Chapter 19
For the first time in five days, Juliet fully relaxed against the soft cushions of the sitting room chair …
but that did not stop her from keeping a watchful eye on Charity.
It was, after all, the woman’s first excursion from her bedroom since taking ill.
She appeared of fair colour, sitting so prettily on the sofa in a ray of afternoon sunshine, and for that, Juliet’s heart smiled.
How good it was to see Henry’s sister back amongst the living.
Her light laughter at whatever Clara had whispered was sweet to Juliet’s ears.
Shifting on the cushion, she allowed the bulk of her fears to melt away.
The past days had blurred into a collection of sleepless nights and endless ministrations of Aunt Margaret’s tonics.
Thankfully, after the grueling first twenty-four hours, Charity’s fever had broken.
She’d steadily strengthened since then, so much so that today she’d ventured downstairs.
Henry stood near a writing desk, eyeing his sister. It hadn’t been easy on him, fretting over her while working to carry out his father’s business, but he’d done so without complaint.
Clara perched next to Charity, hands folded in her lap. While she chatted about the latest fashion, Clara kept her own sort of vigil, studying Henry’s sister as well. Clara appeared as polished as ever, but beneath it all, Juliet sensed her concern too.
When Clara’s conversation lulled and the room fell silent, Charity tilted her head, gaze bouncing between them. “All right, you three. While I appreciate your care, you must stop it. Every one of you.”
Clara pressed her fingers against Charity’s sleeve. “Stop what, darling?”
“You are all looking at me as if I shall break into a million pieces right here on the sofa. I assure you I am fine. A little fatigued, perhaps, but otherwise of sound mind and body.”
Juliet smoothed her skirt, caught in the act but not repentant. “It was not so very long ago you were lying abed giving us a fright. In light of that, you shall have to put up with our furrowed brows for at least several more days.”
“Juliet is right.” Henry took the chair adjacent the sofa. “We are happy to see you up and about but do not wish you to overdo it.”
Charity shook her head. “I cannot overdo anything beneath your watchful eye, Brother. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Ahh, but it is not my eye you should fear. Juliet was most diligent this past week. Administering tonics. Mixing powders. Spoon-feeding you and dabbing away your fever with a cool cloth. Your illness did not stand a chance under her tender care.” A flash of appreciation sharpened the green in his grey eyes.
“Remind me, Juliet, to call upon you next time I take ill.”
Her mouth dried, her tongue lying fallow. How was she to speak when he looked at her that way?
Clara rose, rounding the sofa while running her finger along the back of it.
“Indeed. Juliet’s hidden talents are enviable.
Though I daresay I have spent more than my fair share of time in my mother’s sickroom the past month, what with her horrid megrims. I don’t know how many trips to the apothecary I’ve made.
But …” Her lips quirked. “Do be careful, Juliet. Henry just might devise an ailment merely for the attention.”
Henry chuckled. “Now there is a capital idea. Perhaps I shall take to my bed.”
Charity reached for a nearby pillow and hugged it.
“Let us have no more talk of sickness, though I admit lying about gave me much time to think. And in that time, I came to a conclusion … that there was no place I would rather be than here at Bedford Manor with all of you. Please don’t get the wrong impression.
I love Father and dearly wish to see him, but he will eventually return, and I shall see him then. ”
Henry straightened, tension creeping into his frame. “You may be out of the woods fever-wise, but there is still danger here for you.”
Clara glanced sharply over her shoulder. “What danger are you talking about?”
Henry tugged at his collar. “What I mean to say is that there is still the fact that a holiday—particularly now—would do my sister good.”
Charity shook her head, her golden curls—once so vibrant—now limply swinging against her neck. “I am quite adamant about this, Brother, so do not vex me.”
“He has a point, though, darling,” Clara said.
“The Italian weather is far more conducive to healing than this chill and damp. Why, I have a brilliant idea!” She clapped her hands.
“Since I cannot accompany you to Italy, why doesn’t Juliet travel along?
Then you would not feel so lonesome. There. Problem solved.”
Juliet’s gaze shot to Henry. Would he send them both away, make her Charity’s guardian on the journey? To leave Bedford Manor now, to leave him, well … the very thought made her heart sink.
Henry’s jaw flexed. His gaze flicked from Juliet to Charity, and finally to Clara, before he looked away as if weighing something that refused to settle.
His mouth opened, then shut again. A breath.
