by Rose Pearson
“For a few minutes,” she said reluctantly, as Lord Dunstable still held her hand. “But then I must go to Miss Peters.”
Lord Dunstable nodded and let her sit down before seating himself. Letting out a long breath, he ran one hand over his forehead, his gaze drifting back towards his mother before he remembered what he was meant to be doing. Pouring the tea for them both, he gestured to Josephine to help herself to the biscuits on the tray, which she did at once. She was hungry, she realized, eating it quickly and then reaching for another, and there would not be a lot of time to eat.
“There is nothing I can do?” Lord Dunstable asked, his eyes filled with worry. “I feel so useless here, sitting alone and watching over my mother.”
Josephine reached across the table and took his hand. There was a solidarity growing between them already, even though they were only briefly acquainted. She knew precisely what he was feeling, having endured it already herself. Unfortunately, her hopes and her prayers had never come to anything, for both her parents had succumbed to the fever. She could not let him give up hope, she realized, seeing him look at her with desperation. Hope was the only thing he had at the moment.
“You must pray, my lord,” she replied, in a compassionate voice. “Watch over your mother, watch over your sister and send your prayers to heaven that they might be spared.”
Lord Dunstable shook his head. “I have never been much of a praying man.”
“Then you must become one now,” she replied, firmly, knowing that it would give him a purpose whilst she continued to treat Lady Dunstable and Miss Peters. “I know that you have a good deal to do in the estate at the moment and that in itself will be beneficial to us all.” She smiled at him, her fingers tightening on his for a moment. “You are doing more than enough already, Lord Dunstable.”
Slowly, his fingers twined with hers, his eyes glinting as a sense of purpose began to rest on his shoulders. “I understand, Miss Josephine. Of course, I will make sure to watch over my mother and my sister whenever I can. You must rest also, of course.”
“We will support one another,” she replied, aware of the warmth shooting up her arm from where their fingers touched. “Jones, the kitchen maid, and I are all here to help the Dunstable estate in whatever way we can.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, his lips pulled tight as he drew in a steadying breath. “Thank you, Miss Josephine,” he replied, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You have given me a little hope and for that, I cannot thank you enough.”
Her smile remained steady although her thoughts about what would happen with Lady Dunstable and Miss Peters were far from certain. “Thank you for trusting me, Lord Dunstable,” she replied, gently. “I will not leave your side until this dark time is over.”
Chapter Eight
Gideon felt sweat trickle down his back. The day had been long and he was tired. The horses were, at least, taken care of and were now all fed and watered, ready to rest and sleep.
His whole body was trembling slightly as he made his way towards the hen coop. He had not even realized they kept chickens, and Josephine had laughed as she’d pointed it out to him. To collect the eggs each day was not something he was used to but he did it regardless, even though he had no idea what to do with them after that.
Chucking out a handful of seeds to the hens – who all appeared to be delighted to see him – he quickly gathered the eggs and set them all down in the basket. The hens would put themselves into the coop and he’d have to go out later to shut it all up. The last thing they needed was a fox coming to take the chickens for themselves!
The old tree stump beside the coop called to him and, giving into his weakness, he sat down heavily. The hens ignored him, too busy looking for any stray bits of corn to come anywhere near him and Gideon felt himself glad for the few minutes of solitude.
His life had taken a very different turn this last week. He had done more than he’d ever done in his life before, waking up before dawn to go out to see the animals and bring in the milk that one of the kind village folk left for them just outside the servant’s door. Thankfully, he didn’t have to make breakfast since the kitchen maid, Gillian, managed to make enough for all of them. He and Miss Josephine usually ate together, with Josephine able to tell him how his mother, his sister, and the footmen had fared overnight.
She was exhausted, he could see that by the shadows under her eyes, the lines on her face, and yet she always had a smile for him, a quick flash of hope that kept him going.
After breakfast, they all worked together – himself, Miss Josephine and Jones – to clean and clear his mother’s room and then his sister’s. Miss Josephine and the kitchen maid would change the bedsheets and later, he’d find them both washing the old ones. He’d hated to see his mother and sister casting up their accounts but had stood by their side and held them up as they’d done so, the sight and smell turning his stomach. They’d all had to pull together as one. There was no job too beneath him, not even the emptying of the chamber pots.
Tiredness ran though him but he forced himself to stand. How Miss Josephine continued on and on, hour after hour, day after day, he did not know. She seemed so resilient, so determined, and thanks to her care, his mother and sister were not getting any worse. They both were given medicine every day, carefully bathed with vinegar and feverfew and had broth carefully spooned into their mouths. Their fevers, at least, had seemed to lessen and that was, no doubt, thanks to Miss Josephine’s careful and steady attentions.
