Before I Was Yours, My Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  “That is good to know,” Evelyn said, with some relief.

  “Now, we need to get the swelling down in these feet. Alternate cold cloths with hot. That will stimulate the flow of blood to her feet, and hopefully carry off some of the swelling. At the very least, it should make the Duchess more comfortable.”

  “I am right here,” the Duchess said crossly. “Do not speak over my head to my companion, as if I were a child.”

  “We all know that you are a lady of great wit and wisdom,” Dr. Alton said soothingly. “But Mrs. Swinton will need to carry out my directions.”

  “Very well, but mind that you have a care about these things,” the Duchess sniped at him. “I am in no mood for nonsense.”

  “I can certainly see why. Now, I will go down the hall and see Mr. Rudge and Mr. McElroy, and see if we can allow Jemmy back to his duties. Would you like for me to send anyone to you as I go about my business?”

  “Indeed I would! Send up those two cooks. I’ve a good mind to dismiss them out of hand, but I will see them and discover if it is possible to talk sense to either of them.”

  “I will be glad to do that,” Dr. Alton said, a twinkle in his eye. “I wish I had time to stay and see the show, but I must get back to the village as quickly as I may. The vicar’s wife is expecting her first, and she is in a great taking, even though the midwife is with her.”

  The Duchess sighed. “One does miss the old vicar. But everyone ages, and it is not surprising that he would want to spend the rest of his days in quiet comfort. The youngster does give a rousing sermon.”

  “That he does. We shall have you up and going to listen to him in no time at all. You might need a chair to get down the hill to the chapel, but we shall get you in shape to walk to the pew on your own.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “God willing. A physician can only do so much, Your Grace, but I shall do my best for you.”

  “That’s right. Weasel your way out of your promise by blaming God. Go along with you, and send those rascally cooks up to see me.”

  “I certainly will, Your Grace. And we shall hope for better days.”

  So do we all, Evelyn thought. If Mayson gets well, I will ask for nothing else in this world.

  Chapter 40

  Mayson woke feeling as if he had been sealed in a barrel and tossed into a mill stream. His head ached, his skin felt hot, but his bones felt cold. Breathing was a chore.

  Mayson tried to heave himself up out of the nest of pillows, for it seemed to him that they were smothering him.

  “Easy now, Mr. Rudge.” Mr. McElroy, who was seated beside his bed, reached out an arm to help him up. They were making poor headway with this effort when there came a tap at the door.

  “Come in,” called Mr. McElroy.

  Mr. Wilson and the carpenter, Mr. Whitley, entered one after the other.

  Mr. Wilson hurried to catch Mr. McElroy before he could tumble off the stool chair, while Mr. Whitley hastened to the other side of the bed and helped Mayson sit up. “Heavy weather and knotty wood with you there, Mr. Rudge,” he said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Whitley,” Mayson said. “You have the right of it, I fear.” Then he began to cough violently.

  Mr. Wilson handed him a handkerchief, and said to the carpenter, “Let us help Mr. McElroy to the wingback chair. Will you have room enough to take measurements and do fittings?”

  “If Mr. McElroy will not be embarrassed to have Mr. Rudge in the same room,” Mr. Whitley replied.

  “Not at all,” Mr. McElroy said. “We have been taking care of each other for a day or two. Although that mostly means talking to each other, and staving off boredom. As long as Mr. Rudge does not mind.”

  “It’s fine,” Mayson managed to gasp, before he began coughing again.

  Mr. Wilson stepped back, looking worried and perplexed. Fortunately, Dr. Alton entered the room just then.

  “Here, my boy, drink this,” Dr. Alton said, taking a bottle from his bag and uncorking it.

  Mayson obediently drank off a large swallow, then shuddered. “What was that?” he asked.

  “A decoction of mullein and chili pepper in Blue Ruin,” Dr. Alton explained cheerfully.

  “Dear God,” Mayson swore. “That is vile.”

  “It will either cure you or scare you into pretending you are well.” Dr. Alton began listening to Mayson’s chest through a listening trumpet, then took out his big pocket watch, and began counting the ticks. He looked grave when he finished.

  “Now, you might consider this an old-fashioned or even an old wives remedy, Mr. Rudge, but we are going to make up a mustard plaster for you. The Duchess has most kindly sent for one of the village women to take over the cooking for her and for all the invalids. If Jemmy is well enough, it is my understanding that he will oversee the household cooking until you are sufficiently well to take up your duties.”

  “Now that is welcome news,” called Mr. McElroy from across the room. “I’ve not eaten so poorly since the last ship I sailed on. Even if it is ever-lasting stew, it will be better than that pie.”

  “It was pretty bad. Mrs. Swinton made toast and roasted apples for us,” Mayson confessed.

  “She is certainly a resourceful lady,” Dr. Alton observed. “Now, you are to remain in bed, Mr. Rudge. It is fortunate that days are still quite warm, but the nights are beginning to grow chilly. You will have a hardwood fire of seasoned wood so as to make as little smoke as possible. The plaster might be a little uncomfortable, so you shall have it a few minutes at a time.”

