by Autumn Rose
“It is satisfying to have a happy ending in life,” exclaimed Joanna, “particularly since I am often writing tragedies!”
“Well, this is all your doing, Joanna. Had you not encouraged me, I should never have had the courage. I feel like I have had a piece of my past returned to me. I will still miss Miranda, but feel more prepared to build a new life for myself.”
“Do you see yourself alone in this new life?” Joanna queried. She was curious about Nora’s feelings for the viscount. She was aware of his frequent visits, and whenever she had seen them together, had been struck by their apparent compatibility.
“Oh, I imagine so,” Nora answered, blushing for some strange reason. “I am too old for romance.”
“One is never too old for romance, my dear. I had rather thought the viscount was becoming a good friend.”
“He is, Joanna, but nothing more,” Nora replied, suddenly very busy with smoothing her dress as she got up to leave.
Well, well, we shall see, thought Joanna as she stood at the window and watched Nora go down the path. You deserve a little romance, my dear.
Chapter 33
Sam had spent the weeks of Nora’s absence trying not to think of their last meeting. He succeeded for the most part, for he was caught up in both estate and political responsibilities. He saw Miranda and Jeremy frequently, and from time to time inquired about Nora. But Miranda had heard nothing from her mother. On the one hand, the mails were slow, and Nora might not have written at all, thinking that she might be home before her letters would. On the other hand, Sam worried that something might have happened to her. What if she had decided to stay in Northumberland? What if she had met someone there? Sam would get caught up in his worry for her, and then find himself getting furious all over again. If she had only let me send her in my chaise, he would think.
One morning, some three weeks after Nora had left, he paid an early call on Miranda and Jeremy and found both of them getting ready to ride to Hampstead. Miranda had received a short note from her mother the day before, saying she was at home. “At last,” said Miranda. “I cannot wait to see her,” she told Sam as she pulled on her gloves. “You do understand if we do not stay for your visit, Sam?”
“Of course,” answered the viscount. He could not admit to the great feeling of relief and anticipation he felt at the news of Nora’s return.
“Do you want to come with us?” Jeremy asked.
“Oh, no. I think Miranda should see her mother first. I will be seeing Nora soon, I am sure.”
* * * *
Sam waited a week, but did not see Nora at Lavinia’s musicale or during any morning calls he made to the young couple. On his third disappointing visit, he heard that Nora had sent a note excusing her absence. “She seems to have caught a bad cold,” Miranda told Lavinia. “I do hope it does not turn into anything worse. I cannot get out there until tomorrow.”
“Perhaps I might ride out there this morning,” Sam said, trying not to sound too much like an eager twenty-year-old.
“Oh, would you, Sam? I would be so relieved.”
Nora had not felt quite so ill in years. After Miranda’s and Jeremy’s visit and her tale of her journey home, the two young people had left. Later in the day, Nora had quite suddenly become nauseated, and after retching up all her luncheon, had taken to her bed with chills and fever. The nausea, thank goodness, did not last, but the fever and its accompanying weakness had reduced her to tears more than once. When Joanna’s maid knocked at the door to deliver some homemade pear conserve, Nora was able to totter down and ask her to wait while she scribbled notes, one for Joanna, asking her to send Tilly again in the morning, and one to Miranda, explaining her absence from Lavinia’s.
The next morning when she awoke, she was at last without a fever and lay there grateful for her recovery. The last week had been a kaleidoscope of sleep and fitful dreams, day and night blending into one. For the first time her head was clear, and she was at home in Hampstead, rather than wandering, crazed, from Northumberland to Edinburgh.
She fell back into her first dreamless sleep, and awakened again just before noon. She was not hungry, but she was thirsty and the pitcher next to her bed was empty. She pulled on her old wrapper and managed to get halfway down the stairs before collapsing on the landing, afraid she was going to faint, unable to go further even when she heard someone at the door.
That was where Sam found her, clinging to the banister and trying to stand, in order to get down and let him in. He had called and knocked and finally decided he’d better just walk in, in case she was in need of help or unconscious, for, he realized, they really had no idea how much worse her cold might have gotten.
There she was, pale as death, great circles under her eyes, hair a mare’s nest, trying to get herself downstairs. When she saw him, she sat down and leaned her head against the railing, saying weakly: “Oh you did let yourself in. I am afraid I just couldn’t make it down by myself.”
Sam came up the stairs and sat down next to her. He felt her forehead and was relieved to find it cool.
“Oh, the fever is finally gone,” she whispered. “And I am feeling so much better. In fact, I was coming down anyway to get some barley water, when I felt faint and decided to rest awhile. Then I heard you, but I am weak as a kitten,” she said half-apologetically.
“Let me carry you back to bed, Nora.”
“Oh, please, no…”
“Now, don’t tell me you can do it yourself, woman.”
Nora was too weak to respond to his remark. “No, it is only I have spent all week in bed. I need a change of scene. Could you help me to the parlor sofa, Sam?”
Sam put his arms under her knees and said gruffly, “Put your arms around my neck, Nora,” and he scooped her off the stairs and deposited her on the sofa. “Have you got some sort of coverlet? It is too cold for you to be in here.”
