The Burdens of a Bachelor (Arrangements, Book 5)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Sasha had let them stay with her until Mrs. Jones agreed to let them back into their old apartment. She still did the laundry for the boarding house, though she really did not have to do so to earn their meals the same way. Instead it simply took some of the amount for rent off. Freddie was miserable, but he tried not to show it. He never complained, and he continued his lessons as Mrs. Creighton and Mr. Townsley had laid them out. Soon, though, it would not be enough.

  Though she could now provide for him, it was meager, and she did not have enough to hire a tutor. She could teach him what she knew, but beyond that, she was relatively useless for his education. He ought to go to school, to be with other children and receive a real education that might actually prepare him for the future.

  Perhaps when she earned enough, they could move to the country. A cottage near a village with a school might be just the thing for him.

  She looked up at the sun, peeking out from the clouds, adding some warmth to the surprisingly brisk day. It was still early, she ought to go and check in with Mrs. Rogers. The sweet woman had been so delighted to have her come back, it almost made Susannah glad for it herself. She was shocked at how far the woman had wasted away since her absence, and it soothed her a bit to help.

  As much as she was ever soothed these days.

  She could hardly sleep. Even when she could, sleep was more dangerous than being awake.

  More than once, Freddie had woken her up, finding her in tears, almost inconsolable. But he never said anything about it. He just rubbed his eyes and returned to his bed, while she attempted to find a way back to sleep. In the mornings, Freddie went about as if nothing had happened, and Susannah was content to let him.

  She sighed and started for Mrs. Rogers’ apartments. Her head and heart ached constantly, but if she did not dwell on it, if she stayed busy, it faded into a distant annoyance that she could almost ignore.

  Almost.

  “Susannah!”

  She turned in surprise, knowing Annie’s voice before she saw her face. The woman was hurrying towards her, blonde hair bouncing loosely beneath her bonnet. Her green eyes were wide and worried, and her face was paler than normal.

  Susannah rushed to her. “Annie? What is it?”

  She’d meant to cut off associations with anyone who knew Colin or would remind her of him. But when she and Annie had crossed paths a few days ago, Annie had refused to let her. And Susannah was grateful for it. Annie never asked questions, never pressed her to come back, never once made her feel as though their friendship had been only on the surface. And Annie was not of a fine background or upbringing. She did not judge.

  Annie grabbed onto her arms, as if she were steadying her and not the other way around. “Colin. It’s Colin.”

  She had not said the name before, and Susannah had gone days without hearing or saying it herself, except for her dreams. Hearing it now made her heart lurch and she gasped audibly, the sound very nearly a sob.

  “I’m sorry,” Annie whispered, gripping her hard. “But I had to find you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Susannah. Everyone is so worried, Colin’s been drinking himself into a stupor every day, all day, and we all thought he was just drunk. No one ever suspected that he was sick.”

  Susannah finally raised her head to meet her eyes. “Sick?”

  Annie nodded, her eyes shimmering. “He’s been in bed for three days now. They found him in a pub, burning with fever and almost unconscious. Doctors have been called for, he’s been bled several times now, and between laudanum and his fever, he’s so delirious he’s incoherent. They say there is not much to be done, but I thought…” Annie bit her lip and tilted her head. “You worked in a hospital, yes? I know it is an impossible thing to ask, Susannah, but…”

  Susannah was already moving, pulling Annie behind her, running towards Mayfair. Her heart pounded frantically within her chest as if she were the one suffering fevers. Colin was apparently lying at death’s door; there was no question but that she would go to him. She was neither physician nor apothecary, and would never claim to be, but she had worked with some, and recalled their most useful remedies. Perhaps she could do something, though likely everything she knew had already been done.

  Even if she could not help, she could be with him at the last.

  “Susannah, are you sure you can…?” Annie tried, panting behind her.

  “No,” Susannah interrupted, shaking her head at once. “I am not sure of anything. But I have to go. I have to…” She shook her head again.

