Healing Hearts (Roselund Heights Book 1)

by Miranda D Nelson

  “It is good to meet you, Mr. Aldridge,” she said at last.

  “A pleasure.” His voice was deep, startling and soothing all at once.

  “How long have you been in town?” Rose asked.

  He turned toward her and the hardness returned to his expression. “Only a few weeks.”

  When he offered no further comment, Mr. Colborne supplied it, “He is renting a home on Windsor Road.”

  “That is very close to my own home on Crescent Street,” Joanna replied.

  Mr. Aldridge nodded.

  “What brings you to Roselund Heights?” Edith asked.

  “A change of scenery,” he said, his words short.

  After a moment of awkward silence, Edith spoke. “Well, I do hope you will find Roselund enjoyable.”

  “Thank you.”

  The musicians ended their song and Joanna joined in the applause of the other attendees. Mr. Aldridge turned to Joanna.

  “Do you care for dancing, Miss Leighton?” He blinked rapidly, as if he had surprised even himself with the question.

  Joanna only hoped her expression did more to hide her surprise than did his. Was he going to ask her to dance? A part of her was still angry for the unpleasantness she’d had to live through because of him.

  However, she answered, “Yes, I do.”

  He nodded, but did not request her hand. Avoiding the curious glances of her friends, she looked again at Mr. Aldridge and saw that a battle ensued behind his eyes. Was it so difficult to ask her to dance? Or was he perhaps against dancing with her in particular? But then, why ask? Her face must have betrayed something of her wonder, for suddenly his gaze turned hard again.

  Several moments passed wherein no one seemed to know quite what to say. Mr. Aldridge took a step back.

  “It was pleasant meeting you.” He bowed again. “Please excuse me.”

  Joanna watched him with bewilderment as he walked away. He stopped and spoke briefly to an older man, then left the room.

  Edith turned to her with an expression which she was certain mirrored her own surprise. “I cannot believe he did not ask you to dance.”

  Mr. Colborne shrugged. “Do not be offended, Miss Leighton. Mr. Aldridge has been cold to everyone all evening.”

  “Yes, but to ask her if she cared for dancing and not ask for her hand? It is astonishing!” Rose cried, her blond hair bouncing as she shook her head.

  “He did seem drawn to you, Joanna,” Edith observed.

  “And why shouldn’t he be?” Rose said, throwing her arm around Joanna’s waist. “Our Joanna would make any man an excellent partner.”

  “Why, thank you; but I am certain it was nothing,” Joanna said, though even she could not entirely convince herself of that. She looked toward the door where he had disappeared. “He intrigues me. But my goodness! I do not know that I have ever met a man so intent on creating disapproval.”

  Mr. Colborne chuckled but Edith cast Joanna a glance. “Do not be so quick to judge. We do not know what may be troubling him.”

  “You are right, of course.” Joanna sighed. “Though common courtesy is not too much to ask for is it?”

  “Of course not. Only, use caution in your censure, Joanna. He may turn out to be more agreeable than he seems.”

  Joanna walked along the misty beach, the ocean lapping near her bare feet. A voice echoed across the vast seascape, calling her name. Up ahead, a shadowy figure moved away from her. An urgency to reach the person filled her heart. Throwing aside propriety, Joanna ran toward the figure. Her feet slipped in the wet sand, and though she ran with all the energy she possessed, the distance remained. Exhausted, she collapsed, sand clinging to her gown. The figure faded into the foggy distance.

  A sharp knock shattered the dream, and Joanna awoke with a gasp. She took several deep breaths to calm herself as the dream left her. It had been so real. The urgency she’d felt was unsettling. The knock sounded again, and she shook her head, pushing the dream aside. She climbed from the bed, wrapping her dressing gown around her to ward against the chill of the still dark morning. Susan, the housekeeper, stood outside the door, holding a single candle.

