by Jillian Hart
Those were not sensible actions, but deeds of a deeply feeling heart.
"Tessa, let me explain." He could make this right, he knew he could. He was not using her. Not for his pleasures in bed, not as a nurse for his family. Tessa was his wife and he was both proud and pleased with her. He would give her more-his whole heart-if he had it to give.
But she scooped up the towels and the basin and hurried off, her gait efficient and sensible.
"I don't think she will forgive you," Thomas predicted.
As if in agreement, lightning split the shadowed light between them and thunder shattered the night.
Her hands trembled as she cleaned the dried mash of onions and herbs from Andy's chest. He woke with a murmur, then went back to sleep. Not yet sick, but a fever on the way. She dried his chest and covered him well. She could do no more for now.
She felt numb clear to the bone as she folded the soiled towels and set them by the door for Anya to gather in the morning. And that numbness grew as she blew out the candle and crept through the room. A glow from the dying fire tossed light at her feet and she stepped out into the unlit corridor, her mood just as dark.
She heard footsteps on the staircase, tapping slowly. Jonah's gait, Jonah's step. Her pulse drummed in her ears, fast and hollow. She listened to the knell of his boots against the floor silence outside Andy's chamber, then progress down the corridor.
"Tessa?"
She turned toward the chest of drawers. A spear of lightning flashed, and a second of white light illuminated the wooden handle of the hairbrush. Darkness returned and her fingers curled around the worn handle.
"May I ask what you heard?"
"Enough." She flicked her braid over shoulder and tugged at the ribbon. The bow loosened.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I'm glad you are my wife, regardless of what you heard."
"I bet you are." She dropped the small bit of ribbon on the chest of drawers and ran her fingers through the plaiting to loosen it. "Your father is well. 'Tis what you wanted. What you bartered your future for."
"That's not true and you know it." His voice twisted, rang low and solemn. His footsteps drummed on the floor, then whispered on the braid carpet "I am well pleased with you. Surely you know that."
"I don't know what to believe." She shook her hair out.
"You can believe that I care about you." His hands curled around her shoulders, possessive, as if he were afraid to let go of her.
"Fine. You care about me. You care that I tend your father." She shrugged away from his touch and faced him, the numbness in her heart remaining, but anger was starting to smolder. "I would have stood by him anyway, without being married to you. But I suppose you couldn't understand that, not the great Jonah Hunter, not a man who can buy anything he wishes. Who thinks he can buy affection."
"There's only a certain type of affection for sale, and that is the kind I wanted to avoid." His jaw was set, but his eyes, how tenderness lived there and regret as black as midnight.
"What of Violet Bradford?" he demanded. "Do you think I'd rather have one such as her? She caught up to me in Mistress Briers' stable to make an indecent offer. Nay, I don't want a shallow woman, no matter how young and beautiful, to look at me and see only their betterment."
" 'Tis what you gave me in exchange for other services." Let him try to be rational, to explain, to regret she had learned the truth. She walked around him, fisting her hands, trembling and torn between wanting to rail at him and wanting to leave. "You took me into your bed, Jonah. When all you wanted was a nurse."
"Nay, I won't let you do this. I made love with you in this bed and I'll not erase what happiness we've found here. I gave you what heart I have, and 'tis far more than I have given any woman."
"New clothes, a servant, a fine house to live in-"
"Nay." Rich as midnight that voice, as inviting as dreams. He stood behind her but did not touch her, though his presence burned like an ember, smoldering first, then licking hotter.
Still, her heart remained numb, as if a physical injury had left her unable to feel. Shock, 'twas all. And then, in time would come the pain. "Do you deny it?"
"Deny what? Wanting you the way a man wants a woman? You know I did before I proposed to you."
"You thought I had a lover and was experienced to your advances. Your indecent advances." The quaking low in her midsection spread and grew.
"I wanted you then, Tessa, and I want you now. Naught has changed. Father was a hair's breadth from dying, and you know how close. So I decided on a standard, that is all. And 'twas stupid, I agree. But it led me to you."
