‘What would I do without you!’
A moment later, as Catarina was sipping the brandy, almost choking at the unfamiliar burning sensation in her throat, Doctor Holt came into the room. He accepted a glass of brandy and sat opposite Catarina.
‘He’s in a bad way, I don’t like that head wound,’ he said without any prevarication. ‘He can’t be moved. Can your servants manage to care for him? Staines is a reliable chap, and your maids seem sensible lasses. At least they didn’t go off into hysterics.’
‘Of course we will care for him.’
‘Send for his valet, he can help look after his needs. And I think you ought to let his brother know. We’ll do our best, but I’m making no predictions. I’ve seen men with less serious wounds develop a fever and be gone within the week.’
* * * *
Nicholas was in the estate office early the next morning talking with his agent when his butler came in carrying a letter.
‘My lord, I apologize for interrupting, but this has just been delivered. It’s from Marshington Grange, and the man who brought it said it was urgent. He’s waiting for a reply.’
With a brief smile at his agent Nicholas broke the seal. He was finding it tedious back in England, doing all the humdrum tasks involved in running a large estate, though his agent and other senior servants were so well trained they were fully capable of managing without him, but he could not yet leave to go to Marshington.
The address was the Dower House, and for a moment his heart leapt. Had Catarina repented of her refusal? But she would never have written to him to say so. And the man must have ridden through the night. He was suddenly apprehensive and scanned the few lines rapidly. Then he dropped the paper onto his desk and felt numb.
‘My lord, what is it? Bad news?’ the agent asked.
The butler went to the decanter and brought across a glass of brandy.
‘Drink this, my lord, you’ve gone as pale as a ghost.’
Nicholas swallowed and tried to pull himself together.
‘My brother has been badly hurt. Tell the man I will follow him as soon as I can pack some clothes. I’m sorry, but I will have to leave you to do the best you can, as I don’t know how long I’ll be away. Can you ask Lady Mortimer to come here, but please don’t alarm Miss Olivia. Get Chettle to pack what I’ll need for a week or two. He can come with me, I’ll drive the curricle. Send to the stables.’
The butler was almost out of the room before this string of commands finished, already talking to a footman to pass on some of them.
‘I’ll go, my lord, but please give Mr Jeremy my good wishes,’ the agent said, gathering up his papers and backing out of the room.
Nicholas nodded, and when he was alone sank his head in his hands for a moment. Catarina’s note had said Jeremy had suffered a serious head wound the previous evening and was still unconscious when she wrote.
‘We are keeping him at the Dower House as the doctor advises he must not be moved.’
It must be serious, especially if he was still unconscious several hours after the accident. Catarina had not said what had caused it, and Nicholas wondered if he had suffered a bad fall from a horse. He was an excellent rider, but there were always accidents.
His reflections were cut short as Lady Mortimer entered the room, looking anxious.
‘Nicholas, what on earth is it? The servants are all in a pother, and you look dreadful.’
He explained. ‘I must go to him, it sounds serious, but please don’t worry Olivia. I’ll send the groom back to you with a report when I discover just how badly hurt he is.’
‘Of course you must go, and don’t worry about Olivia. She is relishing being back at home. I can keep her mind occupied with plans for Christmas.’
There might not be any Christmas celebrations, Nicholas thought as he set off, then he forced himself to pay attention to his driving. The roads were muddy and the horses found it heavy going, but it would be a disaster if he too had an accident. Maybe he would have been better advised to ride. But he would probably need Chettle and his tiger, and he needed a few changes of linen.
His thoughts raced ahead. He would make his headquarters at Marshington Grange, Catarina would be having enough extra to do if Jeremy had to remain at the Dower House. Could she hire a nurse? Was there a suitable woman in the village? He could perhaps relieve her of some tasks, and Chettle would be useful, he’d had some experience of nursing with his former master before the old man had died.
Cursing the difficult conditions of the roads, he made what speed he could and it was dusk before he pulled up his tired horses outside the Dower House.
* * * *
It had been a terrible day. Jeremy remained unconscious. The doctor had been twice, and on the second occasion he suggested that the village midwife ought to be here to look after him.
