Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
T he rain eased. It did not stop, however, simply easing in its fury to become a steady misting downpour instead of the all-out assault that it had been earlier. Juliet and Horatio had dressed and gathered the last of the dry wood to feed the fire. Outside, the sky was darkening. Juliet's stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten since breakfast and engaged in strenuous exercise besides.
“Much as I would like to spend the rest of my life here with you, I think hunger is calling me back to the castle,” Horatio said.
They sat on an ancient, dusty pew that Horatio had dragged to face the fire. Juliet lay with her feet up and her head resting on Horatio's lap. He sat sprawled with the heel of one foot resting on the toes of the other. Juliet felt warm and comfortable, disinclined to move except for the need to eat. Her body felt as though it had molded itself to Horatio and was perfectly content to remain in this position.
“If we are a couple of miles from Ravenscourt, then it would be as well to let the rain abide before we go. It would not do to let your dressing get wet,” Juliet murmured.
Horatio shook his head decisively.
“In these parts, showers like this can last all night. We'll go now before it gets any heavier. I don't think we should wait any longer. We'll take advantage of this warm weather. It may be wet but at least it isn't cold to boot.”
Juliet frowned, perking up at Horatio. She could feel the breeze that gusted in through the empty window casements. It raised goosebumps on her bare arms. Horatio did look slightly flushed. She sat up and pressed a hand against his forehead. He looked at her quizzically but did not protest.
“You do feel slightly warm,” Juliet began. “I think you are right. Let’s get back to the castle as quickly as we may. You should be somewhere warm and dry.”
They got up reluctantly and left the ancient church. Juliet looked back at it as they walked away. It was almost subsumed into the woods, ivy climbing its walls to the roof, trees intruding into the previously sacred body. Perhaps one day it would vanish completely, becoming lost to sight amid ivy, grass, and trees. But it would always hold a special place in her heart. It was a magical place. A place of love and passion.
“We will come back,” she whispered, making a promise to the place.
“We will. It will be our secret place,” Horatio said, overhearing her.
Juliet looked at him in surprise, not expecting to be overheard.
“Will it?” she asked, searching for Horatio's reassurance.
“Certainly. If I find the time, I shall paint it for you,” Horatio smiled. “Then we will have the memory of it forever.”
“I do not need a painting to remind me. I will never forget,” Juliet said, fervently.
“Nor I. But we will not talk as though today is already a distant memory. We will not live for tomorrow.”
He led her up a slope, picking his way among tree roots. Every now and then he winced, putting a hand to his side. When they reached the top, Juliet opened his coat to check the dressing. It was crimson-stained, blood seeping through. She had a feeling that the wound should not be so exposed. The blood that was beginning to soak the dressing could carry contaminants back into the wound.
“We should hurry, as much as we can,” Juliet paced, taking his hand.
At first, Horatio led. Then he began to slow. His hand felt increasingly warm in Juliet's. He gave directions, his voice tight with pain. She had not thought the wound in his side to be all that serious but now was concerned that dirt or some other foreign body had gotten into the wound. She had tried to clean it as well as she could but without clean linen, it was impossible to be sure.
Finally, they came within sight of Ravenscourt. The sky behind the castle, in the east, was growing a dark purple, with the glint of stars becoming visible. Lights twinkled in a few windows of the castle.
Frances would be furious to see Juliet again. Was Aunt Margaret aware of her daughter's attempts to bribe Juliet? Probably. Juliet could not imagine Cousin Frances coming up with such a plan without her mother's input and consent.
As they crossed an arched stone bridge to one of Ravenscourt's impressive entrances, Horatio stumbled, falling to one knee. The door opened and Mr. Hall came out at a run. Horatio tried to regain his feet but his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed, body going limp.
“What has happened?” Hall demanded, dark brows drawn down thunderously.
“He tackled a poacher and the man came at him with a knife and cut him across the ribs,” Juliet exclaimed.
Hall dipped his head closer to his master's side and sniffed. Then he lifted the coat and hissed like a scalded cat.
“The rot has set in. We must get him inside and stripped down to combat the fever. I have some maggots that will eat away the corrupted flesh and leave the wound clean.”
Juliet had heard of this horrifying technique, based on the principle that maggots would only feed on dead flesh. She nodded.
“Please hurry. I did what I could. I should have brought him back sooner.”
Hall shook his head sharply.
“None of that, Your Grace. You did nae stab him nor did you put him in harm's way. He did that all himself I'll wager. Just give him a bloody dangerous situation and he always did jump in, head first. Bloody foolish.”
He stooped and put one of Horatio's arms about his shoulders, putting his own free arm around his master's waist. Horatio stood, head lolling.
“He's hot as a cannon after a battle,” Hall grumbled, heading for the door.
“Your Grace, may I ask you to have one of the servants fetch a doctor? I will see to it that His Grace is put to bed and made comfortable.”
Juliet nodded, and then realized how Hall had been addressing her.
“I am not a Duchess, Mr. Hall. Not even a Lady. I have no title.”
Hall grunted as he carried Horatio through the doorway into the castle.
“Don't much care for titles. Obvious to me and everyone else who you're going to be. Obvious to anyone who knows His Grace what he'd like you to be. So I speak as I find.”
Juliet found herself blushing. She allowed herself to savor this moment, knowing that it could not last. As Hall carried Horatio towards the nearest staircase, he bellowed for a servant. It was Aunt Margaret who was first to appear though. She glanced at Horatio, then at Juliet, mouth pursing and eyes narrowing. Frances appeared close behind her and was openly astonished to see Juliet had returned.
“What has happened? Is His Grace unwell?” Aunt Margaret asked sharply.
Hall did not pause but ascended the stairs with long-legged strides.
“His Grace has been injured. A doctor will be sent for,” he called over his shoulder.
