No Greater Love (17 page)

Cyril appeared back at her side. “N-Nicholas is still out c-cold,” he said, “and B-Binkley’s had him taken up to the c-carriage. He says you’re to c-come along and b-bring the boy. There’s nothing more we can d-do here. I’ve arranged for two men to c-carry him up. And I’ve d-directed the other wounded to be taken t-to Ravenswalk. They c-can stay there until they’ve r-recuperated.”

“Why, Cyril … that is very good of you.” Georgia looked at him with extreme surprise. This was not die Cyril she knew. But she did not have the time or the inclination to think about the sudden change in his attitude. “I must go now. The child needs shelter.”

“I … I would like to c-come with you, if I m-may. I would like to assure myself that the b-boy will recover.”

“And that is good of you too, but you’ll be far more use at Ravenswalk overseeing things here. Binkley and I will look after him. I fear the child has a battle ahead of him. He will probably be staying with us for some time.”

“Then m-may I come t-tomorrow?”

“Of course you may, Cyril. You have been a tremendous help tonight. Nicholas will be very pleased to hear it, I know.”

He colored. “Here are the m-men to take the b-boy up. I will w-watch over the others t-tonight.”

“Thank you for everything, Cyril. I will see you in the morning.”

He nodded and disappeared, and Georgia handed the limp boy into the keeping of the men who awaited him, and wearily followed them up the path.

The journey back was like a procession. Half the village accompanied them on horses and in carriages. Nicholas’ rescue of the child was seen as a small miracle; the larger miracle was the return of life to the child’s body. Georgia had already heard the whispers start, and she could only hope they did not lead to trouble. Her mother had been called a witch often enough. Georgia had never understood the ignorance or the lack of gratitude that tended to follow her ministrations. But she had more important things to think about just now.

“Nicholas,” Georgia said gently, stroking his wet head where it lay in her lap. “Nicholas.” He still had not regained consciousness, and she was becoming worried. “Nicholas, it’s over. We’re going home now. We have the child. Everything’s going to be all right. Wake up, my love. Please wake up.”

But he did not stir.

She looked over at Johannes Helmut, who was still holding the child in his arms. He met her eyes and shook his head. “I have never seen anything like it, Mrs. Daventry,” he said. “Never. He went back into that water as if he were a man crazed. A hero, that’s what he is. A hero.”

“He’ll be a dead hero if we don’t get him home soon,” she said angrily. “How could you have let him go out there time after time until it came to this? How, Mr. Helmut? You must have known what would happen!”

“It was not our choice, Mrs. Daventry. It was his. He could not be stopped. Look, now. He is alive, and so is the boy, who would be dead if it had not been for him—and for you.”

Georgia just bent her head. She couldn’t help herself. The tears came unbidden, unwanted, and she cried silently, her hot tears falling off her cheeks and onto Nicholas’ cold face. She would not lose him now. She could not lose him, not Nicholas of the laughing eyes, the kind heart, the enigmatic soul. She couldn’t bear the thought that he might leave her, all because of a storm and a foundered ship.

And then she looked over at the child, and her own heart turned over. It was because of Nicholas’ kind heart that he had found the strength and courage to go back out, to save this young one’s life. How could she rage against that, when it was his very being that made him capable of such things? She thought of all the men she had ministered to that night, who never would have lived at all if it hadn’t been for Nicholas and men like him. Georgia ran a hand over her face, wiping away her tears.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Helmut. I did not mean to take my anxiety out on you. Please forgive me. I know you risked your own life in the same way.”

“Mrs. Daventry, you are a good woman. You saved many a life yourself, and we are grateful to you—and this child here should be most especially grateful. Please, do not fret yourself. Your husband is an unusually strong man, as he proved tonight. With God’s help he will recover.”

“With God’s help, yes. And I swear to you it won’t be without mine to urge God along. I will see him well. I will.”

“I am sure you will, and the child as well. And now here we are. Let the men take your husband from you and bring him inside.”