“There is an afghan on my bed. Oh, dear, it is in such disorder up there…” Her voice trailed off.
“No matter,” said the viscount, and was back in a minute, with the old multicolored afghan she had crocheted years ago when Miranda was little. He tucked it around her, and only with the greatest effort kept himself from holding her to him.
“Let me get a fire going in here for you.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Nora leaned back, watching him start a lovely little fire in the hearth. She closed her eyes against the bright flames, not quite strong enough to look directly at them, and felt him sit down next to her.
“Are you all right, Nora?” he asked, and she felt his hand gently push the hair back from her face. She did not trust herself to look at him.
“Yes. May I ask you for one more thing, Sam?”
She thought he might have said “anything,” but it was hard enough to get her request out. She felt she was crumbling inside as she said, “Could you get me a drink from the kitchen? Barley water for now.” She grimaced.
A simple request, but it took everything out of her to ask. When he returned, however, she had pulled herself up a little and tried to comb her hair with her fingers.
He handed her the cup, and saw her hands shaking as she reached for it.
“Let me,” he said quietly, and helped her guide the cup to her lips.
“I have been so thirsty,” she whispered.
“Who has been taking care of you?”
“Oh, Joanna sent Tilly over a few times to see how I was.”
“And you, no doubt, sent her away? How did you get water ?”
“Tilly would get me some, and I was able to make it down the stairs a few times and brought up as much as I could.”
“Did no one else come by?” Sam asked, appalled by how alone she had been.
“Oh, no,” she replied after a few swallows of water. “With Tilly coming, I was fine.”
She raised the cup to her lips by herself, and the cup shook, spilling barley water on both of them.
“Oh, I am sorry, Sam,” Nora said, concerned for his breeche
s and trying to wipe them with the end of the afghan.
“It is nothing, Nora,” he said quickly, and then saw tears pouring down her cheeks.
“I am very sorry,” she sobbed. “It is just that I feel so weak. I am so sorry you found me like this.”
Sam shifted so he was sitting next to her, and pulled her head onto his shoulder. He stroked her hair and she sobbed even harder.
“Nora, Nora, what is it, my dear?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, feeling humiliated, but unable to stop herself from crying.
Sam made soothing noises as though she were a child, and eventually the shuddering stopped. He moved a little, and Nora clutched at him convulsively. “Don’t leave me alone for a while, Sam. I am sure Tilly will stop in today, but if you could stay until she got here?”
“I won’t leave you alone, Nora,” he replied. He wanted her to look at him, but she kept her face buried in his waistcoat.
“I won’t leave you, my dear,” he said, “but I do want to make sure you have enough wood for the fire. I will be right back.”
Nora let him slide her head back on the sofa pillows, not willing to look him in the face after such weakness. She heard him go out for the fuel, but had fallen into another convalescent nap by the time he returned.
When Tilly arrived half an hour later, Sam sent her away. “I will stay the afternoon,” he said, “but I would like you to return this evening. Mrs. Dillon should not be alone tonight, and it would not be proper for me to stay.”
Tilly agreed to arrange it with Joanna, thinking that neither was it quite proper for him to be there alone during the day. But Nora was a widow, and the viscount almost a relation, after all.
Sam looked in at Nora, but she was still asleep. He slipped off his coat and rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen, where he boiled water and washed the few dishes in the sink.
He found a small loaf, still fairly fresh, and some butter in the pantry. Some tea and toast should be all right for now, he thought.
When Nora at last awoke, she found herself looking at a Sam with breeches spattered by barley water and dishwater, and sporting a dish-towel apron, bearing a tray of tea and bread, with a toasting fork balanced on the edge. She could not help smiling at the sight, and his own legs felt weak when he saw her smile. At least she didn’t yet hate him for seeing her so helpless.
He pulled a stool near the fire, and sat there toasting bread. His cheeks were burnished by the heat by the time he offered her a slice of toast.
This time, her hands were steadier, and she managed to drink and eat by herself. “I am feeling so much better. I apologize for my weakness this morning.”
“Will you stop apologizing for a natural weakness?” Sam asked with mock gruffness.
“All right.” Nora smiled. “If you will forget you ever saw me like this. But you must have better things to do with your day than to tend an invalid. Where is Tilly?”
“I sent her home until tonight. She agreed to come back and stay with you.”
Nora was too weak to argue or even resent Sam’s highhandedness. She did not want to be alone, and he could not stay, of course. In fact, it was most improper for him to be seeing her like this, not to mention embarrassing. She pulled her wrapper tighter around her.
“Are you cold?” he asked immediately. “I could get you another blanket.”
“No, no, I am fine. I was just wondering what Tilly must think.” Nora blushed.
“Well, as she said, I am almost a relative.” Sam smiled.
Nora smiled back, but wondered why such a simple statement of fact, which should relieve her embarrassment, made her, instead, feel lonely. Of course, Sam had been so understanding because he was concerned about Miranda’s mother, not Nora Dillon. She had more than likely succeeded in killing off any tenderer feelings when she refused his help for her journey, and most certainly now, she was not a figure to inspire romantic feelings.