Catarina had known the woman ever since she’d married Walter, and shuddered at the thought of having such a one in her house. She was fat, with greasy hair and dirty hands. She was for ever laughing raucously or airing her opinions in her loud, unpleasant voice. Catarina had been thankful she would never have to depend on her assistance, since she would not ever have a child.
Catarina was about to say they would be able to manage when Jeremy’s valet, who was in the room, said fiercely he was quite capable of doing all that was necessary for his master, and Mr Brooke abominated being fussed by females.
He cast an apologetic glance at Catarina when he realized what he had said, but she smiled at him and gently shook her head.
‘We can manage, I’m sure,’ she told the doctor.
As the day wore on she began to wonder if they really could manage. Though Jeremy lay comatose, his plight influenced everyone in the house. Staines, having sat up all night, spent the morning sleeping, and somehow, without his calming influence, the household seemed unable to function properly. Cook complained that the bread refused to rise, the kitchen maid burnt all the toast and let one of the saucepans boil dry so that the kitchen filled with reeking black smoke. They forgot to replenish the fire in the nursery, and Maria was unusually fractious. Clarice became tearful and said she wanted to go home to Portugal as soon as the baby was weaned.
So when Nicholas appeared Catarina welcomed him warmly.
‘Thank heavens you are here! Maybe now everyone will be able to behave normally!’
‘Catarina. How is Jeremy? Is he badly hurt? I have to thank you for taking him in.’
‘You’ll wish to see him immediately, my lord,’ Catarina replied, suddenly recalling their last meeting and its unfortunate ending. ‘He is still unconscious, but he is moving a little, restless, and we think that is a good sign.’
She led Nicholas up to Jeremy’s room and left him there to talk to the valet. Half an hour later he came downstairs and found her in the drawing room. Staines had a glass of madeira ready, and Nicholas downed it in one swallow. Staines took the glass and refilled it, then quietly left the room.
‘What happened?’
‘He was attacked by several men, just inside the gates. We heard them shouting, but could not tell what they were saying. We don’t know who they were. Mr Lewis and one of his men arrived with a shotgun and frightened them away. That is all I know.’
‘He seems to have been beaten savagely, around the head especially. Those wounds are always the most dangerous. I need to talk to the doctor.’
‘He is coming back this evening. My lord, will you have dinner here? And I can have a small bedroom prepared for you if you prefer to stay here rather than sleep at the Grange.’
‘Thank you. I have eaten nothing all day and suddenly feel ravenous. As for the bedroom — ‘ He hesitated and gave her a quizzical look. ‘I would prefer to be near him, but it could harm your reputation.’
Catarina cared nothing for that.
‘What reputation do I have to lose?’
Fortunately, she thought, Staines announced dinner at that moment and she led the way into the dining room. While he was present serving them they talked of Nicholas’s stay in Paris, he gave her Delphine’s messages and good wishes, and she told him something of what was happening in the village, the general hardship and the discontent many of the villagers felt towards Jeremy.
‘You think it was some of the villagers who feel hard done by who attacked him?’
‘Who else could it have been? I’ve had plenty of time to consider it. It’s highly unlikely some roving band would set upon him so viciously.’
‘There are such bands. Many of the soldiers now have no occupation. One can see many in the towns, and on the roads, begging, especially those who lost limbs. The stronger ones who cannot find jobs have resorted to more violent means of feeding themselves.’
Staines coughed. ‘My lady.’
‘Yes, Staines?’
‘The man with Mr Lewis told me today he thought he recognized one of the men. He said it looked like Dan.’
‘So he is still around,’ Catarina said. ‘Yes, he feels he has many grievances. He was suspected of setting fire to Mr Lewis’s barn, so he has the potential for violence. And he could have persuaded the friends he still has in the village to join him. Now they are facing such a hard winter, without much food, they could have been willing to attack Jeremy. They blame him, even though it’s unreasonable, for all that’s befallen them.’
‘The young fool has partly brought it on himself. My lady, if you are agreeable, I will sit here with Jeremy tonight.’
‘You must be exhausted, driving all the way from Brooke Court. Couldn’t Staines sit up again?’
