The Reluctant Duchess (21 page)

“You couldn’t hand me the nightclothes on the bed could you?
”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

Seconds later there was a gentle tap on the door and using the towel to preserve her modesty, she opened the door and accepted the clothes.

“Thank you.”

The maid kept her eyes down, curtseyed and quickly turned away.

Annabelle
dressed quickly in the nightgown, robe and slippers, then made her way out of the dressing room. She wouldn’t normally feel comfortable roaming someone else’s home in her nightclothes but she wanted to check for herself if Richard was all right. She waited outside Richard’s room as instructed but she was a bundle of nervous energy, so she began to pace.

Finally Lavinia joined her and enveloped her in a big hug.

“Thank you, my dear girl.”

“I didn’t do anything, really. Sampson
thought to ask a fireman where he was, and he found the horse.”

“Nonsense,
from the state of your clothes and your cough, I would say that you did quite a bit and put yourself in a fair amount of danger.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she admitted.

“I remember that feeling.” Lavinia smiled. She pulled away and fished something out of her robe pocket, handing it to Annabelle, who looked down to see that it was a key.

“What
is-?”

“The
key to Richards’s side of the dressing room,” she said quietly.

“But-”

“I trust you not to do anything that could harm his recovery and I’m sure that he would appreciate your company.

The door to
Richards’s room opened before Annabelle could reply, so she quickly pocketed the key. They went in to see Richard looking clean and resting on his bed in his night clothes. They had built up a mountain of pillows behind him so that he was sitting almost upright.

“How do you feel darling
?” Lavinia asked.

“Better”
he croaked, but his breathing was still laboured and just that one word caused a painful coughing fit. His eyes were also hooded, meaning that the laudanum was probably making him drowsy.

“Are you hungry? She asked.

He shook his head.

“Then how about a whiske
y before bed?”

Again he
shook his head.

Lavinia turned to Annabelle. “What
about you dear, is there anything you want?”

“No, thank you.”

The butler and footman left and Lavinia sat on the edge of her son’s bed. “Are you feeling tired?”

Again he nodded.

“Then I shall let you get to sleep. Good night, darling.” She stood up. “You must be tired too,” she observed.

Annabelle realised that
she did feel tired. “What time is it?”

“Just g
one eleven.”

“That late?” She had no idea that
so much time had passed. “Yes, I should go to bed too.”

Lavinia kissed her son’s forehead.
“I’ll make sure that the staff doesn’t disturb you unless you call them,” she assured him and although he looked puzzled by the declaration, he didn’t ask what she meant for fear of starting another bout of coughing.

Realisation dawned
a few minutes later, as he heard the lock turn in the door to the dressing room. He smiled at her, even though he looked just about ready to collapse on his feet, his eyes were so hooded. Nevertheless, he managed to move sideways on the pillow mountain and patted the space beside him.

She slipped into bed beside him, gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, and then settled onto the pillows next to him.
He wasn’t having that though, and put his arm around her and pulled her against him. She acquiesced without a fight and cuddled into his side, although she was careful to rest her head on his upper arm rather than his chest or shoulder.

She lay awake for a long while, listening to his wheezing breaths. He seemed to be breathing
a little more evenly now but she was still worried about him. Finally though, her exhaustion overwhelmed her and she drifted off to sleep.

It was a fitful night’s sleep for both of them, as Richard’s frequent coughing fits repeatedly woke them up. She gave him a little more laudanum at around 3 am, worried that he wouldn’t get any sleep if he didn’t take it and although he originally shook his head, she talked him into the second dose.

He s
lept a little better after that, coughing less, although the ragged sound of his breathing didn’t improve.

When Annabelle awoke
the next morning, she was shocked to realise that his breathing seemed to have worsened and although resting, his breaths were short and shallow. He wasn’t quite panting but it wouldn’t take much to describe it as that.

Thinking little for decorum, she got out of bed and rang the bell for the servants. Moments later
James came into the room.

“Send for Dr Medway,” she told him and the urgency in her tone sent him running off.

Annabelle sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the hair from his forehead. He finally opened his eyes although, seeming to realise that his condition had worsened, he didn’t smile as he saw her. The laudanum was also still affecting him and he seemed slightly dazed.

“The doctor’
s coming,” she tried to reassure him. “How do you feel?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want some more laudanum?”

He shook his head, then
began another coughing fit. This one lasted quite a while and left him even more breathless.

Lavinia came rushing in a moment later
, still in her night clothes and quickly took in the situation. They had little choice then but to wait for Dr Medway to arrive. Finally he came into the room and Lavinia and Annabelle stood back, so that he could attend to Richard.

