James and Mary entered the room sometime later, to find the Earl in a deep sleep and Isabelle wiping down his forehead, hoping to ward off any fever developing. She turned when the door opened, but did not stop her movements.
“Have you come to say goodbye?” Isabelle asked, knowing that it must be later than they had intended leaving.
“We are postponing our trip to London,” James said coolly.
“There is no need!” Isabelle whispered fiercely. “I can do everything that is needed here and Frank is here if I need any other help.”
“There is much to do Isabelle,” James said firmly. “We cannot ignore what Standish said and we need to decide the best course of action.”
Isabelle groaned. “Nothing needs to be discussed immediately. Please go to London as you planned.” As she said the words she knew it was futile. Tom had told James that he had ruined his sister, although quite amenable to Isabelle’s ways, James would not be able to rest until his sister’s reputation had been saved.
“I can help you care for the Earl,” Mary offered understanding that Isabelle would want to carry out the main nursing.
“Thank you Mary, but there is no need. I shall sleep in this chair. I am quite capable of caring for him alone.”
“We will leave you for now, but if you need our help we won’t be far away. We aren’t leaving Isabelle, you need our support even though you don’t realise it yet,” Mary responded diplomatically, but firmly.
Chapter 15
Isabelle spent the night experiencing feelings that she had not known she possessed. They ranged from terror when the fever developed to such an extent that Tom was delirious, calling out in his sleep and trying to get out of bed, only to fall back in pain, to desperation when the fever did not ease as the morning dawned. He was not overcoming the fever as the doctor had predicted and the implications scared her like nothing else in her life had before.
She had coped with the loss of her father. It had been upsetting and she had been devastated, but she had had her two brothers around her and she had felt loved and supported. There was nothing to fear, she was protected. She had developed in the way she had wanted to, had not been restricted to social constructs and had decided not to marry. She had not set out to live the way she was doing, but no-one until the Earl of Standish had walked into her life had made her seriously consider marriage.
He had infuriated her, angered her and frustrated her, but he had also made her laugh, understood her and had kissed her as if she was the only woman in the world whom he would ever want to kiss. If he would have asked then she would have accepted him without a moment’s hesitation and been happy, she had met the only man who could give her the union she wanted. His rejection had shook her. When she had thought it over during the long sleepless nights that had followed she had to admit to vanity. She had never expected that once she had met the man she could fall in love with that he would not want her in return. It had made her look at herself in ways she had not done so previously and she had to admit that his actions and rejection were the cause of her encouraging Mr Roberts’ attentions.
She did not love Mr Roberts, she liked him, but love was not a consideration. She could only love one man, but her arrogance and presumption had shaken her and made her more humble when receiving Mr Roberts’ attention. She had decided that if Tom did not want her that perhaps she should be honoured to accept someone else. She was struggling with these thoughts when Tom had re-entered her life. If she had never seen him again, she probably could have married Mr Roberts and cared for him, maybe finding some form of happiness. It would have made her family happy at least, but as soon as she had seen Tom on his arrival, as much as she tried, she could never imagine being with Mr Roberts. It was Tom or no-one.
When he had grabbed her and taken her into the library she was angry, he always was in control and she was the one fighting her emotions. His words had stung, he did not want her, but he did not want anyone else to have her, how else could she have reacted but with anger? When James and Mary had walked in she had been embarrassed, but once she had seen the look in his eyes, she had known Tom was going to do something desperate, but she could not have imagined what he intended to do.
His words had shocked her, but probably not in the way he would have expected. He had told James what had happened, telling no lies, but making sure that he exaggerated enough for James to be shaken to his core. She knew that he would have expected James to force him into marriage with her, it was the only way of ensuring his sister had any sort of reputation left after such an announcement. What had shocked Isabelle was that Tom was prepared to have her on those terms, but not when she had willingly gone to him. She had realised he was acting out of anger and spite and not love and it had hurt her more than she had thought possible.
The idea of having the man she loved in that way, on those terms was worse than not having him at all. That was the moment she had moaned out loud and Tom had turned to look at her. She had thought that he had realised what he had done as their eyes met, but then James had acted and the moment had been shattered.
She could not agree to a marriage with him, not on those terms, purely to save her reputation, even if it meant she was ruined forever. The inevitable arguments with her brothers would be the most difficult, but she had to make them understand.
The door opened behind her and she half turned. Mary entered the room. “You look exhausted Isabelle,” Mary said with a small smile. “Why don’t you go and have something to eat and a lie down?”
“I can’t leave him Mary, he is still feverish,” Isabelle replied quietly, but the worry she felt was evident in her tone.
“I shall stay with him until you return, there is no point making yourself ill. You will be of no use to him if you too are laid up in bed.”
Isabelle smiled slightly unable to argue against the truth in Mary’s argument, “I am a little hungry. If I lie down, will you promise to let me know if his condition changes, even slightly?”
“I promise,” Mary agreed holding her hand out for the cloth in Isabelle’s hands.
