Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  A few moments later, Alice appeared with the needed implement, fussing under her breath as she stopped by the fire and used the tongs to place hot coals into the metal pan. “ ’Tis a sad day when a lady’s maid cannot perform her duties. I had to wrest this blasted thing from Mrs. MacAuley, I did. I’m the one as should be waiting on Miss Simmons, not that pasty-faced housekeeper.”

  “Alice!” Theodora said reprovingly.

  “Humph. Well, she is pasty-faced. And she don’t like having help, even when I know better than her how to do things.”

  “You told her how to do something? In her own house?”

  Alice sniffed. “It isn’t my fault if she don’t know the right way to cut candle tapers. And there I was, being nice and all!” The maid brought the bed warmer and slid it between the sheets, moving it in slow circles.

  Soon the sheets were toasty warm, and Alice set the bed warmer on the hearth to cool while Theodora helped Jane into the bed. The warmed sheets did the trick and the girl was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

  Alice unpacked Jane’s trunk, and was just hanging up the final gown when Mrs. MacAuley appeared carrying a tray laden with a decanter, a small pot, and several glasses. She was followed by a young, awkward-looking girl who carried a pitcher of water and several washing cloths. The girl filled the bowl on the washstand from the pitcher, placing the cloths nearby, the sound of the water splashing into the bowl stirring Jane enough that she awoke.

  “I’ve brought the whisky and honey as you asked, miss. There’s also a small vial of laudanum.” Mrs. MacAuley waddled to the bed and, after sending a frigid look at Alice, peered down at Jane. The housekeeper’s face softened. “Law, you’re but a child!”

  Jane started to talk, although it quickly turned into a deep cough.

  Mrs. MacAuley patted her shoulder. “There, lass, dinnae get excited. It cannae be guid for you.”

  Thea poured a splash of whisky into a glass, added a large dollop of honey from the small pot and a few drops of the laudanum, and stirred it. She carried the glass to the bed. “Take a sip. It will calm that cough.”

  Jane eyed the drink with misgiving, but she took a swallow and grimaced, her hand moving to her throat as she choked it down.

  Alice chuckled. “We need to toughen you up a bit. I could drink more whisky out a teaspoon than you’ve got in that cup.”

  Mrs. MacAuley frowned. “What a pert lass you are, to be telling a delicate miss like this that she needs to ‘toughen oop.’ ”

  Alice puffed up like a threatened badger. “ ’Tis the truth, and Miss Jane will be a sight better does she know it!”

  The housekeeper’s face turned bright red. “You are rude!”

  “And you are a bossy old woman!”

  Mrs. MacAuley planted her hands on her hips. “Why, I’ve never—”

  “That’s enough! Out, the both of you.” Theodora pointed to the doorway. “Jane needs peace and quiet.”

  With a final glare at Alice, Mrs. MacAuley gave Theodora a stiff curtsy, collected her things, and left, her maid following closely.

  Alice snorted. “Good riddance, I say.”

  “Out.”

  “But I’m here to help—”

  “Out! And while you’re gone, find Mrs. MacAuley and apologize. We’ll be here for two or three days, perhaps more, and I’ll not have you two warring the entire time.”

  Alice sniffed, but after a moment, she grumbled, “I suppose you’re right; it won’t do to be on the wrong side of the housekeeper. She’ll assign me to a hard bed if I’m not careful.”

  “I wouldn’t blame her if she did. She has her hands full, trying to care for this house without the proper assistance. She’s very shorthanded, and the house’s owner is never here and never leaves her enough funds to run it properly, and flatly refuses to take care of the place. Mrs. MacAuley has been placed in a dreadful situation.”

  Alice pursed her lips and looked about her. “ ’Tis a shabby house. Some of the inns we stayed at were better kept.”

  “Exactly. Mrs. MacAuley does the best she can, but there are limits.”

  “Very well. I’ll apologize,” Alice said grudgingly, and then left.

  Relieved, Theodora held up the glass of honeyed whisky and smiled at Jane. “A few more sips.”

  “Oh, please. No more.”