She drifted off again shortly after her tea, opening her eyes every half-hour or so, to see Sam sitting by the fire, reading what appeared to be one of her own books. She thought she heard noises at the door at one point, and the next time she awoke, there was Tilly smiling down at her, offering to help her up to bed.
“Where is Sam…the viscount?”
“He had an engagement back in town this evening, Mrs. Dillon. He asked me to stay the night.”
“Yes, he told me, Tilly. And I appreciate it. I managed all right when I had the fever, so I don’t know why I don’t want to be alone now, but I don’t, and am glad you are here.”
Nora leaned on Tilly’s arm and the banister and slid into fresh-smelling sheets, since Tilly had changed the bed.
“There is some fresh water next to your bed, ma’am, and a bell should you need me.”
Nora smiled gratefully and slid under the covers. Despite all her rest during the day, she was asleep immediately.
Chapter 34
When Miranda arrived the next morning, she found her mother sitting in the armchair by the parlor fire, drinking a cup of tea. Nora rose as she saw her daughter, and started to walk over to her before Miranda had a chance to stop her.
“Oh, Mama, you look so pale. And to think you were here all alone.”
Nora was better but still weak, and after her welcoming hug said, “I truly am much better, but I do need to sit down immediately,” and went back to her chair. Once she was seated, she was able to reassure her daughter that no, she did not need to be back in bed, and yes, she truly was better. No fever for over twenty-four hours. “But I imagine I don’t look it,” continued Nora, grimacing at the thought of her appearance. “My hair hasn’t been washed in days, and I know I have black rings under my eyes.”
Miranda sat down opposite her mother and nodded her agreement.
“Wait, you are supposed to protest,” Nora laughed, “and tell me I don’t look like an old hag.”
“You don’t look like an old hag, Mama.” Miranda smiled. “But neither do you look well. Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”
“I am certain. Truly, I am weak, but that is natural after such a fever. But it was only that—nothing more serious. Now, enough of the invalid. How have you been this past week? It is good to see you.”
“We have all been well and we missed you at the musicale. I’ve missed you,” Miranda said, moving closer. “Your trip was so sudden, and I have been so busy. I feel I have neglected you.”
“Miranda, my dear, you have not neglected me,” Nora said, pulling her daughter to her. “You are Jeremy’s wife first and my daughter second. And that is as it should be.”
“I’m not sure I like being a countess if it takes me away from you, Mama. There are times when I tire of boring parties and having to be polite to people I dislike. There are times when I miss our old life.”
Nora smiled in sympathy as Miranda buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. She had no intention of clinging to her daughter, but she had to admit she was glad Miranda felt the change in their relationship.
“There, there, you are tired and upset by both my illness and my trip. I miss your company more than you could know, but you love Jeremy, and so his countess you must be.”
“I know, Mama, I know.” Miranda sat up and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Nora was amused to see the Countess of Alverstone staining her fashionable sarcenet walking dress with tears.
“Listen, I am home now, and we shall all be together for the holidays. And despite the fact that Lavinia will no doubt have great plans for entertaining, I am sure we will be able to relax as we did last summer. And in the spring, we will have family to visit with, when your grandfather comes to London for the Season.”
“I am glad that you went home, Mama. But all I can think of is how different it would have been for us if you had received his letter years ago.”
“Do you wish they had been different?”
Miranda thought for a moment, remembering the years with little or no money, the cheap lodgi
ngs, the times when her mother was cross from worrying about finances, the writing which finally supported them, but which took her attention away. She thought of the homes that her mother had created for them, the friends they had made in the village. And Jeremy. She would never have met Jeremy had their lives been different.
“No,” she answered wonderingly. “There have been hard times, but we were together. And there have been good times, too. And there is Jeremy,” she concluded simply.
Nora hugged her in relief. “That is the way I felt too, Miranda. Although I am happy to have found myself forgiven after all these years.”
“It will be strange to have family. What will people say? Jeremy knows, but to everyone else I am Lieutenant Dillon’s daughter.”
“I think they will accept your half-truths. That my family opposed my marriage, but the estrangement has been finally and happily ended. Society will love the romance of it. And being the granddaughter of a marquess will only add to your consequence.”
“You are probably right.” Miranda laughed. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I believe my appetite is returning,” Nora replied, “and there is nothing in the pantry. Could you shop for me, and perhaps make me some soup? Although you are not dressed for shopping or cooking, my lady!”
Miranda grinned. “I still have my old merino wool here, Mama. Let me change, and I’ll be off.”
Nora sank back on the sofa, feeling like her old life had been returned to her. Only for a short time, she reminded herself, but she would enjoy her daughter while she was here.
Miranda stayed for three days, until she was sure her mother was recovered. Both Joanna and Jeremy paid short visits, but otherwise there was just the two of them. Miranda read aloud in the evenings, and got Nora to bed early. By the third morning, Nora came to the breakfast table, dressed for the first time in many days.
“I feel human again,” she said as she felt a surge of appetite at the sight of fresh muffins and the smell of bacon.
“You look much better,” exclaimed Miranda, “but you are still pale.”
