by Abby Ayles
Had it been from the soldier himself? She wouldn’t have put it past that scoundrel to cause mischief in such a way. Perhaps he even intended to punish her by shutting her out from the family she so loved.
Looking back, things began to fit into their rightful places.
It was after the proposal that Edmund had declared he no longer needed her services as secretary. Now this outburst – all stemming from the one fact: that he thought she had accepted.
Oh, what a mess it all was!
Joanna sunk down in her customary chair at Edmund’s writing desk, seeing the familiar implements before her.
What was she to do? The record must be set straight, but he was gone from the estate, and who knew when he would be back. Perhaps he would never even listen to her, expecting as he did that she would be gone.
The deception would fall apart rapidly when no wedding was held, but that would be far too late.
She had been dismissed. It did not matter whether the reasons were untrue. He was her employer, and it was her duty now to leave.
But there was perhaps one recourse left – one thing that might save her. Here she was, at the very desk where she had written letter after letter for him, time and again.
Why not rely on the same to save her?
She picked out a quill pen and a fresh sheet of paper, even though a voice in the back of her head reminded her that to do so was technically stealing from her employer.
She pushed these doubts away and set to work, laboriously trying to find a way to express her meaning.
My lord Kelt,
Please accept my humble apologies that a misunderstanding has come to pass, but I fear the situation is not as you believe it.
I am not betrothed to Lieutenant Hardwicke, nor could I ever be. I am in love only with yo-
No, that would not do!
Joanna stopped writing with a groan of frustration and crumpled the paper up immediately. She tore it once or twice for good measure and threw the whole mess into the fireplace. It was not lit, but she would light it later and destroy the damning draft.
She could not admit such a thing so freely. It was inappropriate, and just as likely to lose her position all over again.
No, she had to restrain herself. She should correct the misunderstanding, and nothing more.
She took a fresh piece of paper and started again, breathing deeply this time and trying to keep her shaking hands under control.
My lord Kelt,
Please forgive me for being so forward in writing to you so, but I fear there has been a terrible misunderstanding.
From Miss Amy I am given to understand that it is your belief that I am betrothed to Lieutenant Hardwicke, soon to be his wife.
I do not know how such a misunderstanding came to pass, but it is not true. I remain as I ever was since coming to your family – a humble governess only.
There was a proposal, but I did not think it a fitting match for such an esteemed nobleman and soldier to be linked with one such as I. I do not wish to be marked as a vicious social climber, and there is no love between us that would have us forsake the rules of society.
My lord, I beseech you to allow me to remain a governess in your household. I know that it is most unbecoming of me to beg, but it is my only hope. I feel such dear love for the children as if they were my own, and to be parted from them now brings such unbearable pain.
It is true also that I have enjoyed greatly serving you as your secretary, in whatever capacity I could. Our time together has been amongst my happiest memories, and I harbour a most sincere wish that we might be friends again, inasmuch as a servant can be friends with her master.
Please, if there is any way I may stay in my position here, allow me to do whatever is necessary to keep it.
Yours in faithful service,
Miss Joanna Warrick.
Joanna looked over her own words again, and felt tears threatening to spill out from her eyes once more.
She hastily blotted the page and folded it nearly, writing Edmund’s name on the front, so that she would not blur the words by crying upon them.
She pushed the letter to the middle of his desk, resting it where it would be easiest seen, and allowed the sobs to come over her then.
Oh, what a great despair it was, to have done everything in her power and now be forced to wait to learn what the outcome would be!
At any other time, she would have thought such a letter to be impertinent. Indeed, she should never have dared to express herself so. But this was a desperate time, and desperate measures had to be taken.
Since her position was lost anyway, what difference could it make? Perhaps he would want her gone for her brazen self-expression, but at least she would have tried. And she had not gone so far as to confess her love. That would be enough.
Joanna rose from her chair at last, concerned that perhaps Edmund might return from his ride and find her still sitting there.
In a burnished glass above the mantlepiece, she caught sight of her own reflection. Her face was sullied by tears, red around the eyes and yet so wan and pale everywhere else.
She reached up to scrub away the marks and found her skin burning hot to the touch, so hot that she snatched her hands away in alarm.
No matter. It was no doubt a physical symptom of her emotional distress. She had still to light the fire, to scrub away the evidence of her first attempt at a letter – the one she should not have written.
Joanna turned to look for the fire lighting tools, and to find the irons with which to stoke and move the fire. They were there by the fireplace, but somehow also so far away that they seemed unreachable.
