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Authors: Jennifer St Giles

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BOOK: The Mistress of Trevelyan
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I'm not sure what happened after I drifted into a restless sleep. I think I saw the doctor, the maid, I felt the light cloth of my nightgown soothe my burning skin, and I know that I heard Benedict's deep voice reassuring me that all would be well. I tried to ask him for Robert because I couldn't find the little boy next to me, and I didn't want him crying for me.

"Rest, all is well," I heard Benedict say, his strong hand holding mine. Then I must have dreamed, for I felt the coolness of a damp cloth upon my cheeks and about my neck, and time became a blur, as if I dreamed but could see nothing and feel only fire and pain. The only thing that assured me that I yet lived was the comfort of Benedict's scent. I felt as if he'd enveloped me with it, and I continued to breathe, for I knew he was there. And I prayed that little Robert knew that I was with him in my heart.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

 

 

I awoke suddenly, with a sense of impending doom lurking within the midnight shadows of my chamber. A lamp, turned low, sat across the room on the side table next to the winged reading chair. My throat, a desert past the point of parched, hurt and my body ached all over. I had to sit up, had to find out what was wrong, for I felt a terrible knot squeezing my heart.

Moaning, I turned to my side and pulled off the light coverlet, noting the musky scent of sweat mingled with the far from fresh aroma of roses. It took a major effort, but I managed to slide my feet over the edge of the bed and push myself into a sitting position. The room wavered like a ship riding ocean swells, and I had to shut my eyes to quell the nausea.

"Miss, you shouldn't be gettin' up now. Mr. Trevelyan will be sorely displeased."

Popping my eyes open, I saw one of the young cleaning maids jump up from the reading chair and rush my way. She wore a white cap on a head of bouncy red curls, and her freckled brow was crinkled with worry.

"Where is..." I spoke, but the words mired in my throat and only sounded like a crackle. "Water," I rasped again.

"Yes, miss." She fetched a glass of water from the ewer on my desk and brought it back to me. I could drink but a little; the soreness in my throat was like a raw scrape being rubbed with salt. "Mr. Trevelyan will be glad to see that you'll recover. If only Master Robert would show some improvement. But I fear he only worsens."

My heart bounded with fear, and the sickening feeling that awoke me landed heavily in my stomach. "Robert? Where is he?"

"Why, the nursery, miss."

I stood, wobbling unsteadily, as I clutched the coverlet and pulled it from the bed.

"Miss, you need to be back abed. You've been very sick indeed. The doctor said scarlet fever. There's nothin' you can do for Master Robert. I should know, me mum did everything she could, and the fever still took my brother and sister. They were wee ones like Master Robert"

"No," I cried, tears stinging my eyes. Pulling the coverlet with me, I moved as quickly as I could to the nursery with the cleaning maid fussing a trail behind me. The closer I drew, the tighter my stomach cramped, for the shadowing doom seemed to thicken the air with my every step.

I stumbled through the door into the nursery. Benedict, on his knees beside the bed where little Robert lay, looked up at me. Tears streamed down his face, his expression bleak.

"No," I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

Benedict stood. He was a man completely undone, unshaven, soiled and rumpled, and without hope.

"No. He cannot have died!" I cried, my heart breaking. God couldn't have been so cruel. I forced my legs forward, determined to reach Robert, determined to wrap my arms around him and never let anything harm him.

Benedict caught me. "There is nothing else to be done. The doctor just left. He does not think Robert will make it through the—"

I could see Benedict's throat spasm and knew he couldn't force any more words out. All he could do was shake his head.

"He's still alive!" As long as there was but one beat of the child's heart left, there was hope. I pulled away from Benedict's grasp and staggered to the bed. My arms ached as I scooped Robert up, but it didn't matter. I needed to hold him. My heart broke as his body lay limp. Tears filled my eyes.