Another glance at Juliet. Finally with a sudden squaring of his shoulders, he spoke.
“No. It is out of the question.” His arms folded, his wide lips pinched. “Juliet shall remain here.”
“Oh? Not even to be considered, is it? Hmm.” One of Clara’s brows arched as she glided over to him, graceful as a swan. She lightly brushed her fingers over his shoulder, barely grazing the fabric of his frock coat. “I assure you I am every bit as helpful as Juliet.”
Juliet tensed. Clara was everything she was not. A lady of good standing, as poised as the Queen herself, and from a well-respected family. Not to mention beautiful. A ragged sigh passed her lips. Oh, she cleaned up well enough, she supposed, but how could she compete with such a woman?
And yet … she’d been the one Henry had kissed.
Clara smiled brilliantly. “But if you will excuse me for a moment, I should like to freshen up—and I shall also check on some tea for us all.”
Charity faced Clara, her shawl falling to the back of the sofa. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
As Clara swept out of the room, Henry rose and snugged Charity’s wrap around her.
His sister peered up at him. “While I appreciate the gesture, I am not made of porcelain, you know.”
“Says the one who was flat on her back this past week.” He smirked as he reclaimed his chair.
“Yet here I sit now before you,” Charity parried. “So, you may stop playing nursemaid.”
Juliet smiled at the banter. “Your brother means well, Charity.”
“I know. As did you, forcing me to drink such awful brews. You are quite the tyrant.” She winked as she set aside the pillow. “I am not sure if it was your aunt’s medicinals that did the trick, or if my ailment was simply frightened into submission by your determination.”
Juliet laughed. “I make no apologies.”
“As well you should not.” Mischief laced Henry’s tone. “Though I think Dr. Branch might still be expecting a measure of contriteness for having abandoned his usual procedures.”
“Well.” Charity huffed. “He won’t get it from me. I was the one poked and bruised by his methods.”
Juliet’s humour faded. She’d seen the signs of Dr. Branch’s treatments, the ugly purpling on Charity’s arms where the cups had sucked the blood to the top of her skin.
The many scabs peppered on her flesh from the incisions.
Even now the thought of those images sparked a righteous anger.
“Beast,” she murmured, then louder, “you did suffer, Charity, but I think the doctor’s ego may have seen the gravest injury of all. ”
“Thanks to you, Juliet,” Henry cut in. “It takes a strong spirit to challenge the esteemed Dr. Branch—and me—yet you did so without flinching.” He fixed his gaze on her, the lines on his face softening, as did his tone. “You are an exceptional woman.”
Heat rose up her neck and spread across her cheeks. “I only did what I thought was right.”
“Not everyone has the backbone to do so in the face of resistance.” Undeniable admiration smouldered in his eyes.
Her heart stuttered in response. My. Was it warm in there? She pressed her hands flat against her skirt to keep from fanning herself, but all the same, fire burned her face.
Charity cocked her head, the angle of it not only amused but curious. “Pardon me, but did I miss out on something while I was abed?”
A slow grin spread over Henry’s lips, as if he was reliving that kiss all over again. The rogue.
Juliet squirmed, mortified. No way would she admit to that scandalous moment in Henry’s study.
“I did miss out.” Charity’s eyes widened. “Do tell!”
Juliet froze. How could she possibly explain the magnetic draw of Henry when she’d barely had time to analyze it herself?
Clara strode in then, clearly having heard Charity’s plea. “Seems I returned just in time. Tell what?”
Henry turned towards her with a casual toss to his head. “Nothing. You know my sister. Inventing tales where there are none.”
“Perhaps.” Clara took the chair nearest Henry. “But I can practically smell the intrigue in the air.”
Juliet forced a weak smile, her heart thudding against her ribs.
Let it go, Clara. Please let it go!
Thankfully the footman arrived bearing a large silver tray. He placed it on the table nearest Juliet, then retreated to take up a post near the door.
Clara, mercifully distracted by the scent of souchong tea, clasped her hands primly in her lap. “Ahh, tea at last. Juliet, would you mind?”
Her? She flexed her fingers, startled by the request. Usually Charity would serve, being the lady of the manor, which naturally would be too much to ask of her during her recuperation.
But then Clara—being a long-standing friend—should have enjoyed the privilege.
Why would the woman abdicate? Then again, with the bottle of Aunt Margaret’s tincture on the tea tray, it only made sense that she’d know how many drops to use.
She smiled. “I would be happy to.”