“He doesn’t need to take anything, I’ve only just given him another draft,” Isabelle fussed as Mary sat down. Then she hesitated, “Mary, where are James and Frank?”
“They have not risen yet,” Mary said softly squeezing Isabelle’s hand. “You do need to speak to them at some time Isabelle. They are upset and worried about you and don’t understand what has happened, but for now get some food and rest.”
Isabelle smiled gratefully at Mary and left the room. She entered the deserted breakfast room and sat down to eat. She was wary in case James or Frank entered, but she knew that normally they did not keep such early hours. She surprised herself by the hunger she felt once faced with food, but ate quickly. If she was going to rest, she did not want to be away for too long. The house was quiet as she went through it, she was tempted to return to Mary, but trusted her to send for her if there was any change. As she lay on her bed the tiredness that she had been ignoring all night washed over her and she soon fell into a troubled, but deep sleep.
Isabelle awoke a few hours later, rested, but worried that she had been away too long. She dressed without help and hurried to the Earl’s room. Mary was still sitting where she had left her and with a sinking heart she saw that Tom looked as fevered as he had earlier.
“Is there no improvement?” Isabelle asked crossing to the bed and placing her hand on Tom’s forehead. The heat she felt burned into her and increased her concern.
“I’m afraid not,” Mary said gently. “I think it is time to contact the doctor again.”
Mary left the room to send for the doctor and Isabelle took over the role of cooling the patient down. “Come on Tom, fight this,” Isabelle murmured as she bathed his forehead.
The doctor arrived before too long and examined his patient quietly. When finished he turned to Isabelle and James who had joined them when he brought the doctor in. “The fever has taken a firmer hol
d than I would have expected in one so strong, but keep him sedated and cool and we will see how he is later. I shall return tonight. If there is no improvement by then, you may wish to send for his family.”
The doctor’s words sent a shiver through Isabelle. How could she possibly face Sophie when if the worse happened it would be James that had caused his death? He had to recover, why he was not fighting the fever she did not know. He was strong and should be able to. She moved back to the Tom’s side and started bathing his forehead without responding to the doctor’s words.
James left the room to see the doctor out, but returned after a few minutes. “Do you think we should send for Sophie now?” he asked.
“No, he is going to come through this!” Isabelle said in desperation. Sending for Sophie would be admitting he was going to die. “He just needs more time, he will improve I know he will.”
“Isabelle, we need to face facts, he should already be through the fever! It isn’t a good sign that it is lasting so long.” James snapped, but Isabelle knew it was because of worry of what his actions had caused. He was not usually a violent man and Isabelle felt shame that because of her behaviour James had felt the need to respond in such a way.
“Give him more time,” Isabelle said sounding calmer. “If there is no improvement by early evening you can send for her.”
James shrugged and left the room. Isabelle spent the rest of the morning alone. Her brothers kept out of the sick room and she would not have expected anything else. It was no place for a man. Mary had come in and offered to take over, but Isabelle had refused, the next few hours were crucial and she was not leaving him for a moment.
Isabelle would often speak to Tom as if he was awake, but sometimes she just reverted to pleading with him to fight the fever. Isabelle had missed lunch, but had some afternoon tea. She had received a plate of food, still refusing to leave the room. She ate at the edge of the bed, talking all the time, describing the food and describing what she would order if he awoke. She stood to move the plate away and as she turned back to the bed she saw his eyelids flicker ever so slightly.
“Hello!” she smiled with relief as she rushed to the bed. She kept her tone light. “So, you have finally come back to join us have you?”
Tom opened his eyes, looking at her with a frown as if trying to focus on her. “Isabelle?” he asked, sounding groggy and confused.
“Yes. It is I. You’ve had a bit of a tumble and you need to rest, but I’m here and everything is going to be fine,” Isabelle replied gently, but with the biggest smile she had given in many weeks. She had grabbed hold of his hand and she felt that all was right with the world when she felt him squeeze her fingers.
Tom soon fell into a more restful natural sleep. When Mary came in for an update Isabelle almost ran to her. “He’s going to be well!” Isabelle whispered, hugging Mary. “He opened his eyes and is sleeping peacefully. I think the fever has broken!”
“Oh wonderful!” Mary exclaimed. “I shall let James know, he has been pacing the room like an expectant father all morning. He will be relieved.”
Isabelle was left alone with her patient again, but she had a far more relaxed task. She left off bathing his forehead as she did not want to disturb his peaceful sleep. She dozed a little in the chair next to the bed, but her eyes opened as soon as she heard the rhythm of his breathing change. She sat upright to find herself being watched, by a very pale, drawn Tom, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
“Miss Crawford, what are you doing in my bed chamber?” He asked with an attempt at a rakish smirk.
Isabelle blushed despite smiling in return, “I see you are feeling better.”
“Actually, I feel like hell,” Tom admitted, every word sounding as if it was made with a real effort.
“I’m not surprised. The doctor should be here soon to check you over, don’t try to move.”
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” came the groggy reply. Tom closed his eyes again, but Isabelle could tell he had not gone back to sleep, she let him lie in peace until the doctor arrived for his pre-arranged visit.
