by Kate Pearce
“That is very kind of you,” Francis said. “But I’d rather not keep the horses or my coachman standing around in this weather.”
“As you wish.” She summoned a bright smile and curtsied. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Captain Grafton, and I hope to see you again soon.”
He waited until she and her brother entered the house, and then walked around to the stables where he’d directed his coachman to meet him.
“I’ve checked the horses and they are in fine fettle, Captain.” Ned called out as he approached. “We can set off when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Francis beckoned to the stable lad who was loitering nearby. “Has Mrs. Harding left the house yet, or does she require a ride back to town?”
“Who’s Mrs. Harding?”
“The dressmaker who was here earlier?”
“Oh, she went.” The boy gestured out into the darkness. “She asked me to find someone to take her home, but there was nobody here so she decided to walk.”
“And you let her?” Francis took a threatening step closer to the boy. “Have you seen the weather?”
“Nothing to do with me, sir.” The boy held up his hands. “It wasn’t like this when she left, which was hours ago. She was probably safely home before it even started to snow.”
Francis gave the boy a scathing look and walked around to Ned who was mounted on his box.
“Keep an eye out for Mrs. Harding on our way back to town, won’t you?”
“Mrs. Harding?” Ned frowned. “Yes, Captain.”
The return journey felt even slower. They passed the Marsham carriage turning into the drive but saw no one else. As time ticked by, Francis drew down the window, ignoring the freezing slap of the air so that he could see more clearly. They reached a crossroads where the major road went directly into Millcastle and turned right onto it.
“Wait!” Francis shouted and wrenched open the carriage door, almost falling as his feet slipped on the ice. He wasn’t wearing boots, and his leather shoes were instantly soaked through to his stockings.
He scrambled up a snowdrift gathered around the trunk of a tree where a square of blue stood out against the whiteness and dug through the shallow snow until he discovered the still figure of Mrs. Harding. Her eyes were closed, but the heat emanating from her skin meant she wasn’t yet dead.
He lifted her into his arms and turned back toward the carriage where Ned was approaching him with a blanket.
“Bloody hell, Captain! Not sure how you spotted her!”
“Neither am I,” Francis said grimly as he wrapped her in the blanket and stepped up awkwardly into the carriage. “Take me back to town, and if you can increase the pace without overturning us, then please do so.”
As he settled back against the seat, Mrs. Harding opened her eyes and stared blankly up at him.
“What on earth?” she whispered, her voice a thread.
“I found you buried in the snow, you stupid fool,” he snapped. “What maggot got into your head to make you attempt to walk home in this weather?”
She gave a convulsive shudder and turned her face away from him, her whole body suddenly a dead weight.
“Caroline?”
Francis checked that she was still breathing and then sat and held her until his own heart settled down and he stopped thinking about how he might have missed her altogether.
On arrival at the inn, Ned helped him bring her inside. Nancy looked up as he came through the busy kitchen.
“What have you got there, luv? Not a bloody corpse I hope.”
“Quite close to one.” Francis headed for the stairs. “Bring up some hot water and some of my best brandy will you?”
He climbed the steep stairs grumbling aloud about Mrs. Harding’s unexpected weight and laid her carefully on his bed. By the time Nancy arrived, he had already started taking her out of her wet clothes.
“Where did you find her?” Nancy set the sodden boots by the fire.
“In a snow drift.”
“Why was she out in this weather?”
“Because the fool went to the Marshams to fix Miss Marsham’s bloody dress and apparently decided to walk home afterward.” Francis glared down at his bookkeeper’s oblivious face. “I don’t suppose it occurred to her to wait until the carriage returned to take her home?”
Nancy placed her hand on Mrs. Harding’s forehead. “She’s burning up. Do you want me to fetch a doctor?”
“Let’s see how she is in a little while.” Francis threw her damp shift on top of the growing pile on the floor. “Can you lend her a nightgown and let her family know that she is safe and being taken care of?”
Nancy gathered up the clothes. “Do you want one of her sisters to come and tend to her?”
“No, I’ll do it.”
Nancy raised her eyebrows. “You?”
“How difficult can it be?” He shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d tended to the sick and the dying. “I’ve got some work to do. I can sit here by the fire and keep an eye on her.”
“As you wish, but you know where I am if you get bored.” She nodded. “I’ll get this lot washed before tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Francis shut the door, stripped off his best coat and embroidered waistcoat and hung them in the cupboard. He didn’t bother with a valet. Nancy kept his clothes laundered and fresh for him when he was in Millcastle. After setting his ruined shoes outside the door to be attended to, he padded across the floor to look down on Caroline.
Her breathing sounded like the rasp of a saw, her nose was red, and her cheeks chapped. He felt her hands, which were cold, and her forehead, which was boiling hot. He remembered Miss Emily suggesting that Mrs. Harding might have had a cough when she arrived at the house. After exposing herself to the elements, she would be lucky if it didn’t develop into something far more serious.
“Stupid woman,” he muttered. “Too independent and proud for her own good.”
