Chapter Twenty-Five

 

Edward woke from a restless sleep with his body afire and his shirt soaked as if someone had dumped a bucket of water over him. His eyes stung when he turned toward the window. How long had he slept? It could have been hours, days, but he had no idea, nor did it matter. All that mattered was that Annabel was safe at Scarlett Hall.

In the haze of memory, he recalled the last time he was this ill and Mary whispering words of advice.

“Come, my love,” she had whispered. “Do you wish to see your estate in ruin?”

“I do not,” Edward managed to reply.

“Then I have a marvelous idea, but only if you feel comfortable with it. George has offered his services to you, and you know what a great business mind he possesses. Well, if you give him power of attorney, he will see to your affairs while you focus on getting well. Then, once you are back to your old self, you will take back your rightful place in the estate.” She pushed back his damp hair. “Do you not see? If you agree, we will be able to marry without concern for your estate.”

Little of what she said made sense to him, but in his fevered brain, he could do nothing but trust her. And as he signed his name, an image of his father appeared in his mind. What would the old man say if he saw him in this weakened state? The thought had brought on a sense of sadness, but as soon as the pen was taken from him, he fell into another fitful sleep, and all thoughts of his father had disappeared.

Pushing aside the past, he thought again about Annabel. Now that this had taken place, the chances of Adam—whoever he was—kidnapping her again were slim, for now her aunt would be on alert that someone wished her harm. Scarlett Hall would be a place where she could be kept safe, he was certain.

In time, Annabel would find a gentleman who would take care of her. Edward regretted that it could not be him.

Muted voices came to his ear, and Edward's heartbeat increased. So, Adam had come for him, or sent men after him more than likely. Soon, Edward would be dead, for he had not the strength to fight; even sitting was impossible. All he managed to do was lift himself onto his elbows before he dropped back into the pillows. How pathetic it would be to die when he could not defend himself, yet at least he would do so with a clean conscience. His last act on this earth had been one of a gentleman, the man he truly was, and not a criminal.

He heard the creak of the door opening and pictured two men armed with knives inching toward him. He would be dead within minutes, and he was ready. Gazing at the back of the sofa, he listened to the muffled voices. How he wished he could turn to face his attackers, but he lacked the strength to do even that.

“I am here,” he mumbled. “Come and kill me if you wish.”

A deep voice chuckled. “My services are never appreciated,” a man said.

Confused, Edward managed to look over his shoulder to find a man with a graying mustache and spectacles carrying a leather bag. “I promise you that the rumors are false. I have not killed anyone with my medical care.”

“Medical care?” Perhaps this was all a fever dream. Had he not pictured his father standing over him when he was ill before? Yet, the man had been dead years before.

“Indeed,” the man said, walking to the small table and bringing a chair. As Edward struggled to turn, the older man gave him aid, even helping to prop Edward up on a pillow so he was no longer lying flat on his back. “You sent your wife to find medical help. I am Doctor Henderson.”

“Wife?” Another person came into view behind the doctor. “Annabel? You returned?”

“Yes. Doctor Henderson is here to help you, so listen to him.”

The doctor chuckled again. “How long have you been ill?”

“I woke this morning…” He glanced at Annabel. “It was this morning, was it not?”

Annabel nodded.

“Yes, this morning,” Edward continued. “Yet, I began feeling unwell last evening.”

The doctor pressed his stomach. “Is there any pain here?” Edward shook his head. “Your ribs do not hurt?” The man pressed each side, inquiring about any pain, to which Edward replied he had none. “Good, good.”

After a few more questions, Doctor Henderson opened his bag and rummaged inside, producing a brown bottle. “This is my own remedy,” he said. “You are to take one teaspoon every three hours, and we will begin with the first now.”

Annabel left and then returned with a spoon and handed it to the doctor.

“Help me sit him up.”

Annabel nodded and walked around to the head of the sofa. Soon, Edward was propped up against the corner of the sofa, a pillow behind him. It felt good to be upright.