  “I know about mustard plasters,” Mayson sighed.

  “Excellent,” Dr. Alton commented. “Now I have a birth to attend and a few other things to look into. You bide there a while, and do not get yourself into trouble.”

  “Yes, Dr. Alton,” Mayson could not keep the sarcastic edge out of his voice.

  Mr. Whitley finished fitting the wooden leg, and went away with it to make a last few adjustments.

  Dr. Alton left, and Mr. Bruce came in to help with the mustard plaster.

  Then, for a time, Mayson drowsed, propped up on the pillows. After a time, Evelyn came in and sat beside him.

  “Mayson, can you take a little soup?”

  “Evelyn! When did you come in?”

  “Just a little while ago. Come now, you would not eat the porridge this morning, and you’ve eaten nothing today except the medicine Dr. Alton left for you. This is a good beef and carrot soup that the new cook made for you.”

  Mayson opened his eyes, and blinked at Evelyn, who was sitting beside his bed with a bowl in one hand, and a spoon poised in the other. “We have a new cook? What about Jemmy?”

  “Dr. Alton says that Jemmy is not yet well enough to work, so the Duchess sent for Betty’s mother. You remember Betty. She is the newest maid.”

  “I remember Betty,” Mayson said. “Nice person, easy to get along with.”

  “The very one. She has been helping with the Duchess. As you might imagine, Her Grace is having a difficult time with all the upset in her household. Were that not so, I would have been here a good while ago. Now then, open up!”

  Bemused, Mayson obediently opened his mouth. The soup was flavorful. There were no exotic spices, but there was plenty of beef flavor, along with a garnish of garlic and onions.

  “Dr. Alton says you are to have garlic in nearly everything until the congestion in your chest breaks up. He would not have left us on our own, but the vicar’s wife is having her first baby, and apparently is having a difficult time of it.”

  Mayson started to say, “Quite all right,” but as soon as his mouth opened, Evelyn popped another spoonful of soup into it. He chewed, tasting carrot. He kept his gaze on Evelyn’s face. She looked worn and tired.

  Mayson swallowed, managed to intercept the next spoonful by catching Evelyn’s hand. “How is the Duchess?” he asked.

  “Not doing well. She is having a miserable attack of gout, and is quite upset. She is especially wroth with the Duke fo
r sending us two cooks who are not worthy of the name. She sent them packing this morning.”

  “Did she? I would have given a great deal to have seen it.”

  “It was a treat. The pair of them scarcely stopped to pack their things, they fled in such a hurry. That perked her up for a little while, but it wore her out, too. She is sleeping now, and I left Betty with her.”

  “Do you think Betty can act as a companion for her?” Mayson asked.

  “Not really. But she does very well as a chamber maid, better than I in some ways. More than that, I can trust her to stay with the Duchess and not wander off on some misguided personal mission.”

  “And how is the new cook?”

  “Competent. She understands how to make a good broth. Her biscuits are a little heavy, but Jemmy will more than make up for that as soon as he is able.”

  “Evelyn,” Mayson said. “This is all happening because of me. I think you are right, we should go to New South Wales as soon as I am able to travel.”

  “You said that yesterday. And I will go with you anywhere you wish to go, Mayson. But first, we must get you well enough to travel.”

  “I’m working on it,” Mayson said peevishly.

  “Then eat up your soup. I will speak privately with Mr. Wilson.”

  “Must you? Are you sure that is a good idea?”

  “Mayson, if we do not, we shall be leaving without recommendations. For all his stiff front, he is a kindly man. I think he understands a great deal about our situation.”

  “I wish I understood it. Is Mr. McElroy listening to us?”

  “No. He went to bed as soon as I came in. Poor fellow! He has also had a hard time of it, but he is much heartened by the prospect of getting his new leg tomorrow.”

  “Evelyn, I am serious.” Mayson caught at her arm. “As long as my uncle views me as a threat, anyone near me is in danger. Mr. McElroy, that poor man! I only meant to give him a chance, now look what has happened.”

  “He says the new leg is even better than the old one,” Evelyn reassured him. “And I believe the Duchess will keep him on. Jemmy knows to watch for him when he tries too hard.”

  Mayson sighed. “I have only wanted to do good.”

  “I know.” Evelyn reached out and tucked a lock of hair out of his face. “And you have. This other person, your uncle or whoever it is, that is the person who is doing harm.”

  “I know. But sometimes I need reminding. I feel like that person in the fairy tale, Iron John, the one who had the iron bands around his chest to keep his heart from breaking.”

  “No broken hearts,” Evelyn said. “I am right here, and I have every intention of staying.”

  “Thank you,” Mayson said, pulling her down so that her head rested against his pillow. He leaned his head against hers, taking comfort from her nearness.

  A little while later, Dr. Alton came in. “Ah, you two shameless young things!” He exclaimed. “Come now, Mrs. Swinton, go on off to bed. I’ll call Mr. Bruce to sit with him tonight.”

