Chapter 16
Marguerite enjoyed a plentiful and delicious breakfast in the parlour and made Mrs Mowat’s acquaintance, thanking her warmly for the loan of her shawl.
The attentions of this kind woman and of Flossie, the bath and clean clothes and hot food, but especially Argyle’s recovery and declarations imbued her with a deep sense of wellbeing.
However, when she came back up, crossing Curtis who was leaving the room with the dirty clothes and towels, she found her beloved had not touched his tray.
She was frightened by how white he looked, now that he was clean-shaven—the grazes stood out, red on his ashen skin, his eyes were sunk in his skull and his lips were grey.
Their talk, together with his valet’s ministrations, had tired him out.
He saw her glancing at the tray and grunted, ‘I know I said I was starving, but when I smelled the food, my stomach revolted.’
She looked at the grilled meats and ale. ‘This is hardly food for an invalid. Let me see what I can do.’
‘I am not an invalid.’ He growled, but his voice was weak.
Marguerite said, ‘Ha!’ She took the tray and went down to the kitchen, where Mrs Mowat was rolling out pastry for a pie. Mrs Mowat looked at the tray and said, ‘Oh dear.’
Marguerite said, ‘Yes. The doctor did say, the lightest of fares.’
‘Well, I did what Jack told me. Let me see—I think some plain toast, and I will send up a little butter and some of my home-made jam, with a nice cup of tea.’ She wiped her hands on a tea towel and started slicing bread.
‘And I tell you what, my dear, I have a fresh chicken here. I will make some broth, and perhaps His Grace might be tempted to partake of a slice of the breast later.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Mowat, that sounds ideal.’
‘Don’t you worry your head, now, Miss, I mean, my lady. I will have Curtis take it up presently.’
‘No, no, I am going up anyway.’
She took the tray and went up to Argyle’s room and found him lying back with his eyes shut; there were still blue bruises under them. She put a smile on her face, and said softly, ‘Thomas? I have brought you a more suitable breakfast.’
He opened his eyes and said, ‘I’m not hungry anymore.’
‘Well, you don’t need to eat much, only a couple of mouthfuls to put something in your stomach.’ She stirred sugar in his tea and buttered a slice of toast.
Argyle managed a weak smile, and said, ‘I cannot believe what I’m seeing. After berating me, seducing me, and then denying me, you have now become my nurse.’
Marguerite laughed. ‘Not your nurse, your betrothed, remember? Surely that makes me qualified to look after you.’
He said, his smile now reaching his eyes, ‘My beloved. I cannot in all honesty say you looked lovely when I saw you this morning, in fact you looked like a wreck. But in my eyes you were an angel—an angel who watched over me all night.’
‘And you still look like death. But at least I can kiss you now without getting pricked.’ She gave him his tea and bent to kiss his cheek, then rubbed her own cheek against it.
‘It is strange to think that, after all the things I tried in order to win you, all I had to do was nearly manage to kill myself.’
* * *
Argyle asked the landlord what he knew about his accident. Afterwards he said to Marguerite, ‘It appears the stag crossed the road in front of me, and I could not avoid him. He got tangled up with the horses. The stag was killed and one of the horses is badly injured.’ He made a grimace.
‘Oh, no! One of the bays?’
‘Yes. Let us hope he will recover. Jack says a passing farmer saw the curricle broken on the road and raised the alarm.’
Marguerite said, ‘It was an accident, Thomas. It could have been so much worse.’
‘Well, it did bring you to me, so there is a silver lining, I suppose.’ But he winced every time he moved.
Dr. Peel came and examined Argyle, after which he said, ‘No riding, or driving, for the next four weeks. The brain has been shaken badly and needs to remain quiet—and I think at least a couple of the ribs are fractured. You can walk a little as long as you do not feel light-headed.’
Argyle said, ‘That means I have to stay here for the next four weeks.’ His face was white. The examination had exhausted him—when the doctor had felt his ribs the pain had been excruciating, and he found it difficult to breathe deeply.
‘I’m afraid so, Your Grace. No traveling is permitted.
’ He looked severely at his patient, but he need not have worried—Argyle had neither the wish, nor the energy to go anywhere.
He also grasped at once this was good news, because it meant he would spend his days with Marguerite, something that would not have been possible in London.
When he told her the doctor’s verdict, he saw, by the smile that spread slowly over her face, that she felt the same.
He said, ‘If you find I am too obnoxious, you can scold me like a fishwife. I will be totally in your power.’ He paused, frowning a little. ‘But—will you be allowed to stay?’
Marguerite gave a small, delighted crow of laughter. ‘Of course—we are engaged, or have you forgotten already? It is my duty to look after you. I will write to my parents.’