Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen)

by Vandagriff, G. G.

  Walking over to the bed, she looked down at her sister. The girl’s color was rosy with fever, but her eyes were sunken in her head. The most alarming sight, however, were her blue lips.

  “Perhaps she could breathe a bit better if we elevated her head,” Fanny said. “Could you get some more pillows?”

  Elise walked into the room. “Oh, Anna, what would we have done without you? You must be worn to a thread!” Walking over to the bed, she looked at her sister. She took Sophie’s hand and said softly, “Fan and I are here, dearest.”

  “She will not know you,” Anna told her. “She is delirious. But she has been asking for you and Fanny.” Going to the wardrobe, she removed two pillows from a high shelf. “Here, Fanny.”

  “Elise, could you help me lift Sophie? I think she could breathe better if her chest and head are elevated. Anna, could you put those pillows behind her?”

  “She must have fluids,” Elise said. “How long has it been since she has had anything to drink?”

  Anna said, “Until today, she was relatively conscious. I have been giving her barley water to drink, but she has taken no food. And today, she won’t even take the water.”

  “Did the doctor not leave any fever powders?”

  “No. He washed his hands of both of us when I would not let him use his leeches.”

  “He will be hearing from the duke!” Elise said.

  Fanny went to a chest that sat below the aqua-draped window. Opening the top drawer, she smelled Sophie’s lavender sachet and found her handkerchief envelope. Taking several, she asked, “Elise, could you see that cook makes her some more barley water? I am going to fold this handkerchief into a teat and wet it. We can squeeze a little water down her throat that way without it spilling out of her mouth.”

  “What a good idea,” her sister said.

  “We did that for the little kitten whose mother rejected him. It was Sophie’s idea, actually. Does the light hurt her eyes?” she asked Anna.

  “Yes. That is why the room is so dark. She asked me to draw the drapes.”

  “Well, let us have a least a candle. Over on the dresser. I’ll take care of it.” As she rang for the maid, she said, “Anna, we owe you a great debt. Please go get some rest now. Between Elise and me, we can manage from here on.”

  Elise announced, “I will see that the duke sends someone to the doctor for fever powders. I have never heard of such deliberate negligence!” She walked out of the room at a brisk pace, saying, “Cook will send up the barley water as soon as it is ready.”

  When both women had departed and she had lit a candle, Fanny sneaked over to the window furthest from the bed. She could not believe that the sick room stuffiness did not make it harder for Sophie to breathe. Cracking the window slightly, she pulled the drapes over it. Then she sat in Anna’s chair and took Sophie’s limp had in hers, squeezing it slightly.

  “Darling Sophie, it’s Fan, dear. You are going to be right as a trivet in no time.”

  Sophie began thrashing her head from side to side, barking out an alarmingly deep cough. Fanny took this as a sign that she was at least somewhat aware. She took up Anna’s flannel, dipping it in the water. Raising it to Sophie’s forehead, she began bathing her sister’s pleasing and beloved face. The skin was burning. Her little retrousse nose spoke to Fanny of her sister’s harmless pranks, her sunken eyes were fringed with eyelashes that Fanny envied. Her blue lips were full, bringing to mind her normal smile which was deceptively sweet.

  She was a girl brimming with character and spunk, despite the pain in her joints which caused her to limp. The affliction was due to her earlier bout with rheumatic fever. For that reason, Sophie had never wanted a Season and had been content to remain at Ruisdell Palace with her violin.

  Sophie was the only light-haired girl in the family. While Elise had black hair and Fanny auburn, their sister’s hair was the color of brown that towheads often had as they grew up. It still had light streaks. Fanny was distressed to see it clinging damply to her forehead and in a snarl across the pillow. That was something she could do for her sister right now. She could plait her hair.

  When she was almost finished brushing and braiding, the kitchen maid entered with the barley water. Thanking her as she set it down on the bedside table, Fanny finished the plait, laid it on her sister’s shoulder, and then twisted a handkerchief into a point. Dipping it in the barley water, she gently wet Sophie’s lips. After continuing this for some time, she wet the teat with a bit more water and forced it past her lips, squeezing the liquid onto her tongue.

