Hestony felt too sick and shaky to ask what that meant. At that moment, the door opened and intense warmth spread out. She felt her body crumple, suddenly desperate for heat and lying down.
“Her ladyship is indisposed,” Lord Osburne’s voice declaimed. It sounded as if he was very far away. “Carry her upstairs. Fetch Mallory, somebody.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can walk,” Hestony murmured, as a capable servant lifted her like she weighed nothing. She tried to put her feet on the stairs, but she felt her vision darken.
She felt herself carried into a room – there was a fire in the grate, and candles were lit. She was lowered to a bed and somebody gently removed her boots. She moaned in dissent and a feminine voice gently replied.
“It’s alright, My Lady. If you sit up, we’ll get you out of those wet things, see?”
Hestony murmured again, but something was making her head ache and her teeth were chattering too much to frame a reply. She felt her body start to warm up as somebody gently unbuttoned her riding-habit and draped a linen towel around her shoulders. She closed her eyes, feeling warmth flood through her body.
It was only as she collapsed under the blankets, losing consciousness, that her mind thought to ask where she was.
The fire was burning low – she could hear it crackling in the grate, making a soft sliding sound as the ash shifted. She opened her eyes. Her head felt hot, mouth dry. Her feet were freezing.
“Where am I?” she murmured.
“You’re in the guest-quarters at Maverly House,” the maid’s voice said in its thick York accent.
“Maverly?” Hestony heard the words like a prison door shutting. Her heart filled with a blank horror.
I’m here, at his home. Nobody can say now that we’re not courting. He’s got me at his mercy.
Hestony felt herself sit up, clawing the blanket off her legs.
“No…My Lady. Stay,” the maid soothed. “Doctor Mallory! The patient is trying to stand up on her own.”
“I can stand up,” Hestony said, feeling her conviction waver as she slid her legs out of the bed. Her feet were bruised with cold. She put them on the ground, but they would not carry her weight.
“Now, now,” a male voice said resonantly. “What’s going on here?”
“Doctor, I demand you let me go home,” Hestony said, sitting down heavily on the bed.
“Where is your home?” the doctor asked gently.
“Amhurst Heights,” Hestony whispered.
“I see,” the doctor’s voice murmured. It was dark, and Hestony, back in bed, could barely see his face. He was standing by her bedside, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved to see him or if she simply wished that he – along with the maids – would just go and leave her be.
“Please…” Hestony whispered. “I need to go home.”
“I cannot allow you to leave in your current state,” the doctor said gently, resting a hand on her forehead to feel her temperature. “You have a strong fever.”
“I know.”
The doctor had to smile at that. He was a young man, Hestony saw, and he had a gentle face and soft auburn hair. He became in that moment an ally rather than an enemy. He lifted her wrist and felt her pulse gently.
“You need to rest,” he said. “You do have a fever. I recommend warmth and rest and tomorrow I will see if you need to be bled.”
“Thank you,” Hestony whispered. “Sir…could you perhaps take a message to my cousin?” She felt desperate, and something told her that her mother would have little sympathy on her condition. She would doubtless consider a stay at Maverly exactly the thing.
“Let me see….” The doctor pulled out his watch, checked it and raised a brow. “It’s six o’ clock in the evening. I need to get to Ridley village to see to a lady in labor after this…”
“Doctor? Please, just ask the butler to have a message sent?” Hestony interrupted.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, and washed his hands. Hestony watched mutely as he left.
“Please, ask him,” she murmured into the empty quiet. She was starting to feel hot. The blankets were oppressive, and her temperature rose.
Somebody had to come and get her out of here. The desperation was growing inside her. She couldn’t bear to stay here a moment longer. It was dinnertime already!
“My Lady?” a voice called at the door.
“Yes?” Hestony almost shouted. She was so relieved to hear somebody speak.
“Can we come in?”
Hestony swallowed hard. The “we” bothered her. “Alright,” she croaked.
The door opened. The maid who had helped her earlier came in. She looked a little nervous and Hestony looked a little behind her and felt her heart stop. In the doorway, dressed in black and looking handsome and frightening at the same time, was Lord Osburne.
“My Lady,” he said gently, coming to sit down at her bedside. Hestony instinctively shrank back. “Forgive the intrusion, but I had to see how you were. The doctor said you were gravely indisposed.”
“I’m fine,” Hestony said. She bit her lip and made herself sit up against the pillows, even though she saw stars and her breath was heavy and slow.
“I had to check for myself,” Lord Osburne murmured. “Because I think it best if you stay here, at least until tomorrow.”
“Please…have somebody take a message to my mother,” Hestony whispered.
“Of course,” he soothed. “I’ll send Mr. Haydon straight away.”
“Thank you.” Hestony felt her soul brighten. She beamed at him, feeling a disproportionate sense of joy. “I’m so grateful.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said gravely. “I will make all the arrangements.”
Hestony nodded. She felt a strange apathy as he said it. She felt as if Osburne was capable enough to handle all the things that she couldn’t in this moment. She was so fevered, so ill. So tired. She just wanted to leave everything to somebody who could manage things better than her.
“Well, then,” he murmured. He sounded uncomfortable. “I will go down and organize things.”
“Thank you,” Hestony murmured. “And…My Lord?”
“Yes?”
“If you could take word to Westmore House?”
She saw his eyes, which had been peculiarly tender, suddenly harden. She felt her spine stiffen.