“How terrible! Ye have my sympathies, lass.” The doctor shook his head in commiseration.
“How is His Grace?” Miss Bolton enquired.
“He said your name when you screamed,” Duncan informed her.
“I should go to him.” She arose from her bed and left the room. Duncan and the doctor followed in her wake.
* * *
Eliza was mortified. She had awakened to find the Duke of Durton and Dr. Burns standing over her bed wearing worried expressions. Now as she looked down at Arthur, she understood how they must have felt.
She was terribly worried that he had not yet awoken. When Duncan had said the Duke had spoken her name, she thought perhaps he had regained consciousness, but upon entering his bedchamber, she found he had not.
“The children should arrive before long,” Duncan informed her, coming around to stand at her side.
“’Twill do him good tae have the voices of those he loves surroundin’ him. Such things give a man somethin’ tae fight for,” Dr. Burns remarked as he lifted Arthur’s wrist and timed his pulse with a gold watch from his vest pocket.
“Arthur is strong. He will make it through this,” Duncan reassured them. Eliza wondered whether he spoke more for himself than for them.
“Strength of body and will have assisted in many recoveries,” Dr. Burns agreed.
“He has plenty of both,” Duncan replied.
Eliza studied the features of the Duke of Rosenhill’s face. It was covered in bruises and abrasions but had been spared any deeper cuts that would have left permanent scarring. The wound on his side was another story entirely. It would leave a jagged red line that would forever remind him of the unfortunate event that led to its making. She was reminded of the scar on his father’s face in the portrait at Rosenhill Manor and wondered how the late Duke had come to bear such a mark.
She reached out and brushed the blonde hair back from his forehead.
Arthur…it suits him.
She thought of the stories she loved so much about King Arthur and the knights of the round table and recognized how much alike the two Arthurs were. The way he had treated his servants, tenants, and siblings since her arrival at Rosenhill as equals was truly admirable. Kind, noble, and strong.
Eliza looked at Duncan and understood why the two men were friends. He had fought hard to save his friend’s life and had been compassionate when Eliza had broken down and cried in the carriage. He had treated her as an equal as they had sat and talked in the library after tending the Duke of Rosenhill’s wounds. From what she had seen thus far, he treated every person he encountered with the same courtesy and kindness.
As the only two Dukes Eliza had ever met, she did not have much to compare them to, but from what she had heard gossiped about town, such disregard for the social hierarchy among the nobility was rare. She wondered what had caused them to differ so greatly from their peers. I rather like them for that.
Eliza sat down on the edge of the bed and inspected the wounds she had sewn closed. The wound on his side had leaked somewhat. “I see you were forced to tie him down, Doctor,” she noted aloud.
“Aye. He nearly broke open his stitches,” Dr. Burns confirmed.
“We need to rebandage this,” she pointed out gesturing towards the leaking wound.
“Aye. There should be some bandages on the side table there.” Dr. Burns motioned for Duncan to hand her the strips of cloth. “The rest o’ his wounds appear tae have stopped bleedin’.”
Eliza took the bandages from the Duke, and she and the doctor rebandaged their patient’s torso. When they were done, Eliza sat down in a chair at the Duke of Rosenhill’s bedside and held his hand in hers. She knew it was presumptuous given the cavernous distance between their social standings, but she had always found that affectionate physical contact worked wonders in helping the ill and injured.
“Ye are an excellent healer, Miss Bolton,” Dr. Burns complimented, noting her care of the wounds. “Where did you learn your skills?”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Eliza answered. “When my parents were murdered, our house was burned to the ground, and I was hurt by the falling debris. Our neighbors, the Cole family, took me in and cared for me, tending my burns. From that day forward, I have done everything within my power to assist those in need where ever I encounter them. I believe that when a blessing has been given to you such as the one given to me by the Coles, it is only right to share it with others.”
“Hear, hear!” Dr. Burns exclaimed in agreement. “You are a young lady of superlative character, Miss Bolton.”
“I agree,” the Duke of Durton murmured from beside her.
“You are both too kind,” she blushed waving away the compliment.
“I am sure yer parents are verra proud, God rest their souls. I would have been well-pleased tae have had a daughter such as ye,” Dr. Burns informed her.
“Thank you. I sincerely hope you are right.” Eliza looked out of the window at dawn breaking over the horizon and wondered if her parents could indeed see her and feel pride. The outline of a carriage moving up the drive could just be made out in the distance. “The children,” she stated, rising to go and meet them.
Eliza descended the stairs with Duncan close behind her. They greeted the carriage as it rolled up in front of the door. “You made excellent time. I did not expect you until after breakfast,” the Duke told the driver.
“When I delivered your message to Rosenhill, Your Grace, the head housekeeper, Mrs. Philips, seemed to believe it was best if the children departed before their mother, the Dowager Duchess, awoke,” the driver explained.