Binkley directed the men to carry Nicholas up to his bedroom, and he went up with them. She showed Johannes Helmut into the sitting room and he carefully put the boy down on the sofa, then stripped his wet clothes off and wrapped him in the blanket as Georgia stirred the dying embers of the sitting room fire into life. All of this was done without a word spoken. Georgia then examined the child, listening carefully for his breathing. It was quick but steady. She had no doubt that there were crises ahead, despite the outward signs that all was well.

“We have little left in the way of dry blankets, Mr. Helmut,” she said apologetically. “If anyone outside has any to spare, I would be grateful. As you can see, our situation is not one of luxury.”

“I understand, Mrs. Daventry. Let me see what I can do.”

He was back shortly with an entire armful. “Will this do?”

“Thank you,” she said, extremely grateful. “And if you will show those waiting outside back into the kitchen, I am sure that Binkley will make you all something hot to drink, as soon as he has seen my husband safely settled.”

Johannes Helmut bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I am very sorry, Mrs. Daventry, that we of the village have not been more generous in nature, or more forthcoming. We thought your husband to be connected to Ravenswalk, you see, and like them. And there was talk, although any fool could see your devotion to each other, so it’s not to be considered again. I’m sorry, ma’am, if we’ve caused you pain. Rumors are hard to dispel. But you and your husband both seem fine people, and that man Mr. Binkley too. What was done tonight is surely proof that the talk has been wrong. Please accept my apologies.”

Georgia bent back over the child, not wanting Johannes Helmut to see the tears that had started in her eyes again. “Thank you,” she said. “You are very kind.”

“It is of no consequence compared to what you and your husband have done this night. I will leave you, Mrs. Daventry, if there is nothing further.”

“Nothing,” she said, then laid her head on the child’s chest and cried as if her heart might break.

It was Binkley who came to her and stood her up, Binkley who quietly led her upstairs to her room and handed her dry clothes, Binkley who waited outside until she was changed and then led her downstairs again to the waiting crowd who were amassed in the kitchen.

“They need to hear something from you, madam,” he said. “Some words from the mistress of the house. Think of what your husband might want to say in these circumstances,” he added tactfully as she looked at him in dismay. “Perhaps he would want to encourage and give thanks?”

Georgia nodded, then squared her shoulders and walked into the kitchen.

“Thank you all,” she managed to say. “You were so brave and good tonight, each and every one of you. Let us pray to God for the souls of those who perished, but also pray that those who have survived so far will continue on a course of recovery. You should be very proud of yourselves and your village.”

A great cheer went up, and Georgia found herself bewildered by this sudden approbation after months of being snubbed. But at least they weren’t hissing and calling her witch, or Nicholas the devil.

“If you’ll excuse me now, I must attend to my husband and the child he brought in. Please, make yourselves warm and comfortable before you go back out into the elements. I wish we had more to offer you … Binkley? The beef, perhaps?”

Another cheer went up, and Binkley bowed to her. “As you wish, madam. These good people need nourishment. I will do what I can to provide it.”

“Excellent. Good night, and I thank all of you again.”

She left with as much dignity as she could gather, checked one more time on the sleeping child, then tore up the stairs to see Nicholas.

They had stripped him and put him into a nightshirt. He lay unmoving in his bed, the same bed where they had talked and laughed and kissed only that morning. It seemed a lifetime away. His skin was pale and cold as death. Binkley had put warm bricks in the bed and layered blankets on top of him, and she went to the fireplace and pushed even more wood into it, until the room blazed with heat. She didn’t know what to do beyond that.

She sat down on the side of the bed and tried to feel inside of him, the way her mother had taught her to do with all living things. But there was nothing there, nothing to catch hold of. Even die child downstairs had more of a feel of life to him than Nicholas did. Her heart went quite still. Deathly still.

“The hot drink you asked for, madam,” Binkley said, entering the room with a tray sometime later.

“Thank you, Binkley, but it won’t do him much good if I can’t wake him to make him take it,” Georgia answered. “It’s not a good sign.”

“He is exhausted, I think.”

“It’s more than exhaustion. I don’t know why, but it’s something I feel in my bones. But maybe tomorrow he will have improved. How is the boy?”

“He is sleeping still, madam, but his breathing is quite normal now, and he seems warm enough to the touch.”

“Good. And you, Binkley? You must be exhausted yourself. At least you are now dry.”