I pulled him close against me and cried out to him. "Robert! Please, sugarplum, you have to wake up and get well. It's Miss Wovell." I kissed his fevered cheek and brought him as close as I could to my heart. I paced as I held him, rocking him in my arms as I spoke. "I need you to get well and help me. Why, we have so many things left to do this summer. The baby plants are sprouting in the garden. We have Justin's birthday to plan, and it is going to be so much fun." More tears fell from my eyes, and although a fire raged in my throat, I couldn't stop talking to him. "Why, I even heard that a noted inventor will test his first streetcar right here in San Francisco. Just think, we could travel about without the need of a horse. And Cesca, she misses you terribly. So do you understand, sugarplum? There are just too many things that need to be done that I desperately need your help with. You must work very hard to get yourself better."

Benedict laid a hand on my shoulder. "You are only going to make yourself worse. You need to be resting"

"No! He needs me. He needs to know deep in his spirit that he is loved. If I have to cry to him with my last breath, so be it, but I will not stop until he hears me."

"My God, woman. You shame me." Benedict moved like lightning, scooping Robert from my arms into his strong embrace. "Robert!" his deep voice boomed. "Wake up, son. I-I-I need you, son."

Robert moaned, shifting in his father's arms a little. It was the first he'd moved since I'd picked him up. Benedict came to an abrupt stop. He stared at me, and I could see hope cut through the worn grief in his haggard face. I moved over and took Robert's hand in mine, listening to the strength in voice. "Speak to him, sing to him, let him feel your love through the vibrations of your voice."

Already, exhaustion caused my arms to tremble, but I tightened my hold on Robert's hand and whispered in his ear as Benedict talked. He spoke of the first time he'd seen Robert and how lovable he'd looked cradled in a blanket. He told Robert how happy he'd been and how much his mother had loved him. And he told Robert how he had named him after his great-grandfather. They had the same smile. Sentences began to run together in my mind, but the reassurance of Benedict's voice was a steady resonance of hope in the dark hours before dawn. At some time, exhaustion claimed me, and I sank into a chair.

I must have fallen asleep, for I woke to streaming sunlight and the sensation that I was wrapped in wet cloths, adrift on a lazy sea. In actuality, Benedict had somehow managed to gather both Robert and me in his arms. Robert, wedged between his father and me, was warm, not hot, and his breathing was easy. Benedict was asleep, his head angled awkwardly back, telling me that he was going to be in a lot of pain when moved.

Moving a hand that was almost numb, I brushed Robert's cheek, feeling the natural temperature of his skin. His eyes fluttered open, and a tiny smile curved his cherub lips. A deep sigh of relief escaped me. I knew he would recover, and I would, too. Already the soreness in my throat had eased, and I didn't feel feverish. Benedict's arms tightened. Glancing up, I saw he'd awakened.

"Your mother named you well, Titania. You fight like a queen, and your touch is full of magic," he said softly. "You saved my son."

"No. It was your voice that reached him."

"But it was your love that would not let him go."

Our gazes met. The heat of attraction that always flared was there, but something warmer and deeper lay beneath that fire. And I knew my life had met another moment that would change me forever. I also knew without a doubt that this man was innocent.

 

"Today is the day!" Robert declared. It was Friday morning, nearly two weeks after we'd fallen ill, and he came bouncing into my room with no end to his smiles.

"Yes, today we will go to the bank and even get a candy treat, if your father thinks it is all right." The trip to town was the very first thing Robert had asked to do when he'd awoken from his fever, and Benedict promised we'd go as soon as he was well. Robert immediately began declaring himself well and continued to do so every day until Benedict promised that Friday would be the day.

Though Robert was still pale and his clothes hung a little loosely, he'd recovered all of his radiant exuberance. I, on the other hand, struggled to keep up with a day wherein I did nothing more than read with Robert and Justin in the schoolroom and confer with Cook Thomas about Justin's birthday party. I'd taken my meals in my room, and in spite of retiring to bed early, I was still tired. It was a battle to gain back my strength, but it was a very sweet battle indeed. Most especially because Robert was here, pulling on my skirt. Heaven didn't know a sweeter touch.

"Can we go yet, Miss Wovell?" he asked.

