This was what I’d needed, this cold to clear my mind and allow me to focus on the reality of my situation. Which was actually quite simple.
Lord Williams would leave and everything would return to normal, just as though we’d never met.
Twenty-Two
A knock on my door awoke me. The room was dark except for the low fire. It must still be night.
The door pushed open. “Margaret?”
I rolled over. “Mother, yes, I am here. I’m awake.” I rose to add more wood to the flames.
My mother closed the door with a soft click. “Your sister is unwell.”
Poor Alice. “I shall take my turn at her side so you may rest.” I grabbed my dressing gown off the back of the chair.
“Dr. Johnson is here.”
“What?” I froze, one arm halfway through a sleeve. “Is it so serious?” A glance at the clock told me I had been asleep for several hours.
“It is a precaution. He says it is nothing more than a fever and a cough.”
I hurried into my robe. “I should not have fallen asleep.”
“Margaret, your father cannot stay. Not when there is fever in the house.”
I paused in tying my gown. “You wish for me to speak with him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he downstairs?”
“I believe so. And, Margaret, he should leave as soon as possible.”
“But where will he go? We have no family for him to visit and he would never consent to staying in the village.”
“Anywhere would be better than here. Convince him to go with Lord Williams—he is leaving this morning.”
It was done, then. The engagement was off. And my father must have told my mother.
That she would still suggest such a destination was astonishing. “Mother, he cannot go to Lord Williams’s.”
She reopened the door. “I must return to your sister. I leave it to you to persuade your father of the necessity of his leaving and to come to some agreement of where he is to go.” She swept out of my room.
Securing my dressing gown, I went in search of my father, discovering him sitting behind his desk in the firelit study. I knocked softly on the open door. “Father?”
He stood. “Margaret.”
I stepped into the room. “I assume you know the doctor has come. Alice is ill.”
He nodded, stepping around his desk to walk to me. “Yes. I sent John for him myself.”
“Father, Dr. Johnson—and Mother—do not believe your continued residence here wise.”
He took my arm as though to usher me out of the room. “I had heard, but I will not leave my home while my daughter is ill.”
He couldn’t stay. If he fell ill as well, he might never recover. None of us could bear to lose him. “Alice would not wish you to become ill because of her. It would make her worry, which will prolong her recovery. If she knew you were safe, she could concentrate on getting well.”
My father hesitated. “Your mother put you up to this, didn’t she? I appreciate your efforts and your argument in favor of my going. But I am resolved to stay.” He glanced at a large chair facing the fire. “I am afraid, Lord Williams, that the end of your visit comes at a providential time.”
Lord Williams stood. The room suddenly felt much too crowded.
I was still in my dressing gown. I flushed and quickly glanced away, searching for anything other than him upon which I could focus my attention.
“I’m sorry to leave your family in such distress.”
He was really leaving. I would never see him again. It was for the best, for both of us, but that didn’t prevent a pang of regret in my chest.
My father nodded. “I am afraid it cannot be avoided.”
But part of the distress could be avoided. I had no desire to be the one to recommend my mother’s suggestion, but I could not deny that it would be the easiest solution to the present dilemma. “My lord,” I said, not looking directly at him. “You must have overheard our conversation. My father’s health is somewhat delicate.”
“Margaret,” my father interrupted in a low voice of disapproval.
I ignored him. If I did not hurry, my courage would fail. “He was ill a while back. The doctor warned us that if he ever falls ill again, he is not likely to recover. He must be removed from the house while there is fever—”
My father, his hand still on my arm, urged me out the door. “Margaret, you cannot presume—”
I broke free of him and stood before Lord Williams. “We have no right to ask such a favor of you, but would you—given what has transpired, I should not think—could he accompany you? I am certain it will not be for long.”
My father stepped forward, disapprobation in his voice. “Really, Margaret. I am amazed at you.”
My neck and face flamed. But the idea was sound, even if my mentioning it was impertinent.
“Miss Brinton, I would be more than happy to have your father as a guest at my house for as long as needed.”
I briefly met his gaze. “You would?” I could say nothing more, for the openness I had come to expect no longer appeared in his eyes, nor in any part of his expression. His face was as a mask of ice, cold and hard.
“Now see here,” my father objected.
I quickly turned from Lord Williams. “Father, I could not bear it if you became sick as well. Please, go. If not for me and Mother, then for Alice. We will take such good care of her that you will return within the week.”
He frowned, then shook his head. “Daughters are a joy and a curse, my lord. Do not forget that.”
My father would go. Once Alice was well and he returned, it would be as though there had never been a Lord Williams. All would be as it should.
Ignoring the emptiness the thought poked into my chest, I said, “I will have John help me pack your things.” Turning to leave the room, I glanced once more at Lord Williams. “Thank you, my lord.” I paused, then whispered, “For everything.”
After my father’s trunk had been packed, I stole into Alice’s room. Mary slept slumped in a chair near the fire. Alice also seemed to be asleep, but she moaned a little and fidgeted. I slipped onto her bed and placed a gentle hand on her head. She was burning.
“Alice, sit up. Take a drink.” I helped her up and held the glass of water from the bedside table to her mouth.
She took a few sips. I set the glass back and tried to help her lay down, but she shook her head. Her voice was barely perceptible as she said, “It hurts.”
“All right.” I carefully shifted on the bed to lean her against me, pulling the blanket tight and stroking her hair. She coughed, a cough that hurt my throat and chest listening to it. Eventually, though, her breathing evened out. Kissing the top of her head, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I held her until Mary woke with a start. She left the room with a promise to return quickly.
The door opened a few minutes later, revealing my mother. “Margaret, there you are. You are to go with your father.”
I frowned. “Go with him?”
“Yes. To Lord Williams’s. He will need someone to look after him.”
She could not send me away. Especially not there. “But I can’t leave. You will need me to help with Alice.”