***
Days of idleness with little to occupy her other than the supervision of the household did nothing to ease her mind. The nausea and the tiredness had now left her and luckily the current high waisted fashion served to hide the very slight rounding of her figure. She took to walking the surrounding countryside finding that this helped to calm her tortured nerves and soothe her thoughts that forever strayed to the occupants of Blake House.
It was on her return from one such expedition some two weeks after occupying the manor that, rounding the corner of the house to enter by the front door, she found the duke’s chaise halted on the gravel drive and she recoiled with hand to throat at sight of it. The coach was empty with only the groom standing at the horses’ heads, its occupant having disappeared into the house. She had not been prepared for the emotions the mere sight of the equipage aroused and was about to turn back to the rear of the house to give herself time to regain some composure when Proctor and not her husband emerged from the front door and at sight of her hastened forward.
“I have been sent to fetch you, madam,” he said hurriedly, all formality forgotten. “His grace requests that you return immediately. Sophie is ill and she will not be content until you come.”
Anxiously Jane ran the few remaining steps into the house, Proctor following in her wake. “I will come directly,” she said, preparing to mount the stairs. “What is wrong? How serious is she?”
“Reynolds had been called and was examining her as I left this morning,” replied Proctor, “I know not the nature of her illness, but Hannah told me that it came on her yesterday evening and worsened during the night. The duke was called and he sent for Reynolds immediately. Please hurry your grace, we must be on our way if we are to reach Blake House before midnight. The duke was most insistent that we should return immediately, he was very concerned about the babe.”
Running lightly up the stairs, Jane called for a maid and ordered a valise to be packed immediately.
Within a short space of time she returned to the driveway where Proctor paced impatiently beside the chaise. “I am ready to leave,” she said, directing him to take the valise from her maid and put it into the coach, he then assisted her into the interior and took his place on the box beside the groom and immediately they set out toward London.
After what seemed like an interminable journey, they finally arrived at Blake House just before midnight, the front door being flung open immediately the chaise halted. Not waiting for the steps to be lowered Jane leapt nimbly down and ran into the hallway to be met by Hannah who had been keeping watch for her arrival.
“The master says you are to go straight up, your grace,” she said anxiously, as she followed her up the stairs. “Sophie has been crying for you all day, there has been no pleasing her. No one will do but you. I tried my best to soothe her, but she would have none of me.”
They achieved the nursery and all seemed quiet as they stood outside. Cautiously Jane opened the door and peered into its darkened interior, the light of a single candle silhouetting the duke’s figure as he sat at the babe’s side.
At sight of her, he quickly rose and coming forward pressed her back into the corridor. Indicating that Hannah should take his place, he quietly closed the door.
“Thank God you’ve come at last,” he whispered with a great relief. “I have been at my wit’s end. Reynolds has only just left, but he said that he would return again later.”
“What is wrong with her?” asked Jane urgently. “Tell me, I must know.”
“Scarlet fever! Reynolds believes it to have been carried by the new pantry maid who has also succumbed to it. No wonder our little girl has been so irritable of late, there has been no pleasing her and she has cried for you so.”
“You should have called for me earlier, Robert. The poor little mite, she must think that I have deserted her.” Noting his drained countenance, she rested her hand on his arm. “Let me go in to her now. I will sit with her. You rest and I will call you should I have need of you.”
“No,” he replied, “we will sit together. I could not rest, it would be impossible. She needs us both.” Then looking down into her upturned face, he asked quietly, “Could you not bear with my company until the babe is recovered? I will not press you in any way; you are free to do as you wish, only for this time, we must call a truce.”
“There is no need to ask this, Robert. Sophie must come before everything else. Whatever exists between us is nothing compared to our child’s welfare. Now tell me what is to be done for her? What can we do to ease her?”
“Reynolds says that we are to sponge her to help bring down the fever and he has left a draught that is to ease the pain in her throat and head. The rash may seem alarming but it will fade in time, but we must be aware that there could be complications brought on by the condition.” His voice broke and he was unable to meet her gaze. Taking her hand he said in subdued tones, “My dear, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your support. If you had not come, I know not what I would have done.”
Jane returned the pressure of his fingers. “There would have been no question that I would not have come and now that I am here there is no need for you to bear this alone. Do you think I would desert her? Come, Robert, all will be well I am sure. Now you must take some nourishment, and ask for something to be sent to me on a tray. I will remain with Sophie until you return and then we can sit with her together, but we must watch in turn throughout the night. At least in that way, we will preserve our strength for whatever is needed.”
With a brief nod of his head he was gone. Not wishing to put the full burden onto his wife, and knowing a vast relief at her presence, he determined to return as quickly as possible.