“It was you I was concerned about, madam. You have endured much tonight.”

“I’m perfectly well, thank you, although I do believe I will stay in here tonight.”

“A wise decision, if I may say so, madam. I will stay with the boy in front of the fire downstairs and keep a close eye on his condition. Should there be any change at all, I will alert you.”

“Thank you, Binkley. Have the men left?”

“Yes, madam. I gave them all hot coffee and a bite to eat, along with more of your thanks.”

“And you have mine as well for all you did tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

Binkley inclined his head, and softly shut the door behind him.

Georgia ended up drinking the tisane herself, as she could not rouse Nicholas. She quickly changed into her night shift, then shored up the fire again. And then, since she could think of nothing else, she climbed into the bed and pulled Nicholas against her, trying to warm him with the heat of her own body.

“Nicholas,” she said. “Oh, Nicholas, please be all right. Sleep if that is what you need, but come back to me. Please come back. Oh, please…” She ran her hands through his hair, not soft and silky as it had been that morning, but stiff with salt. She held his cold face between her hands and pressed her mouth against his, but there was no answering pressure, no movement of his lips. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his strong back. She pressed her cheek against his chest, willing him back, but there was no response.

“Oh, Nicholas,” she whispered. “Nicholas, my love…”

She held him through the rest of the night. It was the longest night she had ever known.

The next morning when Georgia woke, Nicholas was still in her arms. He had not moved, and when she touched his face, it was not to discover that he was hot with fever, as she had expected, but to find that he was still cold, far colder than he should have been. She rolled him onto his back and pressed her ear to his chest, trying very hard not to panic. His heart beat slowly, but in an even rhythm, and his chest continued to rise and fall. She knew there was something terribly wrong. She sensed it in every fiber of her being, had sensed it from the night before.

“Binkley,” she called from the bedroom door. “Binkley, come quickly!”

Binkley appeared only moments later. “What is it, madam? Has something happened?” He spoke evenly, but he was more shaken than she’d ever seen him.

“No,” she said, trying to be calm. “That’s just it. Nothing has happened. Nothing at all. I think you had better come and see.”

Binkley entered the room and went over to the bed, looking down at Nicholas. He picked up his hand and let it drop. Then he gingerly opened Nicholas’ eyelid and gazed at his eye. It did not move, not did it see.

Binkley stepped away and carefully folded his fingertips together. “It is curious,” he said.

“Curious?” Georgia said, wanting to scream. “Binkley, it is unlike anything I have ever seen! He should be recovering from exhaustion by now—or at least have a fever in reaction to the exposure. But instead he is still cold. I cannot understand this. He did not strike his head that you know of? I have found no evidence of it, but sometimes there is none.”

“No, I saw no indication that Mr. Daventry might have had a blow to the head. He was shocked, yes, but that is not surprising after he had pushed himself beyond his limits. Perhaps he only needs rest, a very long sleep.”

“I agree, but this is not a natural sleep. Oh, Binkley, I cannot bear that Nicholas might have saved all those lives only to give up his own. I really can’t.” She pushed her hand into her forehead hard, willing herself to stay strong. “He must get better. He must. I could not bear it if anything happened to him.”

“I am pleased to hear it, madam,” Binkley said.

Georgia’s eyes shot to his in dismay. “Binkley! How could you ever think otherwise?”

“It is not what I think that matters. It is what Mr. Daventry thinks. But I should return downstairs. The boy has begun to toss and turn, and his skin is very warm to the touch.”

“He is most likely the one coming down with the fever. I will be down directly. I must just dress,” she said, blushing as she realized she was standing there in her nightclothes.

“Very good, madam,” Binkley said calmly, as if he hadn’t noticed a thing, nor spoken so personally to her. “I will bring up hot water to your bedroom. Lily is not yet returned.”

Georgia sat down on the bed again and took Nicholas’ hand in her own. Binkley’s words had shocked her, and she needed to think. Was it possible that Nicholas did not know how deeply she cared about him? It was not as if she hadn’t told him, after all. But he must have said something to Binkley to indicate that he thought her indifferent. Why? Why would he think such a foolish thing? And why did it matter so much to him?