Chapter Eleven

Tom was in an agony of mind. It had been nearly ten o’clock when they had sent him downstairs. It was now almost noon. How was she? Why had no-one come to reassure him?

He had made for the salon, where the servants had once again built up the fire. Divesting himself of his wet cloak, hat and boots, Tom had sat by the fire until his shivering had eased and his clothes had dried, knowing that all his other clothing was upstairs in Nell’s room.

James the footman had come to take away his boots for cleaning, and had provided him with suitable indoor footwear, but he’d had nothing to report on Nell’s condition.

‘We carried the bathwater upstairs, sir,’ he had confirmed. ‘Tepid, not hot, as Mrs Hussey wanted. But I do not know how she is for they are all still with her.’ He had paused. ‘I do know the groom has been sent to fetch Dr Pagenham.’

‘Thank you, James.’ Tom’s heart had sunk.

Of course they will send for the doctor. Why would they not? It does not mean she must be at death’s door.

Now, his ears straining for any sound from the hallway, Tom realised that the other guests were beginning to rise, emerging from their chambers to drift downstairs. Thankfully, they went directly to the morning-room, where breakfast was laid out, and they did not bother him. He himself could not stomach the thought of breakfast—although he had had nothing since supper the night before.

How can I eat and pretend all is well when Nell almost froze to death this day?

He swallowed, acknowledging the truth of it. She would have died. She would have died. Thankfully, he had found her—and hopefully in time—but he could take no satisfaction from it as he had been the cause of her flight in the first place. He with his thoughtless, selfish cruelty.

Unable to resist any longer, he rang for a servant. Within a few moments, a housemaid arrived.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘How is Miss Godwin?’

‘I do not know for sure, sir—though Sally might.’

‘Is Sally below stairs?’

The maid nodded. ‘She is having breakfast, sir.’

Breakfast. ‘Then do not disturb her.’

Sensing the dismissal in his tone, the maid left. Tom put his head in his hands. At least when he had come downstairs Nell had been in good hands. The women had been warming her up, and Nell herself had been beginning to come round. The fact that Sally had been released to have breakfast was encouraging.

Without any further thought he rose, left the salon, and swiftly mounted the stairs. Reaching the door of the bed chamber, he hesitated. From inside, he heard a wail of pain.

Nell!

He leaned his forehead against the door. Whatever was happening inside, his Nell was in great distress.

All my fault.

Eventually the sounds decreased, then ended altogether. Tom, who was now sitting on the landing, felt dead inside. Luckily no-one had seen him in this wretched state. Not that it mattered anyway.

Summoning strength from deep within himself, he stood, straightened his shoulders, and knocked on the door.

In response to a query from Mrs Hussey, he gave his name. A moment later, the door opened.

‘Mr Beresford.’ It was Lady Cecily, twitching like a cat hiding its kittens. ‘Is there something you need?’

‘Er...yes. I should like to change my clothes. And I would like to know how Miss Godwin is doing.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I shall send for a footman to bring you some clothes. Mrs Hussey will discuss your sleeping arrangements with her mistress later and will have your belongings moved.’

‘Of course.’

They eyed each other. Lady Cecily’s hostility towards him was both clear and completely warranted. Their earlier truce had lasted only until he had successfully rescued Nell. Lady Cecily was now free to make her true feelings known.

‘And Miss Godwin?’ His eyes flicked over Lady Cecily’s shoulder, but all he could see was the foot of the bed and the window beyond.

‘The doctor has prescribed rest. She is to have no visitors.’

She would say no more.

He nodded and turned away.

I have no right to insist.

‘Wait!’

He heard it...the faintest of sounds.

‘Let him in.’ Nell’s voice was frail, but her message was unmistakeable.

‘But, Nell—’

‘I insist on this.’

‘Very well,’ Lady Cecily conceded. ‘But not yet.’ She turned back to Tom. ‘I will send for you when she is ready.’

He did not argue.

Nell was in agony. As her body slowly warmed the numbness gradually disappeared—to be replaced by searing pain throughout her body. Mrs Hussey and Cecily had made her bathe three times in a lukewarm bath, and treated her fingers and toes with salve.

Her stepmother had visited briefly, and seemed determined to criticise Nell for what she termed her ‘stupidity’. Thankfully the doctor, taking in the situation at a glance, had asked Mrs Godwin to leave, stating that he could see she was greatly distressed. He had asked the housekeeper to prepare a tisane for Mrs Godwin and she had gladly accepted this suggestion, declaring that he was the first person to have a care for the perturbation and anxiety she was going through.

Lady Cecily had stayed with her during the doctor’s examination. Nell had cried a little when he’d said her lungs were clear and he was hopeful she would recover fully. He’d prescribed laudanum, and continued baths, and confined her to bed. He had, as Lady Cecily had said, recommended no visitors, but Nell knew she would not rest until she had seen Tom again.

‘The doctor thinks I will get better, doesn’t he?’ she offered tentatively now, as Cecily settled her back into bed after her latest bath. She had dressed her in a pretty white nightgown, leaving her hair down.

Mrs Hussey had left them, anxious to check that the housemaids were maintaining their duties.

‘He does, thank goodness.’ Lady Cecily’s relief was clear. ‘He says the damage has not gone too deep. It is only the skin that is affected—not the muscles or bones.’

Repeating the doctor’s words was important. Reassurance for both of them.

Nell’s gaze met Cecily’s. Nell swallowed hard.

I might have died. I wanted to die.

She closed her eyes.

And yet some part of me wanted to live, too. That is why I stayed on the road.

She kept her eyes closed. ‘It was Mr Beresford who found me, was it not?’

‘Yes.’ Cecily’s tone was clipped, her disapproval obvious.

She wants to protect me from him. Because she cares about me.

‘Thank you, Cecily.’ Tears rolled out from beneath her closed eyelids and down her cheeks to her ears. She sniffed, and Cecily passed her a handkerchief. ‘You have been a good friend to me. Better than I deserve.’

Cecily denied it, then was quiet, and Nell was left to think. She thought and remembered and questioned inside her own head, until she felt ready.

‘I will see him now.’

Cecily nodded, then disappeared without a word.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in!’

The door opened.

It is him!

Everything depended on the next half-hour. Had she imagined it? His concern for her, the emotion she had felt in his voice, seen in his eyes, when he had rescued her? Her memories were hazy, but her heart believed something had happened.

It was time to discover the truth.