“I will speak with her right away,” he said. “And as for the immediate future, perhaps the family should consider taking his Lordship to the country estate. We might see a lessening of these attacks if he is no longer in the city. The estate is south, on the coast, good healing air,” Fuddleston mused. “I shall propose it to Mrs. Elliot and Miss Elliot as soon as possible. Give him a day or two to heal a bit before we move him.”
Ivy’s heart thudded in her chest, first because she hoped desperately Jack would live and be able to be moved, and second because the Elliots would be miles away from London and she would miss them dreadfully.
Clarence Fuddleston took his leave, and Ivy sat alone in the parlor, sick to her stomach and so consumed with fear and worry she thought she would certainly choke on it. It would hardly do her any good to sit and stew, but she was at a loss to formulate a plan that included herself being useful.
She slowly climbed back up the stairs and took a seat in Jack’s dressing room, not daring to venture back into the bedchamber. It really was a sound idea to take Jack far away from London. She somehow couldn’t bear the thought and was frustrated with herself. But truth be told, she hadn’t finished her tutoring sessions with him or Sophia and Mary, and she really should accompany them to the country to complete the task properly. She could come along formally as the women’s guest, or perhaps she could twist Nana’s arm into accompanying her as a chaperone.
Yes, that would be the best answer for everything, Ivy simply had to travel with the Elliots. Jack would require extra time to heal. That would be fine, though. It would all be fine if he would just awaken.
Fuddleston entered the dressing room and took a seat next to her, his face grave as ever. “Lady Ivy,” he said, “Cook’s assistant seems to have disappeared without notice. I think it safe to assume that he was at least partially responsible for these attempts on his Lordship’s life, though almost certainly not the instigating party.”
Ivy nodded, swallowing. Everything was suddenly so much more real. Before, she had almost been able to convince herself that Jack’s two accidents were merely that. Coincidental. Plain bad luck. She would have to face the fact that someone clearly wanted the new earl dead and wasn’t planning to stop until he achieved that end.
“I do think it a wise idea to take him out of the city,” Ivy said quietly. “I believe that ultimately the decision should be left to his mother and Sophia; I will discuss it with Sophia in a moment.”
He smiled at her then, and she knew he was viewing her with empathy. “Would you like me to retrieve Miss Elliot for you?”
Ivy smiled back, weakly, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you for the offer, but I ought to venture back in there. I want to support Sophia and see . . . see . . .” She swallowed hard. “See how his Lordship fares.”
He nodded. “I shall take your leave, then. I will ask the doctor’s assessment of the earl’s condition, and then I must continue my inquiries.”
“Very good. And thank you, Mr. Fuddleston.”
He smiled at her and rose, entering the bedchamber quietly. Ivy wished more than anything that she could stay in the dressing room forever and deny that there were bad people in the world who intentionally sought the harm of others. It was ever so much lovelier to mentally reside in a place where people all sought the good of one another. And while she had to admit that even within the walls of her own home things were not perfect, there was no overt hostility, and she was accustomed to tranquillity. To a world where people followed the rules.
Fuddleston exited the bedchamber a moment later and approached Ivy, taking her limp hand in both of his. “The doctor believes he will be well, my lady. His good health and vigor are to his advantage in the healing process.”
She felt the lump form in her throat again and nodded at the man, touched that he would have a care for her state of mind, regardless of the fact that no servant other than her childhood nanny had ever held her hand in her entire life. There was a time for propriety to be suspended, she realized, and rose to quickly embrace the solicitor.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said to the stunned man as she released him and made her way to the bedchamber. “Have a care when you are out, Mr. Fuddleston. I would hate for someone to use you as a means of leverage against the earl.”
He nodded and gave her a quick bow. “Thank you, my lady.”
Chapter 23
In our times of deepest worry for a friend, it is then that
we realize how very much we esteem one another.
Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette
Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on the bedchamber door and pushed it quietly open. Dr. Featherstone was tying off the last of the stitches on Jack’s eyebrow, and as she made her way toward the bed, she tried to ignore the fact that it looked as though an animal had been slaughtered on it.
She stood next to Blake, who was still at the doctor’s side, likely monitoring every move the man made. He glanced at Ivy and tipped his head in Jack’s direction. “The bleeding has stopped; he is stitched. Our only task now is to wait.”
Doctor Featherstone moved to the side table and washed his arms and hands in a fresh basin of water. “His Lordship is hardy,” he commented over his shoulder as he retrieved a small towel and briskly dried himself. “He will need someone to sleep in here throughout the night, however. Does the man have a proper valet?”
Ivy sighed briefly and closed her eyes. “His valet is young. However, I will admit that the boy seems to know his Lordship very well, and he is incredibly loyal. I will instruct him to sleep in here again, and Mr. Fuddleston in the dressing room. Pug can alert Fuddleston if anything seems amiss.”
Doctor Featherstone did not seem impressed, but he finally nodded. “And have someone send for me immediately if he begins to bleed again or seems to worsen.”
Ivy couldn’t imagine how Jack’s condition could possibly worsen; the man hadn’t moved a muscle since he was laid out on the bed. She thanked the doctor anyway, and he left.
Ivy looked at Sophia, whose face was pale but firmly set. She clasped one of Jack’s hands in her own and brushed a small clump of hair gently off his forehead.
“Sophia,” Ivy said softly, “how do you feel about visiting the country estate for some time? Get Jack out of the city for a bit and allow him to heal near the coast.”
Sophia looked up at her in some surprise, and her expression gradually shifted, her shoulders relaxing. “I think that sounds wonderful,” she murmured, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“Your mother would likely enjoy it as well.”
“She would, most definitely. And you will join us, naturally.” Sophia gave Ivy one definitive nod, as though the matter were already decided.
“I should love to,” Ivy murmured and took her first good look at Jack. His face was still a smear of a mess, and he looked as though he’d survived a war, but barely. “We must get him cleaned,” she said and looked at Blake. “What would you suggest? His valet is twelve.”
Blake chuckled then, and tried to speak but kept laughing. Ivy smiled, and, to her relief, so did Sophia.
“The footman can help you, Lord Blake,” Sophia said. “Between the two of you, you’ll get him cleaned and stripped of the clothing, at least.”
Ivy flushed. “When you get him washed and dressed, I’ll help you change the bedding. I believe if we ask anything else of Mrs. Harster tonight, she will expire.”
“Do you suppose she would at least be amenable to providing a new stock of towels and some warm water?” Blake asked Ivy, one brow cocked.
“I will see that she brings the towels, and I’ll set one of the maids to heating water right away.”
Sophia followed Ivy into the dressing room and sank down on a sofa, dropping her head into her hands. Ivy placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment before leaving the room and heading back down the stairs, feeling as though she were moving automatically, without any emotion left. Jack was alive, that
counted for something, and she went about the business of sending a footman to the earl’s bedchamber and orchestrating details with gratitude that there were details needing orchestrating. It was so much better than sitting and stewing, and she figured that if she sat for more than a moment or two she would dissolve into a puddle of tears.
Because against her better judgment, her feelings for Jack Elliot were growing into something beyond the bounds of acquaintanceship or even friendship. The thought of living in the world without him was dismal, and when she’d seen him that first time lying upon the bed looking broken beyond repair, her heart had broken right along with him.
Steeling her spine, she saw to the business at hand and then retired to the parlor, where she drew some sheets of paper from a small table and sat, determined to work on a draft for her Mistress Manners column. Usable content was elusive, of course, and she found herself drawing drooping flowers and designs and nonsensical things instead. Her focus was absolutely gone and she wondered if she might be going mad.
Finally, Millie appeared at the parlor door. “Lady Ivy? Miss Elliot sends for you.”
Ivy nodded and replaced the ink bottle and quill. As she passed the young girl, she stopped. “Millie, are you unwell?”
