Chapter 31
“He’s going to be all right,” the physician said.
Jonathan and Violet stood side by side in the hallway outside Noah’s room, facing him.
Violet had the strange sensation that the two of them were tethered to one another.
Intermittently, she was aware that Jonathan’s arm was wrapped around her, his hand resting on her waist. It was something that under different circumstances would have set her heart fluttering, but today she couldn’t keep her attention there.
The only thing that mattered right now was Noah.
“Are you sure, Dr. Mercer?” she asked. “That fever was so high.”
“It’s come down a bit with the medicine I gave him,” Dr. Mercer said.
He gave her a gentle smile. “Try not to worry, Lady Violet. He’s resting comfortably now, and when he wakes up, he’s going to be much better.
This is not a serious condition. I’ve seen several children afflicted with the same thing just this week.
All of them have recovered quickly and well, and I’m confident the same will be true of young Noah. ”
“I only worry that he might not have gotten so ill if I had gone looking for him sooner,” she fretted. “I should have been more responsible.”
“No, there wasn’t anything you could have done.
This illness burns hot, and it is frightening, but it also fades quickly.
He is already on the mend, I guarantee it.
You may of course feel free to speak to me if you have any concerns—you may always send someone to my office—but I suspect I won’t be hearing from you again.
I think you’ll find him fully recovered within the next few days. Everything is going to be all right.”
“Thank you, Dr. Mercer,” Jonathan said. Violet heard the tension in his voice.
It tore her in two—she was heartbroken that he was suffering, but at the same time, she was deeply grateful not to be alone in this.
That they were both here together, both concerned for Noah’s well-being…
it made things easier. It made it feel more possible to face things.
The physician held out his hand for Jonathan to shake, and Jonathan took it.
Afterward, Violet wasn’t quite clear on what had happened.
She felt Jonathan release her. The next thing she knew, she had been swept up in his arms. Her vision was spotty, and she was listening to a conversation that seemed to be coming from very far away.
She had the feeling that she was coming into the middle of what was being said, as though she’d missed something.
“That can happen during times of extreme worry,” Dr. Mercer was saying.
“I don’t think anything is seriously the matter.
She doesn’t have a fever. I think you should let her rest and make sure she drinks some water.
If she isn’t feeling better in a few hours, send for me, but there’s already color back in her face. I’m not worried.”
“Are you sure?” Jonathan’s voice was anxious, and Violet registered how close he was holding her. “I wonder if maybe you should stay for a while. Just until we can be certain…”
“Jonathan,” she murmured. “I’m all right. Put me down.” She struggled a little in his grip, but she couldn’t make it anything more than halfhearted. She didn’t actually want to be put down, she realized. It was good to be held like this.
He carried her away. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of being borne along in his arms…and then he was settling her down on something soft and supportive.
She opened her eyes.
She was in the library, on the chaise where she and Noah sat to read books, and Jonathan was sitting at the end by her feet. He was watching her closely, eyebrows furrowed in obvious concern. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked her quietly.
She shook her head slowly. “We were talking to the physician. He said that Noah was going to be all right.”
“I let go of you to shake his hand, and you collapsed.” His gaze was glued to her face. “The physician seems to think it was just the exertion of your worry about Noah. How do you feel now?”
“I’m all right,” she said, struggling toward her feet.
He reached over and put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down.
“Georgina is with Noah,” he said. “She’ll come for us if he needs us, but his fever is coming down thanks to the medicine.
I think he’s going to be all right now. And I want you to relax, Violet.
I want you to rest. Will you let me have some tea brought in for you? ”
“I should be with him…”
“Not until you’ve rested,” he told her firmly. “Then you can go back, and I’ll go with you. But we need to make sure you’re healthy too. It doesn’t do him any good if you push yourself too far.”
He went to the door, spoke to someone just outside, then came back and sat beside her. “Tea is on the way,” he said. “And I want you to drink all of it, all right? The physician said it was important that you have something to drink.”
She nodded. The truth was that tea did sound good.
Though her head was clearer than it had been, she still felt tired and shaky, as if she had been awake for longer than was good for her.
It made sense to say that all this stemmed from an abundance of worry about Noah. That was exactly what it felt like.
The tea was delivered, and they sat together quietly, each drinking, neither speaking. It felt like the quiet that comes after a storm, the peace of knowing that the worst has passed. And in that moment, Violet could believe that somehow everything would work out for the best.
“How is he doing?” Jonathan asked.
Violet looked up from the rocking chair beside Noah’s bed. After resting up a bit herself, she had come right back here. She’d been sitting in this chair for about five hours now, and her back was starting to ache, so she rose to her feet and stretched her arms overhead.
“He’s all right,” she told Jonathan. “The fever is all but gone. He hasn’t woken up yet, but I suppose that’s probably to be expected, right? He went through a lot, and of course he’s tired out by it.”
“Yes,” Jonathan said. “As long as he’s sleeping restfully, we don’t have anything to worry about now. That’s what the physician said.” He regarded her for a moment. “You ought to go to bed too, Violet.”
“No, I couldn’t,” she said.
“He’s fine. He doesn’t need you to stay by his side now.”
“I know that,” she said. “It’s not…I’m not saying that I couldn’t bear to leave him. I do think that will be hard, after what’s happened, but I know that I can’t stay here with him forever. It’s just that I’m so energized. I don’t think I could possibly sleep.”
He looked at her for a moment. “Let’s walk, then,” he suggested.