‘I would not sleep. Not until he shows some sign of improvement.’
‘There is a comfortable armchair I could have brought into the room, my lord,’ Staines said. ‘You will be able to doze. Or I could have a truckle bed brought in from my lady’s room.’
Nicholas opted for the armchair, and just at that moment the doctor was announced and he accompanied him up to Jeremy’s room.
Later, as Doctor Holt left, he told Catarina Jeremy was showing signs of waking up, so he was hopeful he would make a recovery.
‘Though we cannot yet tell whether his faculties have been impaired. We know so little about the brain and what can happen to it from such injuries as Mr Brooke has received. Send for me at any time if there are changes that worry you, but I hope that by morning he will have recovered his senses.’
* * * *
When Catarina peeped into Jeremy’s room before she went to bed Nicholas was sprawled in the armchair, fast asleep. She told herself she ought not to, but she could not resist standing and looking down at him.
His hair was ruffled, not in its usual carefully dishevelled state, but as though he had raked his fingers through it repeatedly. He had torn off his cravat, and without it he looked surprisingly vulnerable. She saw how uncommonly long his dark lashes, spread over his cheeks, were. Unfair, a small voice inside her said. Girls would give a great deal for such natural assets. His cheekbones stood out, slanted, with hollows below them. He looked thinner than when she had last seen him, but perhaps she could not recall his features quite accurately.
A shadow darkened his chin, and she could see the individual hairs of his beard. His lips were slightly open, relaxed, and Catarina wondered what it would be like to kiss them, to have them pressed against her own. She shivered, and Nicholas opened his eyes and looked up at her, smiling.
Then he recalled why he was there and sat up, frowning, looking across at Jeremy.
‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep,’ he said softly. ‘This chair was a mistake. Is Jeremy the same? Were you guarding him for me?’
Catarina shook her head. ‘He looks the same. Would you like me to wake someone to stay here with you?’
‘No, I was used to having a quick doze whenever I could while I was in the army. I won’t fall asleep again.’
To make sure of it he rose from the chair and placed a hard stool beside the bed.
‘Then I’ll say goodnight,’ Catarina whispered and went slowly back to her own bedroom. Why had circumstances conspired to make it impossible for her to accept his offer?
She was soon asleep, but in the middle of the night was awoken by shouts. After a moment she realized it came from Jeremy’s room, across the corridor from her own. Stopping only to fling on a brocade dressing gown she hurried across and flung open the door. Jeremy was struggling with Nicholas, who was trying to hold him down, raving and shouting curses, interspersed with cries which sounded like cries of pain.
Staines arrived on Catarina’s heels and went to help Nicholas.
‘The doctor left a sedative in case he became restless,’ Nicholas gasped. ‘It’s on the table, but I can’t reach it.’
Catarina went and found the small glass, and while Staines held Jeremy’s arms, which had been flailing about, Nicholas managed to get him to swallow most of the medicine. It soon took effect, and Jeremy quietened, and looked as though he was sleeping naturally.
Nicholas stood up, sighing, and dragging a hand across his face.
‘It happened so suddenly. One moment he was lying there, the next he was awake and trying to get out of bed. I’m so sorry we woke you.’
‘You have a cut on your forehead,’ Catarina said, stretching out her hand as if to touch it, then suddenly drawing back.
‘He must have hit me with the splint on his arm. It’s nothing.’
She took refuge in practicalities.
‘It’s bleeding. Stay here while I fetch something to cover it. Staines, could you ask Cook or one of the maids to make a pot of tea? I think we might all benefit from one.’
‘I’ll make it, my lady. Have you all you need?’
She nodded, and fetched some of the bandages the doctor had not used, and some soothing balm made with comfrey leaves. Forcing herself to control her trembling as she touched him she applied the salve while Nicholas sat in the armchair. The cut was not, as he had said, serious, but it had bled copiously. She wound a strip of bandage round his head and suddenly giggled.
‘You look like an Indian in a turban. Joanna and I had some pictures in a book we were given when we were small.’
He grasped her hand and pulled her gently towards him. She shivered and tried not to snatch her hand away.