by Rose Pearson
Lifting her chin, Josephine resolved to stay by Miss Wells side as much as she could. She knew how important the lady was to Lord Dunstable and she would do all she could to help her recover. That would help her heart to forget Lord Dunstable, surely, for in helping his betrothed to recover, she would have to continually face the fact that he was never to be hers. As painful as that was to be, Josephine knew it to be for the best.
“Sam,” she called, as she picked up her vinegar and feverfew. “Might you be able to find me a piece of paper? I need to write a note.”
Sam lifted his brows. “A note?”
“A letter,” she confirmed, nodding. “I know who this lady is. She’s betrothed to Lord Dunstable.”
An astonished expression caught Sam’s brow. “The gentleman whose house you’ve just come back from?”
“The very same,” she replied, quickly. “Might you help me, Sam? I need to write to him so that he knows what has become of her.”
Sam nodded and shuffled off, leaving Josephine to return to Miss Wells. She bathed her forehead, cheeks, and neck, seeing the red rash spreading across the lady’s décolletage.
“Where am I?”
The lady’s eyes fluttered open, gazing around her in confusion. Josephine put one gentle hand to Miss Wells’ forehead, feeling just how hot she was. “You’re being looked after,” she said, not wanting to mention the words of ‘the Devil’s basement’. “You have the fever. I’m here to look after you.”
Miss Wells groaned, her throat obviously paining her. “I have the fever?”
“But you’re going to be quite well,” Josephine reassured her, putting the damp cloth on her forehead. “I’m here to look after you and Lord Dunstable will be on his way to see you very soon.”
Miss Wells closed her eyes again. “Gideon,” she breathed, fading back into her delirium. “Yes, send for Gideon.”
“I will,” Josephine replied, firmly. “You need not worry, Miss Wells. Rest now. I’ll be here by your side when you waken.”
The lady did not stir again but seemed to fall into a fitful sleep. A little relieved by this, Josephine left the cloth on the lady’s forehead and, seeing Sam coming towards her, walked over to him to collect the paper and pencil. She would write to Lord Dunstable this very night, in the hope that soon, he would be at his betrothed’s side….no matter how painful that would be for her.
13
Gideon opened his eyes slowly. Sunshine was streaming in through the window and sending a warm shaft of light onto his bed, and the sight of it made him smile. There was warmth and life and beauty and he finally felt as though he had returned to it.
He had been lost in the fever. Lost in the heat and the sweat and the confusion that came with it, his throat aching painfully as his skin burned. And yet, the only thing he could recall was Josephine. Whenever he had called for her, whenever he had tossed fitfully and cried out, she had been there to comfort him. The cool cloth had taken some of the heat from his bones and the sound of her gentle voice had soothed his fractious mind. He had a lot to thank her for.
That thought made him frown. He had not seen Josephine for the last day or so but since he had done very little other than sleep and eat, he had not had the opportunity to ask Francine or his mother where she had gone. How relieved he was to know that the rest of the house was slowly getting back to normal! The fever had gone from them all, it seemed, and whilst Gideon was sorry that he had lost a maid and a footman to the fever, he was glad that the rest of the servants appeared to be quite well. For the time being, the fear and worry over his estate had gone. Things were slowly going back to how they had once been and he could not have been more grateful to Josephine for her part in it.
A small niggle began to plague his mind. Frowning, Gideon pushed himself up to sitting, trying to let himself remember whatever it was that was attempting to come to light.
I love you.
He froze in his bed, his expression one of shock as the words he had spoken to Josephine came back to him. He had said them aloud, had said them to her and yet he could not recall what her reaction had been.
Not that what he had said was a lie, of course, for he knew in his heart that he had come to love her, but to have said it aloud was quite another thing entirely. For heaven’s sake, he had only just managed to find the words to explain to her that he had begun to care for her before he had become ill, but now to discover that he had confessed his love to her whilst in the grips of the fever brought Gideon a rush of anxiety.
And what of Georgina?
A flush of heat crept into Gideon’s cheeks, despite the fact that no-one else was around to witness it. That was why he had stepped back from Josephine at the lake and certainly why he ought not to have said any such words of love to her. He had to deal with the situation with Georgina first. They would bring their engagement to an end and he would find himself free to care for, love and even marry whomever he wished.
And he wished for that someone to be Josephine.
It no longer stung at his mind, the thought of marrying a lady who was neither of his class nor of noble birth. In a way, the fever had shown him that they were all the same, regardless of accident of birth. Kindness, compassion, and consideration were not traits that were in the nobility alone. In fact, Josephine had shown more of these things than his own betrothed lady, who had kept entirely silent by the looks of things – and certainly was not by his side now, watching over him! Gideon found he did not care what would be said about him should he be permitted to marry Josephine. The thought of having a heart so fulfilled, a life so full of love and affection, was enough to make him want to dance about the room with joy. Class and titles be damned! Love was all he required.
“Gideon?”
He turned his head to see Francine stick her head through the ajar doorway and smiled, beckoning her in.
