Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The coach drew to a shuddering halt and Isabel lifted the leather curtain to peer out of the window. In the dark she could make out little except the outline of a small cottage. Lights burned in one of the downstairs windows, and above the front porch, light glimmered between curtains.
The front door opened, and the silhouette of a young man appeared on the threshold. He held up a lamp, illuminating his face, and stared at the magnificent coach with undisguised awe.
‘Matt!’
Without waiting for the footman, Sebastian flung open the door of the coach, jumped down, and raced towards the door like a schoolboy.
The two men met on the garden path and embraced.
Remembering Isabel, Sebastian turned as the coachman handed her down from the coach. With one arm across his brother’s shoulder, he guided the young man forward.
‘Lady Somerton, allow me to present my brother, Matthew Alder.’
Matthew bowed low over Isabel’s hand.
‘Welcome to Little Benning, Lady Somerton. I only wish it was in better circumstances.’
He smiled at her, and she found herself unable to resist a smile in response.
Even in the light of the coach lanterns, she could see he was a good-looking young man, half a head shorter than his brother, his hair a few shades lighter.
His eyes crinkled at the edges, and his mouth seemed to be lifted in a permanent smile.
If he had not already broken every heart in this village, he soon would.
‘How is Connie?’ Sebastian asked.
The humour drained from Matt’s face, and he shook his head.
‘The doctor’s bled her again this evening but he says if the fever does not break by the morning...’
‘Then let me see her.’ Isabel began walking down the path, removing her gloves.
At the door, an elderly dame who wore the cap and apron of a servant met them. The woman bobbed a curtsey, holding out her hand for Isabel’s hat, cloak, and gloves.
‘Lady Somerton, this is Mrs. Mead, our housekeeper,’ Matthew affected the introduction.
‘Lady Somerton?’ The old woman turned to Sebastian, her expression one of surprise and confusion.
‘The widowed Lady Somerton.’ Isabel made the correction herself.
Mrs. Mead cast a curious glance at Sebastian, who ducked his head to enter the cottage. He bent to kiss the woman.
‘Mrs. Mead, as I asked in my message, did you arrange the best room for Lady Somerton at the White Swan?’ he asked.
Isabel turned to him with the unspoken question on her lips.
‘There’s no room here and you must be exhausted after the journey,’ Sebastian said, spreading his hand apologetically.
‘The White Swan has no rooms tonight,’ Matt said. ‘But we have made arrangements for Lady Somerton to have my room. I’ll share with you, Bas,’ Matthew said.
‘Thank you, Mr. Alder. Your room will do me fine and I will be more use here than living in splendour at the inn.’
‘You haven’t seen the White Swan,’ Matt murmured under his breath.
‘My lady, we live very simply,’ Mrs. Mead said, a frown creasing her brow.
Isabel held up a hand. ‘Mrs. Mead, I am here to help, not to be entertained. Now, shall we go up? I know Lord Somerton would like to see his sister.’
‘Help? What help is a fine lady like her going to be?’ Isabel heard the old lady whisper to Matthew as they climbed the narrow stairs to the upper storey of the cottage.
Four doors led off the tiny landing. The unmistakable fug of a sickroom permeated the close atmosphere as Sebastian opened one of the doors, again ducking his head to enter the room.
A fire burned fiercely in the hearth, making the room unbearably warm. Obscured by the piles of bedding, a young woman tossed feverishly in the bed. She had thrown the bedding off, and Mrs. Mead, hurried forward, pulling the blankets up again.
‘Leave them,’ Isabel said.
‘Doctor said she had to be kept warm,’ the old woman said.
‘Fiddlesticks!’ Isabel said.
The old woman stiffened, her eyes wide with shock.
Isabel met her gaze and continued, ‘Damp that fire immediately and open the windows.’
Mrs. Mead looked at Sebastian.
‘Isabel?’ Sebastian raised a quizzical eyebrow.
She returned his gaze with unblinking evenness. ‘Trust me, Sebastian. I know what I am doing.’
He turned to Mrs. Mead. ‘Please do as her ladyship has asked, Mrs. Mead. Her methods are unorthodox, but I know from personal experience they seem to work.’
