by Kira Stewart
Indicating a small golden locket held by a delicate chain around her neck, the girl opened it to reveal a small painted miniature portrait of a young woman.
“She is beautiful, Theresa, just like you. Now, try to sit up, dearest and breathe in some of this. It is only water infused with Thyme leaves, and it will help clear your chest.”
The girl did as she was told, taking in lungfuls of the sweet aromatic moist air. When her breathing seemed a little easier, Rebecca laid her back onto the pillow, so she could apply the mustard poultice on her chest. As she did so, the girl reached up behind her neck and undid the gold chain.
“Rebecca, should anything happen to me, I would like you to have this. I know of Edward’s affection for you, and I can see why he loves you. You have been so kind to me this evening, and when father has been so unkind. He does not mean to be so cold, Rebecca. I think his heart was broken when mother died, and he has never recovered.”
Starting to cough once again, she handed the locket across to Rebecca.
For a moment, Rebecca could not speak, the emotion welling in the base of her throat. Quickly blinking back the tears, the young woman tried to smile.
“Now, that is silly talk. I will place the locket on your dressing table. You will soon be fine and well, I promise you. Now, let me place this poultice onto your chest, so it can work its magic.”
The hot beef tea was brought up and Theresa drank it. She seemed much easier now, and closing her eyes, she drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Stifling a yawn, Rebecca suddenly felt weary herself, the efforts and emotions of the evening having taken their toll. Standing up, she stretched her body, before putting more logs onto the fire. She, too, would try to get some rest. Propping herself up in a chair and making herself as comfortable as possible, she slept.
It was just before three when she awoke with a start. The candles had burned away and the room was in darkness, with only the glowing embers of the fire providing a soft orange light. An owl hooted in the distance and Rebecca wondered if that had woken her. The room had turned a little chilly, and shivering slightly, she walked to the window and peered out into the night. The storm had blown itself out and a sliver of moon had now appeared high in the sky, and reflected on the glasslike surface of the lake.
Her thoughts filled with Edward, and she wondered where he was and if he was sleeping soundly, or if he was awake like her. Perhaps, they were gazing at the same moon?
As the distant church bells chimed the hour, she turned sadly back into the room. This was not the time to be melancholy, and moving across the room, she loaded more logs into the fireplace.
“Father?”
The girl suddenly sat up in bed, her eyes wide, as if in fright. Rebecca thought the girl must have been dreaming, and quickly crossed to the bedside.
“It is I, darling, Rebecca. Your father will be here soon. Now, do lay back and try to sleep.”
“Father, we must go. I cannot stay here; it is so cold. Come, father, let us go where it is warm.”
Theresa’s head was burning up, and her eyes looked wild and frightened.
Taking her hand, Rebecca attempted to soothe the girl.
“It is Rebecca, darling. I have just put more logs onto the fire and you will feel warm soon. Now, do try and lay back and rest.”
The girl did not seem to hear her, and started jabbering senseless words. The fever had taken its hold on her, and the poor girl was now delirious.
What to do? Rebecca felt afraid. Perhaps she should send for her mother, but it was three in the morning, and what would her mother do that Rebecca had not already thought of? Besides, it would only cause her mother to worry, and she had been through enough.
There must be something she could do. If she was home and it was one of her own sisters, what would she do? Kneeling by the bedside, she put her hands together in prayer.
“Dear Lord. Please, help me in this time of need, and show me what to do. You saved my sister, Lucy. Please, show mercy on this poor girl and let her live. In the name of your son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Suddenly, it came to her. There was only one thing she could think of. Taking off her slippers, she walked to the other side of the bed, and slipping under the sheets, she got into bed with the poor young girl.
Grace had been ill when they were much younger, and unbeknownst to her mother, Rebecca had slipped into her room during the night, and was found the next morning, with her arms wrapped about her sister. Grace had recovered. It had worked then, why not now? It was the only thing left to her.
Reaching her arms around the girl’s slight body, Rebecca could feel the damp heat of the girl’s skin. It was almost unbearable, but perhaps with her own body heat, she could break the fever. Theresa muttered and was restless, but eventually she lay still and slept.
For Rebecca, it was a fitful night’s sleep. For hours, she seemed to lay awake, listening to the labored breathing of the young girl. At other times, she dozed, half dreaming. A soft light filtered into the room, as dawn began to break, and for a moment, in the half-light, she thought she saw her father sat on the edge of the bed. Smiling, he reached across to her.
“All will be well, my darling. All will be well.”
She sat up with a start.
“Daddy?”
But it was just the morning light. The room was empty and she had been dreaming.
“Rebecca?”
Theresa opened her eyes. The young girl was no longer delirious. The fever had broken.
“Oh, my darling, you will be well again. Now, rest and I will fetch you some more beef tea and make up the fire again.”
Kissing the girl, she closed her eyes for a moment and offered her thanks to God, before slipping out of the bed and making her way back down to the kitchen.