“Here you are,” she said as she held the spoon of liquid to his mouth.

“It tastes like grass and soil with tree bark mixed in,” he said as he smacked his lips and grimaced.

“I have heard that very description often,” the doctor said with a smile.

The room spun around Edward, sending a queasy feeling to his stomach. “Am I to die?”

“One day we all shall parish,” the doctor said. “However, you will not die from your current ailment. In fact, several people in the village have fallen ill with this very ailment over the past month, and most are already on the mend. However, none have died as of yet, so I believe you will be safe. You’re a hearty young man, so your body is strong enough to fight it off. I would worry if you were elderly or already infirmed. I suspect the fever will break in a few hours. Until then, your wife can help with cool compresses. Rest is the second best cure.”

“And the first?” Edward asked, trying to hide his skepticism.

“Why, my elixir, of course.” The man laughed and slapped his leg as if he had made some sort of joke. Then he stopped, his cheeks red, and rubbed his forehead. “My apologies. I am afraid I have not had any sleep in the past forty-eight hours. Your wife found me as I was heading home after losing one of my patients. No, no, not from what you suffer. It was due to complications in childbirth.” He sighed. “I lost both mother and child.”

“We are so sorry to hear this,” Annabel said. “I can look after him. Thank you, doctor. You should go home and rest.”

Doctor Henderson gave her a smile. “You,” he said, pointing to Edward, “are to remain in bed at least a week. If your fever does not break in two days, send for me again. However, I doubt that will be necessary.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Edward said.

Annabel walked the man to the door, and Edward closed his eyes as fatigue overwhelmed him. His body felt as if he had run a long race, and soon he was asleep.

He did not know how long he slept, but when he opened his eyes again, the sky was dark and the only light came from a candle on the table beside the window. And Annabel’s smile.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Nearly seven hours,” Annabel replied. She dipped a rag into a bowl beside her, wrung out the excess liquid, and placed it on his forehead.

“You have been here the entire time? Why did you return?”

She placed the bowl on the floor next to her. “I made a decision to follow my heart that night I left Scarlett Hall to meet Don Ricardo. How could I deny myself the opportunity to see you again after making such a rash decision then?” She reached over and placed a hand on his cheek. “The fever persists, but you are no longer burning.”

He closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I had something I wished to tell you before you left. When Mary betrayed me, I promised myself never to care for a woman again.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Do you remember that day you kissed me and asked if I felt anything?”

Annabel nodded. “I do. You told me you felt nothing.”

“That was another lie,” he said. “Even before that moment, you had found your way into my heart. With that kiss, I realize that it was possible to care for someone again.”

She pushed back his hair. “I believe we are both happy now,” she said. “And it was not the outcome either of us expected.”

“No, I suppose it was not,” he said with a laugh that turned into a cough.

Annabel dropped the rag into the bowl and picked up a glass of water to offer him.

After a few sips, he pushed the glass away. “What do you plan to do next?” He feared the answer, but he had to know.

“I will remain here with you until you are well,” she replied as if she had no other choice. “Then we shall return to Scarlett Hall. Together.”

Edward sighed. “Your aunt will expect me to be Don Ricardo Sánchez Ramírez. Once she learns that it was I who abducted you, she will never allow you to continue to speak to me. If that is what you desire, of course.”

“And you believe I desire something else?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. Then she laughed. “Of course, that is what I want.” Then she worried her bottom lip. “I only hope that once our story is explained that she will understand.”

Edward wished the same, but he knew the truth. Lady Lambert would never allow any sort of relationship between them and for good reason. He took hold of Annabel’s hand. “You must prepare yourself for her refusal. You see…”

“Shh,” she whispered. “You must rest. We will approach that problem once we return and not a moment before.”

Weakness overwhelmed him and his eyes grew heavy. All he could do was give a small nod before sleep took over. The last thing he remembered was Annabel taking his hand in hers, and with her tender touch, he fell into a peaceful slumber, his mind at ease for the first time in many years.