Chapter Six #3
She turned toward him. “If you don’t mind, could you bring Peter over to Maggie’s bed? Leave all his bedding behind. Beacham, please have a maid sent up to clean the floor and the bedding. Also, have Mrs. Torbett send up some ginger tea with a bit of ground cinnamon as well as sugar.”
“At once, my lady.” Beacham turned on his heel and strode out in haste.
Darius pulled down the quilt from Peter and lifted his son in his arms. His heart skipped a beat at how light Peter was, and how warm.
Quickly, he walked to Maggie’s bed, where Eleanor had pulled back the cover.
He laid his son down carefully as if he could break, then stepped aside as his wife covered Peter to his neck.
She pushed Peter’s hair away from his forehead. “We will have you feeling better in due course, but only if you do as I say. Will you do that?”
He nodded.
“Good.” She straightened. “Now, Anna, show me where the ipecac sherry is kept.”
The nursemaid gave a start before looking at Darius for permission.
He remained unmoving. The sooner the nursemaid understood that Eleanor was to be obeyed, the better.
“Anna?” Eleanor’s hands had found her hips, and she looked none too pleased.
“It’s over here, my lady.” The nursemaid walked to a cabinet and opened it.
Eleanor’s purposeful stride brought her across the room in a trice.
Immediately, she took a bottle. Then she uncorked another bottle and sniffed.
Recorking it, she took that one too. She read the writing on two others, leaving them where they were before taking another off the shelf.
Turning, she scanned the room then strode to the chamber pot and proceeded to empty the contents of all three bottles.
“My lady!” Anna started forward then stopped. Wringing her hands, she looked to him, but once again, he didn’t move.
When Eleanor had finished, she handed the empty bottles to the nursemaid. “Bring these down to Mrs. Torbett and have her dispose of them forthwith. These substances are to never to be kept in this house again. Understood?”
The nursemaid nodded, took the bottles, and left the room.
“Now, we shall concentrate on getting better.” Eleanor went back to Peter and sat on the other side of the bed from where Darius stood.
She laid her hand over Peter’s forehead.
“Your belly has had a rough time. But we are going to make it feel better so you can sleep. By tomorrow, you will be hungrier than an elephant.”
His brow furrowed. “What’s an elephant?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Darius answered. “It’s an animal as big as a coach. It walks on four legs, has gray, leathery skin, a very small tail, big, floppy ears, and a long trunk. They live in India.”
Peter clearly didn’t believe him. He would have to find a painting of one somewhere and gift it to him. Or maybe he could have a wooden elephant commissioned for St. Nicholas Day.
Eleanor waved away the explanation. “We will learn all about elephants soon, but know that it is a big animal and eats a lot.”
“I’m not hungry,” Peter whined.
“I know, dear. But you will have a little sweet ginger tea, which will soothe your belly, and then you can sleep. Sleep is very important for feeling better.”
Maggie stepped up to the bed and laid a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “I won’t go outside and see the stars until you can too.”
Peter attempted a small smile.
“And I won’t got out to see them either, even though I usually do every night. I am going to wait until you feel better.” Eleanor gave an emphatic nod, sealing her promise. “In fact, I am not going to leave this room until you are feeling better.”
Peter looked at Darius, as he clearly didn’t believe Eleanor.
That was of little surprise, since Dinah had never even entered the nursery when one of the children was ill.
She’d left it to the servants to take care of the illness, cut, or bruise.
Since he had no reason to believe Eleanor would lie, he nodded.
Yet, even as he did so, he found himself moving away from the bed, the realization that they may not consummate the marriage tonight frustrating him. He tried to ignore the panic beginning to swell. He hated that he felt this way, but it was common after his black moods.
Hearing footsteps approaching the nursery, he opened the door to hide his angst, and gave directions to the servants.
Beacham had also returned. “Is there anything else we can do, my lord?”
The man’s concern for his son was appreciated. “Yes. Once I move Peter back to his bed, have the maid change Maggie’s.”
Eleanor turned around to address Beacham. “And tell Mrs. Torbett that I will want a full accounting of all medicinal powders, herbs, tinctures, and tonics that are currently at Hawthorne Park, as well as any herbs, dried or living.”
“I will tell her.” The butler nodded.
“Also, please have a settee or cot brought in. I will remain here with Peter, and if he is not well by evening, I will sleep here.”
Beacham didn’t react at all for a moment, clearly shocked. But he kept his face impassive nonetheless. “May I suggest a quilt and pillow as well?”