  “A few more, and I promise I’ll let you alone for at least two hours, if not more.” Theodora waited until Jane had choked down most of the whisky, then returned the glass to the tray. “There. Close your eyes and sleep.”

  “I hate being ill!” Jane’s voice quavered.

  “I know.” Theodora plumped a pillow and slid it behind Jane. “As my old nanny used to say, what’s for you will not go past you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Theodora sat on the edge of the bed. “It means that what’s supposed to happen, will happen.”

  “That seems dreadfully fatalistic,” Jane murmured. Her eyelids drooped as if weighted, but she moved restlessly, kicking at the covers and tugging at the sheets.

  The girl clearly ached from her fever, but the whisky and laudanum would soon do their work. “Did you get to see much of Dunskey when we drove up?”

  “No, not much.” Jane’s glassy gaze flickered around the room. “Mr. Douglas must be very proud of his house.”

  “I wish that were so.”

  Jane’s gaze returned to Theodora. “Why wouldn’t he be? It seems lovely.”

  “It could be. But it’s neglected, a fact Mr. Douglas refuses to address. He is a man of the sea, and has no desire to settle down. So he leaves his house to rot while he sails the seas.”

  Jane’s brow furrowed and she stifled a yawn. “Men never think of houses and homes the way women do. For us, it’s about comfort and restfulness, but men are taught from childhood that homes are buildings to be owned and even collected as if they were dollhouses. Why, look at all of the homes the king owns—castles, manor houses, lands—it’s absurd, for he cannot live in a hundredth of them.”

  “This is Conner’s only home.”

  “It’s his only house,” Jane gently corrected, her eyes fluttering as she fought sleep.

  Theodora looked around the bedchamber, admiring the cornice work and trim. “This could be a lovely home. It was built in the Scottish style in the early 1700s. I don’t know if you noticed when we drove up, but the house has a hipped roof, decorative moldings on the cornices, and—I should save this lecture for when you’re strong enough to tell me you don’t wish to hear it.”

  Jane managed a sleepy murmur: “Go on. I love old houses.”

  “So do I.” Theodora arose and rinsed out a cloth and placed it on Jane’s forehead. “You’ll love this one once you’ve seen it; I do.” She softened her voice and continued, almost sing-songing as she spoke. “There are gabled windows on the top floor, where the nursery and servants’ quarters are, and there are six chimneys. The house is remarkably snug, even though it hasn’t been taken care of properly.”

  Jane’s eyes closed, although her eyebrows were slightly drawn.

  “The ceiling in the ballroom is especially fine, and the plasterwork is so masterful it will steal your breath. It’s of wreaths and small flowers, and is exquisite, although it could stand being cleaned, for you know how dust collects in crevices. There are also two especially fine mantelpieces in the ballroom, one of marble and the other of . . .” Theodora let her voice trail off as Jane’s expression relaxed, and her breathing deepened into sleep.

  Poor girl. Theodora smoothed the covers over her, then turned to tiptoe out of the room—and came to a halt.

  Conner stood just inside the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his brows knit.

  Theodora’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t see you there,” she whispered.

  He continued to look at her, his expression dark, as if he struggled with a weighty problem.

  Theodora came a few steps closer. “What is it?”
r />   “How do you know so much about this house? I know I never told you half of what you just shared with Jane.”

  Blast it. He’d heard. She nervously wet her lips. “I don’t know. Perhaps . . . perhaps I read it somewhere.” To Theodora’s relief, Jane coughed in her sleep, the sound breaking the tension.

  Conner’s gaze moved to the bed. “How is she?”

  Thank goodness. He’ll forget he even heard what I said. “Not well. She’s hotter, I think. The fever grows.”

  He looked at Jane a moment more before saying in a somber tone deep with emotion, “She reminds me of Anna.”

  Surprised, Theodora glanced back at the sleeping girl. It took only a moment, and she realized Conner was right—the heart-shaped face, the sweetness of her expression, the paleness of her skin. “I don’t know why I didn’t notice that before.”

  “Anna’s expressions were more determined, but she—”

  Downstairs a door opened and then closed, and voices could be heard, footsteps climbing the stairs.

