encasing her, paler than I had ever seen. I waited just inside the door while my father examined her, kissed her, held her hand.

  “Colin, you shouldn’t linger,” my mother said.

  Laying Alice’s hand back down, he stood and turned to her. “When was the last time you slept?”

  She shook her head. “I will not leave her.”

  “Margaret will stay with her. You need rest.”

  “But what if I am absent when she—when it—” She hid her tears with her hands.

  “Margaret will fetch you if Alice so much as twitches.”

  Stepping forward, I said, “I will, Mother. I promise. I should never have left in the first place.”

  “I cannot leave.”

  “Eloise.” My father’s voice took on a sternness I had never heard him use with her before. She dropped her hands in surprise as he continued. “You will come with me and you will rest.”

  He took her hand and pulled her into his arms, his voice turning tender. “Only for a little while. You shall need your strength for what is to come.” She nodded into his shoulder and finally allowed him to lead her from the room. As they passed, my father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come find me if anything changes.”

  I nodded my understanding. He wanted to be summoned first so he could assist my mother with whatever took place.

  After shutting the door behind them, I sat in the chair next to Alice’s bed.

  She didn’t stir. The arm closest to me lay on top of the sheets, covered with a white linen bandage from the bloodletting. The bedside table held small apothecary bottles lined in a row along the edge. Reaching past them, I grabbed a towel that lay in a bowl of water. After wringing it out, I wiped Alice’s face, dampened the cloth once more, and laid it on her forehead.

  I sat by her, alternating between holding her hand and placing wet towels on her forehead. When Mary came in with new water and clean cloths, I helped her remove the old. Later, she came in with supper for me and broth for Alice.

  “She won’t take any, but Cook insists on sending it anyway. Your mother’s been trying any way she can to get a few drops in.”

  “Thank you, Mary.”

  She curtsied and left. I took a spoon full of the broth, but it would never make it unspilled to Alice’s mouth. So I dipped the corner of a clean cloth in the broth, pulled back Alice’s lips, and squeezed in a few drops. She didn’t swallow.

  I took her hand again. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, if I’d just accepted my plight like I should have, agreed to the match and pretended to be happy about it, Alice would be laughing in the drawing room. She’d be begging to play cards or wanting to show off how much she’d progressed on her song.

  But that wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t all my fault. It was as much Lord Williams’s fault as mine. His and Mr. Northam’s and that stupid wager.

  I stood and walked to the window, pulling back the drapes just enough to see out. The sun was setting, casting brilliant colors across the cloud-laden sky, as though waving a farewell for the night. Or as though saying goodbye.

  Was Lord Williams standing in his breakfast room, eyes on the sky? Or standing by the river, a frown on his face? Or had he decided to attend a different party, try again with a different woman, over and over until he finally won his wager and kept his promise to his father?

  I dropped the drapes and returned to my vigil, again taking up Alice’s hand. If I could just feel sorry enough, could just regret enough, could just be strong enough, perhaps I could change back the clock and make it so none of this had happened. I could heal her, put color back into her face, infuse her with laughter and love and everything she’d been before.

  But no amount of hand pressing nor soft cajoling seemed to make any difference.

  Eventually Mary retrieved the dinner tray. I picked up the book on Alice’s nightstand, the one we’d been reading together at night before I’d left for the Hickmores’, and, flipping back a few chapters, began to read. When I’d read to the point she’d marked, I closed the book and sat on her bed, telling her of the changing colors of the leaves, of Daniel’s idiocy, of what she and I would do once she regained health, all in the hopes that something—a touch, a word, a feeling—would sink past her sickness and bring her comfort.

  When I’d run out of things to say, I returned to the chair and rested my head against her hand. I must have dozed, for a pounding on the front door startled me upright. The pounding sounded again, then went quiet, voices replacing the noise. Who had come? Was it Lord Williams?

  I stood. Heavy footsteps led across the hall and up the stairs. Father pushed the door open but remained in the hall.

  “Margaret, a doctor from London has arrived.”

  “London?” I looked past him to the unfamiliar face of a middle-aged man. Not Lord Williams. I stepped aside.

  The man came in, cast me a dismissive glance, and sat in the chair I’d just vacated. “You say your country doctor has been attending to her?”

  “Dr. Johnson. Yes,” my father replied.

  The man nodded. He examined Alice, opening her eyelids, her mouth, feeling her throat, inspecting the wound from the letting. Then he inspected the different bottles on the side table. “He seems to have been thorough, though that letting wound doesn’t look deep enough. Aside from another letting, I am not certain there is more I can do. I’d like to discuss what he’s done with him before I arrive at anything definitive.”