  Annie did not say anything else as they ran to her nearby carriage, and kept pace with Susannah very well, never once voicing a word of complaint. She was grateful for that. She knew this was mad, but Annie had to know when she sought her out that she would not remain while Colin was in such a state.

  The house was suddenly before them and she rapped on the door anxiously, biting her lip. She would beg, plead, apologize on her knees if only they would let her in.

  The door opened and Bartlet’s face was worn and lined, a clear indication of the attachment he had to his employer.

  “Miss Hart,” he said wearily. “Mrs. Bray.”

  “Bartlet,” Susannah whispered, trying to look past him. “Is he… Is…?”

  “Susannah?”

  She stiffened at Kit’s voice, steeling herself as he appeared in the doorway, Bartlet sidling aside.

  He stared at her for a moment, so rumpled and disheveled that he hardly looked himself. Then he reached for her and hauled her into his arms. “Oh, thank God,” he whispered, clutching her tightly.

  Susannah’s eyes filled with tears and she slid her arms around his slender waist. “Kit, is he…?”

  He pulled back, his own eyes shimmering, and he shook his head. “He’s resting, finally, but the fever is raging. He was bled again this morning, but I don’t think it helps him. Whitlock sent his private physician, and he has done everything, but says all we can do is wait. I just… I can’t…” He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

  Susannah hugged him again, feeling a slight tremor through him. “Can I see him?”

  He nodded against her and helped her inside. He turned back to Annie, who had tears running down her cheeks.

  “I can’t…” Annie said, taking a step back and shaking her head. “I want to, so desperately, but Duncan forbids it. I’m… in a delicate condition, and I…” She bit her trembling lip. “I’m so sorry.”

  Kit reached out to wipe a tear away and squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, Annalise. I understand, and I agree. Go to your husband, let him hold you. I will send word as soon as I can.”

  She nodded hastily and turned from the doorstep.

  Kit turned back to Susannah as he closed the door. “Let’s go.”

  He took her arm gently and they started up the stairs.

  “Is it infectious?” she asked, all business as they mounted the stairs.

  “Doctor thinks so,” Kit responded, steering her towards the rooms. “He told me to send the girls away.”

  “Did you?”

  He shook his head with a heavy sigh. “I should have. But they were sent away when their mother got sick and never got to say goodbye. I couldn’t do that to them again. Not when they adore Colin so.”

  His voice caught on Colin’s name and he cleared his throat, shaking his head.

  “He’ll be all right,” he murmured, eyes unfocused. “He’s too stubborn to die in a sickbed.”

  Susannah felt her lips curve briefly. She needed to believe that, had to cling to it. This could be the last she saw of Colin, and she could not bear knowing he had…

  Kit opened the door and let her in ahead of him. She rushed to the bed, where Colin lay sprawled, sheets damp with sweat, his skin almost gray in color, his breath rasping audibly.

  “Colin?” she murmured, sitting on the bed and touching his face.

  He twitched at the contact, turning his head away and mumbling under his breath.

  “Colin,” she said lo
uder.

  “He’s insensible,” Kit said from the door, his eyes taking in his brother’s form almost dispassionately. “Has been for days.”

  Susannah shook her head and stood, stripping off her coat and rolling up her sleeves. “I can reach him,” she said, going to the wash bin. “Get me rags and fresh water. Is Mrs. Creighton about?”

  Kit stared at his brother, unmoving.

  She understood, she truly did. She longed to sit and stare at Colin and will him back to health with her eyes. But while there was blood in her veins and breath in her lungs, she would fight for Colin’s life. And she needed all the help she could get.

  “Kit!” she called loudly, pouring every ounce of strength into her voice.

  He jerked and looked at her with wide eyes.

  She smiled softly. “Rags and water, Kit. And Mrs. Creighton.”

  He swallowed and nodded, glancing back at the bed as he left.