  This slow process took some time. Elise had returned with the fever powders and stirred them into the barley water. When Fanny showed her what to do, she took over the process.

  “You go change for dinner, Fan.”

  “I’m just going to have mine up here on a tray. But I could do with a wash and brush up. Thank you.”

  Later that evening, after Fanny had eaten and was bathing Sophie’s face once more, the girl became very restless. She cried out for Fanny and Elise, thrashing her fists and head on the pillows, which were wet from their attempts with the barley water. Fanny rang the bell and asked the chambermaid for fresh pillowcases.

  Then she spoke to her sister in soothing tones.

  “I am here, Soph. Right here beside you. We rode all the way from Cornwall. That is why it took so long.

  “You must wake up! I have so much to tell you. You are my best friend. I love you more than tongue can tell. And I or Elise will be at your side, so do not fret. We are not going to leave you. I am anxious to hear you play the violin. Did you finish mastering the Mozart concerto yet? What about the Beethoven you said was such a challenge?

  “Even though I am engaged now, Sophie, you still own a big piece of my heart. You will adore Buck, my fiancé. He is as much of a madcap as I am. Hopefully, he will make his way here soon, though he, too, will have to ride all the way from Cornwall. But it is his own fault. He was very tardy about leaving London. I am actually a little worried about him.”

  This part of her conversation led her to think of Buck for the first time since entering the sick room. She felt so disconnected without him near. But then concern for Sophie flooded back. Though she had not said a word to the others, she was very afraid that her sister was lying on her death bed.

  Exhaustion and fear caused her eyes to well up with tears, and for the next half hour, she wept helplessly. When Elise entered the room, she saw Fanny using one of Sophie’s clean handkerchiefs to mop her eyes.

  Putting her arm around her, she said, “Fan, dear, you must not give way to despair. We can do so much to make her more comfortable, and I am convinced that she will triumph over this. Soph is very strong at the core, you know.”

  Fanny sniffed. “Yes, I know. I was just thinking how I could not bear it if she were never able to meet Buck. And then I thought of all the things you and I have to look forward to that she will never know if she dies so young.”

  “Have the fever powders made any difference?”

  “No, I am afraid not. She is still scalding hot. She was calling for us a while ago.”

  “Get some sleep, Fan. I will watch after her. I have ordered some more barley water, and I will mix some more powders in with it.” She looked around her. “Goodness, it has become chilly in this room.”

  Fanny stood and went to the window. “I opened this a wee bit. I did not see how Sophie could breathe such stuffy air.”

  “What were you thinking? Do you not know that getting a chill is what set her on the path to this illness?”

  “Forgive me, Elise. I was so distressed. I was trying to think of anything I could to help her to breathe.”

  “Fan, you always think you know best. But I must say, that was one of your very worst ideas. I only hope it has not made her worse!”

  Fanny forbore saying anything to defend herself. After all, what did she know? “Please call me, Elise. It is eleven now. Four hours of sleep should set me up.”

 
“No. I would not dream of it. You must sleep the night through. You are exhausted.”

  “So are you!”

  “Yes, but I think I am a little less fraught.”

  “Thank you, Elise,” she said, trying not to sound begrudging. “I am sorry about the window.”

  “Just go to bed, Fan.”

  Fanny’s thoughts remained centered on Sophie as she made her way to her room. It occurred to her that the reason Elise was less fraught was that she had Peter to share her emotional burden and to comfort her with perspective. She knew that Buck would be of great help to her in this situation, were he here. A thought occurred to her, and instead of going to her room, she walked to the ballroom downstairs and opened the French door out to the terrace. Walking down the steps, she found herself in the topiary garden.