  “Of course. We shall send for him immediately.” My father gestured back out of the room, shutting the door again as the heavy steps retreated.

  I sank back into the chair and glanced around the small and now quiet room. My father must have sent for the doctor shortly after we’d returned home. Or perhaps even before we’d left Lord Williams’s.

  And I’d thought Lord Williams had come. To what? Sit with me? Mumble apologies?

  Hold me and tell me it would all be well?

  What a fool I was. What a fool my heart was.

  I shifted Alice into what I hoped was a more comfortable position, rewet the cloth, and placed it back on her forehead.

  An hour later, both doctors visited again, letting more blood. Afterward, the house fell into silence.

  When the large house clock struck one in the morning, I resettled into the chair and took Alice’s hand in mine. “Alice, I’m so sorry. I would trade all my pride, all my promises, my very heart if need be, for you to live.” I could have prevented it, if I’d only known. No harm would have come from letting either of the men steal a kiss. Well, only another mark on my reputation, but I had dealt with that before. It wasn’t
right that my family was suffering—that Alice was dying—because of Lord Williams and Mr. Northam. How would we ever be happy again?

  Anger, fiercer than I had ever experienced, rushed over me. “Alice. Wake up. You have slept long enough. Do not give those men the satisfaction of seeing that their actions affect us. Be strong. Alice!”

  She didn’t stir, didn’t give any sign that she had heard me. I pressed her hand with my own. “Alice, please wake up. You are being incredibly selfish. You have always been given everything you want. It is time to give something back. Wake up!”

  Nothing.

  This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to have turned out. I clenched my teeth. “You cannot go. You cannot leave us. I will not let you!”

  But where was the authority of an empty threat shouted into the night? I had no power: no power over my past, no power over my future, and no power over Alice’s life. My words were as meaningless as Lord Williams’s had been when he’d stated he would never allow love to die.

  My throat closed and my eyes stung. There was no one to see the pain now. There was no reason to be strong any longer.

  I laid my head next to hers. “I love you,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. So very sorry. I was wrong to not hide my emotions. I was wrong to be so openly defiant of Mother and Father. Please don’t die. You mustn’t leave us. We need you. I need you.”

  Intertwining my fingers with hers, I gently squeezed. “Please, Alice. If you get better, I promise—I don’t know what I promise. I’ll do anything. Only, please, get better.”

  Thirty-Seven

  I awoke and glanced around, disoriented. The room was completely dark except for the glowing embers in the fireplace.

  The fire. The closed curtains. The body next to me.

  Alice.

  Nothing indicated whether it was still night or early morning. I shifted, wanting to move farther from Alice so I could rise without disturbing her. But as I moved, a freezing fear seeped through me.

  Alice’s hand was cold.

  I sat up and stared at her. There was no movement in her chest, no trace of color in her face.

  She had died while I had slept. I hadn’t even noticed.

  Anguish wrenched a convulsive sob from my chest. I gently untangled my fingers from hers.

  She didn’t look at peace, as I had been told people looked once they passed. Her arms lay unnaturally straight by her side. Clasping her hands, I crossed them over her chest. Then I pressed my lips to her face.

  Her forehead wasn’t cold. Her face was as hot as it had been the night before. Hope exploded in my chest. I turned my head so my cheek rested near her mouth and waited.

  A small, almost undetectable breath brushed my cheek.

  Alice was alive. She had lived through the night.

  I quickly rubbed her arms and hands, blowing on them as I did, trying to warm them. Then I tucked them beneath the bedclothes and hurried to build up the fire. Opening the door to go in search of Mary, I paused as my mother appeared at the top of the stairs, looking rested and guilty. She must have slept through all that had happened last night.

  She froze when she saw me. My throat constricted at her pained expression. “She’s alive,” I rasped past the burn in my throat.

  Relief softened her features. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. I stepped out of her way as she entered the room, then retreated to my own room to wash and change.

  There was no trunk near the bed; Mary must have already unpacked for me and had the trunk returned to the attic. It was as though I had never left.

  I opened my drapes and leaned my forehead against the window. There was no river glistening below me. No stretch of fields and oaks. Just the small, formal garden off to the side and the path leading down to the lake.

  How was I ever to enjoy that garden again?

  But my lake. I needed my lake. At least Lord Williams hadn’t ruined that for me.

  There was no way to visit it this morning; I couldn’t leave the house when I might be needed at any moment. Yet being alone with my thoughts when they constantly found their way back to Lord Williams was torture.

  I left my room and made my way down the stairs, meeting my father on his way up. “She’s alive.”

