Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Evie awoke with a start.
The light from a lamp warded off the darkness before dawn.
She was in her night rail, curled up in the chair by James’s bed, where she had fallen asleep.
She’d kept vigil for the last three days while her husband battled what the physician had diagnosed as influenza.
A severe fever had seized James, followed by bed-shaking chills.
He had been out of his mind and unable to keep anything down.
Evie had tried to make him comfortable, applying cool washcloths that steamed against his burning skin.
Evie had never seen him in such a state.
Normally, he was as robust as an oak, but the physician had said that the hospital James had visited had experienced an outbreak of similar cases.
The doctor had cautioned Evie to have the sickroom linens changed regularly and to keep the windows open to dispel the noxious miasma.
She was to alert him if any other household members developed symptoms.
Xenia and Gigi had visited frequently, offering to relieve her.
While Evie appreciated their support, she refused to leave James.
Seeing him in this fragile state terrified her.
It also made her realize the extent of her self-delusion: she could never bring herself to leave him, under any circumstances.
Please God, keep him safe. I’ll do anything in return. Anything at all.
Thus far, her prayers had not been answered.
The lamp’s glow revealed the toll of the illness on James.
Days of fasting had sharpened his cheekbones and deepened the shadows beneath his eyes.
The dark scruff along his jaw was juxtaposed with the pallor of his skin, which had lost its vital glow.
Save for the shallow surges of his chest, he lay frighteningly still.
Despair clutched her chest, and she took his hand in both of hers, bringing it to her cheek.
“Don’t l-leave me.” Her voice hitched, tears sliding from her eyes and dampening his knuckles. “I could bear anything but that.”
A dreadful certainty fell over her like a shroud.
This—all of it—was her fault: James falling ill, the destruction of their marriage, the loss of their babe.
Even their last row had been her doing. Now he might die and their last memory of one another would be of anger and pain.
Unable to bear it, she shut her eyes, held his palm against her cheek, and prayed.
Even though she knew it was useless, she poured her heart and soul into a bargain with God.
Heavenly Father, I know I have committed the gravest of sins, but James is a good man. He has done nothing wrong. I am the one who must atone. Punish me, not him. I will do anything you ask, anything at all. Or…or take me, not him. I would gladly go in his stead—
“Evie?” James’s hand twitched against her cheek.
She opened her eyes. James was staring at her groggily.
Have my prayers been answered?
“James,” she breathed. “Oh, my darling. You’re awake!”
“Have I…” His voice emerged as a croak. “Have I been sleeping?”
Seeing his grimace, she released his hand and hurried to fetch him some water.
“You must be parched. Drink something before you try to talk.”
Helping him raise his head from the pillow, she held the glass to his cracked lips. He took a sip, then another. When he began to drink greedily, she controlled the flow with careful tilts of the tumbler.
“Slowly now,” she said. “One sip at a time.”
After he finished half the water, she set it aside.
“Let us see how that settles. You haven’t kept anything down in days.”
“Days?” His voice was still hoarse, but his eyes seemed more alert. “What happened?”
“You’ve been ill, darling. The physician thinks you caught a case of influenza, perhaps from visiting the hospital. You have had a terrible fever for three days.”
“Three days?” James looked confounded. “But I am never ill.”
Given the severity of his illness, his conviction in his invincibility made her sigh.
“Nonetheless, you were this time. You had everyone worried.” When her hands trembled, she put them to use tucking the sheets neatly around him.
“You fainted right here in this chamber. We tried to rouse you and couldn’t.
Your brothers lifted you into bed, and we’ve all been taking turns keeping watch.
We sent word to Mama and Papa, but they’re away visiting their estates and may not have received the message. ”
He frowned. “I don’t recall any of that.”
“That’s hardly surprising, given that you were delirious with fever.”
She pressed a palm to his forehead: it was damp but cool. Relief billowed through her like smoke from an extinguished fire, the intensity nearly smothering. She took several breaths before speaking again.
“The physician said that once the fever broke, you would make a speedy recovery. How are you feeling now?”
“Fine.”
At the habitual reply, she lifted her eyebrows and waited.
“Perhaps my head has a slight ache,” James muttered.