Jane entered the nursery quietly, but the gentle opening of the door was sufficient to rouse Sophie from her sleep and she whimpered and fretted, pushing away Hannah as she would have bathed her forehead
“I will take her now,” said Jane bending low over the babe and raising her in her arms, but in her fever Sophie did not recognize her and braced her hands against her chest trying to push her away. Jane sat in the chair at the side of the bed and attempted to soothe her by rocking her in her arms, but even this would not do and she had to return her to her bed.
“Give me the doctor’s draught,” she requested of Hannah. “Perhaps that will help calm her, she needs to sleep.”
With difficulty they managed to get Sophie to drink a little of the liquid, all the while crying at the soreness of her throat, but eventually its effects brought about some respite for the child, lulling her into a more relaxed sleep.
“Go to bed now,” Jane told Hannah. “We will have need of you in the morning so you must take your rest whilst you may. My husband and I will stay with her, but we will call you should it be necessary.”
Dropping a slight curtsey Hannah did as she was bid and closing the door quietly behind her, left Jane to sit by the babe’s side. A short while later, a footman entered with a tray containing a light supper and a glass of wine. Jane took the wine but ignored the food, her anxiety making it impossible for her to eat.
Upon entering the diffused interior of the room, the duke exclaimed at her lack of nourishment. “We can’t have you swooning again,” he said, attempting to smile. “Will you not try a little of the chicken? I have eaten and so must you, otherwise I will have two invalids on my hands.”
Seeing the sense in this she attempted to take some of the chicken but it tasted as sawdust to her and she put it to one side. Seeing that he still watched her, she ate a little of the bread and butter and took a second glass of wine that seemed to revive her a little.
Reynolds arrived shortly after one and requesting more candles to be brought, set about examining the child once more. In the additional light, Jane could quite clearly see the angry red rash that seemed to cover the whole of Sophie’s small frame.
“The fever does not appear to have lessened,” said the doctor. “All we can do at this stage is to
try to keep her cool, keep sponging her down. I have brought a cordial that you might try, but no matter what, it will run its course. Listen to her breathing and if it becomes labored send for me at once. Keep the curtains drawn even during the day, as the light will only serve to make her head more painful. I will come again in the morning; there is little else we can do at the moment. We can only pray that there will be no complications. Thankfully she is normally a healthy child and has all the advantages of a prosperous home. There are those in the city who do not! I can see no reason why she should not recover.”
“God make it so,” said the duke fervently. “It almost seems too much for her little body to bear.”
“Take heart, she is stronger than you would think,” assured Reynolds. Closing his bag and taking one last look at his patient, he took his leave.
***
The duke and duchess spent the night sitting at Sophie’s bedside, each in their turn dozing fitfully in their chair to be brought fully awake at the slightest movement or sound from the bed.
The invading tendrils of dawn crept around the edges of the heavy curtain and the duke rose to extinguish the few candles remaining alight. As he stood on the opposite side of the bed, he examined the figure of his sleeping wife in the dim half-light and a small frown creased his brow, but this was dismissed as Sophie woke crying to claim his attention and to waken Jane.
The remainder of the day passed in much the same vein as had the night. Sophie remained very demanding on their time, giving them little chance for discourse other than that of her care. Reynolds came and went declaring his satisfaction with his patient’s condition, which, while still being a cause of great concern, nevertheless remained so that she was in no mortal danger. By the end of the third day, he perceived a lessening in her fever and pronounced his opinion that the illness had finally peaked. Jane was at last able to offer her some comfort by her presence although the child remained fretful and restive.
By the end of a week, the rash had begun to abate and her skin to peel. The fever having subsided, they once more saw some semblance of a smile on her tired little face. She clung relentlessly to Jane, not wishing to let her out of her sight for one moment, fretful the minute she left the room. The duke, though still not able to wield his usual calming influence over her, nonetheless took heart at the beginnings of her recovery.
***
The intense nursing had taken its toll on Jane leaving her drained and worn, a fact which Reynolds thought necessary to bring to her attention when he found her alone at Sophie’s bedside as the child recovered.
“It’s time you relinquished the child’s nursing to Hannah,” he said, taking in her exhausted countenance. “You are in need of rest. You cannot continue in this manner.”
“I manage quite well,” she said, shrugging aside his concern. “Sophie has need of me and I will not leave her care to others.”
“But your husband has expressed some concern regarding your health; he too has noticed your exhaustion and has asked me to speak to you.”
“You have not told him that I am with child?” she asked in alarm.
“Certainly not, your grace,” replied Reynolds taken aback. “’Tis not my place to notify your husband of your condition. That is entirely in your hands.”
Having their backs to the door neither had been aware of its opening at the beginning of their discourse or of the tall dark figure that stood within its portals. However, his sharp intake of breath made them look guiltily round and at sight of him both took an involuntary step backwards.
Reynolds being the first to find his voice said in a nervous way, “Your grace must forgive me, but I have needs to be away, there are other cases of the fever in the vicinity and I must attend.” So saying he gave a short bow and pushing past the stunned figure of the duke, made a hasty exit, leaving the husband and wife to face each other across the gulf of the room.