In truth, she was just like him. He wouldn’t have tamely waited for a ride either but would’ve struck out on his own. There was a knock on the door, and Nancy returned with a clean nightgown and some laudanum. After helping Caroline into the garment, they tucked her up in bed with a single sheet over her body.
“I had a reply from Ruby Delisle,” Nancy said. “Her mother is too sick to get out of bed, and so is Ivy. Ruby’s taking care of them and sends her thanks that we can look after Mrs. Harding.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll make sure Ruby’s all right tomorrow,” Nancy said as she plumped up the remaining pillows. “She’s a good girl that one.”
“She’s certainly as feisty as her sister,” Francis grumbled.
“Get along with you.” Nancy grinned at him. “You like the feisty ones.”
After Nancy left, Francis poured himself a large glass of brandy and settled down by the fire to read the proposal Mr. Fletcher from the locomotive company had sent him. The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven times, and Mrs. Harding moved restlessly around on the bed.
Francis got up and went to her side. Her eyes were still closed, but she was muttering frantically.
“I… have to get up and go to work… need the rent… need food, I can’t—”
“It’s all right, Caroline. You’re quite safe here.” Francis sat on the side of the bed and took her hand. “Just sleep. Everything can be sorted out tomorrow.”
“I can’t… let everyone down. They need me—”
He squeezed her fingers. “You aren’t letting anyone down. Your family is well, and all you have to do is go to sleep. That’s an order.”
She lapsed back into silence, and he returned to his task, his mind still too alert to imagine sleeping. To his disquiet, his patient’s breathing worsened, and she started to babble half sentences full of her fears and worries that broke his heart, and nothing would soothe her.
By two in the morning, he was sufficiently concerned to come down to the kitchen, wake one o
f the stable boys, and send him running for the doctor. Seeing as the man rented his premises from Francis, he knew he would come out.
Hearing voices and a door closing, Caroline managed to open her eyes, and slowly turned her head toward the sounds.
“So, you’re finally awake, are you?”
She blinked as Captain Grafton scowled back at her. He looked quite unkempt with his rolled up shirtsleeves and unshaven chin. He came over, and she shrank back against the pillows, but he did nothing more threatening than offer her a glass of water. She licked her dry lips and attempted to sit up.
“You’re as weak as a kitten.” He slid an arm around her waist and hoisted her up against the headboard. “I’ll hold the glass and you just sip slowly.”
She did as he suggested and sighed with pleasure as the water trickled down her parched throat.
“What happened?” she whispered.
He set the glass down and sat on the side of the bed. “Don’t you remember?”
She shook her head. It hurt to talk.
“You decided to walk home from the Marshams and ended up buried in a snow drift.”
“Oh.” Caroline frowned and tried to recall when everything had started to go wrong. “Yes.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you stay in the house until the Marshams returned and were able to give you a ride home?”
“I didn’t wish to put them out.”
“And why, for God’s sake did you even indulge that child by going out there in the first place? Can’t she sew her own damned hem?”
Caroline winced at his loudness. There was no point in defending herself. She was country born and knew better than to wander around in the snow. Her decision to leave the house had more to do with seeing Captain Grafton with Miss Emily together than in common sense. She had no recollection of most of the walk because she’d been so hot and dizzy. By the time she’d decided to turn back, she’d already lost her bearings.
“Please don’t shout,” she managed. “I know—”
“Were you too proud to ask for help?” he asked. “Did you think it beneath you?”
To her horror, she felt a tear slide down her cheek, swiftly followed by another one, and then another.
“Oh, dear God. Now you’re crying.” He handed her a large handkerchief and walked away from the bed. “Typical!”
Caroline pressed her lips together, but the tears continued to fall. With a curse, Captain Grafton walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. She wiped her tears with the handkerchief that smelled just like its owner, eased back the covers, and attempted to put her feet on the floor.
“Where the devil are you going now?” He came back in carrying a tray.
“I thought I should go home.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.” He set the tray down beside the bed with a crash. “Get back in before I do it for you.”
“You’re being a horrible bully.”
“I know.” He obviously decided she wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking and dumped her back in bed. “Sit up and have your soup.”
She opened her mouth to argue, and instead he fed her a spoonful of soup and continued to do so until the whole bowl was empty.
“Well that’s a vast improvement.” He dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “Up until today it’s been rather like feeding a slobbering baby.”
With all the liquids going down her throat her voice was slightly stronger. “You’ve been… taking care of me?”
“Who else?” He placed the spoon in the bowl and helped himself to a pork pie and a pile of roast potatoes. “Everyone else in this whole damn town is sick.”
“Is my mother all right? My sisters?”
“Mrs. Bridgewater has been keeping an eye on them, and everyone is on the mend.” He drank some ale. “That’s why I didn’t take you home.”
“You found me, didn’t you?” Caroline said slowly.
“You remember that?” He eyed her over his pint of ale. “I was damn lucky.”
“I remember walking and feeling more and more ill, and then the snow came, and I sat down beside a tree to get my bearings. I don’t remember much after that apart from you shouting at me in your carriage.”
