by Laura Martin
* * *
Leo dreamed. Some of the dreams were fantastical with dragons and giant rats and people who could fly like birds, while others were more based in reality, distortions of memories and events that had once happened. Every so often he would claw at consciousness, trying to bring himself out of the restless sleep, only to be pulled back down into the depths of his dreams.
Every time he tried to surface Annabelle was there, dabbing his brow with cool water, stroking his hand, and on the last occasion dozing peacefully in the chair by his bedside, a book rested on her chest. The spot beside him was never empty and he felt strangely reassured by the presence of his wife, the almost stranger.
* * *
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally woke properly. The daylight was streaming in through the curtains and there was distant birdsong drifting in through the open windows.
‘Water,’ he croaked, pushing himself up on the pillows so he was at least half-sitting. Annabelle jumped at the sound of his voice and scrambled to her feet. She smiled at him tentatively as she passed him the glass of water, supporting the bottom so he wouldn’t spill it all down his front. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s nice to see you awake.’
‘How long have I been sleeping?’
‘A day and a half. It is Monday morning.’
He grimaced. His head was still pounding and his body felt hot, but he didn’t feel anywhere near as uncomfortable as he had when he’d tumbled into bed on Saturday evening. Then he’d been shivering uncontrollably and the room had been spinning. He’d assumed it was a chill from getting so cold and wet in the storm, but it had developed into a full-blown fever.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Tired.’
‘You should rest some more. But have another few sips of water first. You must be dehydrated.’
He obeyed and took a few more sips of water before settling back down on to his pillows. It wasn’t often that he got ill; he was a healthy young man and could count on one hand the number of times he’d had to spend more than a few hours resting from a malady. Still, normally when he got a fever he would crawl into bed and rest, tended just by Michaels or a designated maid. They would come and go quietly, bring him his meals or change his sheets, but no one had ever sat by his bed like Annabelle was. She looked perfectly content just to be with him. Armed with her book—he squinted at the cover: on crop rotations for the arable farmer, of all subjects—she looked as though she were planning on staying until convinced he was better.
‘You don’t have to stay,’ he said quietly, hoping that despite his words she would. It was peculiarly comforting to have her sitting there beside him.
‘I’ll stay while you rest. Beth always sat by my bedside when I was ill, I know how reassuring it is to have someone there, just in case you need something.’ Although he would never admit it out loud, he envied her childhood. Those precious years spent with her sister as her constant companion. He would have coped much better with the loss of his parents if Josh hadn’t been ripped from him a mere few weeks later. Two mourning little boys shouldn’t have been separated, but his great-aunt had been adamant she was only taking Leo in, the eldest and heir to Lord Abbingdon. Josh had ended up with an old friend of their father’s as his guardian, soon to travel to India. Not a conventional upbringing, but from what Josh had told him it had been filled with love. Unlike his own.
He closed his eyes, unable to stop himself from smiling as Annabelle laid her hand lightly on his where it rested on the covers as he drifted off to sleep.
* * *
The next time he woke she was dozing in the armchair, her feet up underneath her and her head tucked into the crook of her elbow on the armrest. She looked young and innocent, and although he was desperate for more water he hesitated to disturb her. Now he could see it was beginning to get dark outside, the sun falling towards the horizon.
Shifting in bed, he levered himself into a half-sitting position, waiting for the pounding in his head to begin as he moved. There was a mild ache, but nothing like the constant headache that had made him want to squeeze his eyes shut every time he’d woken in the last couple of days.
He adjusted his position and reached out for the glass of water on his bedside table, his fingers gripping it momentarily before a coughing spasm made his arm jerk and the glass go flying. He could only watch in horror as it flew at Annabelle, spilling the cold water over her chest and the glass settling in her lap.
She awoke with a cry of surprise, sitting up and almost dislodging the glass, catching it at the last moment before it fell to the floor and shattered.
‘I’m sorry, I knocked it as I coughed.’
Annabelle looked down at her sodden dress and his eyes followed the direction of her gaze. He watched as she took one of the towels from his bedside table and began dabbing at the water, unable to tear his eyes away as she distractedly pulled at the front of her dress, revealing a flash of creamy skin underneath.
‘There were easier ways to wake me,’ she murmured and Leo saw the faint smile tugging at her lips.
‘You don’t like to be woken with a dousing by a glass of cold water every morning? I’ll keep that in mind.’
‘Was that a joke, Leo? Are you feeling very unwell?’
‘I have been known to crack a joke or two in my life,’ he said, sinking back on to the pillows. He found rather than tiring of her presence he was enjoying having her here, teasing him. It wasn’t what he had expected to feel.
‘One or two in thirty-odd years is a such a lot...’
‘Thirty-three,’ he informed her. ‘And I think you’ll find it is three jokes in thirty-three years now.’
She grinned at him, not the tentative, shy smiles she had given him before, but a proper face-changing smile. He liked it, liked the way it made him feel to be the one to make her smile like that.