  Her memory of that first meeting with Buck was keen and infused her with light. He had been so handsome in his captain’s uniform, she had been very nearly speechless. Her urge to impress him had taken her over. She had not been overexaggerating when she had told him her heart had always been his. Those green eyes of his had been so acute, his interest in a seventeen–year-old girl so flattering.

  No one had ever appeared in her life to upstage him. No wonder she had been such a flirt. Until Buck came into her life again, no one else could hold her heart. The wonder of it was that he felt the same.

  { 31 }

  BUCK’S FIRST CONSCIOUS MOMENT was of terrific pain. Someone was digging in his abdomen, saying, “If we do not get this bullet out, it will cause infection to spread throughout his body and he will die for certain.”

  Die? He had no intention of dying. He tried to protest, but he could not even form the words. The pain became so intense, he swooned again.

  The next time he came to consciousness, a lovely woman was sponging his brow.

  “My lord, it is good to have you back with us. Tell me, how is your pain?”

  “Devilish,” he said. “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “A day.”

  He groaned. “And you have been nursing me all this time? I’m sorry. I do not remember your name.”

  “Deborah, the Viscountess Aylsworth.”

  “What sort of chance do I have of living?”

  “The biggest danger is passed, thanks to an extraordinary naval surgeon who insisted on removing the bullet which was lodged deep in your abdomen. He also stitched closed the internal tears that were causing your blood loss, but the wound itself has been left open to drain.”

  “I remember a bit of that part. How soon can I be up?”

  “The danger now is of fever. You must lie still and heal, and pray that no infection sets in. The doctor thinks it will appear soon, if it is going to. The bad news is that a fever generally follows surgery, and is sometimes harder on the body.”

  “So my life is not yet secure.”

  “I am sorry to tell you that it is not. But you can help yourself by drinking plenty of water. Now that you are awake, that is possible.”

  She poured him a glass. He was devilishly thirsty and downed two glasses immediately.

  “Could we send a message to my fiancée at Beverley Hall?”

  “I have already written the duchess. It will take another day to reach her, even though the mail drives through the night. But very soon now, your fiancée will know of your condition.”

  “Poor Rosalind. She will be frantic.”

  “Then she will surely find a way to get here to help with the nursing.”

  “Undoubtedly. If I do not succumb to a fever by then.” He stirred restlessly in his bed. “By Jove, I am beginning to feel dashed uncomfortable.”

  Deborah felt his forehead. “Yes, the fever is beginning, I am afraid. Drink some more. I will mix a fever powder with this glass of water.”

  As the day progressed, he grew more and more distressed and restless, but he kept drinking the water. Finally, sleep claimed him.

  { 32 }

  TWO O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING had come to be Fanny’s nadir, the very lowest, most hopeless time of the day. Worn out from worrying about her sister, her thoughts would then turn to Buck. It had been eight days since she had left Cornwall. Far more time than it should have taken him to come to her.

  She could think of absolutely no reason why he should have failed to arrive, unless it was that he had ceased to love her. Racking her brain for excuses to make for him, she came up with none. Disappointment robbed her of the comfort she had known in his embrace and turned it to despair.

  It seemed then that Sophie would never recover, that Fanny would lose her best friend and confidante, as well. She knew that was a very selfish way to regard Sophie’s life, but Fanny was so poor in spirit, she could not even chastise herself. For three days, she had talked to Sophie’s unconscious figure about her love for Buck and his for her. It was time she ceased that activity. She no longer had any hope of his appearing.

  “Water,” a weak voice said from the bed.

  “Sophie?” Fanny was immediately jolted out of her gloom.

  “Fan?”

  “Yes, dearest. I have been here for days, waiting for you to wake up. Here, help me hold you so you can drink.”

  Sophie drained a glass and then asked for another.

  “Oh, Soph, I am so glad you are awake. How do you feel?”

  Sophie blinked and seemed to be thinking about Fanny’s question. Finally she answered, her voice like a croak, “My chest is better. Much better.”

  “Sophie, it is a miracle. A true miracle. I love you so, and thought I would never be able to tell you again! I am not going back to London. I am staying here with you. I do not want to be separated again.”

