by Mary Nichols
‘She only wanted to calm her. She was making such a noise, shouting and banging on the door and walls. My mother was afraid the neighbours would hear her.’
‘No doubt that was Miss Gilpin’s intention,’ Alex said grimly. ‘What did your mother give her?’
‘Laudanum.’
‘Often enough and strong enough to kill her,’ Alex snapped. ‘It was attempted murder. If she does not recover, it will be murder.’
‘No.’ Madeleine put her hand to her mouth in horror. ‘It was only enough to keep her quiet. She would not stop screaming and making a noise.’
‘Well, you had better try to make amends. Find her something clean to wear and bring me a bowl of water and some cloths.’
‘My lord...’ Davy protested as the girl went to obey.
‘This is no time for niceties,’ he said. ‘And it is no more than I did for her when she was sick on board the Vixen. I will not trust her with anyone else in this house. You go and fetch the carriage. Bring it as close to the house as possible. And bring the blankets off my bed. There doesn’t seem to be a scrap of anything decent here.’
‘Will you be all right left here on your own?’
‘Of course I will. Now, go and do as you are told.’
Davy passed Madeleine as he went out. She was carrying a bowl of water and had the other things Alex had asked for draped over her arm.
‘Good,’ Alex said, standing up to take everything from her. ‘Now leave. I don’t want you anywhere near her.’
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked fearfully.
‘Do? I am going to make Miss Gilpin clean and comfortable and then I am going to take her away from here.’
‘I meant what are you going to do about Mama?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t decided. I must get Miss Gilpin well first. If she should die...’ He stopped to calm himself. ‘You had better pray that she does not.’
‘I will do that this instant.’ She turned and fled, leaving Alex alone with Charlotte.
She was quieter now and he feared for one terrible moment that she had slipped away while he had been talking to Madeleine. He put the bowl on a table beside the bed and fell to his knees beside her. He took her hand in both his own and looked down at her pale face. Even her mouth had lost most of its colour and her eyes remained shut. He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. ‘Charlotte,’ he murmured, fighting back tears he had not shed since he was a small boy. ‘Charlotte, my love, don’t leave me.’
His gaze went from her face to her body and saw the tiny movement of her bosom under the shirt. She still lived. He gave a huge sigh of relief, but it was still touch and go. ‘Charlotte, you must live,’ he murmured. ‘You must live for everyone who loves and needs you: your papa, all the people at Gilpin’s, the little orphan babies, your friends in England and me. Me especially.’
She gave no sign of having heard him. He dipped a small square of cloth into the water, squeezed it out and began gently washing and drying her face. He lifted her to take off the soaking shirt, then tenderly laid her back on the bed, trying not to let the sight and feel of her body rouse him. He washed her hands and arms and then her rounded breasts with their pink tips. She was not fighting him and he wondered if she knew he was there, that it was his broad man’s hands that caressed her with cooling water before carefully drying her. She lay perfectly still, no longer tossing about.
His ministrations moved down to her flat belly and across her pubic hair, dampening, drying. He was glad no one else was in the room for they would surely have seen how this was affecting him. One day, God willing, and if she would have him, he would do this again and she would be conscious and fully aware of his desire. If she would have him. He leaned over and washed and dried one shapely leg, then the other, making himself hurry for he did not want Davy to come back before she was decently covered.
He found a cotton shift among the things Madeleine had brought and lifted her to slip it over her head. ‘You will get better, my love,’ he whispered as he put her arms into it and pulled it down to cover her nakedness. ‘Trust me.’
‘Alex.’ Her voice was barely audible.
He looked at her face, wondering if she had been aware of what he had been doing, after all, but her eyes remained closed, though she was breathing a little easier. Had she been dreaming of him? He sat watching, willing her to recover, determined not to let her out of his sight again, whether she willed it or no.
Davy returned with blankets. ‘The carriage is at the end of the alley,’ he said. ‘It is turned round and ready to go. I paid a young urchin to mind the horse.’
‘Good.’ Alex took one of the blankets and wrapped it round Charlotte before picking her up in his arms. ‘Lead the way, Davy.’
He went downstairs and through the living room with his burden, watched by Madeleine and her mother, who was weeping noisily.
‘You will not have my mother arrested, will you?’ Madeleine implored, catching his arm.
‘Not if the lady lives. You may tell her that.’
‘And me? What of me?’
‘I will leave your punishment to the Earl of Falsham.’ He marched on behind Davy, ignoring the sobs he left behind him.
He put Charlotte in the carriage, covered her with a second blanket and climbed in to sit beside her and support her head.
‘Where to?’ Davy asked. ‘Where are we taking her?’
‘Home, of course. I will get a doctor to her and nurse her myself.’
‘If you say so, my lord.’ Davy obviously did not agree with this, but what else could he do? He didn’t trust anyone with his love.
It was while they were on the way, threading through the morning traffic, that he changed his mind. Such an action would make him as dishonourable as the earl and she had been compromised enough. Besides, he was not a nurse and perhaps he did not have the skill needed. Nor did he think the earl would give up, there was too much at stake, and he and Davy alone could not keep her safe.