Running one hand through his hair, Gideon suddenly realized just how little he had thought of Georgina of late. He had written her a short note stating that his mother had become ill but, since then, he had not heard from her and nor had he written to her again. That in itself came as no surprise, since he had been so caught up with all that was going on, but to not think of her for a single moment? That took him a little by surprise. He had not been concerned for her welfare, had not wondered where she was at the present moment, had not so much as thought of whether she was still in London or now had returned to her father’s home as she had planned. Georgina, for her part, had not written to him either, which suggested that she did not particularly care either. That brought no stab of pain to Gideon’s heart. In fact, it did not give him more than a moment’s pause, even though this was to be the woman he was to spend the rest of his days with. The woman who would bear his children, who would grow old with him.
That made him consider matters in a very different light. This terrible fever that had taken such a grip of his house now brought fresh matters into view, making Gideon realize that he would have to consider his future with Georgina with a great deal of seriousness. Could he really marry someone who cared so little for him, and for whom he did not give more than half a thought upon occasion? She was beautiful, yes, but he realized he knew very little about her. He did not know, nor did he care, about what she did with her time, what novels she enjoyed or what music she preferred. He did not know whether she enjoyed walking or riding the most. Surely one ought to know such things about one’s betrothed?
The thought continued to gnaw at him as he made his way back towards the house, the basket of eggs in his hand. It was not as though he did not have enough on his mind already, but the sudden realization that he had not once thought of Georgina in this last week continued to plague him.
Walking in through the servant’s entrance, he set down the eggs carefully before going to check on the two footmen who, thanks to Josephine’s hard work and tender care now appeared to be doing a good deal better. Josephine had said she hoped they would make a full recovery and, as he stepped into the room to see them both eating broth of their own accord, a smile spread across his face.
“My lord,” one of them said, still looking a little feverish but a good deal better none the less. “I think I should be able to get out of bed soon and help you, as I ought. I –”
Gideon held up a hand. “You are not to get out of your bed and resume y
our duties until Miss Josephine says that you are ready to do so,” he replied, with a small smile. “You look a good deal better the both of you, and I am greatly relieved to see that.”
The second footman, Marks, smiled with relief. “I am glad of it too, my lord.”
“It is very good to see your strength returning,” Gideon said, feeling his stomach grumble slightly at the sight and smell of the broth the two footmen had. “If you should need anything, you need but ring for Jones or Miss Josephine – or myself, if they are busy.”
The two footmen nodded and gave him their thanks and Gideon excused himself, feeling his hunger growing all the more.
There was plenty of broth but Gideon had to admit that he was growing a little tired of eating the same thing every day. Making his way to the pantry, he began to look through the shelves but found himself growing angry, realizing that he had very little idea with what to do with any of it. For heaven’s sake, he did not even know how to make a loaf of bread! It was either Gillian, the kitchen maid, or Miss Josephine who baked one every morning. Normally, Gillian would have been able to make something more than just broth and bread for dinner but his mother had required a little more attention of late, which he did not know was either a good thing or a bad. Either way, she was not present and able to make him anything, which meant he was entirely on his own.
Something moved in the bag of flour he was looking at, making him jump with fright. Staggering back, he felt his breath catch in his chest in disgust, realizing that there were insects of some kind in the flour. Insects! That flour could not be used, surely!
“And just how many more are there within these walls?” he muttered to himself, his eyes going from one sack of flour to another, feeling his stomach churn. He had been working so hard and now all of the food in the pantry might well be contaminated by all kinds of creatures! Running his hands through his hair, Gideon let out a long, heavy sigh. He had no idea where to go to fetch more flour and, even if he did have clean flour, he could not make something out of it. Aside from looking after the animals and managing to sweep a floor or two, he was next to useless.
His stomach growled louder and, muttering darkly under his breath, Gideon stomped out of the pantry – only to walk straight into Miss Josephine.
“Oh!”
Catching her arms, Gideon made to steady Miss Josephine as she staggered back, his hands tight as he held her steadily.
“Goodness, Lord Dunstable, I did not see you there,” Miss Josephine said, with a small smile. “Are you quite all right? Whatever were you doing in the pantry?”
Slowly, he let her go, his arms falling to his sides as frustration and disappointment ran through him. “I thought to find something to eat,” he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. “But it is next to useless. There are insects of some kinds in the flour and besides which, I – I do not have any skill with such matters.”
He let his gaze slip from Miss Josephine, afraid that she would laugh at him but, to his surprise, she stepped forward and looked over his shoulder into the pantry.
“Show me.”
Looking at her, he saw her eyes warm as she smiled at him – and something began to curl in his belly.
“Show me the insects,” she insisted, taking his hand when he did not immediately move. “If they’re what I think they are, then there is no reason that we cannot use the flour as it is.”
“As it is?” he repeated, astonished enough by her reaction to move into the pantry with her. “We cannot use flour that has those things in it, surely?”
Miss Josephine let out a laugh as he pointed to the sack of flour. “My dear sir, you have very little understanding of what life is like for those beneath your station. When I lived with my parents, we often found these weevils in our flour.” She tipped her head and smiled at him. “My mother sieved them out as best she could and then used the flour regardless – just as we will do now.”