"A standard? I thought you married me because-" She paused. "Because you loved me."
"Aye. And I am learning. Give me time, Tessa. I'm only beginning to learn."
Apology rang low and sincere in his voice. He thought he'd done little wrong. And mayhap, to another, what he'd done could be easily forgiven. But he had fed her dreams, made her believe…
She squeezed her eyes shut. "You chose to marry me because you also thought I could not love. Is that right?"
"Aye. I don't want to lie to you. 'Tis one of my greatest flaws and I never wanted you to know."
"I see." A tuft of pain scratched inside her chest and she fought it, tamped it down, turned off her heart.
She would not let him know how foolish she'd been, just how much he'd duped her. Nay, she'd duped herself.
Believing a man as handsome and wondrous and envied by all could love her, a horse-faced, sharp-tongued spinster, according to many who had no problem telling her the truth.
"Tessa?" Thomas' knock on the door drew her around. "The reverend is in the parlor. Seems a little girl at the Hollingsworth household is burning with fever. He has come to request your help."
"Of course I'll come." Her decision was clear. She could not look at Jonah as she snatched the ribbon for her hair. "Let me grab my basket. Thomas, please tell the reverend to meet me outside."
"Tessa, we must finish this. I don't want you to leave like this."
"A little girl needs me. Truly needs me. Unlike you." She could not bear to look at her husband, at the man she had foolishly thought could love her. She turned and walked away.
The storm faded, and with every passing hour the silence felt more ominous. Jonah sat in the parlor, the dark broken only by a beam of moonshine through the part in the curtains.
"Conscience troubling you?" Thomas shouldered into the room.
"I thought you were upstairs."
"Nay, I could not sleep. I checked on Andy, then I went to the stable to think." A loose floorboard creaked as Thomas ambled closer. "You hurt her, Jonah."
"Aye. She wasn't meant to hear those words. I should not have spoken so freely." He steepled his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "In time, she'll understand."
"A woman doesn't understand something like that. They are emotional creatures."
"Tessa is sensible. She will forgive me."
"Jonah, many in this village are bitter. Many a father had hoped it would be his daughter living in this house married to the rich and heroic major. Many feel Tessa unfairly took their chance away. You know what they have been saying. She has, too, and probably believes it now."
"I know." And he despised anyone who spoke against his wife, his good-hearted wife. Before her, he had forgotten what happiness felt like, that there was goodness in the human heart.
"She will be exhausted when she returns." Thomas pulled back the edge of the curtain and peered outside. "I would think on that, if I were you."
" 'Tis my plan." As long as he lived, he would make this up to Tessa, prove to her he wanted her and no other for his wife.
But as the hours ticked by, it began to feel as if she wasn't returning, as if she would never come home again.
Chapter Fourteen
Six-year-old Mercy Hollingsworth worsened as the night faded to dawn. Her fever raged, dampening the gold ringlets at her brow, and everything Tessa tried merely s
lowed the fever, did not stop it. Mercy's lungs filled until she couldn't draw more than the faintest of breaths.
The reverend prayed beside the father and mother at the foot of the bed while Tessa worked. She crushed herbs and made poultices and compresses intended to bring down the fever and loosen the congestion in the lungs. Nothing worked. Not one thing.
"I cannot lose her," Susan sobbed.
She and Susan had gone to school together and had been in the same class. They had grown apart when Tessa's mother grew ill and she no longer attended school or socials or parties or regular meetings. Mother had needed her, but Susan had always remained kind, unlike many others.
Glancing around the small parlor where the child's bed had been brought down close to the fire, she saw the touches of a loving family-finger painted masterpieces by the little girls tacked on the walls, a doll on a bench in the corner and beneath it toys huddled in a small pile. Such a priceless life Susan had.
Pain wedged into an unyielding ball in her throat and Tessa blinked away unwanted tears. Mercy coughed, and Tessa held her gently. Susan crept close and she handed the child to her mother, the poor thing so fevered she did not know who held her.