“Walk?”
“If you have so much excess energy, it might be a good idea to let some of it go,” he explained. “You might be well served by doing something a little active, so that you at least have a chance at feeling tired later.”
Violet looked at Noah, lying in the bed. Her heart ached at the mere thought of walking away from him.
“He’s all right,” Jonathan said again, very quietly. “He’s going to be fine.”
She nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I can walk away for a few minutes. That will be fine.”
He turned and opened the door to usher her out, and Violet walked through.
She had to steel herself to do so—it did feel wrong to leave Noah—but the moment the door closed behind her, she felt a release of tension that she hadn’t anticipated, as if something that had been weighing her down had been released.
“Better?” Jonathan asked quietly.
So he’d noticed. “I shouldn’t be relieved to be away from him.”
“You know that’s not what this is,” Jonathan told her.
“It’s not that you’re away from him. You’re feeling this way because you don’t have to worry right now.
That’s a good thing. And it’s also the truth.
You don’t need to be worried right now. You can let it go.
You can put it down, at least for a little while. ”
He led her down the hall to his study. Once inside, he went to his desk to pour himself a drink. “Do you want one?”
But Violet’s attention had been caught by something else. “This painting. It wasn’t here the last time I was in here.”
He gave a low hum. “I’d asked the staff to hang it for me. I guess they got around to it.”
She examined it. “Is that…it’s not this house?”
It was. She didn’t need to wait for him to answer. Everything was the same. She could see the garden off to one side and the detailing on the wooden door. It was unmistakable.
She turned to face him. “You have a painting of this house?”
He was looking at it too. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and she thought he might not answer at all. But then he did. “My mother painted it.”
“I didn’t realize your mother was a painter.”
“She was. And she was fascinated by this house. She saw it one day—just in passing—and she talked about it all the time. She said this was the kind of place she would have loved to live—away from the heart of town, a river running through the back, a beautiful garden. Not too large. Of course, there was no chance of my father ever getting a house like this for her. I remember him scoffing at the very suggestion of it.”
“That’s not very kind,” Violet murmured.
“No,” Jonathan agreed darkly. “Mother couldn’t let go of the idea of this place, though, so she painted it. It’s the best work she’s ever done, in my opinion—she poured herself into it. It was also the last painting she ever finished before she died.”
Violet was quiet for a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she said at last. “That must have been difficult…were the two of you very close?”
“She was the closest person to me in the world. The only person who was ever kind,” Jonathan said.
“She was the only one who treated me as if she truly cared about me. For my father, it was just about what I could do for him. He raised me to take over the dukedom, and that was all that mattered. But my mother truly loved me.”
“And that’s why you want the house,” Violet realized.
Something in her shifted.
He didn’t want this place just because he was trying to add to his holdings. And it had never been about being cruel to her—that wasn’t something he wished for.
It was the place that made him feel close to his mother, the only person who had ever really loved him.
He must have dreamed of owning this house, coming here with his mother’s painting, hanging it up, and whispering to her that her dream house was finally theirs…
only to find, midway through buying it, that it had been given away to someone else.
For the first time, Violet felt as if she was on his side.
How could Aunt Margaret have done such a thing? What could she have been thinking? Had she known about Jonathan’s past? She couldn’t have.
I don’t see how I can possibly relinquish the house to him. Not now that Noah comes along with it. I love Noah too much to give him up, no matter what the reason.
But at the same time…can I possibly bring myself to take this house away from Jonathan, now that I truly understand what it means to him?
He looked down at her. “I’m not telling you this to try to influence you,” he said quietly. “I’m not trying to get you out of the house by saying this.”
“I didn’t think you were.” She found herself drifting closer to him without thinking about it and reached out to rest a hand on his arm.
“I’m glad you told me, Jonathan. It must have been so hard to lose your mother.
Of course, you want to honor her by living in this house.
” She looked down, then back up at him, thinking, I don’t know what we’re going to do.
He raised a hand and gently caressed the side of her face. “We are really in a bind, aren't we?” he murmured.
Violet closed her eyes.
Once more, she felt as if there was a possibility he might just lean in and kiss her.
But he wouldn’t, of course. That was the same feeling she’d gotten from him before, and she had been wrong then—and the way she kept getting carried away with her imaginings like this was so much of the problem; she needed to figure out how to set these thoughts aside, she needed to…
His lips were on hers.
She froze for a moment—had this become real, or was it still happening in her imagination, somehow?
But then the moment became too powerful to resist.
Her arms were around him, and his around her, and he was all she could perceive. The scent of him. The warmth. The way his body pressed against hers, so that they were almost inseparable, as if they had become one being—when he breathed, she rose and fell along with him.
The kiss deepened. He raised a hand to cup the back of her head, as if he was trying to pull her into him. For a moment—a wild, blissful moment—Violet succumbed.
And then, like a cold, unfriendly wind, common sense blew through her.
What am I doing? I can’t do this. I can’t allow myself to get carried away like this! It’s exactly this sort of thing that has Noah so confused. For his sake, I must maintain my senses.
She broke the kiss and stepped back.
Jonathan was watching her, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted, and she ached to forget all about common sense and just go back to him. To kiss him again, and to get lost in it.
No. I can’t. This isn’t what I want—I can’t bear to be trapped in a marriage the way my mother was. And Jonathan doesn’t wish to marry either. He’s been very clear about that.
She turned and rushed out of the room before the temptation could get the better of her again.