“A wise woman, Mrs. Philips,” Duncan answered. “You were right to listen to her advice.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the driver replied. “She also said to reassure the Duke of Rosenhill that his estate manager will be notified of the situation and will take good care of Rosenhill in the Duke’s absence.”
Eliza opened the carriage door and assisted the children down to the ground. “Good morning, Lord Gabriel, Lady Charlotte.”
“Good morning, Miss Bolton,” the children chimed. Gabriel stepped forward and gave her a hug while Charlotte greeted their host.
“Good morning, Your Grace. We thank you for your kind invitation.” Charlotte curtsied to the Duke of Durton. The phrase sounded recited as if learned by rote as a lesson in elocution, but her face exuded genuine emotion. Eliza could tell she was glad to be at Durton Manor.
“You are most welcome, Lady Charlotte,” Duncan replied with a bow. “You too, Lord Gabriel,” he stated as he shook the boy’s hand.
Once the formalities were out of the way, the children both gave their friend a hug. “Uncle Dunc?” Gabriel sought the Duke’s attention.
“Yes, Gabe?” Duncan answered.
“Where is Arthur?” Gabriel asked.
“Arthur has had an accident and has been hurt. I will take you up to see him, but you must be careful not to touch him until he feels better,” the Duke explained to the children. He took each of their hands and led them up the stairs to see their brother.
“Uncle Dunc?” Eliza asked quietly about the unusual address after the children were settled in around their brother’s bedside.
“Arthur and I have been as brothers from the time we were quite small. When the children came along, Arthur was nearly old enough to be their father. He was certainly more of a father to them than the late Duke ever was,” Duncan frowned in disapproval of the late Duke’s lack of caring.
“Their brother is certainly good with them,” Eliza agreed.
“When they were old enough, Arthur would bring them on his visits here at Durton, and I would go to see them at Rosenhill. We spent a great deal of time together. When my father died, and I inherited my title, the children were just learning to speak. Their mother insisted that they were to use my proper title when addressing me, but Gabriel had difficulty pronouncing the words.” He smiled slightly at the memory.
“I can image learn
ing to address everyone by their proper titles at such a young age was quite difficult,” Eliza commiserated with the young lord.
“It caused quite a bit of frustration for him, so I said that he could call me Duncan when it was just the four of us. The children had never had an uncle and wanted one, so Charlotte took to calling me their Uncle Duncan. Gabriel, unable to handle the mouthful of words, called me Unc Dunc which turned into Uncle Dunc as he grew older.” The Duke smiled down at Eliza.
“It is good that they have you during this difficult time,” Eliza remarked. The more she heard about life at Rosenhill under the late Duke, the more she admired its current one.
“I promised Arthur that were anything to happen to him, I would act as the children’s guardian. I plan to keep that promise come what may,” Duncan answered. Eliza noted the firm set to his jaw as he looked down at his friend lying prone upon the bed.
He is worried. We are all worried.
“Why is Arthur tied up?” Gabriel asked, wrapping his hand around the cloth restraints.
“So that he does nae hurt himself more than he already has,” Dr. Burns answered. “We dinnae want him tae open his wounds.”
“May I see his wounds?” Gabriel asked. He had a child’s curiosity about everything in the world around him.
“I am not sure that is best,” Eliza argued.
“Yer governess is right, laddie. We need tae let your brother rest,” Dr. Burns informed him.
“I am not a lady!” Gabriel protested, insulted.
Dr. Burns and Duncan burst out in laughter, while Eliza hid her smile behind her hand. “Nae a lady. Ye are a laddie. ‘Tis what we call a young man such as yerself in Scotland.”
“Oh,” Gabriel thought about it for a minute. “I have never been to Scotland. What is it like?”
“How about I tell ye over a spot o’ breakfast?” the doctor offered.
“I like breakfast,” Gabriel answered.
“Me too,” the doctor answered smiling. “How about ye, lassie?” he asked Charlotte who silently nodded her head.
“Will Arthur be alright?” Charlotte asked.
“Aye. Dinnae ye worry. Your brother is a strong man. He will be just fine with time,” the doctor reassured.
“Your Grace, Miss Bolton, do ye mind if we leave ye for a time?” Dr. Burns asked.
“No, of course. Please, Dr. Burns, make yourself at home,” Duncan answered.
“I will stay with Arthur while you go and refresh yourself. You have earned a reprieve after all of your hard work,” Eliza reassured him.
“I thank ye,” Dr. Burns stated then followed the children downstairs to the dining room.
Eliza walked over and sat back down in the chair by the bed. She took the Duke’s hand in her own once more as Duncan sat in the chair opposite. “We should have untied him before the children saw him,” she said aloud. “I worry that such a thing upset them more than was necessary.”
“They have witnessed far worse,” Duncan replied.