“Good morning, my dear sister,” he said, welcoming her. “Come in. I am quite at my leisure, as you can see.”
Francine had been by his side these last two days, feeding him broth when he had been too weak to do so, but Gideon knew that he would not require such nursing today. His strength was already returning in swift bounds.
“Oh, Dunstable, I have been ever so worried about you,” Francine said, hurrying in and referring to him now in the way she normally did, which told Gideon that he must be looking a good deal better. “You look brighter this morning, though it can scarcely be called morning since it is very near to noon.”
Smiling, he pushed himself up against the pillows, wondering if he would be able to get out of his bed this morning. “You cannot begrudge me rest, surely?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “No, indeed. You will need as much of it as you can these next few days. I know it.”
Tipping his head just a little, Gideon regarded his sister. “Where is Josephine?”
The smile faded from Francine’s face almost immediately. “Josephine? Why, she has gone.”
A heavy weight dropped into Gideon’s stomach. “Gone?” he repeated, his voice growing a little thin. “What do you mean, she is gone?”
Francine lifted one shoulder, although the look in her eyes told Gideon that she knew more than she was saying. “She waited until the fever had broken and you were making a recovery, before returning to London to the Devil’s basement in Smithfield Market. The people there need her too, Dunstable.”
Gideon frowned. “Yes, I know that, Francine, but I would have thought that….” He trailed off, unable to voice the rest of his words. He wanted to tell Francine that he had expected Josephine to linger here, at the house, until he was well recovered so that they might, at the very least, talk about what had transpired between them, but that was a private matter and so he could not say a word. At the same time, he did not want to appear begrudging that Josephine had returned to London, recalling the horror and the stench of the Devil’s basement. Francine was right to say that those people needed Josephine’s aid also.
“You wan
ted her to stay.”
The statement was casually made but the small smile on his sister’s lips spoke of understanding of all that he was feeling. He ducked his head for a moment, a little unsure as to what to say or what to do, only to feel his sister touch his hand.
“You care for Josephine, do you not?”
Sighing heavily, Gideon looked up at her and gave her a wry smile. “You will think me foolish.”
“No!” Francine exclaimed at once, looking rather hurt that he would think so. “No, indeed, Dunstable, I do not. I think that she is a marvelous creature and it comes as little surprise to me that you have found your heart so caught up with her – but what about Georgina? She is your betrothed, is she not?”
Gideon closed his eyes for a moment, his breath dragging out of him. “Yes, indeed, she is. I do not know what to say to you in that regard, my dear sister, for I confess that I am in great confusion about what to do or say to my betrothed. I do not think that she cares for me one jot and I confess that I do not care for her either. That cannot be a solid foundation on which to build a marriage. I have resolved in my heart that, therefore, our engagement must come to an end. Although,” he continued, shoving one hand through his hair, “how I am to tell her such a thing I cannot say, for she does not seem to want to respond to my letters. I do not even know where she resides at this present moment either!”
Francine’s expression became sympathetic. “I quite understand, Dunstable. I wrote to her when you first became ill and, not knowing where she was, thought to send a copy to her father’s estate with the original going to London.”
Gideon frowned. “And you have heard nothing from her?”
Shaking her head, Francine eyed Gideon carefully. “And you are quite convinced that you care for Josephine?”
Looking steadily at his sister, Gideon felt his heart ring with certainly. “I love her,” he said, slowly. “And I intend to marry her, Francine, if she will have me.”
His sister said nothing for a moment but, taking in a breath, nodded and smiled. “Then I think you must return to London the moment you are well enough to do so,” she said, firmly. “For you will need to find her there and confess it all to her.”
“Once I have spoken to Georgina, I shall do so at once,” Gideon replied, firmly. “Thank you, Francine.”
At that very moment, the door opened and the butler hurried in, bearing a letter for Gideon. It was a rather dirty looking letter from first glance and Gideon hesitated for a moment, picking it up carefully and turning it over. There was no seal to break and so, carefully, unfolding it, he let his eyes run over the few short sentences.
His breath caught.
“What is it?” Francine asked, a little upset at seeing her brother’s face now so pale. “Is something wrong? Is it Josephine?”
“No,” Gideon replied, hoarsely. “It is not Josephine. It is Georgina.”
Francine stared at him. “Georgina?”
Nodding, Gideon handed his sister the letter. “It is from Josephine. She writes that she is tending to Georgina, Georgina’s companion and some of the staff from the townhouse. It appears that they have all caught the fever.”
One hand flew to Francine’s mouth. “Goodness.”
Gideon closed his eyes. He knew what his duty was and, despite the fact that he was to bring their engagement to an end, he knew he had to go to London to be by Georgina’s side.
“I must write to her father and then prepare to go to London,” he said, throwing back the bedcovers and swinging his legs to the ground. Attempting to stand, he felt a wave of weakness rush through him which forced him to sit back down on the edge of the bed.
Francine shook her head. “You cannot make the trip immediately, Gideon, not in your weakened state. Write to her father, yes, but prepare to leave the estate by the week’s end.”