"I can see it in your eyes, Tessa." Susan's face crumpled. "I'm going to lose her."
"I can't lie to you." Tessa's throat ached with sadness. "I can think of only one thing to try, a stronger dose of blackbale root. 'Tis a dangerous level, but at this point she'll not recover anyway."
"You know we can't afford a surgeon, but if that would save Mercy-"
"Nay, he wouldn't get here in time. Besides, I have never noticed much improvement from bleeding. If it comes to that, I can do it myself." She hurt for Susan, for this precious child she stood to lose. "She needs more cool compresses. Like this."
She showed Susan how to apply them, then hurried to the kitchen to crush more roots into powder. As she worked, a tiny girl crawled down the ladder in her flannel nightdress, her cap askew revealing bountiful gold curls.
"Whatcha doin'?" the child asked as both stockinged feet hit the floor.
"Making medicine for your sister." Tessa knelt down, her roots forgotten, to admire the child, still plump with baby fat, her eyes as blue as berries. "Is your other sister up in the attic sleeping, too?"
A serious nod. "Julia's a slug 'cuz she won't get outta bed."
"I see." Tessa spied a crock and peered inside it. Just as she suspected. Cookies. She snatched two and held them out for the little girl. "Why don't you go sit at the table and eat these? I need to talk to your mama."
"Thank you." Delight shone in those eyes, for what a treat cookies were before breakfast.
But 'twas the only thing Tessa could think of to keep the child from the sick room. "Susan?"
The woman sat on the bed, leaning over her dying daughter, applying die cold cloths to her fever-raged body. She looked up and, as if she could tell from the tone in Tessa's voice, tears welled. "No, not my other girls."
"Julia is upstairs. I need to go check on her. I want your husband to take little Judith over to your mother's house and keep her there in isolation. She doesn't yet look flushed. Mayhap she will not fall ill."
"Zeb!" She flew at her husband, panic sharp in her voice, for she knew this illness could take all her children.
Tessa checked on Judith, who was just starting in on her second cookie, and then quietly climbed the ladder. She spied a small lump in the bed. "Julia, I hear you are feeling poorly."
"Aye, is that you, Mistress Tessa?"
" 'Tis. Remember when I tended your fever last winter?"
"I do. You made me better."
"Aye. Let me feel your forehead now."
The child's brow was indeed warm.
Tessa smoothed Julia's unruly curls, sadness filling her. A deadly illness was sweeping through the village. Her problems felt small in comparison.
Dawn teased at the curtains in Andy's room, a gray dreary light that promised a rain-filled day. Jonah dusted the slivers of bark from his shirt and straightened away from the hearth as the flames greedily licked at the new wood.
"Where is Tessa?" Andy asked from his bed. "I'm surprised she is not here to torture me with more of that evil brown powder."
"She was called to the Hollingsworth home late last night and we have not heard from her since. One of the girls is ill." Jonah tugged the chair sideways and sat on it. "You look fevered. Your face is flushed."
"I sure don't feel like getting out of bed." Andy stared at the ceiling, looking troubled. "But I have no time to be sick. I have to help you thick-skulled oafs turn the sod in the fields to get it ready for planting."
"Aye, Thomas and I are dolts and we would not know where to start without you to show us." Jonah scooped a dipper of water from the small pail and poured it into an empty cup on the nightstand. "Drink this. I'll have Anya bring your breakfast to you."
And he would fetch Tessa home. Andy worsened. And besides, they had much to discuss. He didn't like how they parted last night with her running off in a cold temper, even if it was to help a sick child.
"Thomas, mayhap we should head to the Hollingsworths' house and see if they are in need of anything."
"I know what you're up to. You just want to try to make things right with your wife." Thomas clomped into the room with a cup of steaming tea. "From Anya. Tessa left it behind for you, Andy, and it smells powerfully bad."
"Oh, joy." Andy made a face, then stopped to cough. "I had hoped without her here, I could escape her bird dropping tea."