“Well, that’s to be expected. The physician left some willow bark, and a good lady from the village shared an effective remedy for megrims. I’ll have both brought to you, along with some nourishing beef tea. And perhaps a dish of blancmange.”
“Blancmange?” James grimaced. “Being temporarily indisposed does not make me an infant.”
The fact that he could complain about the menu was a positive sign. He’d always been specific in his preferences, especially when it came to food. The return of her husband—her honorable, stoic, exacting spouse—made her feel almost giddy.
“The doctor advised bland foods to start,” she said. “Perhaps buttered toast would be more agreeable?”
“God, yes.”
He said it with such feeling that she laughed.
“Beef tea and toast, then.” She couldn’t resist brushing a bronze lock from his forehead. “Would you like anything else?”
“Actually.” He cleared his throat. “I could use the necessary.”
“Shall I summon Robson—”
“I can handle it myself. It’s only a few steps, and getting up will do me good.”
Evie hastened to help him sit up. Seeing how much the effort cost him, she again suggested ringing for his valet. Instead, the stubborn man got to his feet and immediately swayed. She ducked under his arm to steady him.
“I’ve got you,” she said. “Are you certain you can do this?”
“Bloody certain.” He clenched his jaw in that determined way of his. “I’m going to the commode, not Timbuktu.”
Well, that’s that, I suppose.
Once James decided upon a course of action, he was like a dog with a bone.
He regained his balance and made it to the commode cabinet behind the dressing screen without issue. Afterward, he insisted on doing his ablutions at the washstand, brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face. When he started fussing about finding his shaving implements, she drew the line.
“The shave can wait,” she said firmly. “Robson will assist you with that later, when you’re steadier on your feet. For now, back to bed.”
He grumbled, but the fact that he acquiesced spoke volumes about how he was feeling. Once he was settled again, she fluffed his pillows and pulled the coverlet over him.
“I shall send for what you need and let the others know you’re awake. They’ve been ever so concerned. I’ll be right back—”
As she made to leave, he caught her hand.
“You look tired.”
Flustered by his perusal, she tried not to squirm. She knew she did not look her best. She’d had little rest and hadn’t looked in a mirror in days.
“I haven’t slept well,” she mumbled.
“You’ve been here with me, haven’t you? I heard you.”
With sudden panic, she tried to recall what she might have said when she thought he was comatose. When anxiety and exhaustion had lowered her defenses and led her to pour out her heart. Her memory was a blur of desperate thoughts and frantic rambling, and she couldn’t definitively separate the two.
Merciful petals, did I bargain with God aloud? When I prayed, did I name my sins? Did James hear me…does he know that I did something terrible?
“I was here.” Her heart racing, she wetted her lips. “You were, um, feverish most of the time, and I didn’t think you could hear me.”
“I don’t recall your precise words, but I felt your presence. Your support by my side.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes the tender shade of the horizon at dawn. “Even half out of my mind, I knew you were looking after me. You gave me strength, and I wanted to thank you.”
“I am your wife.” Emotion clogged her throat. “You don’t have to thank me. It is my duty to look after you.”
“Duty. Of course.”
She couldn’t bear his disappointment, the return of the flint in his eyes.
“Not only that.” She expelled a breath. “I was worried for you…out of my mind with fear that I might lose you.”
He tightened his grip on her hand. “You are not going to lose me, Evie.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
Out of nowhere, a dam burst inside her, and she couldn’t hold back what she’d feared she might never have the chance to say. The regrets that had consumed her while she’d kept vigil by her husband’s side.
“I haven’t been a good wife to you. I’ve said horrid things—”
“We both have. That happens during a row. One says things one comes to regret.”
“I didn’t mean it,” she blurted. “The awful thing I said about…about losing our babe. I don’t know why it happened.
I’ve asked myself over and over again, but I still don’t know why, and I refuse to believe that nature would intentionally be so cruel.
All I do know is that I wanted our daughter.
Oh, James, I wanted her more than anything—”
She didn’t know when she began sobbing. Or how James had the strength to pull her into bed and tuck her against him.
Yet lying in the shelter of his arms, she felt safer than she’d ever been, even as the grief she’d buried surged like a storm.
It whipped through her in a rage of tears and shudders even as James held her tight.