“No,” Gideon replied firmly, frustrated that his limbs would not do what he wished them. “I must go now.”
“But you cannot,” Francine replied, gently. “Gideon, you would collapse on the way to the carriage. Please, think carefully. Make preparations for the end of the week, when you will have enough strength to travel. I will come with you, of course, as will mama.”
Gideon shook his head. “No, you will both remain here. London is rife with the disease and I will not endanger you again.” He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling frustrated and angry that he could not go to London just as soon as he wished. “But you are right to urge me to wait. I will do so.” His mind filled with thoughts of Josephine and Georgina, feeling sympathy and sadness for his betrothed. She would be enduring all that he had experienced, without any of the comforts of being at home. How she had ended up in the Devil’s basement, he could not imagine, growing all the more concerned that Viscount Armitage, Georgina’s father, had as yet not been heard from.
“Georgina will receive the best of care, Dunstable,” Francine said, softly, one hand on his arm. “If it is Josephine caring for her then you know full well she will be taken care of. It says here in the letter that Josephine is staying by her side, day and night, with the awareness of just how important a person she is to you.”
A small groan escaped Gideon’s lips. He had not thought that Josephine would discover the truth about Georgina, never once letting himself consider the idea of talking to her about the matter, but now that he saw they were both together regardless, he wished he had done so.
“Did Josephine know about Georgina before she left this house?” he asked, his voice fragmented as he looked at his sister. “I had not told her and –”
“I told her,” Francine replied, softly. “I did not mean to cause you any trouble, Dunstable.”
“And is that why she left?” Gideon persisted, fixing his sister with a stern gaze. “Is that why she turned away from me and my house?”
Francine looked back at him steadily. “I think Josephine cares for you very much, Dunstable,” she replied, softly. “But she believes that her place can never be by your side.”
“And I cannot blame her for that,” Gideon sighed, flopping back against his pillows. “This is becoming a somewhat twisted mess, is it not?”
Francine smiled sympathetically. “Go to London, Dunstable. See how Georgina fares. The most important thing at this present moment is that she recovers. After that, you will have to see what comes of it all.”
14
Josephine looked up to see two figures coming into the basement, her breath catching in her chest as she realized it was none other than Lord Dunstable, accompanied by Sam. Sam was indicating the bed near to where Josephine stood and she moved away at once, unable to be in Lord Dunstable’s presence. She could not bear to have him look at her, could not bear to have him see her standing there, in her dirty gown and matted hair whilst he looked after his dear bride to be.
Her heart ached as she stumbled away into the shadowy darkness, neither wanting to be seen or heard. Doctor Thomas was with Georgina at the moment which meant she had no reason to linger. There were plenty of others who needed her.
And yet, as she stepped away, her heart filled with relief and gladness that she had seen Lord Dunstable so restored to health and strength. It was a very strange sensation, to be so filled with delight and yet feel so much pain in equal measure. Closing her eyes for a moment, she put one hand on the grimy wall, steadying herself. She knew that he would come, hadn’t she? The moment she’d sent him a note to say that Miss Wells was here, she’d known that he would come to her. To see him now, so worried and concerned over his betrothed, brought a fresh stab of pain to her heart. She had been so foolish to think that what he had confessed to her was the truth of his heart. It had been words from the depths of his delirium and nothing more.
“How is she faring, doctor?”
Lord Dunstable’s voice filled the basement and Josephine had to drag in yet another breath, feeling as though she wanted to run far from this place. She could not bear to hear him speak, could not bear to lay her eyes on him
and yet she knew there was no escape.
“She is doing a good deal better, my lord,” Doctor Thomas replied, with a hint of relief in his voice. “The fever broke only this morning. I think that soon, she will be able to return home to rest and recover there.”
Josephine let out her breath slowly, going in search of her cloths so that she might start tending to others. Let Lord Dunstable and the doctor speak. That part of her life was over now and the sooner she forgot about Lord Dunstable, all the better.
“You have Josephine to thank for her care, however,” she heard the doctor say, freezing in place as he spoke. “That girl has barely left Miss Wells side since the moment she came in. She stated that she knew how much the lady meant to you, my lord.”
There was silence from Lord Dunstable and Josephine remained exactly where she was, bowl in hand, unable to do so much as turn her head to see if he was searching for her in the gloom of the basement.
“Josephine is a marvel,” Lord Dunstable said, eventually, his voice a little louder than before as though he wanted to ensure she heard every word he said. “I cannot thank her enough for what she has done – both in my own house and now here. She is an angel.”
Doctor Thomas let out a long breath. “I would agree,” he replied, as Josephine managed to throw him a quick glance over her shoulder, her breath coming out raggedly as the threat of tears began to grow all the more. “I do not know what I would have done without her.”
Josephine could not listen to anymore. The urge to run to Lord Dunstable and throw her arms around him, to tell him that she was so very glad to see him happy and safe once more grew steadily, and yet the knowledge that he was to marry Georgina Wells threw all that into disarray. He was not hers to embrace. He was not hers to love. He belonged to another and she could never take her place.