Millie frowned. “I am fine, Miss. I worry about Pug, though. I can’t find him.”
“Have you looked in the mews?”
“Not yet. I was thinking of checking there next.”
Ivy drew her brows together. The last thing they needed now was for Pug to get lost or worse in London. “He is very distraught. Please do let me know when you find him.” Jack was like a father to the boy, and Pug must have been terrified. She’d been so consumed with her own emotions that she’d completely forgotten about him.
She reached Jack’s bedchamber again, deep in thought. Sophia had reentered, and Mrs. Harster was inside, gathering bloodied towels and Jack’s ruined clothing. “Our head housemaid’s mother is a midwife, my lord,” she said to Blake. “The girl, Josephine, can lend a hand quite efficiently with changing the bedding if you’d like.”
Blake nodded. “All right, send her up, but nobody else. The five of us ought to be able to handle the task.” The harried footman stood to one side, looking a bit worse for the wear but still on his feet.
“Very good, sir. And do send word to me if you would like help from any more of the male employees who might be a bit stronger,” she finished, glancing at Ivy and then Sophia.
Blake leveled her with a flat look. “You’ll understand completely, madam, when I say that you are all fortunate Miss Elliot hasn’t fired the lot of you and begun with fresh staff. Someone in this house is trying to kill your employer and very nearly succeeded this time. I do not want anyone in this room without one of the three of us, Pug, or Fuddleston also present.”
Mrs. Harster blanched and nodded with a quick bow. “The warm water will be delivered momentarily, and I placed the clean linens on the bench.” She gestured to the foot of the bed and then took her leave.
“Rather autocratic of you,” Sophia muttered. “The woman is clearly frazzled and on her last nerve.”
“That woman is incompetent in the extreme and doesn’t seem to have the wherewithal to manage a household of this size.”
“I’ve seen my share of staff in my life, and at least this woman is kind. She may not be entirely up to her tasks, but the nice ones ought to be treated with respect, at least.” Sophia’s voice quavered at the last, but her face remained as strong and beautiful as ever. It was ironic, Ivy supposed, that Sophia would probably have been the most effective housekeeper London had ever seen. Those skills would be put to good use when they established their school, which would, regrettably, have to be put aside for the time being.
Blake opened his mouth to retort, but something about Sophia must have given him pause, because he closed his mouth instead and gave her a nod. “My apologies, Miss Elliot, to have offended you.”
It was Sophia’s turn to appear slightly stunned, and Ivy was grateful to see the arrival of a tall, thin housemaid who bobbed a quick curtsey and introduced herself as Josephine.
The girl, to her credit, marched in at Blake’s gesture and began giving instructions as to how they could best maneuver his Lordship to minimize any possible injury and still effectively put clean bedding underneath him. With her expertise, they accomplished the task more quickly than Ivy would have believed possible, and she was professional in her demeanor, so much so that Ivy didn’t even have time to be embarrassed that Jack was wearing a nightshirt.
“Thank you, Josephine,” Sophia said and nodded to the girl.
“My pleasure, Miss,” came the quick reply, accompanied by a flash of pleasure across her features. She gathered the soiled linens and turned to go, but hesitated.
“Is there something else?” Sophia asked her as she wiped her hands on a wet towel.
“Only that my mum is quite good with the ill,” Josephine added, “and would help if I sent word. She could be here in a matter of minutes, if ye need, if Doctor Featherstone isn’t available, o’ course.”
“She doesn’t carry leeches around, does she?” Blake said, rubbing the back of his neck and then rotating his head from side to side.
Josephine’s lips twitched. “No, m’lord. She don’t subscribe to that.”
“Wise woman,” he muttered and began unrolling his sleeves, which were soaked, bloodied, and utterly beyond repair.
Josephine left, and Ivy turned to Blake. “Did he try to use the leeches?” she asked him, horrified.
“He did. I threatened to throw him out the window, and he changed his mind.”