“As had I at a younger age than they,” Eliza remarked empathetically. “A child should have the right to a time of innocent naivety before the troubles of the world befall them.”
“That they should, but seldom are they allowed it,” the Duke agreed.
Eliza looked at Duncan and paused for a moment unsure whether to ask the question that had been on her mind since the day she was hired. Making a decision she took a deep breath, “I have heard that the late Duke of Rosenhill was a cruel man.”
“Yes, he was,” Duncan confirmed.
“Yes, but if I could be so impertinent to ask… What is wrong with Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess?” She was nervous about having voiced her thoughts.
“As far as Arthur and I have been able to ascertain, she despises everything that reminds her of the late Duke. Theirs was a very unpleasant marriage,” Duncan explained.
“She has nothing to do with the children at all. I do not understand it. I know it is not my place…” she shook her head in frustration and disapproval.
“You are their governess. I would argue that it is your place to be concerned for their welfare,” Duncan argued. “Those children have had far less affection than they should have had. It is wonderful to see someone care for them as Arthur and I have.”
Eliza sat in silence for a moment. She did not wish to speak out of turn and was afraid she had said too much already. She felt comfortable with him in spite of his lofty title and found herself expressing her feelings in ways she would not normally have done. In the short time that she had known him, the Duke of Rosenhill had made her feel the same way.
When she did speak again, it was to say, “The children are blessed to have had the both of you.”
As she spoke, she thought she felt the Duke of Rosenhill squeeze her hand. Startled she sat up and stared waiting for it to happen again. When it did, she nearly jumped out of her chair for joy. “Your Grace?”
“Yes?” Duncan answered, leaning forward to see what had caused her reaction.
“He squeezed my hand,” she informed him.
“Dr. Burns said that he had moved around earlier in the night hence the restraints,” he replied. Eliza could tell he thought she was overreacting.
A moan escaped the Duke of Rosenhill’s lips causing Duncan to lean forward. “Arthur?”
“Duncan?” the Duke answered back. His eyes fluttered opened to stare at him.
Duncan bolted out of his chair and was standing over his friend in no more time than it took Eliza to blink. “Arthur, you were in a carriage accident. I brought you to Durton Manor.”
The Duke of Durton rang the bell, and a servant entered the doorway. “Notify Dr. Burns that his patient has awakened,” he ordered.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the servant bowed then went to do as bid.
“Miss Bolton, she was screaming. Is she well?” the Duke of Rosenhill asked groggily.
“Miss Bolton is here with us, Arthur. She is the one holding your hand,” Duncan pointed out. “She saved your life. It was she who notified me of the accident and showed me where to find you.”
Eliza felt the Duke squeeze her hand again as he painfully turned his head to look at her. “Thank you. How did you know?”
“You promised the children you would return. When you did not, I grew worried. They were certain that you would never have broken a promise,” she explained.
“They were right,” he confirmed.
“I see that,” she replied then smiled.
“The children?” the Duke inquired looking worried.
“They are below stairs eating breakfast with the good doctor,” Duncan reassured his friend.
“You kept your promise,” the Duke smiled at his friend in relief.
“Of course,” Duncan answered. “Always.”
“Thank you, brother.” The Duke sighed and relaxed back into the pillows.
Dr. Burns entered the room and leaned over his patient checking his pulse and color. “Ye have decided tae join us,” he remarked smiling.
“It appears that I have,” the Duke replied.
“How do ye feel?” Dr. Burns asked checking his eyes.
“Like a field that has been plowed under by one of my tenant farmers,” the Duke of Rosenhill answered, groaning as the doctor poked and prodded at various places along his body testing to ensure that feeling remained in his extremities.
When he got to his feet, he ran his fingers up the length of them. “Can ye feel this?”
“Yes,” the Duke grunted.
“Excellent,” Dr. Burns praised.
“I am forced to take your word for it, my dear fellow,” the Duke remarked groaning in pain once more.
“Quite so. My apologies for causing further discomfort, Yer Grace,” Dr. Burns answered. He chuckled at the Duke’s sense of humor.
Eliza smiled. If he could feel his extremities, then perhaps he had not broken his back. They had all been quite concerned that he might have after being thrown upon the rocks. His
speech had cleared, and he was beginning to sound like himself once more. Eliza had seen people with head injuries similar to his never wake up and slip away into death without ever uttering another word, while others had awoken to act and speak in ways they had never before.
“I thank you for your care, Doctor,” the Duke stated.
“Not at all. ‘Tis Miss Bolton ye should thank, Yer Grace.” Dr. Burns smiled at Eliza. “She helped tae put ye back together. The lass sews a fine line.”
“It appears I not only owe you my life, Miss Bolton, but also my care.” The Duke laced his fingers with hers causing Eliza to blush.
The Defiant Governess of Rosenhill Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 10