  “Pardon me, Miss, but there’s a girl here who says she must speak to you. She seems quite distressed.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “No, ma’am, but I believe she’s a servant for one of the neighbors.”

  Joanna sighed, glancing at the clock. It was not yet three in the morning. “Very well. Show me to her.”

  Susan led the way downstairs to the entry room where a few lit candles shone on a very young woman. Joanna thought she could be no more than fourteen. The fear in the girl’s eyes was evident even in the partial light.

  “Miss Leighton,” Susan said to the girl, motioning toward Joanna.

  The girl curtsied, but remained silent.

  “How can I help you?” Joanna asked.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am. I went to the doctor first, but he wasn’t home. I left a message with the housekeeper, then came here. I’d heard you sometimes assist him.”

  Joanna’s stomach turned. While she enjoyed assisting her uncle with his patients, she knew little by way of medicine and could certainly not be expected to replace him in a serious situation.

  “What is it you need?”

  “My master’s sick. He’s in great pain, claims he cannot see, and his hands are shaking violently. He collapsed on the stairs earlier.”

  A sense of familiarity coursed through her, accompanied by a stabbing pain she quickly squelched. “I know the symptoms.”

  Relief washed over the girl’s face. “Will you help us then? Please, ma’am? We don't know what to do.”

  Joanna was nearly certain there would be little she could do for the man, yet the anxiety in the girl’s eyes was clear. If nothing else, Joanna could soothe her worries.

  “Very well. Allow me a few moments to change. Tell your driver I will be out soon.”

  “I have no driver, ma’am. I walked here.”

  Joanna turned to her in surprise. It was not unheard of, but it was unusual to find a woman walking alone at night. “From how far?”

  “Only Windsor Road.”

  It could not be. “Who is your master?”

  “Mr. Aldridge, ma’am.”

  “Of course it is.” Joanna muttered. The curiosity she’d experienced felt less intense at this hour of the morning. The memory of his offense, however, loomed clearly in her memory, but she could not deny someone in need. “Very well. Wait here.”

  Within ten minutes, they left Crescent Street and began walking the dark road.

  “What is your name?” Joanna asked.

  “Mable,” the girl answered.

  “What position do you hold?”

  “I am the housekeeper. There is only the valet and a cook besides me.”

  Joanna glanced at her. “You are quite young to be a housekeeper.”

  Mable nodded. “I am, but Mr. Aldridge thought me fit.” She paused for a moment. “I know it may be that I’m overreacting to his illness, but I feel it’s my responsibility to ensure he’s well.”

  Joanna nodded in understanding. That must be difficult for a girl so young. There was no time to ask anything further, as they had arrived at the house. Mable led Joanna upstairs to a large room, lit only by a single candle.

  “I’m sorry for the darkness. I thought he might rest easier without the light,” Mable whispered.

  Joanna nodded and Mable led her toward the bed. Mr. Aldridge lay there, supported by pillows, still dressed in his shirtsleeves and breeches.

  “I’ve brought help, sir,” Mable said softly.

  Mr. Aldridge’s voice was grim. “I told you not to send for the doctor.”

  “You are clearly in need, sir,” Mable replied. “What else were we to do?”

  “Leave me in peace, as I asked.”

  Joanna stepped forward. “Your maid was concerned for your wellbeing.”

  He turned his head tow
ard her and winced in pain, then closed his eyes and grimaced. “You are not the doctor.”

  “No, I am not, but I am here to help if you would like it.”

  “Very well.” Pain flashed across his face as he returned his head to its resting position.

  “Where are you hurting?”

  “The pain behind my eyes is the worst. Unless I move my head, then it’s worse in my back.”

  Joanna nodded. The symptoms were not exactly what she had seen before, but sounded similar enough. “Is it true you cannot see?”

  “Not well.”

  Joanna turned to Mable.

  “Fetch me some cold water and a compress” she took a packet of herbs from her reticule. “and make some tea from these.”