“Thank you for thinking of that. It would be most appreciated.”
After the servants left to address their next tasks for his wife, Darius tapped her on the shoulder. “I would like to speak with you.”
She gave a short nod. “I’ll be right over there, Peter.”
His son shrugged his shoulders, but it was clear he was nervous.
Darius walked to the far corner of the room, Eleanor by his side. When they reached it, he kept his voice low. “Do you know what ails him?”
“I am quite sure that he ate too many sugared plums, which made his belly ache. The nursemaid, misguided as she was, tried to help him by giving him ipecac, which caused vomiting, so it only made him feel worse.” Her voice, which had begun quietly, grew a bit louder.
“The ginger tea with cinnamon and sugar will not only settle his belly but taste good. After a few hours, if the vomiting has ceased completely, I will have him eat simple toast and more tea.” Now she spoke in normal tones that even the children were sure to hear.
“If he has quite recovered by nightfall, then he can eat normally on the morrow.”
He glanced over at his children to see them both listening avidly. He pressed his finger to his lips before asking his next question. “And if it was not the ipecac sherry?”
Her gaze flitted toward the children before returning to him. “Then he will continue to vomit and I will send for the duchess.” Though her voice had returned to a quieter level, her pronouncement shocked him.
“The duchess?”
“Yes. She is well learned in the way the body works and what is best when ill. She saved Lord Bellamore after he was shot and nursed Lady Georgina to health after she caught scarlet fever. She will know what to do.” His wife took his hand.
“Do not worry it will come to that. I am quite sure my guess is correct.” She leaned in close, her unique scent filling his nostrils as she whispered in his ear.
“I’ve had Mrs. Torbett and Cook keeping track of what Peter has been eating.
I did not wish him to starve just to make the point that he wasn’t happy I am here. ”
Many contradictory feelings assailed him at once.
While her caring and kindness filled him with relief, her cleverness caused him concern.
But it was her scent, her hand in his, and the air from her lips brushing against his ear that had him wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her.
He reached around with his free arm just as she stepped back, and he used his position to pretend a concern for her balance.
“Oh.”
“I didn’t wish you to bump into the table. Thank you for your knowledge and informed hypothesis. If you would be so good as to update me throughout the day, I would be much relieved.”
“Of course. Do not worry.” She squeezed his hand in hers before letting go. “I will have Peter up and running about as soon as possible.”
His hand felt cold, now that hers wasn’t in it, and he took a step toward the door. “Thank you.” With one last look at Peter, his sister sitting on the bed by his side, he left the room and strode downstairs to his study.
No sooner had he entered than he poured himself a scotch and took a gulp.
It was not his drink of choice, but its particular burn helped distract his mind for a moment.
He walked to the wingback chair before the fireplace, but did not sit, standing behind it to shield himself from the heat.
Finding himself attracted to his new wife was enough heat for the moment, especially if they could not consummate the marriage this night.
He set the drink down on the small, round table next to the chair and strode toward the window, too anxious to stand still.
He was torn by his need to see Peter well and the need to bind his wife to him so that his children would have someone caring for them.
In the back of his mind, he was aware that he worried needlessly.
If not tonight, there was always tomorrow night, since he never had two black moods in quick succession.
He needed to be confident his son would heal.
And he was quite sure she wouldn’t welcome him to her bed until Peter was well once more.
Striding to the bookcases on the other side of the room, he didn’t halt until he reached the bust of Plato.
“Your words, dear philosopher, ring hollow before my quandary. For what did you know of marriage and children? Great thinker that you are, even you are limited. Which makes me far more limited, for I am merely a man, and a fatally flawed one at that.”
He returned to the small table and took a sip of the whisky.
He should be celebrating the easy attraction he had for his wife.
But in his current state of mind, wanting to enjoy her and bring them both fulfillment immediately, it would just make it more difficult to be courteous and understanding of her na?veté on their first coupling.
Setting the glass down again, he examined the room.
He needed a distraction. He strode to his desk and unlocked the second drawer, pulling out the ledger.
He opened it to the last page that still needed to be totaled and forced himself to sit.
After concentrating for a few minutes and coming up with three different totals, he set the quill back in the ink and rose.
It would be better to arrange the shelves so his wife couldn’t knock anything else from them.
He moved to the bookcase behind his desk and immediately removed a vase and set it on his desk.
That raised the question about all other vases in the house.
There was a very valuable vase in the parlor, an area she would use quite often.
Immediately, he headed out of his office, anxious to make any changes necessary to ensure his wife’s continued happiness in the house.