  She washed her hands quickly and took a moment to go back to the bed and put her damp hands on Colin’s face. She stroked his cheeks, brushed back his hair, and kissed his brow. “Stay with me, my love. Come back to us.”

  Hours later, Susannah wiped at her brow and glanced up at Mrs. Creighton. For the third time, she had been flung off of the bed and landed in a heap on the floor. It was a good sign, as Colin was no longer lethargic and unmoving, but he continued to resist anything Susannah tried to do.

  “You do it,” she muttered to Mrs. Creighton as she got to her feet. “He tolerates you.”

  Mrs. Creighton gave her a sympathetic look, but nodded. She spoke softly to Colin, who did not twitch or groan or react at all. He let her sponge his fevered skin with cool water, responding incoherently to her questions.

  Susannah blinked hard as she mixed another tonic from the medicine the doctor had left and the herbs she had brought. It ought to have brought down his fever, and perhaps ease his breathing. Ideally, she could make a paste of it that should be applied to his chest directly. But at the moment, getting near him sent him thrashing and moaning violently.

  She handed the glass to Mrs. Creighton and tried not to take it personally. Colin was out of his head with illness, he could not be blamed for what torment he suffered thus. And he was entitled to his feelings towards her, whatever they were.

  Mrs. Creighton tried to get Colin to drink it, but he moaned and turned his head away, clamping his lips together. Mrs. Creighton sighed, and looked to Susannah.

  Pursing her lips, Susannah marched over to the other side of the bed. She pinched Colin’s nose shut and when he gasped for air, Mrs. Creighton poured the liquid into his mouth. Susannah released his nose as he gasped and sputtered, and she rubbed his throat soothingly. He settled somewhat, and she murmured a word of praise.

  That riled him yet again. “Susannah,” he moaned, swiping viciously to his side. “Damn it… damn it… No, go away…” His agitation grew and both she and Mrs. Creighton restrained him bodily.

  His moans turned to whimpers and Susannah shushed him as best as she could. “Easy, love,” she murmured, rubbing his chest gently. “Easy, now. Relax.”

  He stiffened, his face contorting. “No, Susannah. Not you… not… not you…”

  She closed her eyes against tears. “What do you need, Colin?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  “Away,” he moaned, his head rolling from side to side against her. “Away…”

  She raised a hand to his brow and looked at Mrs. Creighton as she felt the skin, which was markedly cooler than hours ago. It was far too soon for that to be the medicine’s effect, but it was an encouraging indication for when it did begin to work.

  “All right,” she managed, torn between laughter and tears. “Whatever you like.” She moved off of the bed, wincing at the flash of disgust that crossed his face.

  He growled deeply. “Away!” he bellowed, coughing painfully. “Out… No more, no more…”

  Susannah hiccupped on an exhausted sob, wringing out a fresh, cool rag.

  “Pay him no mind,” Mrs. Creighton ordered as she came to her side. “He is out of his head, it’s the laudanum.”

  Susannah shook her head. “Not all of it.” She clamped her lips together and wiped his face and neck and chest once more, silent in her ministrations.

  “Not Susannah,” Colin muttered, opening his eyes to look at her, but not seeing her. “Not Susannah.”

  She looked at Mrs. Creighton helplessly.

  Mrs. Creighton gave her a long look, then called, “It’s me, Mr. Gerrard. It’s all right, it’s just us.”

  He grunted and turned his head into the pillow. “Not Susannah,” he muttered again, settling deeper and losing the stiffness in his frame.

  Susannah stroked his face once and kissed his head, squeezing her eyes shut. This was it. He was going to be well, and he would never know she was here. He would never see her again.

  She stepped away and handed the rag to Mrs. Creighton, feeling a few tears hit her cheeks. “His fever should break soon,” she murmured. “I’ve left enough for another dose if he needs it. Ice chips and cool rags for the rest of the night.”

  Mrs. Creighton nodded, though Susannah suspected she already knew all of that. She took Susannah’s hands. “Bless you, my dear,” she whispered.