Despite her lack of sleep, the world looked good again. Everything would work out, she just knew it.
Grace arrived early that morning, as promised, and the two sisters embraced. Now, Rebecca could get a few hours of sleep, whilst Grace kept an eye on the girl.
It was almost midday, when the sound of a carriage arriving outside awoke the girl. Grace was already standing by the window.
“Is it the doctor?”
The girl looked worried and shook her head.
“I’m afraid Sir Percy has returned.”
•••
The Duke had fretted all day about his daughter, and had travelled back through the night to be home with her.
Being met at the door by one of his men, he was told of the Brancepth girls’ visit, and stormed up the stairs in a rage.
Flinging open the bedroom door, he stomped into the room. Sir Percy was already deeply worried about his daughter. He was tired and his nerves were shattered. He was in no mood to entertain the Brancepth girls.
“What is the meaning of this? Why are you here? I would ask you both to leave here, immediately.”
The man’s eyes blazed across at the two girls, before he crossed over to his daughter, his tone softening for a moment.
“How are you, my dear?”
“Theresa is much improved, sir. She was quite delirious in the night, but the fever seems to have abated.”
“Are you a physician, Miss Brancepth? And where is the doctor?”
“The doctor is away, sir. He should be coming later today. I did what I could and made a mustard poultice and a steam inhalation with thyme.”
Sir Percy was enraged.
“How dare you meddle with my daughter’s health? You could have killed her. Now, be gone, both of you. You shall be moving to London soon, I believe. The sooner the better on all accounts.”
The young girl tried to sit up in bed and speak out for her friend, but it brought on a coughing fit, and Theresa was unable to speak.
“There, see what you have done? If anything happens to my daughter, I shall hold you responsible, Miss Brancepth. Now, please leave this house.”
In tears, the girl fled with her sister. Never had she
felt so miserable.
“Oh, Grace. That man is the limit. How can I marry the son, when the father hates me so?”
“He is upset, that is all, Rebecca. He loves his daughter very much and he cannot see through his own fear. When the girl is well, she will tell her father how much you helped her, and he will come around, just you wait.”
Rebecca was not convinced, and by the time she arrived home, her head was hurting and all she wanted to do was sleep.
Her body ached from head to toe, and as soon as she lay down on the cool sheets, the tiredness took over and she slept.
•••
The night was dark, and the road before her was long. Rebecca felt weak, but she had to carry on walking. Is he stopped now? She would never reach her destination. She was cold, so very cold, and stumbled as she walked. There was a faint light shining up ahead of her, but it was so distant that is was hard to see. A figure was silhouetted against the light, and as she neared, she recognized the shadowy form. It was Edward, and yet he was still so far away. Trying to run, the road turned to mud beneath her feet, making the journey almost impossible, but get there she must.
•••
Rebecca was very ill. She had caught the fever from Theresa, and lay half unconscious in bed. Occasionally, she would mutter unintelligible words, and once or twice, would shout out the name of Edward. The doctor was called for. He saw no reason why Rebecca should not recover. She was a healthy girl, but it was almost as if she had given up, that her fight for her life was over. Dr. Roberts could do no more. It was now down to her.
The whole family took turns sitting with her, and each of the girls prayed for their sister.
•••
Rebecca could now see Edward. He was smiling, one hand outstretched toward her. She was tired, her legs too heavy to walk much farther, and yet, try to reach him she must, or all would be lost. With a great effort, she soldiered on, the young man getting nearer.
Another figure appeared by her side. At first, it was a shadowy grey mist that swirled around her, so she could not see Edward, and then it almost seemed to be pulling her backwards. It was Sir Percy, pulling her away from the man she loved.
With all the energy she could muster, Rebecca pulled away, rushing toward her beloved Edward.
•••
“Rebecca?”
The girl opened her eyes, to see her beloved Edward, sitting beside her and holding her hand. Now, she knew nothing would part them.
Smiling, she closed her eyes again. She needed desperately to sleep, and this time, her dreams would be happy ones.
23.
Rebecca slept for the next twenty-four hours, whilst Edward sat at her bedside. Grace had sent for him, knowing he was the only one who would bring her sister back to them. He would give her a reason to live.
The next morning, there was a knock at the cottage door. At first, Lady Brancepth was reluctant to open it, for it was Sir Percy D’Arcy, yet it was his cottage, and she had an obligation to let him in. However, that would not spare her giving him a piece of her mind.
As soon as he stepped over the threshold, she started upon him.
“You are not welcome, sir, if you are here to make any trouble. My daughter is very ill, and it is no thanks to you, sir. She would not be in this state, had she not spent the time with your own daughter, who I trust is on the mend. Indeed, I do not wish Miss D’Arcy any ill, sir. In fact, quite the opposite. But you, sir, you have been nothing but unpleasant to us since you arrived, and I wish that you would go. If my daughter recovers, we shall be leaving this place, as soon as we possibly can.”