  “I am glad, Fan. I have missed you so.”

  Fanny began to work briskly, talking all the time about Elise and her husband and children, while she changed the sheets and helped Sophie into a clean nightgown.

  “Do you think you could eat something?”

  “Maybe some bread and butter.”

  “I’ll get it. Do you think you will be all right while I am below stairs?

  “Please, just a candle.” Her voice sounded rusty from disuse.

  “I will not be gone above five minutes, my dear. Oh! I am so happy you are awake!”

  When she returned, however, Sophie had fallen back to sleep. But it was a natural sleep, and her breaths were easy and not raspy. There was a daybed along the other wall. Exhausted by her long vigil, Fanny lay down and pulled a quilt over her. In an instant she, too, was asleep.

  * * *

  “My dear, you have a visitor,” Anna told Fanny, who was holding up Sophie’s head so that she could drink. She still could not quite believe that her sister had come through her fever.

  Fanny was still wearing the same dress as yesterday, and her hair was wild. The visitor must finally be Buck. The news brought her no joy.

  “Did you hear me, Fanny? It is the Duke of Beverley, and he has ridden through the night. I do not think that you should keep him waiting.”

  The Duke of Beverley? What on earth is he doing here, and why does he wish to see me?

  Fanny’s hands went to her hair. It was falling down and fuzzy from sleeping on it. Her dress was wrinkled and smelled of the sickroom.

  “Sophie dear, a friend has ridden all the way from Cornwall to see me for some reason. I must go.” She hugged her sister’s frail form.

  “I will sit with her, Fanny,” Anna said. “Elise is down with her husband and the guest.”

  “I must change and do my hair! I am not fit to be seen by a beggar.”

  Going to her room, she rang for Becky, who hurriedly unbuttoned her gown and brushed out her hair. Wracking her mind for reasons for the Duke’s visit, she could not come up with anything that would cause him to drive through the night. And they were five days from Cornwall! Pulling on a fresh gown and trying to sit still while Becky did her hair, she looked at her face in the mirror. It was pale and drawn. She looked sadly pulled. When she stood
suddenly, she noted that she was dizzy.

  “Becky, could I have your arm to walk me down to the drawing room? I fear I feel a bit unwell.”

  “Oh, miss!” her maid said, “I am certain it is no surprise. For the past three days, you have hardly slept.”

  Fanny took the stairs carefully and at the door to the drawing room, she thanked Becky, certain that she could continue on by herself.

  The duke, who had asked her in Cornwall to call him simply Ned, turned around at her entrance.

  “Fanny! I am so glad to hear that Sophie is improving, but you, my dear girl, look as though you might be sickening for something yourself!”

  “Ned, do not keep me in suspense. Why have you come at such a pace?”

  “I think you must sit down, my dear.”

  She felt the blood leave her face. Suddenly, she knew he was going to tell her that Buck was dead. For the first time in her life, Fanny swooned.

  When she came back to herself, she was lying on the sofa and her sister was holding sal vitale under her nose.

  Ned came to her and took her hand. “You must be strong, Fanny. Deal needs you. He was set upon in an inn in the New Forest on his way to us.” He squeezed her hand. “I am afraid he is lying wounded and fevered in that inn, with my wife and a neighbor nursing him. When I left, I am sorry to say that his breathing was very shallow and his infection was quite bad. If it had not been for an exceptional naval surgeon and the chance that the Viscountess Aylsworth was staying there to provide nursing, I do not think he would have survived this long.”

  Fanny lay stunned, trying to take in the words and make meaning out of them. “Do you think he will live?” she asked finally.

  “I think your presence might pull him through if he is still alive when we get there. I have come to take you to him.”

  “How terribly, terribly kind,” she said, her voice a mere thread of sound.

  “Fan, you must rest.” Elise said. “You are in no condition to nurse another fevered patient.”

  “I shall sleep in the carriage. I must get to Buck. His life may depend upon it.”