Isabel looked at him, and her heart lurched as he smiled and winked at her. Did he remember that night in London when she had nursed him through his fever’s crisis?
The old woman gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘But, my lord, the doctor was most insistent...’
Isabel bit back a retort about the wisdom of the doctor and said, ‘Please, Mrs. Mead. I do have some knowledge in these matters.’ She glanced at Matt. ‘Mister Alder, can you fetch me a bowl of water? Cold from a well, if possible. And some cloths.’
She flung back the curtains and shutters and opened the windows, filling the room with the cool night air. The girl on the bed took a shuddering breath and her eyes flickered open.
Sebastian perched on the edge of the bed, taking one of her hands in his.
‘Connie. I’m here,’ he whispered.
‘Bas?’ The girl turned bleary eyes to the sound of his voice.
‘I came as soon as I heard you were ill.’
‘Don’t leave.’ Her voice cracked and she flung her head to one side, again lost in delirium.
Sebastian did not relinquish her hand as Isabel rolled her sleeves up and began folding back the voluminous bedding. She ignored the squeak of alarm from the housekeeper and picked up Connie’s free hand, running her fingers lightly over the bandaged wrists. Spots of blood marred the white sheets.
She looked up at Sebastian.
‘Little wonder she’s so weak.’
‘Of course she’s been bled. Doctor’s been every day,’ Mrs. Mead’s voice quavered. ‘He said it would purge the bad humour that is affecting her.’
Isabel looked up but bit back the caustic remark that rose to her lips.
Matthew appeared at Isabel’s elbow with a large basin of water.
‘Straight from the well, as you ordered.’
‘Set it on the nightstand.’ Isabel dipped one of the cloths Matthew had also brought with him into the water and began to sponge the girl’s face and hands.
‘Oh, you’ll kill her,’ Mrs. Mead said at last, wringing her hands together. ‘The fever must be sweated out of her. The doctor was most insistent ...’
Sebastian frowned. ‘I don’t recall Dr Neville being an advocate of bleeding. In fact, I seem to remember his thoughts about the treatment of fever were much the same as Lady Somerton’s.’
‘Dr Neville moved to Chester last year. We have Dr Llewellyn now.’
Sebastian rose to his feet. ‘Then I will send the coach to Chester for Neville in the morning.’
‘Cap’n Alder, you can’t...’ Mrs. Mead began and then broke off in the realisation that he could, and he would.
Isabel stood up and laid a hand on the old woman’s arm.
‘The fever will kill her if she is layered up with so much heat. In the place where I was born, I was taught that to bring a fever down you must keep the patient cool. Mrs. Mead, can you take a cloth and help me to sponge her? I’m sorry, Lord Somerton, but could I ask you to leave?’
Sebastian rose to his feet and, with a last glance at them both from the door, he left the room, pushing his brother before him.
The two women worked on the girl through the night, taking it in turns to bathe her with cold water and beneath their gentle hands, Connie fretted and shivered in the soon sodden, blood-specked sheets. As the first grey streaks of dawn began to lighten the sky, they ceased their ministrations.
Mrs. Mead changed the girl’s sheets and nightdress and, as she pulled the bedding up, she looked at Isabel, her face puckered with concern.
‘My lady, I’m sure you mean well, but it doesn’t seem to have made a blind bit of difference.’
Isabel looked down at the girl, who had fallen into a fitful sleep, and for the first time, a qualm of fear at her high-handed disregard of the doctor’s instructions gripped her.
‘It’s a new day, and she is still alive, Mrs. Mead. That is as much as we can hope for.’
Mrs. Mead’s lip trembled. ‘I hope you’re right, my lady.’ She stooped and stroked Connie’s face. ‘She’s as dear to me as my own darling could be. It would break my heart to lose her.’
She stood up with a grimace and straightened her crumpled apron. ‘Now you must be all done in after travelling all day and then sitting up all night. The bed’s made up next door. Go and get some rest... my lady.’ Two spots of colour appeared in her wan cheeks as she remembered this woman’s status.
Isabel smiled. ‘I will do just that. Wake me at midday and I shall sit with her while you rest.’
In the little bedchamber she barely had the energy to strip down to her chemise before falling gratefully into the soft embrace of the mattress.