  Susannah sniffed hard, willing her tears away. “Take care of him,” she whispered.

  “Of course.”

  She squeezed her hands and left the room quickly, not daring to look at the bed again.

  Kit was pacing the hallway, looking somehow more disheveled than he had earlier. He looked up as she exited and went to her at once. “Is he…?” he asked, his voice rough.

  Susannah took his hand. “He is improving. Still feverish, but much better. He has been fighting us for the last few hours and is strong enough to shove me from the bed three times.”

  Kit exhaled heavily and looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “Stubborn fool,” he whispered.

  Susannah swallowed hard. “He is, indeed. And Mrs. Creighton can manage him from here.”

  He looked at her then, eyes questioning. “You won’t stay?”

  She shook her head, sniffing again. “No. No, it is distressing to him to have me in there. He becomes violent and restless, saying all sorts of things about me and…” She shook her head. “He would do better without me.”

  “Seems to me that is what got him here,” Kit said softly.

  Susannah winced and looked away. “I am surprised you let me in.”

  “That was not a jab at you, Susannah,” he said at once, taking her arm and forcing her back to him. When she finally looked up at him again, he gave her a serious look. “Colin is a stupid lout.”

  Susannah reared back in surprise, wiping at her eyes. “You told him that?”

  “I did. Twice.”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t blame him. I can’t.”

  “Stay,” Kit said softly. “Stay and see what happens.”

  Slowly, though it broke her heart to do it, she shook her head. “He hates me now, Kit. Violently.”

  He tilted his head a bit. “I do not think he does.”

  She sniffed once and raised her chin, the barest hint of a smile on her lips. “Oh, I am content with it.”

  “Are you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said with a nod. “He would not hate me with such passion if he had not loved me with the same. I can be quite content with that.”

  Kit sighed and put his hand over hers, squeezing tightly.

  Susannah wondered at his tenderness, then realization dawned. “You know.”

  Kit looked at her curiously. “Know?”

  Somehow, she managed to swallow. “You know about… my past. You know everything.”

  He hesitated momentarily, then nodded, just once. “I do. As does Colin. Stupid lout.”

  A watery, surprised laugh escaped her and she finally felt her knees again. “I can’t stay,” she told Kit, hoping she looked as apologetic as she felt. “And don’t te
ll him I was here. Or that I know.”

  Kit did not look pleased by that.

  “Please, Kit,” she said, gripping his arms.

  He sighed and looped her hand through his, heading for the stairs. “Oh, all right, but only because it’s you.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned into him a little as he led her down.

  “I have done something that I will tell only you,” Kit said suddenly, his voice serious again. “Even Colin does not know this.”

  Susannah swallowed. “That sounds ominous.”

  He hesitated just a moment as they turned on the landing. “I have set aside a sum of money with my solicitor that is for Freddie’s education.”

  She stumbled a step but he caught her easily. “You did what?”

  He chuckled softly. “I know your sensibilities, Susannah, and I promise you, it is not extravagant. It is enough for him to begin at Eton when he reaches eleven, and then Cambridge afterwards. What he does there is entirely up to him, and there is no money after, but by then he should have the resources to build quite a life for himself.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and she turned to him, a few tears falling still, her mind whirling. “Kit, why in the world would you do that?”

  He wiped away her tears and smiled. “Because I am your friend, Susannah. Not as close as Colin, I grant you, but we are friends nonetheless. And I have grown quite fond of your son. I would do more if I could, but I know you, and you would not take it. But I am thinking of Freddie’s future, and this much I can do.”

  She shook her head, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

  He shrugged lightly. “Say nothing, then. It’s already done and I cannot change it; no one can. And my motives are not entirely pure, I will have you know.”

  She looked up at him curiously. “They’re not?”

  He shook his head, looking sober. “No. I have high expectations of him, you see. He will either become the next me, a world renowned scholar, or marry one of my sisters.”