"In a minute," I said gently, kissing him on his head, then checking my wan reflection in the mirror of my washstand. I chose to wear the lavender pinstripe today, remembering how Mrs. Talbot thought it perfect with my brown hair and gray eyes. In two week's time I'd become thin to the point of being frail, and it had changed my appearance. My cheekbones were more prominent, my eyes bigger, and my lips looked fuller. Around my neck, hidden beneath my gown, I wore a key on a ribbon. Benedict had had a lock placed on the secret passage's panel in the schoolroom after Robert and I had begun our recovery. He didn't want me worrying that anyone could come into our room. I now held the key, and I chose to wear that key close to my heart. There'd be only one reason I'd unlock the door, and my mind still wavered on the precipice of knowing the pleasure of a man's love or clinging to a cold practicality. To choose between purity and ruin was easy enough. But to elevate that choice between love and emptiness made the decision much harder.

My world had changed in two weeks, in a way I'd never forget.

One morning Robert had ridden Cesca with joy, and in the dark hours a few days later, he'd almost died I would never forget how fragile the precious gift of life was.

I'd seen Benedict several times since awakening in his arms with Robert cradled between us. Each time had been in the afternoon in the schoolroom, with Robert and Justin present. His every word and movement were filled with a polite, gentle warmth. Anything else we'd shared, the passion, our tempers, the tenderness, were all banked into a bed of coals that secretly simmered. I'd no strength for more, but I think even if I had, it wouldn't have changed anything.

There was a reserved air about Benedict that echoed his words,
I have nothing but dishonor to give a woman
. I promised myself that soon, I'd delve deeper into what he'd meant. For now he'd left the issue of dealing with the threatening note in my hands. Eventually we'd probably disagree, and considering the results of our last argument, I wondered what would happen. Would he kiss me? How would I react? But for now everything seemed stagnantly content as we healed. For I had no doubt that Benedict had lived every moment of Robert's illness as if it were himself who'd been sick and near death.

"Are you ready yet, Miss Wovell?"

"I'm ready. Where is Justin?" The boy's withdrawal seemed to be more pronounced since my recovery.

"He is in his bed. He does not want to go."

Fear gripping me, I rushed to the nursery. All I could think of was that Justin had now fallen ill with the fever. "Justin!"

He wasn't in his bed. I searched the room and almost missed him sitting on the window seat, his knees drawn to his chin, his arms wrapped tightly about his legs. He didn't look up at my call, just continued to stare out the window. But from what I could see, he didn't appear ill, only sad.

I drew a deep breath to settle my heart back into its proper place and walked over to him. Through the window I could see that he watched the carriage awaiting us. Did he think we'd leave without him?

"Justin," I said softly. "Let's go down and find your father."

He took a shuddering breath and turned to let me see his tears. "I want us all to stay here. I do not want anything bad to happen ever again. But even here's not safe. My mommy died. You got sick, and even Robert almost... he almost died, too. I don't want anybody. Please go away."

I sat down next to him and placed my hand over his fisted one. "You think the pain will go away if everyone goes away. You are tired of worrying. Tired of hurting." He didn't say anything, but his fist tightened, and more tears fell down his cheeks.

"Why don't we pretend for a minute? Let's say that your father, Robert, and I go to town and leave you here. Will you feel any better alone in your room?"

Justin remained silent.

"Let's pretend you are lots older, and you could leave here and go anywhere you wanted. You would never have your brother around to take your toys or to laugh with. You would never have your father around to show you how to ride Cesca. You would never have your grandma, or Uncle Stephen, or anybody else you know. Do you think you would be happy then? All alone?"

Justin slowly shook his head, his answer only making him more miserable.

I sighed. "I wish I could promise you that nothing bad will ever happen again. But I cannot. As I said before, life is like roses with thorns. There are a great many wonderful, joyous things to share, and then there are the painful, hurtful things, too. All I can tell you is that sharing life with those you love makes the good parts better and the bad parts easier to bear. Maybe you would not hurt so much if you did not keep your heart so all alone."

Justin choked back his tears. He looked so old, so solemn for a boy of almost eight. Anger nearly squeezed the breath from my lungs. It was so unfair. He needed to be running through the grass, climbing trees, and jumping with excitement at the prospect of going to town for fun.

"Are you scared, Miss Lovell? Of the bad things? Are you afraid that they will happen and you cannot stop them? That all you can do is watch?"

BOOK: The Mistress of Trevelyan
11.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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