Neither spoke for what seemed an eternity. Jane filled with the horror of the revelation, felt a great panic rise within her. Unable to stand it, she too followed in the doctor’s wake and, pushing past her husband as he stood in astounded immobility, ran the length of the corridor and down the stairs into the hall below. She would have run into the street had not an all-consuming blackness overcome her as she made for the door.
Galvanized into action by her sudden departure the duke had been hard on her heels and caught her swaying figure before she had chance to fall to the ground and lifting her gently took the stairs two at a time to her apartment where he laid her on her bed. All manner of thoughts ranged through his mind but uppermost was his concern for her well-being, sending for Reynolds’ immediate return.
He paced the room, halting frequently to assure himself of her condition. She lay perfectly still, her breathing quite as normal; only the pallor of her cheeks denoting that she was anything but asleep.
Reynolds marched unceremoniously into the room. “This is exactly what I have been fearful of, your grace,” he said to the duke as he hurried toward him. “I thought it imprudent for your wife to nurse the invalid, but when I mentioned the matter, she would have it no other way. She has now exhausted herself and it will do neither her nor the child any good. If you would be so obliging as to wait in the corridor I will make an examination to ascertain her condition.”
Meekly the duke did as he was bid, seating himself in the chair that stood outside his wife’s door. He cursed himself for being a fool. He had perceived some changes in his wife, but because of their concern for Sophie had pushed all other thoughts to the nether regions of his mind, to be forgotten. Their meetings outside the dimly-lit sick-room had been infrequent and their discourse confined to Sophie’s care. He could not understand why she had kept it from him, why she had not told him when first she knew or even suspected. Surely he was not such an ogre that she was fearful of telling him something that she knew would have delighted him so. Was this her secret she had found so hard to reveal? He was bewildered; he could not comprehend the situation. Had his thoughts been so distracted by the babe’s illness that he had lost all understanding?
Reynolds, leaving his wife’s apartments broke his revere and the duke rose to face him.
“She is fine,” said Reynolds reassuringly. “It is the exhaustion; that is all. Now she must rest, no further exertions. She revived but I have given her something to make her sleep for the next twenty-four hours to give her body time to recover some of its resources and she will feel renewed. However, I must insist that she be kept quiet, both physically and emotionally for yet a while. She has been overtaxed enough over the past week or so and must regain her former strength. I hope you understand, sir?”
“Assuredly, whatever instructions you give will be obeyed. Just reassure me that no danger exists.”
“None at the moment, sir, but I cannot guarantee the outcome if she will not follow my instructions. It would be foolish to push the boundaries too far, you must persuade her to take more care. Sophie is well enough now for her nursing to be surrendered to others and I am sure Hannah is very reliable, she strikes me as quite capable.”
“I promise you my wife will be nurtured, she will not be allowed to come to this pass again. I will make certain of it. When both she and Sophie are fully recovered we will return to Stovely.”
“An excellent idea, if I may say so, sir,” said Reynolds preparing to take his leave. “I will call again tomorrow, but in the meantime, nothing else need be done. Just let her sleep and all will be well.”
Giving a curt nod in reply the duke left Reynolds to make his exit and returned to stand at his wife’s bedside.
“You little fool,” he chided softly to her sleeping form. “Could you not have trusted me? Have we come to such a pass that you would risk yourself rather than confide in me? This matter will be resolved; it will not be allowed to continue, God knows it will not. I will see an end to it. You and the babe are mine, a fact you cannot and will not deny. I will be calm; nothing you can now say or do will sh
ake my equilibrium. I know my errors and I will correct them. Forswear my love, though you may not recognize it, I belong to you as surely as you belong to me.” His emotions threatened to overcome him and he thought it prudent to retire to his own room, should his intensity threaten to disturb his wife.
Chapter Eighteen
The following morning Jane woke to an empty bedroom and lay relishing the comforts of her bed for a few moments before memories of the previous day pushed themselves into her consciousness causing her to suddenly sit erect and swing her feet to the floor. A need for action gripped her, but she knew not what to do. Her secret was out; there was no hiding now. Should she await her husband’s reaction or make good her escape before he could confront her with false accusations and she should fall prey to the anger that distressed her so? Looking at the clock, she saw that the morning was quite advanced and she felt guilty at her neglect of Sophie. Surely, the child must have had need of her by now and she called for her maid to bring water so that she could bathe and dress.
Still he does not come, she reasoned with herself when her toilette was finally completed. Surely if his emotions were aroused, he would have confronted me by now, and in this she took some comfort. Perhaps it has been necessary for him to go out on business, he may be away from home. She knew this was clutching at false hopes, but dared not face reality.
Nonetheless, taking heart in this thought, she made her way to the nursery, anxious at being away from the child for so long. Quietly pushing open the door, she hesitated on the threshold in case Sophie should be sleeping.
My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) Page 20