  “That will be Murray. I will escort him here.” Conner’s gaze found hers, and she knew then that he hadn’t forgotten his questions. “We need to talk, lass. And soon.” He turned and left.

  23

  Lance paced the length of the parlor, his face folded in a deep scowl. After several passes, he came to an abrupt halt and announced in a furious voice, “We should be in there with that blasted doctor!”

  Conner sat by the fire, his feet stretched to the flames. “Dr. Murray knows what he’s aboot. He dinnae like interference, is all.”

  “One question is not interference!”

  “ ’Twas more like a dozen, and all of them shot oot like bullets from a pistol.”

  Lance flushed. “I was just trying to understand Jane’s condition. She looks so—” He sucked in his breath and resumed pacing. “He had no right to send us from the room in such a manner.”

  “I tried to warn you. Set your mind at ease; Murray knows his business.”

  “How can you be sure, if he won’t even let you ask questions?”

  “He said he’d allow you all the questions you wished, after he’d examined Miss Simmons. To be honest, you dinnae give the mon a chance.”

  Lance’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t, did I? I—I am just worried.”

  “So I noticed.” Conner regarded Lance curiously. “You seem to care a great deal for Miss Simmons.”

  Lance’s expression grew guarded. “She’s my responsibility. I hired her to come with us, and I promised her brother I’d look after her.”

  Conner wondered if that was all. In a perfect world, the squire would find himself in love with someone else, and Thea would be free to marry me. If I could convince her to do so. At one time, Conner had believed his only obstacle was the squire. But that was long ago.

  The squire sighed. “The doctor seemed so callous, as if he didn’t care.”

  “He’s hired to take care of the men on my ships, and nae one else. He came oot of the goodness of his heart. Besides, Thea is there. She’ll nae allow Murray to leave withoot knowing exactly what’s what. You can trust her for that; she’s nae easy to browbeat.” Conner couldn’t keep the admiration from his voice.

  Lance brightened. “That’s true. Theodora’s a marvel, isn’t she?”

  Conner’s hopes that the squire’s affections had found a new focus died as quickly as they’d been born. And no wonder; who would take a faint spirit like Jane over a woman like Thea?

  The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs made Lance hurry to the door. “It’s Alice. Come here, please!”

  Alice joined them, bearing a heavy tray and looking every bit as annoyed as Conner expected. The tray rattled as she moved, overfilled with empty glasses, two large pitchers, and other crockery.

  She rested the edge of the tray on her hip and looked at Lance. “Aye?”

  “You were in Miss Simmons’s room just now. What is the doctor saying?”

  Alice’s jaw set. “He’s not yet finished his examination. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return this tray to the kitchen.”

  “Not until you’ve told us everything the doctor has said.”

  She shook her head, the crockery rattling ominously.

  Fire flashed in Lance’s eyes. “You must—”

  “Lance!” Conner interrupted. “We’ll get the news when the doctor’s ready. And that tray looks verrah heavy.”

  Lance’s gaze focused on the tray and he blinked, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. I should have noticed— There’s no excuse. I’m just worried about Miss Simmons.”

  The maid sniffed, but said in a more charitable tone, “We all are. But you needn’t fear. She’s in good hands, she is.”

  He brightened. “Has the doctor said anything positive? Anything that lets us know Jane will not grow worse?”

  “He’s said nary a word to any of us, once he threw you from the room.” Alice headed for the door, saying over her shoulder, “And when I said ‘good hands,’ I meant Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe’s. That doctor may know medicine, but ’tis obvious he’s a chucklehead.” With those mysterious words, she disappeared from sight.

  Lance looked confounded. “Chucklehead? What does that mean?”

  A measured tread sounded on the staircase and a rough, masculine voice barked orders. Thea’s softer voice answered.

  “There’s the doctor now,” Conner said.

  Lance started toward the door, but Conner called, “I would nae, if I were you. It sounds as though Thea’s herding him to the door and if you go oot now, you’ll just delay her report. Give her a moment to send Murray on his way.”