  “Is that all?” Mable asked.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Mable hurried from the room and Joanna smiled at her compliance. She is a good maid, but certainly not fit to run a household, poor thing. She turned and faced Mr. Aldridge. “You seem far less concerned for your wellbeing than your maid does. This is not the first time you have suffered these symptoms, is it?”

  He inhaled deeply, his eyes remaining closed. “No, it is not.”

  “Then you likely know there is little I can do, besides help you to be more comfortable?”

  He started to nod, then stopped, as if remembering the pain moving caused him. “I am aware of that.”

  Joanna smiled sympathetically. “I will do whatever I can.”

  Mable came in then, carrying a tea tray. A sturdy looking male servant- who Joanna assumed was the valet- followed, carrying the basin of water. He set it on the dresser, bowed, and left the room. Mable set the tray on a nearby table and stood beside it, clearly waiting for her next orders. Joanna nodded at her, indicating that she should pour the tea and Mable immediately began her task.

  Joanna wet the cloth Mable had brought up and took it to the bedside. As she pushed Mr. Aldridge’s hair from his forehead, an impulse to run her fingers through his dark hair rushed through her. She placed the cloth above his brows as quickly as she could and stepped away from him, grateful beyond measure that he could not see her.

  Mr. Aldridge sighed. “Thank you. That helps.”

  Joanna moved toward the table, and spoke softly to Mable. “I think it will be necessary for you to remain the night with us, at least until my uncle comes.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” She handed Joanna a cup of tea, then sat in a chair nearby, clasping her hands in her lap.

  Joanna took the tea back to Mr. Aldridge. “This tea ought to help you rest easier.”

  “Would the doctor insist on it?” he asked.

  “I believe so. He recommends this to many of his patients.”

  “Then how can I refuse?” He opened his eyes, and turned slowly toward her.

  “I can assist you with it.”

  “I can manage.” He lifted a hand to take the cup, but began to shake as soon as he extended his arm.

  Joanna gave him an appraising look before remembering he could not see it. “Allow me.”

  His fingers clenched into a tight fist before he lowered his hand to the bed and heaved a great sigh of defeat. “Very well.”

  Joanna brought a chair near the bed and held the cup while he sipped. “Do you have any family nearby?” she asked.

  “You mean someone who can relieve you of the burden of my care?” His mouth quirked up on one side and Joanna sensed he was teasing her. “No, I do not.”

  “That is a shame. I am sorry to hear it.”

  “And you? Do you have family nearby?”

  Joanna smiled at the odd question. “I do. Too near in fact, at times,” she replied, thinking of her squabbles with Mariah.

  He chuckled, then grimaced. “That can be frustrating, indeed.”

  It was hard for Joanna to imagine that this was the same man she had met at the ball. While Mr. Aldridge was by no means now warm or inviting, he was at least speaking, and teasing her no less. This was a far improvement over his last treatment of her.

  Soon after he finished his tea, he fell into a fitful sleep.

  Joanna removed herself to a seat near Mable, who whispered “Thank you, ma’am.” as Joanna sat down. Joanna smiled in response before picking up a book from the table and idly reading through the passages until she felt the compress ought to be changed. How odd it was, she thought as she dampened the cloth, that her feelings toward a person could change so distinctly in such a short time. How sympathy can change one’s feelings from disapproving to compassionate.

  She spent the remainder of the night perusing the book, keeping the compress cold and fighting the urge to sleep. Mable left them only once to replace the cold water in the basin. Nearly an hour after sunrise a light knock sounded on the door. The valet pushed the door open further and Joanna met him at the entrance to the room.

  “Is he any better, ma’am?”

  “I do not know that he is, but he has rested a good deal, I think.”

  “Good.”

  Mable appeared near Joanna’s elbow. “I'm so grateful you were here. We didn't know what to do.”

  Joanna swallowed as memories bubbled near the surface, but she pushed them down. “Unfortunately, the most one can do is provide comfort until the symptoms fade. Hopefully, with more rest, he will recover quickly.”

