Chapter 16 #2
“I am going to rest in the room adjacent,” he said quietly. “He is sleeping more steadily now. If a crisis occurs, please come wake me.” He shifted his gaze to Adrian. “And regardless, when two hours have passed wake me—I wish to see to the boy within that time.”
Adrian nodded. The doctor slipped into the adjacent room. Adrian looked at Rosalind. In the dim light, she looked even more wan then when he had first arrived.
“You should sleep too,” he said.
“I cannot leave him,” she said, her voice breaking. “He is my responsibility, you know. That is what Father always said. If something happened to him, I was to care for him. I was so worried about horses and falls and danger… I did not even think about putrid throat or fevers…”
“You are a good sister to him,” Adrian said quietly.
She closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks, and laid her head forward on the bed. She was still sitting beside it in the chair, but she clutched her brother’s hand and laid her head beside him as though her nearness alone could keep his heart beating.
Quiet settled on the room, and Adrian did not move.
He could see exhaustion overcoming Rosalind’s will to stay awake, and after a few long minutes her breathing became slow and regular.
He stood, gathered up her woolen shawl from the floor at her feet, and laid it gently across her shoulders.
As he did so, Harry’s eyes suddenly flickered open.
It was the first time he had woken since Adrian’s arrival. The boy roamed the room with his gaze, finding first Rosalind, and then Adrian. He spoke softly and hoarsely, his voice not loud enough to wake his sister.
“Your lordship,” he said, taking a shaky breath, “am I sick?”
Adrian nodded quietly. He realized his fingers were still resting with the shawl on Rosalind’s shoulders, and he pulled them back, drawing nearer to the bed to speak with Harry.
“We are going to get you better,” he said softly.
“If anything happens… you will watch over her?” He spoke hoarsely, and with great effort.
Adrian’s heart nearly broke within him at the words. There was a nobility in it, this child taking charge of his sister’s care even at his young age.
“Nothing will happen,” Adrian whispered.
“But… if?”
Adrian reached out and put his hand on Harry’s feverish head. He nodded, wordlessly, and the boys’ eyes slipped closed again with relief.
***
It was late afternoon when his fever finally broke.
The doctor stood from the bed with a weak smile. Adrian was standing by the window, and saw the relief on Rosalind’s face when Dr. Ashcombe announced the good news.
“The membrane is receding,” the doctor said with a smile. “He needs rest more than anything, and a regular administration of broth and the herb mixture. But his fever has broken, and that means the crisis is passed.”
“Thank heaven,” Rosalind said, tears rushing into her eyes. She turned and looked at Harry, whose eyes were now open. “Do you think you could try some broth now, love?”
He nodded weakly, Dr. Ashcombe rang for the staff. Then he poured some of the honey and herb mixture from the kettle and brought it over to the bed with an empty bowl. “Let us try this remedy while we wait,” he said.
As he administered the medicine, Rosalind walked quietly over to where Adrian was standing by the window. She turned her back, leaning beside on the sill, her hand resting an inch away from his.
He thought about reaching to cross that single inch and brush her hand, but he held back. Instead, he tried to comfort with his words alone.
“I will come again tomorrow,” he said.
She nodded.
He turned and watched her. Tendrils of blonde hair had come loose from her braid, framing her face and catching the late afternoon light in gold streaks. She looked tired, but relieved.
“You must let someone carry some of this burden for you, Miss Thorne, or it will take you as surely as any fever,” he said, so softly that only she could hear. He wanted to say more, the words straining to break free but remaining in his heart: let me carry it for you.
She turned and looked at him, their gazes meeting, drawing them together as their hands never would. She did not say anything, but she nodded, ever so slightly—as though agreeing with him as far as propriety would allow.
He waited until Harry was resting peacefully again, and made certain Rosalind meant to retire to an early bedtime, before heading back to his own home. As he rode, dusk gathering around him, he passed the lane leading to Vane cottage.
There was a gentleman walking down the road towards him, and he pulled up on his horse to slow the animal enough to warrant a casual meeting of ways.
The light was fading fast, but Adrian was still able to make out the details of the man’s face and dress. According to both Miss Thorne and the innkeeper’s descriptions, the stranger was none other than Sir Percival Drake, on foot, coming out of the lane.
The gentleman who was not a gentleman stopped as Adrian passed, bowing formally and touching a hand to his top hat in greeting.
“Good evening, my lord,” he said.
“And to you,” Adrian responded, turning his eyes back onto the road as he moved homeward.
Now what, he thought quietly, business have you with Seraphina Vane?