Pouring him another glass of water from the jug, she handed it to him and looked over him with the regard of a professional nurse.
‘You look better. May I?’
When he nodded she placed her small hand on his forehead and held it there for a moment.
‘Much cooler. I think the fever must have broken.’
‘I recover quickly,’ he said as he pushed himself up in the bed again. It was hard to stay propped up with the number of pillows behind him, he just kept slipping down. ‘I’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.’
‘There’s no need to rush. It was a horrible fever. You were delirious at one point.’
‘Was I? I hope I didn’t say anything too shocking.’
‘You muttered non-stop for at least half an hour. I can recommend delirium for other newly married couples who have yet to become better acquainted.’
They fell silent as he drained his glass of water and Annabelle refilled it for him.
‘Do you feel completely better?’
‘I still have a mild headache and my muscles feel as though I’ve run from here to London, but I feel much better than I did.’
‘I’m glad. Do you want to sleep some more?’
He felt restless, as if he wanted to fling back the bedcovers and pace about the room, but he knew it wouldn’t do anything for his aching muscles.
‘Not just yet.’
‘I could read to you. Or we could talk—’ she paused, biting her lip ‘—or I could leave you in peace if you prefer.’
He surprised himself by shaking his head. ‘Stay. It is nice to have some company.’
Chapter Nine
Dear Josh,
I never knew how reassuring it is to have someone nurse you back to health when you are unwell.
The next two days passed in a blur. Although he felt much better and was recovering quickly, the fever returned twice and he still needed more sleep than usual. He was pleasantly surprised to find he looked forward to Annabe
lle knocking on his door in the morning and slipping into his room. She bustled around opening his curtains and letting in some fresh air, bringing him fresh flowers to sit on his windowsill. She spoke quietly, making him smile at her wry observations of the household she had joined, and she wasn’t afraid of allowing the time to pass in silence either.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He’d been adamant he wanted to lead a separate life from Annabelle, to continue as he had before he was married, but he’d failed at the first hurdle.
* * *
By the fourth day of his illness he felt much better and rose early, planning on joining his wife downstairs for breakfast.
‘Good morning, Mr Ashburton,’ Mrs Barnes greeted him as he descended the stairs. ‘Are you feeling better today?’
‘Much better, thank you.’
‘We have all been so worried about you.’
‘It was just a chill. I am fully recovered now. Thank you for your concern.’
‘Lady Annabelle is taking her breakfast in the dining room this morning, sir.’
‘Wonderful.’ He moved through the hall, but paused when he saw Mrs Barnes linger as if she had more to say.
‘Lady Annabelle has been dedicated in her care to you,’ the housekeeper said, keeping her tone light in a way that made Leo realise she had something she felt was very important to say. ‘She sat up with you all night the second night you were ill.’
‘She’s a very kind young woman.’
‘Yes. I wonder, Mr Ashburton, if you have considered moving her into the bedroom for the mistress of the house. It is the best proportioned room in the whole of the upstairs and a beautiful room. She is going to be living here after all.’
He raised an eyebrow. It was a very forward suggestion from his housekeeper, but he had always valued honesty from his staff and had encouraged them over the years to voice their opinions while still respecting his authority.
‘Has Lady Annabelle said she isn’t comfortable in her current room?’
‘No, no, nothing like that. It was just a thought I had, sir.’
‘I will consider it. Thank you, Mrs Barnes.’
His housekeeper did have a point, Annabelle should have the bedroom designed for the mistress of the house. It was almost next to his, separated only by the bathroom in between which had doors from either bedroom and allowed easy passage from one room to the next. He hadn’t wanted to move her so close to him in case it gave her the wrong idea about the expectations of the marriage, but he could see now she might have taken it as an insult that he didn’t think her worthy of the best bedroom.
The problem was, if he moved her now, it might give even more of the wrong impression that he had moved her because his expectations of the marriage had changed. Running a hand through his hair, he deliberated. Perhaps he would not suggest the move, but find some other way of thanking her for her care these last few days.
Annabelle gave him a sunny smile as he entered the dining room. She wasn’t wearing a veil and he was glad she didn’t feel a need to in her new home. He was aware she normally wore one out and about, but at Birling View she had felt comfortable enough to go without and he wanted her to be as relaxed here.
‘Good morning. It’s lovely to see you up.’ She spoke softly as always and watched him over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip of tea.
‘I feel much better. Thank you for keeping me company these last few days.’
In between his numerous naps she’d read to him, told him funny stories about her childhood and even helped him with the estate accounts he’d been worrying about getting behind with. She was an easy companion. Years of living with her mother meant nothing much fazed her. Even the few times he’d been unintentionally sharp with her she had shrugged it off with good grace.
‘Will you be returning to London today?’
‘Ah, yes, I’m not sure.’ He had planned to leave the day after their wedding, but the fever had stopped him. Now he was recovered he could ride for London today or tomorrow, but he felt an unexpected reluctance to leave.