"And she scared Anya into the importance of your drinking it, so I suspect she will be up here shortly with some ruse to check and make sure you didn't dump it into the chamber pot." Thomas handed the cup to his littlest brother.
Jonah laughed. "I hear footsteps on the stairs."
" 'Tis her, Andy. Drink it quick, else she will tell Tessa." Thomas teased.
Andy doubled over with a fit of coughing, nearly spilling the tea. Jonah swiped the cup from his hands and held it far away so he did not need to breathe in the horrid aroma from the steam.
Anya rushed into the room carrying a tray of corn pone and poached eggs and fragrant sausages. Her pale face flushed as they watched her unload the plates and bowls, and he realized she had brought food for all of them.
"And I served your father as well," she said quietly, chin bowed to avoid eye contact. She looked more rested today without the bruised fatigue beneath her eyes. She had looked like little more than a skeletal waif on the ship's deck in a worn dress that looked as if it could be patched no more.
Now, she wore a simple muslin dress that had been their sister's long ago, a light yellow fabric with sprinkles of tiny budded roses. 'Twas too large for her narrow frame, and birdlike, she practically hopped to the door. "I know 'tis wrong of me to presume, but mayhap I could take a meal basket to Mistress Tessa. She has worked the night through and that means the child is so ill she cannot leave her side. I know, for my mother was a healer once, too."
Jonah had wondered if the Hollingsworth child was gravely ill. 'Twas the only reason he hadn't charged over there to speak with Tessa and soothe her temper. " 'Tis a good idea, Anya. Prepare the basket and we'll take it over to her."
"Might I add more for the family? In times such as this, no one has the heart to cook, yet they must eat to keep up their strength."
"Aye, that would be fine."
He watched Andy's face change as the servant left the room. His cough had stopped, but his face was red and strained with pain. "Thomas, did Tessa leave any more medicine?"
"Nay. She wanted to see how he was before she administered more."
Jonah handed the tea to Andy. "I know. It smells like a wet rat, but there is naught to be done but to drink it. It should give you enough piss and vinegar to chase pretty Anya around the kitchen."
"If I did, Tessa said she'd have my head, and I believe her. Your wife may be a kitten when it comes to you, but she is still fearsome when riled." Andy took a si
p of his tea and choked. "You cannot imagine how powerfully putrid this tastes."
"Drink it." Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and braced his feet against the floor. "I'll not have my brother become more ill."
Jonah caught Thomas' gaze and read the concern there. Aye, he had worries, too.
"I'll saddle the horses." Jonah stood. Keeping his hands busy would make him less likely to worry over the dangerous work Tessa did, tending to those who were ill, and how he wished he had last night to do over again.
The pain in his heart reminded him she was gone. He couldn't believe it hurt so much to be without Tessa in his life.
"She feels a bit cooler." Tessa laid her cheek against Mercy's forehead just to make sure. "Aye, she does. Susan, the fever is retreating."
"Praise Heaven." Susan crumpled to her knees at the bedside, unshed tears finally falling. "Oh, Zeb. Did you hear? Mercy is going to live."
"Aye, and all because of Mistress Hunter's care." Grief eased from his rough face as he knelt down beside his wife, taking her in his sturdy arms.
Tessa dropped her gaze to give the couple privacy as she dunked another cloth in the herbed water and wrung excess moisture from it. There was still the lung fluid to be dealt with, but the onion poultice had helped the colonel. Tessa thought it would do the same for little Mercy.
A knock rattled the door. Zeb stood. "I wager that is the reverend. He's back from his duties at the meetinghouse."
A cool wind slung through the cabin, making the fire flicker when he opened the door. "Major Hunter. Have you come looking for your wife?"
"Aye. And our Anya has made breakfast for all of you, thinking you wouldn't have time with a sick child to care for." Jonah's voice rumbled with warmth, with a spine-tingling richness. Tessa folded the cloth in thirds, deliberately keeping her back to the door, both to block the child from the wind and to stop herself from turning around to face him. To keep from letting him see her heart in her eyes, her foolish, dreamer's heart.