  “I hope so. It was awful to see him in such a state. He collapsed on the stairs last night on his way up here.” Mable motioned to the valet. “Jacob had to help him up the rest of them. He seemed so weak.”

  “He can hear you,” Mr. Aldridge himself called out from the bed.

  Joanna jumped, her hand flying to her chest. She had been certain he was asleep, but perhaps he had only been pretending. Mable hurried to stand beside the table and Jacob left the room again.

  “Good morning, sir,” Joanna said, walking over to the bed. “Were you able to sleep at all?”

  “Some.”

  “Good.” Joanna checked the temperature of the cloth on his head, decided it was a shade too warm, and so removed it from his head and dipped it in the cold water again. “Is the compress still providing some relief?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  “I am sorry I cannot do more to help you. Is this why you came to Roselund Heights? In hopes that the sea would be of some benefit?”

  He brow crinkled and he moved his eyes to look toward her. “Yes. My doctor recommended I come here.”

  Joanna nodded. “The sea air is certainly beneficial.” Joanna made a face. “Though I have not enjoyed drinking the sea water when I have fallen ill.”

  Mr. Aldridge chuckled.

  “My uncle may have some advice for you as well. He ought to be here soon; in fact, I am surprised he is not here already.” Joanna wrung the cloth out over the bowl.

  “Your uncle?”

  Joanna turned from the basin. “Yes, of course. My uncle is the physician here in Roselund Heights.”

  As she stepped forward to place the cloth on his head, he reached up and grabbed her wrist. His hand still shook and his grip was not as firm as she might have expected.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Joanna’s eyes went wide. How could he not know? She quickly thought over their conversation. She had never stated her name; and with his impaired vision, especially in the darkness, it was entirely possible he would not recognize her. She could not help the chuckle the escaped.

  “My apologies. My name is Joanna Leighton. We met a few days ago at the ball.”

  Mr. Aldridge’s hand dropped and he swore under his breath. “You are not a nurse or a maid.”

  Confusion and lack of sleep muddled her mind. “No. As I said, I am Mr. Garvey’s niece.”

  “I thought you were—”

  Realization washed over her. “Is that why you allowed my assistance? Because you thought me a maid?”

  “Of course!” Pain flashed across his face. “I never would have allowed such a beautiful young woman to remain here h
ad I known.” He closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

  Joanna felt her cheeks warm at his admission. “You really have no need to be concerned.”

  He was quiet a moment too long. “No need? Your reputation has been tarnished. You have just spent the night alone with a man in his bedchamber. I was under the impression such things were looked down upon.”

  Joanna was certain her face was crimson now. Yet she managed to keep her voice even. “Do not worry yourself, sir. My reputation is not at risk. Your maid has not left except to fetch the tea and once to change the water. And all of Roselund Heights knows I assist with my uncle’s patients from time to time. Once people learn you were ill, my being here will shock no one.”

  Mr. Aldridge’s complexion grew warm. “You ought to leave.”

  “Mr. Aldridge, really—”

  He spoke across her. “No, please go. I will manage on my own.”

  “Have I done something to—”

  “Just go!” he cried, wincing in pain. “Please.”

  Joanna was overwhelmed by shock and all her feelings of amiability toward him were gone in an instant. She turned without another word and tossed the cloth back into the water basin. She took a step toward the door and paused when she saw Mable looking at her with wide, frightened eyes. Joanna hurried from the room and down the stairs. Mable followed close behind.

  “You’re not leaving, are you ma’am?”

  “I am.”

  “Oh, please! Stay.”

  “I could not, even if I wished to. He asked me to leave.”

  “What will we do for him?”

  “Simply do as he asks. I am certain he knows best.” Joanna knew the bitterness was heavy in her voice, but she did not care. “Please fetch me my bonnet and coat.”

  Mable hurried off and came back a few moments later, handing Joanna her things.