Chapter Twenty #2
“Perhaps you should sit a moment, James,” she said. “You look ready to drop.”
He shook himself. “I am tired is all. And worried.”
“Your brother is doing a fine job of tending to Lady Techney. This tea will be ready shortly. And I have complete confidence in the timely arrival of your physician.” That last bit was something of a stretch, but reassuring him seemed more crucial in that moment than blunt honesty.
“I will be more at ease if you can give me something useful to do.”
Heavens but he looked near to bursting.
Daphne took his hands in hers. For just a moment, the feel of holding his hands paralyzed her.
Though she’d dreamed of having his attention and affection, she’d not been truly prepared for this closeness.
She pulled her thoughts together and led him to his mother’s bedside, opposite Bennett.
“Your assignment,” she said, “is to sit here and think of a way to convince Lady Techney to drink the foul concoction I am about to bring over for her. Are you up for the challenge?”
He managed a halfhearted smile at her teasing. “I will put my mind to the puzzle.”
He pulled off his jacket and hung it over the arm of his chair, clearly preparing to settle in. She’d not had to tell him the night would be a long one; he seemed to understand without words. How many such illnesses had he seen his mother through?
Lady Techney objected to the tea as much as Daphne had expected and as quietly, considering her lack of voice and energy. James spoke patiently and quietly to her, easing the steaming liquid past her lips a sip at a time.
Daphne stood out of the way, watching him. His kindness to her so many years earlier had not been an oddity, it seemed. He treated his mother with the same consideration. A woman would be fortunate indeed to win the devotion of such a man.
He looked back at her. “There is only a bit of dregs left in the bottom. Does she need to drink that?”
“No. Let her lie back and rest.”
She took Bennett’s place at Lady Techney’s side, insisting he go get his sleep. James sat a bit limp in his chair, head resting in his upturned hand. He looked spent. Just how bad had his argument with Lord Techney been?
The feverfew tisane had not yet taken effect. Daphne would see to Lady Techney when it did. In the few minutes until that happened, she would do what she could for James.
She fetched a fresh cloth from the pile brought up by the maid.
In a clean bowl, she poured some hot water from the teakettle, then added a chip of ice to cool it to pleasantly warm.
She added a drop of her lavender oil and dipped the cloth in, then wrung it out.
She folded the cloth in a long rectangle and crossed to where James sat.
“Lean forward a bit,” she softly instructed. He looked confused for only a moment before complying.
His cravat had long since come loose, leaving his collar hanging limp.
She set the warm cloth against the back of his neck. The warmth combined with the lavender would relax him.
“Now sit back.” She pulled a light blanket off a chair near the windows and brought it back to James, laying it over him.
“I cannot ask you to care for Mother alone,” he objected.
“I will let you know if I need help. Rest assured, this is nothing I haven’t undertaken before, and I am doing so now willingly.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head far back. “Thank you, Daphne,” he said. “And I am sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
A beat passed before he answered. “Too many things.”
The poor man was obviously exhausted. “Rest a bit, James. You’ll feel better if you do.”
He must have taken the suggestion to heart; he was asleep within minutes. Lady Techney began to sweat shortly after that, a clear indication that the feverfew and black-elder tea were working as they should. Daphne sat at her side, dabbing Lady Techney’s flushed cheeks.
She passed an hour in just that way before the physician at last arrived.
He proved competent and efficient. They discussed symptoms and treatments employed thus far.
After a moment of silent surprise at Daphne’s abilities with herbs, the doctor declared himself impressed beyond words.
He smelled the dregs left in Lady Techney’s cup and his praise began anew.
“Precisely the aroma I would hope for. The blend, I would say, was expertly concocted.”
She could tell his approval brought color to her face. If only she could find a way to control her blushes.
“Miss Lancaster has been indispensable.” James had, it seemed, awoken. He shifted about and sat up straighter. The cloth she’d set on his neck slipped off as he stood. “How is Lady Techney?” he asked the doctor.
“The tea has begun to break her fever. She will be well given time and rest.”
Daphne stepped back, intending to get out of the way. To her surprise, James moved to her side.
“How are you?” he asked, his eyes taking in every inch of her face.
Again her telltale blush surfaced. “I am holding up. A little tired,” she admitted. “But nothing I cannot endure.”
“You should rest. Everyone else has been permitted to.” He motioned to the corner where the abigail dozed in a hard-backed chair.
Daphne was too tired to argue. “Why don’t I take your chair, and you can sit up with your mother for a time.”
The arrangements were made. James and the physician tended to Lady Techney. Daphne leaned back in the chair, the same warm blanket James had used tucked around her shoulders. She watched them as she sat there. A few times James looked in her direction and smiled.
She didn’t think she had ever been more content. The dreams she’d formulated at twelve years of age were coming closer and closer to reality.