Swaying for balance, Joanna reached out and caught hold of the mantlepiece for support. The cool stone felt impossibly cold under her fingers, almost as if it would freeze her to death. And what was this feeling in her head, now, as if it were fit to burst?
Oh, she was being so silly. To get so worked up about such a thing! Governesses lost their positions all the time, she told herself. It was no reason to swoon like an embarrassed schoolgirl.
She had done all she could, and now she had to see to this one last duty.
Joanna made another effort, letting go of the mantlepiece and rubbing her forehead to try to remove some of the pain. It was so hot still, the skin seeming almost to give off waves of heat that she could feel from a distance away.
Almost without knowing that she was doing it, Joanna leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the stone of the mantlepiece, craving that coolness to seep into her skin.
It was like a jolt of lightning, the shock was so great. She cried out in spite of herself, feeling the cold meet the fierce heat of her head.
The headache evolved into something new, reacting to the temperature shift, and she began to see black circles before her eyes.
With a groan, Joanna pushed herself away from the stone once more and made to grab for the fire irons. Even though they seemed so close, her arms were not long enough, and they slipped further and further away.
She tried to push herself towards them but the room was moving in the wrong direction, and tilting up on itself besides.
The ceiling rose to greet her, and then Joanna felt a sharp crack across her shoulders, and then the black circles enveloped her gaze until she could see no more.
Chapter 33
The sickness was come again upon the Hardwicke family.
When Joanna came to, she found herself in her own bed, tucked inside her chamber with the blankets wrapped tightly around her body.
She was dressed in only a shift, and yet the blazing fire in the room made it so warm that she could not bear to remain still.
She pushed her way out of the blankets, finding her arms surprisingly weak, and swung her body around to allow her feet to touch the floor. It was the coolest thing in the room, and she took pleasure from its touch, feeling beads of sweat move down her back.
“Oh, no, Miss, you’ve to stay tucked up!” Mary excla
imed, dropping a bowl of water so rapidly onto Joanna’s chair that it spilled over the sides.
“Mary?” Joanna managed, finding her throat dry and tight.
“Please, Miss, you’re not well. Lay back down again, do. Please, Miss, or Jenkins will box my ear for it.”
Joanna sighed. “Some water?” she asked.
Mary made for the large bowl, already with a rag halfway within it, and Joanna shook her head.
“No!” she called out, regretting the rough feeling in her throat. “To drink.”
“Oh, of course,” Mary said, tutting at herself and reaching for a jug on the dresser. “Here, Miss. Drink up.”
Joanna accepted the cup of water gratefully and drank it down. “What happened?” she asked. Her throat felt better with the water inside it, but she was still groggy and sore.
“You came down with – with the sickness, Miss,” Mary said quietly, as if it was news she did not want to share.
Joanna tried to meet her eyes, but the maid kept her head ducked down. “The sickness?”
“Yes, Miss,” Mary said, tucking her hair behind her ears with a tremble of her lip. “Jenkins says your symptoms are the same as what took the Lord and Lady, before. Everyone is mighty frighted.”
Joanna tried to stand, but found herself dizzy. “More water, please, Mary. Is everyone else alright?”
Mary poured her another cup, fidgeting on the spot. She couldn’t seem to keep her feet still. “Jenkins said as I wasn’t to tell you,” she said.
“Tell me what?” Joanna demanded immediately, drinking the second cup of water and feeling her head clear just a little.
“Well,” Mary said, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers awkwardly and glancing towards the door.
“Tell me this instant,” Joanna said, drawing herself up with a strength that she did not feel.
“Yes, Miss. Um, it’s Miss Patience and Miss Amy. They’re sick too.”
Joanna felt her stomach dropping out through her feet.
The two young girls, ill as well? Oh – and it was so cruel! To have them suffer the same illness that had killed their parents, and weakened their brother so much!
“Where are they?” Joanna asked.
She shuffled forwards to the end of her bed, casting about her. She found a day dress hanging on the back of her chair and reached for it, drawing it over to herself.
“They’re in their own beds, Miss. Me and Jenkins and Cook is looking after them.”
“Show me,” Joanna said. She stepped into her skirt and began to draw it up over her body. “Help me put this on so that I can go to them.”
Mary dithered a little more before giving in to the authoritative tone in Joanna’s voice. She obviously felt that she was no match for her, and began fussing around her, helping her lace up the dress.
“Oh, Miss, you’re burning so,” she tutted, laying a hand on the back of Joanna’s neck.
“It is nothing,” Joanna said. “I must be through the worst of it by now. Take me to them at once, Mary, no more fussing now.”
“Yes, Miss,” Mary said meekly, leading her out of the room and only stopping to snatch up the bowl of water she had carried in in the first place.