  “I am fine,” Evelyn said, sitting up.

  “You might be now, but you need some proper rest in a bed, young lady. Off you go now, and let us tend your young gentleman. Go now.”

  “Do not worry, Mayson,” she said softly. “I will see to all the arrangements. All shall be well for both of us.”

  Then she went away, leaving Mayson to be subjected to an onion and goose-grease plaster for his chest, and another mustard plaster to his feet. Although the treatment was less than pleasant, he had to own that it was easier to breathe, and it felt as if the iron bands around his chest had loosened a little.

  Dr. Alton gave him a draught to help still the cough, and to allow him to sleep.

  His last thoughts before he drifted to sleep were of traveling with Evelyn, viewing strange sights and even stranger creatures together. It was a far more pleasant prospect than the idea of fighting for an inheritance he was not sure he even wanted.

  Outside, in the hallway, a shadowy figure slipped away. With a few backward glances, the shadowy person hastened to report, but not without trepidation, for events had not gone as planned.

  Chapter 41

  True to her word, Evelyn spoke with Mr. Wilson.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Mr. Wilson asked her. “It is quite a leap of faith to go off with a gentleman whom you have known for only a few months.”

  “I am sure,” Evelyn said.

  Mr. Wilson studied her for a few moments. “I will have a word with the vicar for you, providing that you will do one thing for me.”

  “What is that?” Evelyn asked.

  “I would like for the two of you to sit down with the vicar and discuss your future. Since he has been wed scarcely more than a year, I feel sure he will understand your situation. Mr. Rudge is an able cook, and is likely to be able to provide well for you, but you are technically still in mourning. I will not ask what has made this so urgent to you. The last few weeks have been harrowing for all of us. But I will tell you that circumstances can change quickly, and things might not be as they seem.”

  “I understand that. I would not object to a quiet discussion with the vicar, Mr. Wilson. Nor do I think that it will be a problem for Mr. Rudge.”

  “Very well. As soon as Mr. Rudge is sufficiently back on his feet to make the journey down to the village, I will set it up for you. Or I can have the vicar come here to meet with you.”

  “Do you think he would mind coming here? I am worried about Mr. Rudge. If we were married, it would give me certain privileges in regards to his care.”

  Mr. Wilson made his face very still, but a slight crinkling around his eyes gave away his reaction. “Quite so, Mrs. Swinton. It would attend to the proprieties. I will speak with the vicar. I’m sure he will not mind, providing we can tear him away from his new son.”

  “Dr. Alton mentioned he was attending a lying in! So the baby was born?”

  “Indeed so. Healthy and whole, with a papa fully prepared to declare his pride from the pulpit, in the market, or anywhere else he can get someone to listen.”

  “That is wonderful!” Evelyn declared. “It is so nice to have good news.”

  With one thing set in motion, Evelyn went about her duties with a lighter heart. The Duchess seemed in better humor, as well. She sent a scathing letter to the Main House, explaining her dismissal of the two cooks.

  “Keep them for your own household, or send them packing,” she wrote. “But do not send them back to me!” Then she handed the missive off to Evelyn to get it hand-delivered to her son.

  “That will put salt in his tea!” the Duchess declared. “Send me his second-rate castoffs, will he? Ungrateful child!”

  “I’m sure he did no such thing,” Evelyn soothed, although she was not at all sure that is was not the case.

  Whatever the Duchess’ intent, the note brought the Duke to the Dower House to pay his mother a visit. “Go take care of Mr. Rudge,” the Duchess directed Evelyn when the Duke was admitted. “I will have a word or two with my son. Please close the door behind you.”

  Evelyn hoped all would go well, but she feared that the Duke, at least, was in for an unhappy hour with his mother. She put them out of her mind and hurried to the guest chamber that was now Mayson’s room.

  She was pleased to discover that he was sitting up and sipping tea while talking with both Mr. McElroy and Jemmy.

  “How are all of you?” she asked brightly as she entered.

  “Fine as frog hair, and twice as lively,” Mr. McElroy declared. “The carpenter brought up my new leg this morning, and I’ll be back to work as soon as Dr. Alton says I may.”

  “Splendid!” Evelyn said. “And you, Jemmy?”

  “I’m already back,” Jemmy said. “I just came up to bring Mr. Rudge his tea, and to talk with him for a minute. Mrs. Bates says that she can make chicken and sage dumplings, so I was askin’ Mr. Rudge about what would go with them.”

  “What did you decide?” Evelyn asked.


  “Creamed peas, and glazed carrots,” Mayson replied. “Jemmy knows how to make the carrots, and most country women know how to cook creamed peas. It will be a simple meal, but one well suited to the household.”

  “That’s a relief,” Evelyn said. “The stew is excellent, but I was hoping we would not need to subsist on it forever.”

  “I should be heading on back,” Jemmy put in. “Mrs. Bates is a good cook, and a dab hand at orderin’ folks around, but she doesn’t know where everything is. Between us, though, we’ll do all right.”