He wrapped on the roof. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he called to Davy. ‘We will go to the Residency. It is the safest place for her.’
* * *
Edward was in the hall on the way out to an official engagement when Alex was admitted, carrying the still-unconscious Charlotte in his arms. ‘My God, man, what have you there?’
‘Miss Gilpin, sir.’
‘What have you done with her? Is she ill?’
‘I fear so. She was being held by Lord Falsham’s servant in a tenement in the Alfama and dosed with so much laudanum, I fear for her life.’ Alex sank into a chair with Charlotte on his lap.
The Minister was clearly discomforted by this impropriety, especially in front of his servants. ‘You mean you spirited her away?’
‘What else could I do? I beg you to give her sanctuary and fetch a doctor to her.’
‘I am not sure I can condone what you have done, Alex. My invitation for her to stay was to observe the proprieties and allow her to be properly chaperoned until her father came to take charge of her. This latest development has altered the case. You have gone beyond the bounds of your remit. I will have the earl banging on my door the minute he realises where she is. I do not wish my home made into battleground while two men fight over a woman whose virtue is already in doubt.’
Alex had been looking down at Charlotte, at her paper-white face and pale lips, worrying that she had shown no signs of life except a slight fluttering of her breath which now and again came out as a sigh. He looked up at this, the muscles in his face working with frustrated anger, though he tried to control it for the sake of the precious burden in his arms. ‘I cannot believe you mean to turn her away. Where is your common humanity, Edward? She needs help and sanctuary, not denial. Where do you suggest I take her? I cannot take her to my lodgings, can I? I took the rooms
when we first landed with the intention of rescuing her from the earl and letting her live there independently with a female companion until such time as I could secure a berth on a vessel going to England. It was never my intention to live with her there.’
‘No, I can see that would be not be a good idea. I suggest you take her to the nuns. They will nurse her and keep her safe. I will write the Mother Superior a note.’
He left Alex sitting where he was, nursing Charlotte who was beginning to show signs of stirring. She ought to be in a comfortable bed, being properly looked after. All this hanging about would not help her recovery. If she died, he would never forgive himself. He tucked the blanket more firmly about her. ‘Shush, my love,’ he whispered. ‘You will soon be more comfortable.’
Her eyes flickered. ‘Alex?’
‘I am here. You are safe.’
She sighed and her eyes closed again as if it were just too much trouble to keep them open.
Edward came back and handed Alex a letter on the outside of which was the name and address of the convent. ‘I must leave you,’ he said. ‘I am already late for my engagement. Come back this evening and we will talk again. My best wishes to Miss Gilpin when she recovers.’ And with that he was gone.
Chapter Ten
Charlotte stirred and opened her eyes. She had been having a lovely dream that Alex had her in his arms and was whispering loving words to her and she had not wanted to wake from it for fear of finding herself back in that grubby tenement with Madeleine’s mother.
She turned her head. She was in a bed in small cell-like room. The walls were of stone and there was only a small window too high up to see out of. Was she in prison? But did they provide sheets and blankets in Portuguese prisons? There was a table on the wall opposite her bed and it was covered with a sparkling white cloth and on it stood a crucifix. And sitting on a stool beside it, reading from a small book, was a nun in a grey habit.
‘Where am I?’ Her voice came out as a croak.
The nun put the book down on the table and walked towards her, her movements slow and deliberate. ‘You are awake, the Lord be praised,’ she said in English, standing over Charlotte and smiling at her. ‘For a long time we feared for your life.’
‘Am I in a hospital?’
‘No, this is the Convent of Santa Marinha.’
‘A convent. How did I get here?’
‘You were brought here by a gentleman. You were very ill and he wished us to make you well again and keep you safe.’
‘Gentleman. Was his name Alex?’
The nun smiled. ‘You remember?’
‘Only in fits and starts. I remember a room in a house and people keeping me confined. I was unwell.’
‘Yes, you were, but you are better now the poison has worked its way out of your body.’
‘Poison?’ she queried. ‘Was I poisoned?’
‘Yes. You were given large overdoses of tincture of poppy. It made you sleepy and weak and gave you hallucinations. It is only your healthy constitution and determination that allowed you to survive.’
‘And your nursing, I am sure.’
The nun put her hands together, as if in prayer, and bowed towards her. ‘We did what we could. Many of the sisters are skilled in nursing and we have all prayed for you.’
‘How many people know I am here?’
‘The man who brought you and his driver and the British Minister who recommended you to our care.’
‘The man, was it...?’ She paused, wondering what name Alex might have used, but as far as she knew he had never admitted to being Captain Carstairs since boarding the Vixen. ‘Lieutenant Fox?’
‘Yes, that was the name he gave us.’
‘Has anyone else come in search of me?’
‘No.’ She paused. ‘You are afraid?’
‘Yes. Did Alex... Lieutenant Fox tell you why he brought me to you? Besides making me well again, I mean.’