  “I’d like to speak to him directly.”

  “He never speaks when he’s told to do so. Let Thea handle him. She’s more than a match for a crotchety auld doctor.”

  Although it was obvious Lance didn’t agree, he stayed put, and they soon heard the front door close.

  Thea joined them, her face worried. She looked pale, her hair mussed at the temples from where she’d pressed her fingers. “Jane has an infection of the lungs.”

  Lance paled. “Good God!”

  “Murray says it’s treatable, but—” Thea’s voice caught and it took her a moment to regain her composure. “The next few days are crucial. If her fever doesn’t break . . .” Thea shook her head.

  Conner had to fight the burning desire to go to her and hold her. Like many strong people, she didn’t like to be coddled while she fought her own emotions. When she felt more stable, then would be the time to give her the hug she so obviously needed. Still, his heart ached on seeing her pain, and in thinking of the patient resting upstairs.

  Lance cursed and took a rapid, jerky turn about the room before coming to a stop in front of Thea. “This Murray! If she’s in such ill condition, why did he leave? Surely he should stay here and—”

  “I sent him away. It’s best that he’s gone.”

  “Agitates the patient, dinnae he?” Conner said quietly.

  “Very much. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s gruff and Jane is overly sensitive right now. But he left specific instructions about how to nurse her, and left the appropriate medicines. He was very thorough and quite knowledgeable. We’re to call him should anything change.”

  Conner arose from his chair. “What do you need from us?”

  She sent him a deeply grateful look. “There’s not much we can do now but wait. I’ll sit with Jane and make certain Dr. Murray’s orders are followed to the letter.”

  Mrs. MacAuley appeared in the doorway, her brow creased. “Miss Simmons is calling for you, Miss Thea, and she will nae stay in bed, no matter how much we try.”

  “You must go at once,” Lance ordered.

  Thea didn’t even blink. “Of course. Mrs. MacAuley, would you send a tray to the room with toast and weak tea? Perhaps I can convince her to eat something.”

  “Yes, miss. I’ll bring it myself.” The housekeeper hurried away.

  Thea sighed and rubbe
d her neck tiredly. “We must keep Jane quiet. That’s crucial and, to be honest, difficult. She’s high-strung as well as being ill, and the toll of her coughing has made her ache from head to toe. She’s frightened, too. She knows it’s serious.”

  “If I could take her illness myself, I would,” Lance said fervently.

  “I know you would,” Thea said, her expression softening slightly.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You’re too good.” He took Thea’s hands in his, and pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. “Thank you for taking care of poor Jane. You’ve been so kind.”

  Conner’s jaw tightened. Bloody hell, he was in no mood for such displays, not now. Not ever. Scowling, he shoved the footstool out of his way, drawing the startled gazes of Thea and Lance. “You two may exchange romantic pleasantries later. There’s a lass oopstairs who needs our attention now.”

  Thea flushed, her gaze blazing at Conner, although she pulled her hands free. “We were not being romantic, and you know it. But you’re right; I’m needed elsewhere. And thank goodness for that!”

  With her chin high, Thea sailed from the room, leaving Conner scowling, and somehow wounded in her wake.

  24

  A log dropped in the fireplace, sending a shower of sparks onto the hearth. The noise jerked Theodora awake.

  She blinked hazily, uncertain where she was, or why. She was still dressed, with a shawl draped over her shoulders; curled on her side in a deep wingback chair, her cheek numb from resting on the thinly padded arm.

  She slowly sat up and rubbed her cheek, grabbing at the book that tried to slide off her lap to the floor. A treatise on crop rotation? Ah, yes. I was reading to Jane. The plan had been to read a boring tome to put the girl to sleep. It had clearly put the reader to sleep, as well.

  Yawning, she set the book aside and stretched, looking wearily at the clock. It would be dawn within the hour. It was a good thing she’d awakened now; Jane’s medicine was due soon.

  Theodora arose and went to her patient’s side. Jane slept deeply, her cheeks flushed, her lips cracked and dry. It had been two days since Jane had taken ill. Two long, endless days and nights.