  He nodded. “I heard. Thank you for staying with her. Though she would deny it, I think your mother was very grateful for a respite.”

  “It is what I should have been doing all along.” If I had stayed home instead of going with my father, my mother would not have been so worn out in the first place.

  But if I had stayed, would I have regretted driving Lord Williams away? I would never have known about the wager. Except if Mr. Northam should have come after all, determined to capture the winning kiss.

  No matter what way the situation was inspected, I lost.

  Alice lasted through the day with no change. Dr. Johnson and the London doctor came and left, warning us she could pass at any moment.

  Assembled in the drawing room later with my father and Daniel, a clattering on the stairs silenced our movements. It had finally happened. I braced myself as Mary burst into the room.

  “She spoke!” Mary exclaimed.

  My father shot out of his chair. “What?”

  Daniel and I glanced at each other, eyes wide.

  “It’s Miss Alice, sir. She spoke!”

  “What did she say?” my father demanded.

  Mary’s excitement dimmed. “Well, she didn’t actually say anything. She just mumbled a bit, you see.”

  “But,” Daniel interjected, “that must be a good sign, when she hasn’t shown a hint of life in days.”

  Mary nodded, her smile brightening again. “Yes, that’s what the missus thinks. She bade me come and tell you all the news.”

  “I want to see her.” My father strode from the room.

  I slumped in my chair, powerless against the relief washing over me. “Thank you, Mary.”

  She curtsied and left.

  “She’s going to recover,” Daniel said, his tone light. “I haven’t been out of the house in days.” He stood.

  A sudden thought struck me. “Do you think she’s still going to—I mean, have you heard that sometimes people, right before they pass, appear to revive a little?”

  “I’m going for Dr. Johnson.” Daniel threw his book on the table and ran out.

  I bit my lip and struggled out of my seat, making my way back to Alice’s room.

  “I believe she has made it through the worst of it,” Dr. Johnson declared an hour later before turning to the doctor from London as though awaiting the final word.

  “Yes,” the man said. “I believe she has. What she needs now is rest.”

  Dr. Johnson put his things back into his bag. He stood, glanced at Alice, then shook his head. “I’m unsure if I have ever seen a case so hopeless turn around. I am very happy it has.”

  “As are we,” my father replied, walking both doctors out of the room.

  “Margaret, did you hear? She’s going to live.” My mother fell into the chair next to Alice’s bed and cradled her hand.

  Daniel cleared his throat. “I’ve—um. There’s something I need to see to. Excuse me.”

  I followed Daniel into the hall. “Where are you going?”

  He stopped, but avoided my eyes. “I’ve a matter that needs my attention.” He took the stairs two at a time.

  An hour and a half later, Daniel returned. I’d finally left Alice’s room for the study, hoping that now that the danger for Alice was over, I might lose myself in a novel or two. I avoided the one Mr. Northam had read to me and chose one recently acquired, something Lord Williams could not yet have read and so could not have yet determined to be worthwhile or not; I didn’t want to spend my whole day wondering if he would have approved of my choice. My
father sat in his chair behind the desk, though he didn’t seem to be doing much more than relaxing in the knowledge that Alice would be fine.

  Daniel stepped into the room. “Father, may I speak to you?”

  “Where did you go?” I asked.

  Daniel glanced at me. “In private.”

  I walked out and Daniel closed the door. Something was up. I leaned my ear against the door, hoping I could hear something of the conversation and discover what Daniel was about, but the voices were too low. When they emerged, Daniel requested everyone to gather in the drawing room. Once our mother arrived, Daniel cleared his throat. “Mother, Margaret, I have asked Louisa to marry me. She has consented. The banns will be read beginning Sunday.”

  He’d done it. He’d finally made it official.

  “Oh, Daniel.” My mother looked ready to weep. “I’m so happy for you. For both of you.”

  “What made you decide to ask now?” I asked.

  Daniel met my gaze briefly before looking away. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to; that look had said everything. He’d finally asked Louisa because he didn’t want to end up like me, alone, in love with someone he’d never be able to have.

  Something shifted inside me. The place that had been filled with worry for Alice filled instead with the dark, murky waters of jealousy. Daniel was marrying while I, once again, was without the man I had grown to love.

  If I couldn’t feel happy for him, I should at least feel happy for Louisa. I forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look like a grimace.

  “When is the wedding to be?” my mother asked.

  “As soon as possible. We see no reason to wait longer than it takes for the banns to be read.”

  She frowned. “Daniel, we will need more than a few weeks. Alice will not be fit to attend, and her health is my first priority at this point. I shan’t be able to assist in the preparations at all. What will Sir Edward and Lady Rosthorn think?”