‘He spoke a little of it. It is a strange tale of kidnapping and imprisonment that is hardly credible.’
‘It is true none the less. The lieutenant was sent by my father to rescue me. Where is he? I should like to thank him.’
The nun smiled. ‘He has been here every day, asking after you. When you are well enough to leave your bed and dress, then we will think about allowing a visit and you may express your gratitude.’
‘Every day? How long have I been here?’
‘A week.
‘As long as that?’
‘Yes, you almost died.’
‘Then I have you to thank for my life.’
‘And the young man who brought you to us.’ The nun smiled. ‘He is a little in love with you, I think.’
Charlotte brightened. ‘Do you think so? I think he was only doing his duty for my father.’
‘Love and duty are inextricably entwined, my dear.’
‘What shall I call you?’ she asked.
‘I am Sister Charity.’
‘You speak very good English, Sister Charity.’
‘I was brought up in England, my family were London wine merchants. I came home to Lisbon to take my vows.’
‘And have you ever regretted your decision?’
‘Never. But the life is not for everyone. Now I shall go and tell Mother Superior and Sister Bernadette you are awake. And then I will arrange for food to be brought to you. We must build up your strength if you are to see that young man again.’
Charlotte smiled at the thought of seeing Alex and finding out how he had rescued her. She had vague memories of crying out for him and then his soft voice reassuring her and someone washing her, very, very gently, as if she were made of gossamer and might easily break. Had that been Alex, or one of her hallucinations? If it was a dream, it was very different from the dark terrors that had preceded it.
She ate the food they brought her, took the medicine designed to build her strength and longed for the day when she could see Alex’s dear face again. The nuns were gentle and kind, but firm in their resolution that he would not be allowed into her sick room and she must wait until she could dress and go downstairs to greet him.
* * *
Day by day she grew stronger and more impatient. The day she left her bed was a milestone, but her legs were so shaky she could not stand for more than a few moments and the idea that she would go downstairs was abandoned. She was nothing if not determined and spent time walking about her room, from door to bed to window, and back again, over and over again until Sister Charity made her go back to bed. ‘You will exhaust yourself, Charlotte. We cannot have all our good work come to naught simply because you are too impatient to allow time to heal. It will come all in good time.’
‘Has Lieutenant Fox been again today?’
‘Yes, he comes every day.’
‘Has anyone else asked for me?’
‘No. Rest easy. You are safe here.’
* * *
The next day she walked to the head of the stairs with Sister Charity supporting her, but she was not allowed to descend. ‘Tomorrow, perhaps,’ the nun said. ‘We must find you some clothes. You had none when you arrived.’
She looked down at the plain cambric nightgown she was wearing. It covered her from neck to feet. ‘What was I wearing when I arrived?’
‘A shift and a blanket.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘Nothing else. They have been laundered and given back to Lieutenant Fox.’
‘Oh.’ This piece of information gave her pause for thought. Alex had rescued her like that. A vague memory stirred of being picked up and carried. Alex. It must have been Alex.
‘Back to your room now or you will be too tired to try the stairs tomorrow.’
* * *
‘Miss Gilpin is almost ful
ly recovered,’ Alex was told when he arrived at the convent the following day. ‘She is dressed and sitting in the garden. I will take you to her.’
The nun who conducted him into the garden was the same one who had taken Charlotte in, calling others to bring a stretcher to carry her away into the bowels of the convent. He had been stopped from following. ‘We will attend to the young lady,’ he had been told in excellent English. ‘Mother Superior will wish to speak to you. I will take you to her office.’
The Mother Superior was tall and upright, covered from head to foot in her habit, but her face was serene and she had not judged him as he told his tale. ‘We cannot tell the rights and wrongs of it,’ she had told him in French, the only language they had in common. ‘The mademoiselle is undoubtedly seriously ill, but we will do our best to make her well again and, if it is God’s will, she will recover.’
‘Amen to that,’ he said. ‘But I entreat you not to let anyone from outside see her. Do not even divulge that she is here. I fear for her.’
She had reassured him the no man would ever be allowed to penetrate the nuns’ quarters, not even he, so he had taken his leave. The responsibility did not leave him however. He had called every afternoon to ask after her and enquire if anyone else had done so. She was recovering slowly, he had been assured. ‘And no one other than you, man or woman, has enquired for her.’
The Vixen had sailed without the earl, much to Captain Brookside’s fury because he had not been paid the money promised him by Falsham, and he had to take on replacement crew for Alex and Davy. Alex told him he was lucky he was being allowed to continue in view of his complicity in Miss Gilpin’s abduction.
Falsham went on with his dissolute ways, still telling anyone who would listen that Lieutenant Fox had kidnapped the woman to whom he was betrothed and if only he could find him and her, he would exact retribution. This Alex had learned from Davy who kept his ear to the ground on his behalf.
‘He has had a letter from England,’ Davy had told him only the day before. ‘Probably from Mr Gilpin.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Madeleine told me.’