They walked along the corridor, which was strangely quiet and subdued.
As they passed the top of the stairs down to the main hall, Joanna caught a glimpse of Samuel sitting glumly on a chair below.
He leapt to his feet when he saw them passing by. “Miss Warrick!” he exclaimed.
“I’m quite alright, Mr. Samuel,” Joanna said, raising a hand to reassure him. “I go to tend your sisters.”
“But Jenkins said…”
“I’m going to be fine, I promise you,” Joanna insisted, forcing a smile.
She tried to keep her breathing controlled. Already she was fighting for air, after such a little exertion.
“Can I come with you?” Samuel asked, coming to the foot of the stairs.
“No, young master!” Mary exclaimed quickly. “Jenkins says he’s to stay down there so as the sickness can’t reach him again.”
Joanna thought about it. “He’s probably right,” she said. “Mr. Samuel, don’t come up. Please, listen to Jenkins. He wants to keep you safe.”
“But I want to help!” Samuel whined.
“You are helping,” Joanna told him, starting her walk along the corridor again so that he could not argue. “You’re letting us worry about your sisters without having to tend you, too. Please. Wait for us to do our work.”
He did not answer, but neither did he come up the stairs.
Joanna glimpsed him traipsing back to his chair as they passed further down the corridor and out of sight.
The wing in which the family kept their chambers was more inhabited. Jenkins and Cook were there, standing by Patience’s door and conversing in low tones.
“Miss Warrick! You oughtn’t be out of bed,” Cook scolded, seeing them coming.
“I’m quite fine,” Joanna said, approaching them. “Please, do not argue with me. I must help. How are the girls?”
“Deeply asleep,” Jenkins reported, with a heavily furrowed brow. “We have not been able to wake them, and they burn. Are you really recovered?”
“I am here to serve, and serve I will,” Joanna said sternly, giving him a level look which she hoped he would not argue with. “What needs to be done?”
Jenkins exchanged a look with both Cook and Mary, but at last sighed in surrender.
“We must keep the girls wrapped up tightly. I have been cooling their faces with water, and placing some drops on their lips so that they may at least drink. We keep the fires burning around the clock. It is the only way that they will survive.”
Joanna nodded. “I will help. What of Lord Kelt? Or Lieutenant Hardwicke?”
“Gone,” Jenkins said, twitching his mouth in displeasure. “My lord rode out yesterday and has not been seen since. The Lieutenant went out to search for him, hoping he has not taken ill as well.”
Joanna’s heart lurched. She had not thought, until that moment, that Edmund might be in danger. If he had ridden off because of her, only to fall from his horse, sick…! She could not forgive herself!
Joanna swayed a little, overcome by the sudden fear that he might not even be amongst the living.
“It has been a whole day already?”
“Miss Warrick, if you’re not feeling well…” Jenkins began, but Joanna waved her hand.
“No, Jenkins, I’m fine. I’m just concerned. I hope the Lieutenant finds him soon.”
Jenkins gave her a fatherly look which told her she was not the only one feeling concern, but she turned from him and went to check on the first of her charges.
The fever was raging so wildly in Patience’s body that the whole room had a different smell when Joanna stepped inside.
She lay wrapped in blankets with her eyes closed, but she had not the peaceful expression of a sleeper. Rather, her forehead was creased with a frown, and she even moved fitfully every few moments.
Joanna knelt and touched her hand to Patience’s brow, finding it hot to the touch.
She lifted a rag from the bowl beside the bed and started to sponge her face, soothing away the heat with the calming droplets of water.
Patience stirred slightly and even made a small groaning noise, but she did not open her eyes or attempt to make a more solid movement.
Joanna understood that she was still locked away deep within the fever, and whatever she saw or heard there, was the stuff of dreams.
Joanna stayed by her side for a long time, pausing in her ministrations only to occasionally apply the water to her own brow when she felt the heat getting too much for her.
She did not mind about the water dripping onto her dress. She was already soaked through with sweat, a consequence of the fire being lit on a summer day.
Mary came as the evening began to draw in, bidding Joanna to take some rest and eat, but she instead moved to Amy’s room where Jenkins was
tending the young girl. She looked so frail and helpless that Joanna had to hold back a sob.
“Miss Warrick, have you eaten?” Jenkins asked, turning around to see her in the doorway.
Joanna shook her head wordlessly. She could not take her eyes from Amy’s face.
Perhaps Jenkins understood that she would not have been persuaded to leave her by earth, wind, or fire. “Stay with Miss Amy a short while. I will bring you something.”