A servant appeared above him on the stairs, descending rapidly.
“You have instructions awaiting you,” Hall told the man before he disappeared around a bend in the stairs.
The servant reached the bottom of the stairs and naturally addressed himself to Aunt Margaret. It was Juliet who spoke though.
“Kindly ride to the nearest village where a doctor can be found. I imagine that you know where that will be. His Grace has sustained a wound from a blade and it has gone bad. He has a fever,” Juliet said quickly.
The man nodded soberly, accepting the orders, though they came from an unexpected source. Juliet eyed her Aunt, expecting a challenge. But Aunt Margaret nodded to herself, as though satisfied with the instructions Juliet had given. The servant left at a dash, leaving Juliet alone in the hallway with her aunt and cousin.
“I did not expect to see you so soon, cousin…” Frances murmured.
“But thank god you were still here! If the Duke had been alone, goodness knows what would have happened,” Aunt Margaret huffed. “You may well have saved his life!”
Juliet was suspicious of her Aunt's sudden kindness and praise. Frances appeared taken aback by it, staring at her mother in consternation.
“Now that the doctor has been sent for, I think us ladies should settle ourselves to wait. We can take tea in the drawing room,” Aunt Margaret continued.
Juliet shook her head decisively. “No, I shall tend to Horatio.”
“ Horatio , is it?” Frances scoffed.
Aunt Margaret studied her niece for a long moment, face unreadable. “Perhaps I have underestimated the depth of feeling you have for him. Is it reciprocated, I wonder?”
“Of course it is not! How could it be? Look at her! She has been tramping through the woods and goodness knows what. What man could possibly be attracted to that ?” Frances raged, almost stomping her foot.
Juliet ignored them both, heading for the stairs. She would not leave Horatio alone in his time of need.
“I will have some tea brought up to you, Juliet. And some bread and cheese to go with it. You look half starved, dear child,” Aunt Margaret tutted.
Juliet paused on the stairs, glancing back. This sudden kindness and solicitude surprised her. She wondered what game her aunt was playing and then berated herself for her suspicion. Of all the things Aunt Margaret was, including shallow, venal, and cruel, when a man's life was in the balance she was, after all, a human being.
“Thank you, Aunt Margaret,” Juliet murmured cautiously, “that is kind, and I am both famished and parched.”
Aunt Margaret smiled thinly. “Consider it arranged.”
Juliet hurried up the stairs, putting her Aunt from her mind. She quickly made her way to Horatio's chambers. Knocking briefly, she let herself in. Hall had stripped his master and was gently washing the wound from which he had removed the bloody dressing. A ceramic dish sat on Horatio’s bedside table.
As Juliet drew closer, she saw that it was full of wriggling maggots. Hall glanced up at her approach and covered Horatio's nakedness with bedclothes, drawing them up to his waist.
“Doctor might disagree, but I know what I know,” he said gruffly. “Maggots work every time on a festering wound.”
“I believe you,” Juliet murmured, her voice growing faint at the horrific sight.
She sat on the bedside opposite Hall and reached over for the basin of water that Hall had been using to wet strips of linen. She took a strip, squeezed excess water from it, and began to mop Horatio's brow. She could feel the blistering heat of his skin even through the linen.
Hall glanced at her, then gave a nod of satisfaction. Juliet felt a flush of pride that she had met with his approval. He seemed a competent man, once owner of an inn and a sailor. His manner in taking care of Horatio told her of his knowledge and skill. It never once occurred to Juliet that he was of a lesser social rank and she should not care what he thought of her. Mr. Hall was a fellow human being, that was all.
She kept moistening the cloth, reapplying it to Horatio's forehead in a bid to cool his body temperature. Presently, there was a knock at the door and a servant entered with a tray. Juliet's nostrils picked up the scent of freshly baked bread. Her stomach grumbled, earning a stern look from Hall.
“Take some bread and cheese. You'll do no good to His Grace if you fall on him from hunger,” he said with typical bluntness.
The servant set down the tray which also held a teapot and cup. A jug of honey sat beside the cup. Juliet began by pouring a cup of tea and applying a generous amount of honey. The servant was a young maid with curly black hair and round, rosy cheeks. She glanced up at Juliet briefly as the tea was poured, then looked away with a blush. Juliet tried to recall her name but could not. The girl opened her mouth as though to speak, then closed it suddenly. Hall looked up.
“Was there something else, Nelly?”
“No, Mr. Hall, nothing else,” Nelly stammered with wide eyes.
Again, she peeked at Juliet. Juliet took a deep swallow of tea.
“Then go about your duties, Nelly,” Hall chided.
She almost sprinted from the room.
Juliet finished her cup and poured another. “This is excellent tea, quite unlike anything I have had before.”
Hall nodded. “His Grace insists on only the finest blends…” he uttered, rather distracted by his thoughts. “I do not know what has gotten into that girl. She is not normally flighty.”
Juliet took a plate from the tray and put a slice of bread and a generous piece of cheese beside it. She carried it with her tea back to Horatio's bedside.
“Maybe she is discomfited at the sight of her master in such a condition,” Juliet suggested.
“More than likely true,” Hall replied. “I will leave His Grace to your care until the sawbones gets here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hall. You are a good man.”
The butler inclined his head to her.
“Aye, sir ,” he said with the hint of a smile.
As he departed the room, Juliet turned her weary gaze to Horatio. The warmth of the sweet tea settled in her, loosening the tight knot of her nerves. Now, with the comfort of a chair beneath her and quiet around her, exhaustion descended like a heavy cloak.
She pushed the plate aside, drained the last of her tea, and set the cup down with a soft clink. Folding her arms on the bedside, she rested her head against them, her lashes fluttering shut. Sleep swept over her.