Lady Brancepth took a deep breath, expecting more verbal abuse from the Duke, but he remained unexpectedly quiet and his face quite contrite.
“I am sorry, madam, that I have caused you offence in the past, and will not remain if my doing so causes you pain. I had just called to see how Miss Brancepth is doing, and to see if there is anything I can do. I see now that my visit is entirely inappropriate, under the circumstances, and I shall leave. I brought these … I?”
Producing a bunch of flowers from behind his back, he handed them to an astonished Lady Brancepth, before making to leave.
“Father?”
On hearing his voice, Edward entered the hallway.
“Edward, I did not know that you were here.”
The boy had not expected to see his father, but now was the time to stand up to him.
“Sir, I am here to see Rebecca. I love her and if she recovers, then we shall be married.”
For a moment, the father looked at the son, and it almost looked as though there were tears in his eyes.
“Dear Edward. Dr. Roberts has told me that Rebecca Brancepth saved our dear Theresa’s life. If it hadn’t been for that brave girl’s kind actions, then your sister would have almost definitely perished. I have been wrong, son, and I hope that it is not too late to make amends. I have let this old feud harden my heart toward you and yours, Lady Brancepth, and it is now time that this silly feud ends. It has taken nearly the death of our beloved daughters to make me see sense. Edward, I would be proud for you to marry Miss Brancepth. I only hope that I am not too late to make amends? Now, I will leave you in peace. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do.”
As he reached for the door, Edward called him back, and the two men embraced for the first time since the boy was small.
Lady Brancepth held out her hand in friendship, and taking it delicately in his gloved hand, Sir Percy reached down to kiss it.
“Is there is anything, anything at all, I can do, Lady Brancepth?”
The woman smiled.
“I think you have done everything that is necessary, sir, and do call me Elizabeth.”
When Edward returned to the bedroom, Rebecca had awoken, hearing the voices. She had recognized Sir Percy’s voice and looked anxious.
“What did your father want, Edward?”
The young man smiled.
“He just wanted to wish us well on our forthcoming wedding. Look, he even sent you flowers!”
Sitting up, Rebecca could not help the tears from falling; but this time they were tears of happiness.
Producing a fresh white handkerchief, Edward dabbed gently at her eyes.
“Oh my love. I hope these are the last tears you will ever shed, for I mean to make you the happiest girl alive. Now there is something I must do. Something I have been meaning to do since the first time I saw you.”
Leaning gently toward her, Rebecca felt his strong arms encircling her waist. As his face neared hers, she closed her eyes in expectancy of his kiss. She had waited a long time for this moment. At last there would be a happy ever after.
Epilogue
Rebecca made a full recovery, and soon, her engagement to Edward D’Arcy was announced. The wedding took place in the tiny chapel belonging to Heathfield Hall, and the place was once again, filled with happiness.
Rebecca looked beautiful, and her five sisters were joined by Theresa D’Arcy as her bridesmaids.
It was an emotional moment, as Uncle Joe walked Rebecca down the aisle in place of her father, causing a few tears for Lady Brancepth. Sir Percy, sitting by her side, quickly offered his handkerchief. His heart, too, almost burst with pride, as he watched his son marry such a kind and beautiful girl. His daughter was also looking well. He had been wrong to keep her cooped up in the house, afraid that she, like his wife, would be taken away from him too soon. Now, she visited the Brancepth girls on a daily basis, and the fresh air and friendship had made her into a blossoming and healthy young lady.
Grace was the one to catch her sister’s bouquet, as it was traditionally thrown after the ceremony, and she and Harry Masterton smiled at each other. Their engagement had just been announced, and it would be their turn soon.
At long last, the feud between the D’Arcys and Brancepths was finally put to rest, and in no better way than the joining together of the two families.
Rebecca D’Arcy smiled.
She had never been happier. Her father would have been very proud, very proud indeed.
The End
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Copyright ©2018 by Kira Stewart. All rights reserved.
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Prologue
The sun shone brightly on the neat walled cottage garden that lay behind the rectory in the little Parish of Redmond, deep in the Hampshire countryside.
Henrietta Maldon, the youngest daughter of James Maldon, the rector of Redmond Parish, sat quietly beneath the shade of an apple tree, absorbed in the latest novel.
A rag tag gang of vagabond thieves had just held up the carriage of a young lady named Sarah, and she was about to be abandoned and left to her fate.
It was not a particularly genteel book for a young lady to be so enraptured with, but her heart was beating fast, and her face flushed as she read on. But then again, Henrietta Maldon was not a particularly ordinary young lady. Her mind was filled with the books she had read, the far-fetched adventures of other spirited young women, of whom she hoped one day to emulate.
Unlike her older sisters, Kitty and Jane, Henrietta was not content to sit at her needlework or practice on the pianoforte. She loved instead to be outdoors, feeling the sun on her cheeks, or sitting on the low branches of a tree, and much to the chagrin of her mama—her nose poised between the pages of the latest book.