‘Perhaps it might be better to wait a couple more days. I know it isn’t the longest journey, but you don’t want to feel unwell on the road. Unless your business is pressing.’
‘Not pressing, no.’ He felt a little guilty. There was no real reason for him to return to London. He had everything he needed here to keep up with estate business, but had decided before the wedding he would make a swift exit the day after they were married to keep some distance between him and his new bride. It seemed a callous move now that he thought about it. ‘I was thinking—’ he said, stopping to clear his throat ‘—that it is customary for newlyweds to go on a honeymoon. I know ours isn’t a conventional marriage, but there is no reason we cannot have a few days away together.’
Annabelle looked shocked and for a minute seemed unable to speak.
‘That would be lovely,’ she said eventually. ‘This is the farthest I’ve ever been from home, from Eastbourne, so it would be lovely to see somewhere else.’
‘Good. I will make the arrangements.’
‘Where will we go?’
He deliberated. The honeymoon had been a spur-of-the-moment suggestion. He’d travelled around most of England and Wales over the years as well as frequent trips to the Continent. He liked the countryside, unspoilt and quiet, without many people to ruin it.
‘Dorset is beautiful and not too far to travel. Devon and Cornwall are probably my favourite areas but the journey can take days and days.’
‘Dorset sounds wonderful. “Nymphs lightly tread the bright reflecting sand, And proud sails whiten all the summer bay.”’
‘A poem?’
‘Charlotte Turner Smith. She wrote it about Weymouth.’
‘She’s a novelist, isn’t she?’
‘She was. She died in 1806. We had many of her books in our library including a wonderful book of her poems. Very atmospheric.’
‘You really did spend a lot of time in that library, didn’t you?’
‘It was that or tackle the gardening.’ She pulled a face. ‘I love a beautiful garden to stroll around, but I fear I was not born to be a horticulturalist.’
‘Your mother didn’t hand over any of the running of the house to you?’
‘No. She insisted on overseeing everything herself.’ She dabbed her mouth delicately with her napkin before setting it down on the table beside her plate. As she rose Leo realised he was sad she was leaving, sad to be losing her company over breakfast, he’d grown so accustomed to it over the last few days.
She smiled at him and touched her fingers to his shoulder as she passed him and he felt himself stiffen. Something had happened to him while he was unwell, something had altered inside him.
‘You’re a fool,’ he muttered to himself. Suggesting honeymoons and considering moving Annabelle to a room closer to his—all because he realised he actually quite liked his wife. He still needed to be careful, still had to ensure there was a boundary between them. It wasn’t that he thought his wife was madly in love with him, he wasn’t as conceited as that, but he had seen how she had been living with her mother, deprived of warmth and companionship. He couldn’t be the one to offer her that. It would just end in disaster, with Annabelle hurt and hating him. He didn’t know how to care for someone, at least no one apart from his brother and he’d loved him since childhood, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to learn at the age of thirty-three.
With a scowl on his face he finished his breakfast. The idea of a honeymoon was souring, but he had suggested it now and would have to go through with it. He had seen how happy the proposal had made his wife.
Chapter Ten
Dear Beth,
Today I go on my honeymoon. I would say it is a joyous occasion, but my new husband has been so grumpy since we set off that he looks as though he has swallo
wed a bad-tempered owl.
Cautiously Annabelle peeked out from under her veil at her husband, wondering if the fresh air was improving his mood. He’d been nothing short of grumpy these past few days and had gone back to avoiding her for long periods of time. After he had recovered from his illness she had thought there had been a shift in their fledgling relationship—he’d seemed more relaxed, happier to be in her company. He’d even suggested this honeymoon with no prompting whatsoever from her. Then it had been as if something had flipped inside him and he’d returned to being distant and cool.
The last three days they’d spent travelling in comfort by carriage to Dorset. Annabelle had read the pile of books she had brought with her, written two letters to her sister and spent hours staring out of the window at the passing countryside. On three occasions she had tried to start conversations with her husband and had been quickly and abruptly shut down.
Unperturbed, she had this morning decided to suggest they ride the last twelve miles of the journey, thinking it might improve Leo’s mood to be in the sunshine and fresh air.
So far she was calling it a cautious success. He had smiled once, commented on the beauty of the countryside twice and had enquired as to her comfort on three occasions. It was progress.
‘You’re smiling,’ he said, looking at her with his brows slightly furrowed.
‘And you’re frowning. I think mine is the more appropriate reaction to our surroundings.’
‘I’m not frowning.’ He settled his face into a more neutral expression.
‘Well, you’re not now, but you were. You frown a lot.’
She tapped her horse with her feet and trotted off before he could react. It was clear Leo had lived for a long time without close human companionship. She might have been a recluse, but she’d had the love and company of her sister. The little she knew of Leo’s upbringing was third-hand, so perhaps inaccurate, but she gathered he was raised by a great-aunt who didn’t really want him and most certainly didn’t like children. No wonder he didn’t know how to interact with others all that well. Not that she pretended to be an expert on that front.