The doctor thoroughly examined the patient and he commented on how he was a far easier patient when he was unconscious at which Tom muttered darkly, but Isabelle laughed out loud. The doctor turned to Isabelle when he had finished his examination. “Well now Miss Crawford, I think complete rest for at least two weeks and then, if the wound on the leg has continued to heal as well as it is at the moment, he can move downstairs. We’ll see after that about building up his strength in his shoulder. His dressing on his leg will need to be changed every day, but the binding on the shoulder should remain in place as it is.”
“Do I not get a say in when I can or cannot move?” Tom grumbled at the doctor, insulted that he was being ignored.
Isabelle had to stifle a laugh when the doctor turned to Tom with an expression that could challenge any one of the expressions that he used. “I beg your pardon your Lordship. I was merely speaking to the person who has probably ensured that you are able to make such a comment by keeping you alive. As Miss Crawford has been your chief carer, I would have assumed that it is important that she has full instructions to make sure there are no relapses, but if you think otherwise I will send Miss Crawford away.”
Tom had flushed under the derisive tone of voice, but at the end of the doctor’s speech all he could muster in retort was, “Sorry, please continue.”
The doctor nodded, but when he turned back to Isabelle he winked, which nearly stretched Isabelle’s resolve to breaking point. “I shall call in tomorrow, but I shall leave something for you to give him if the pain should get too much, or if the patient should get too much.” With a smile at Isabelle and a nod in the Earl’s direction he left the room.
“Insolent man,” Tom growled.
“Astute man I would say,” Isabelle smiled. “I’ll call for some food, you must be hungry, but I’m afraid that it won’t be very tempting, we can’t sit you up yet, so although I can raise your head, you will have to be fed food that is easy to swallow.”
“Sounds delightful,” Tom muttered mulishly.
Isabelle raised an eyebrow at him, but did not answer. She had some sympathy with a usually active man being virtually tied to a bed. She rang the bell and gave the maid her instructions.
Tom had never taken his eyes off Isabelle and when she turned to face him again, he flushed a little before saying, “We should talk.”
“No we should not, you need to rest. Close your eyes,” Isabelle commanded in reply. She sat on the chair and picked up a book. She opened it and looked down, she had no inclination for reading, but she did not want to tempt Tom into talking. She was afraid that if he taxed himself too soon, he would fall back into a fever. For once he would need to obey orders given to him, he was in no fit state to do otherwise and Isabelle was determined that he was going to work with her to ensure his condition improved.
A few moments passed and the rhythm of Tom’s breathing grew steadier as he drifted off to sleep. Isabelle was relieved, she did not think she could go through a night of worry and fear like last night had been. She placed the book on the side table again and watched him sleeping. Although still very pale, he looked younger when he slept. She wondered what worries he had that troubled his mind while awake.
The thought of the words he had spoken since waking brought home the situation that she was going to have to face, they did need to talk, but how could she possibly explain to him that she would gladly be his wife if she thought that he loved her, but that she could never be his wife any other way? She sighed to herself, it was going to be a difficult discussion.
*
Feeding Tom proved a trial for both of them. He hated being so reliant on someone else and Isabelle felt extreme discomfort at having to be so close to him, placing her arm behind his neck to raise his head, while he fed himself with his good hand. She tried to make light of it, Tom giving her plenty of ammunition as he moaned and grumbled
through the whole meal. After he had eaten as much as he could face, the drafts taking away much of his appetite, Isabelle laid him back down, trying to plump his pillows before putting a little distance between them, feeling hot and bothered.
“It will get easier,” she reassured him, moving the bowl to the chest of drawers that had become a substitute table.
“It had better, or starving to death will become more appealing,” Tom muttered.
They were disturbed from any further discussion by Mary’s entrance. “You are looking far better than the last time I stopped by,” she smiled at the patient. “Isabelle, James and Frank would like to speak to you in James’s study.”
Isabelle groaned, “I’m sorry Mary, I can’t leave the room at the moment.”
Mary looked at her cousin with some sympathy. “You may as well get it over with Isabelle. I will stay with his Lordship.”
Isabelle sighed, “Oh well, into battle I suppose.” She braced her shoulders and left the room.
“What does she mean ‘Into battle’?” Tom asked Mary.
“Do you remember what you said to James before he hit you?” Mary asked without any judgement in her voice, but resolving to be honest with the Earl.
“Yes, I behaved worse than I have ever behaved before,” Tom replied with some embarrassment.
“That may be, but it means that James and Frank are going to be discussing with Isabelle how soon you can be married, although I have a feeling they will have an argument on their hands,” Mary said knowing her cousin too well.
“Why will she argue?” Tom asked in surprise and not liking the feeling of Isabelle refusing to marry him.
“She has always said that she would only marry to a man she truly loved, which, if I am being honest I thought was going to be you. I thought you had both met your ideal person in each other, but it did not develop as a true match does so I was obviously wrong.”
The Complicated Earl Page 18