“I shout at you a lot, don’t I?” His faint smile returned. “Not that you don’t deserve it. What a stupid thing to do.”
“It was not my finest moment,” she conceded. “But I felt so dreadful I just wanted to get home.”
“Understandable.” He sipped his ale, his gaze withdrawn. “When we were under siege at the fort with no food or bullets left, I thought I was going to die. In my fever all I could think about was Wesley Hall, and my mother and father smiling down at me. Stupid, eh?”
“Under siege?” Caroline asked.
“One of those minor uprisings against the British that never made the newspapers in England because it wouldn’t be good for morale. We were eventually relieved, and all six of us who were left standing marched out under our very tattered flag.” He grimaced. “That’s when the real trouble started. The relieving commanding officer decided he wanted to ‘make an example of the town’ and raze it to the ground. I objected and kept objecting until they arrested me and carted me off to Delhi to face a military court.”
He smiled at her. “I went from the hero of the hour to the villain, and so I have remained.”
Caroline held his gaze. “I think you did the right thing.”
He got up from the bed and picked up the tray. “I’ll just take this down to the kitchen. Mrs. Bridgewater will be delighted to see that you’ve eaten something.”
He was almost at the door before she managed to speak. “Captain Grafton?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“Hardly that, my dear. Just a lucky chance.”
He nodded and left her alone to her thoughts, which were far more complicated than she wanted them to be. If he was telling the truth about his past, and she had no reason to doubt that he was, he’d actually tried to stop an unnecessary massacre and had suffered the consequences.
He’d also saved her life, whether he laid claim to it or not, and looked after her when she was sick. Tears threatened again, but this time she held them back. She had no concerned father or husband to look for her. If he hadn’t found her, no one would have noticed she wasn’t safely home until it was too late…
She remembered how thick the snow had become, how quickly it had piled up around her when she sank down to rest beside the tree She could still be there now—a frozen corpse awaiting discovery in the thaw. But there had been peace there, too—a sense that death wouldn’t be cruel, but that life needed to be enjoyed to its fullest.
Whatever happened between her and the captain, she would never forget what he had done—especially when he was trying her patience.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of Nancy Bridgewater who smiled at Caroline as she came across the room.
“You’re looking much improved!” she chuckled. “There were a couple of nights when we weren’t sure you’d survive. Captain Grafton insisted that you were too stubborn to die, and that he’d bet on you all the way. It seems as if he was right.”
“Thank you for caring for me.” Caroline returned the smile.
“Oh, I did very little, dearie. His lordship got on his high horse and insisted he was going to do everything himself. He was the one who worked out that you weren’t at the Marshams and told my Ned to drive really slowly in case he saw you along the way back. And thank the good lord he did. The captain even got the doctor in and paid his bill without a whimper.”
“The doctor?” Caroline mentally calculated how much she owed Captain Grafton now. “Was I really that ill?”
“Indeed, you were.”
“What day is it?” Caroline asked.
“It’s Sunday.”
“So I’ve been here for over a week?”
“I beli
eve so,” Nancy opened the curtains. “Now would you like something else to eat before I start my cooking?”
Chapter 11
Caroline cleared her throat, and Captain Grafton raised his head. It was very late in the evening and both of them were still at their desks. She’d been back at work for almost a week now, and was feeling much improved.
“Yes, Mrs. Harding?”
She lingered by the door, her sudden shyness with him as unexpected as it was unnerving.
“I just wanted you to know that I have almost made up the time I lost on your books when I was unwell.”
“I would expect nothing less of you.”
“And if you wish to take the money you spent on bringing a doctor to see me out of my wages I would quite understand.”
He put down his pen. “Why are you being so pleasant to me?”
“Perhaps because I am grateful for your care?” Caroline offered.
“I don’t need your gratitude.” He looked down at his desk and shuffled his papers.
“Whether you accept it or not, it is still yours.” Caroline pointed out. “It was very kind of you—”
“Stop.” He pushed back his chair and came toward her. “If I’d known you were going to keep up this ridiculous fawning I would’ve left you in the snow.”
“You would not have done that.” She met his glare. “Just because you did something nice for someone once doesn’t mean that your horrible reputation is at risk. I don’t intend to tell anyone that you actually have a kind heart under your unpleasant exterior.”
“I don’t have a kind heart. I’m a deeply selfish man who simply does not relish the impossible task of finding another bookkeeper who also warms my bed!”
Caroline took a quick breath. “Then perhaps I can show you my gratitude in a more physical way.”
He went still, one eyebrow raised. “On your knees, perhaps?”
“If that is what you want.” She held his gaze. “Shall I await you in my bedchamber?”
He nodded, and she went back across the hall, made sure her office was secure, and then into her bedroom locking the exterior door behind her. For the first time, her fingers were steady as she undressed, her thoughts on how it would feel to kneel at his feet and offer him pleasure. Almost dying in the snow had made her think about enjoying the moments more. Denying that she liked him touching her was no longer an option. She would no longer be ashamed of how she felt.