“I imagine he did.” Ivy felt a genuine smile cross her face for the first time in hours. “You go now and rest some. The supper hour is long gone, and I haven’t had nearly the strain you two have experienced. You also, Sophia, go home and get cleaned up.”
She shook her head. “I do not want to leave him.”
“He is well for now,” Ivy told her gently. “Put on fresh clothing, have a cup of tea, and then return. Or have some here. We will rewrite the rule books by having tea around the sickbed.”
Sophia snorted a bit, which had been Ivy’s aim. She then regarded Blake and dipped into a light curtsey. “I thank you, my lord, for caring for my brother. He means the world to me.”
“I would never have supposed it,” Blake answered with a half grin. He bowed lightly to her and added, “The pleasure is mine, my lady. He has become a good friend. In fact,” he said as he shrugged into his crumpled coat, “he is the only member of the ton I like. What does it say for our lot that he is a good person by virtue of the fact that he has never lived among us?”
Ivy dipped her head at him as he took his leave. “Thank you, Lord Blake.”
He nodded from the doorway. “Send for me immediately if something happens; otherwise I will check on him in the morning. Has Fuddleston returned yet?”
“I don’t believe so,” Ivy said.
“Perhaps I can compare notes with him in the morning, and we can get closer to the heart of this.” And with that, he strode away.
Sophia was watching the empty doorway, her face pensive.
“What is it?” Ivy asked.
“He is most singular, is he not?”
“That he is. I admit to knowing only superficial things about him; we have shared a dance, that is all. There is depth to his character that catches me by surprise.”
Sophia nodded and looked as though she might say more, but instead gave Ivy a quick embrace and turned for the door. “I shall return in thirty minutes. Shall I instruct Mrs. Harster to have a light dinner ready for us? I find now that I’m quite famished.”
Ivy didn’t think she would ever eat another bite of food in her life, but she nodded anyway. “That sounds delightful.”
Finding herself alone with Jack, she located the step stool and climbed up onto the bed. The tears gathered in earnest then. They spilled down her face and onto the clean cove
rlet that had been pulled up to his shoulders. She laid a hand softly atop his head and allowed herself the luxury of carefully running a curl between her thumb and forefinger. It was likely the only thing soft about the man. Well, that and his affection for Pug and Fuddleston and his family, she supposed. She hoped Millie had been able to locate the boy; that was a new worry to nag at the back of her thoughts.
“Jack Elliot,” she murmured, “you must awaken soon, because there are many here who need you. Pug would be bereft if you were to leave, and your mother and Sophia.” Would she never stop crying? She had shed more tears in one day than in her entire lifetime. “And me. I need you to stay here, Jack, because we are not finished with our lessons, and it is most unseemly for you to abandon the task prematurely.”
His handsome face was battered and swollen, the stitches and bandages garish and frightening. She looked at his chest, though, at its steady rise and fall, and placed her hand over his heart. It beat firmly, as if to reassure her that the body that housed it was merely at rest for a time. Slowly, carefully, she leaned over and placed the gentlest of kisses on his forehead.
“Please wake up,” she whispered. “Please. I will never chastise you again for slurping your soup.”
Chapter 24
In times of emergency or illness, it may become necessary to swallow one’s misgivings in order to aid the afflicted.
Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette
Hazy impressions floated around the edges of Jack’s consciousness; snippets flitted in and out of his mind, images of himself lying prostrate in a carriage, attended by his mother or Sophia, and sometimes Ivy. He remembered bits of conversation: “ . . . his breathing is still regular . . . he feels warm, do you suppose he is running a temperature . . . we must get more broth into his system . . . at least he takes the water well . . .”
And then there was the blessed tranquillity: a comfortable bed, wonderfully fresh sea air from an open window. He registered people helping him drink water, warm broth, and occasionally a tiny bit of brandy. Just when he was certain he had the strength to open his eyes fully and converse, he lost all sense of logical thought and floated back into the realm of impressions and sensations.
My Fair Gentleman Page 16