This made him pause, a realization of just how different their lives were beginning to sweep over him. “I see. You are quite right, Miss Josephine. I do not understand such a way of living.”
“That is not your fault,” she replied, gently, putting one hand on his arm. “I did not intend to shame you. It is just that your reaction to something such as this did make me laugh.”
He could not help but smile despite the heat in his face. “I understand,” he replied, gently. “Thank you, Miss Josephine.”
She dropped her hand and, for a moment, the air crackled between them. They were in such a small space, almost pressed together as their eyes met, his gaze holding hers.
And then, Miss Josephine cleared her throat.
“Might you take this sack out to the kitchen?” she asked, stepping past him. “I will find the sieve and we will make ourselves a pie or two.”
His stomach growled loudly and, to his embarrassment, Miss Josephine heard it, throwing her head back in laughter. Gideon, despite his red face, found himself joining in the laughter, the mirth lifting his spirits.
“I can tell you are hungry, Lord Dunstable,” Miss Josephine chuckled, as he set the flour on the worn kitchen table. “Should you be able to help me, then I think we could make a couple of meat pies and perhaps an apple pie or two for dessert? Would that satisfy your hunger pangs?”
Smiling at her, Gideon spread his hands. “If you are not too exhausted, Miss Josephine. I would not like you to weary yourself even more than you have been doing.”
“Well, Lord Dunstable, the very reason I came to find you was to inform you that I believe your mother has greatly improved today,” Miss Josephine replied, setting down the sieve onto the table before going in search of a bowl. “that is why Gillian has been with her for so long. Lady Dunstable has been hungry today, which is a very good sign. Gillian has been giving her broth and bread, as well as water whenever she is thirsty. She is not yet able to rise from her bed but I hope she will be able to sit up tomorrow. I know she will be glad to see you.”
Gideon felt his breath sucked from his body, forced to lean on the table in front of him for a moment. His mother was not going to die, it seemed. The fever had not taken her. She was recovering.
“And your sister is not as sick as your mother was, I do not think,” Miss Josephine continued, her voice gentling as she saw his expression. “I feel sure she will recover also. Doctor Thomas always said that after nine days, the patient is more than likely to make an improvement. Miss Peters is strong. She will do that, my lord, I am certain of it.”
His breath shuddered out of him, his entire body trembling violently for a moment. This was more than he had expected, more than he could almost take in. He was not going to be left alone. He would have his sister and his mother back again, in time.
“Thank you, Miss Josephine,” he breathed, his voice breaking with emotion. “I cannot share with you just how much gratitude I have for what you have done.” Tears sprang to his eyes and he blinked them away rapidly, his gaze dropping to the table as he dragged air into his lungs.
Something warm touched his hand and he twisted his head to look at her, seeing Miss Josephine’s gentle expression. She was standing so close to him, trying to comfort him as best she could and his appreciation grew all the more.
“Thank you, Miss Josephine,” he said again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you.”
“You have done your part too, my lord,” she replied, as her fingers twined with his. “Your mother has recovered, thanks to you and to Jones also. She will require you to be by her side all the more these next few days. Which is why,” she continued, a little more briskly, “we must make these pies. Lady Dunstable will need to eat something a little more substantial in the coming days. Gillian did say that there was meat in the pantry, in the cool box.”
Gideon reluctantly let go of her hand, looking at her with such admiration that he could feel it warm all through him. Here was a lady with more fortitude, more strength and more determination that he himself possessed. She had f
ought on with an almost relentless spirit, doing all she could to keep his mother and sister battling against the fever, whilst still somehow managing to cook, clean and generally aid him in his running of the house.
Without being aware that he was even doing it, he pulled Miss Josephine into his arms and held her tightly, feeling his breathing growing ragged as he battled the tears that came to his eyes once again.
He tried to thank her but nothing came from his lips other than a harsh sigh. Miss Josephine seemed to understand, however, for her arms wrapped about his waist, her head resting gently against his chest.
When she tipped her head up to look at him, a gentle smile on her face, he could not help but lean down and press his lips to her cheek. How had he ever been so blessed as to have such a wonderful creature stumble into his path? Had he not ended up at the Devil’s basement, then he might never have found her, might never have known the relief that came with his mother and sister’s recovery. Raising his head, he heard her breath catch and, for a moment, an entirely different emotion ran through him.
Their eyes locked as he saw her cheeks color, surprised that he found himself thinking that, despite the tiredness in her eyes, she was rather pretty. Dismissing the thought, he smiled at her and saw her tentatively smile back, the blush darkening her cheeks all the more.
“You are going to be quite all right, Lord Dunstable,” she whispered, as he slowly, reluctantly let her go. “Everything is going to be just as it once was. All it needs is a little more time.”
“A little more time,” he murmured, suddenly realizing that one day soon, Miss Josephine would no longer be in his life and finding his heart dropping to the floor at the thought. “You will stay until you are certain they are both truly recovered?”