He took Richard’s pulse, placed something that looked rather like an ear trumpet to his chest and listened, then felt his neck. Next he told Richard to open his mouth and using an oil lamp, looked
inside.

“This is not unexpected,” Dr Medway said calmly. “You inhaled hot smoke which has irritated your lungs and c
aused some minor burns, both of which are causing swelling. It may even get a little worse over the next day or two but after that, your breathing should start to ease as you begin to heal.”

“Will I… recover?” Richard asked between breaths
, although he managed to supress the urge to cough.

“The burns don’t look too severe so hopefully the damage is reversible,
although it could take weeks, or even months before you are as good as new. For now just rest, kept taking the laudanum and try not to cough too much.”

Richard nodded.

“What about food and drink?” Annabelle asked.

“His throat is burned so eating will be painful for a while but he should try to eat.
Cold foods are best, liquids if you can or soft food, such as mashed potatoes or scrambled eggs, though be careful that they aren’t too hot. Ice cream is especially soothing, so I’m told.”

“Is there nothing else we can do?” Annabelle asked.

“I’m afraid not,” he said kindly as he turned to her. “Rest is the only cure.”

“Thank you, Doctor,”
Lavinia said and showed him out.

Annabelle sat back on the bed
as they were alone again. “I’m sorry; this must be very difficult for you.”

He smiled and shrugged.

“Would you like a pencil and paper?” she asked.

“I can talk,” he croaked.

“It just hurts?”

He nodded. “Coffee house?” he asked.

Annabelle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my gosh! I have to arrange someone to cover for me. I wonder if Ruth would? She can just make extra stew for dinner, although Sal and Jones would have to fend for themselves at lunch, unless Frank would drop some of the lunch stew off with the deliveries. Oh but there is an order for a choux pastry; Ruth has never tried anything like that.”

She bit her lip as
she considered her options but she could see no way around it.

“Well, it’
s just one order, I can afford to lose that and will just have to hope that they accept my apologies. What time is it?”

Richard pointed to a chest of draw
ers, on top of which sat his pocket watch. He was pleased to note that she wasn’t even considering going to work and that for once, he came before her beloved coffee house.

“Half past eight!” she exclaimed. “Oh lord, they
will be there already. I suppose I could send a note telling them to close until further notice; that might be easiest.”

Lavinia came back in. “If it is the coffee house you are fretting over,
my dear, you needn’t worry,” she assured Annabelle. “I sent Peter over to your house last night, to inform them that you wouldn’t be available for a few days and to come here if they needed any assistance. They assured him that they would cover for you and make sure that business continued as usual.”

“Oh, thank you, Lavinia.” Annabelle gave a relieved sigh.

“You are very welcome. In the interests of decorum, I suggest that we both get dressed now, I have laid a dress out for you on your bed; then we will decide how to best keep Richard occupied during his confinement.”

“I can hear you… you know... mother.” His
declaration caused another bout of coughing.

“Of course you can, Richard, and do try not to exert yourself. Now, come on, Annabell
e; we’ll be back soon, darling”

Richard was still taking laudanum at regular intervals and slept a lot that first day, which was probably best for him. When he was awake, Annabelle first read the paper to him,
which was full of details about the fire.

“At half-past five in the evening, everything
was quiet at Westminster Palace yet within a short hour, the interior of the House of Lords was filled with flame, casting its bright glare for miles around the city.

The flames, which first showed themselves at half-past six o'clock on Thursday the October 16
th,
quickly consumed the House of Lords and spread to neighbouring buildings. Though details are few, it is thought the fire was caused by the burning of old tally sticks from the Exchequer.

By half-past seven o'clock the engines were brought to play upon the building, both from the river and the land side, but the flames had by this time acquired such
a predominance that the quantity of water thrown upon them produced no visible effect.

In less than an hour the entire roof of the House of Lords had fallen in. The firemen now abandoned all hopes of saving any part of this portion of the building, and their efforts were wholly directed towards the House of
Commons, and the preservation of Westminster Hall…”

When she had finished with the newspaper, Annabelle
moved onto the novel that Richard was currently reading, The Last Days of Pompeii by Edward Bulwer-Lytton. She was sorry to be coming to the story part way through as she was enjoying it, so when he dozed off, she went back to the beginning and read silently.

She
often heard people at the front door first day but they weren’t allowed to see Richard until talking was easier for him. The butler explained a little of his injuries to them all and advised each caller to try again next week.

The cook made t
wo portions of ice cream for him that day as although it was a labour intensive process, it was the most soothing to Richard’s burned throat. She had known Richard since he was a boy and always liked him, so she didn’t mind the extra work. In recognition of the trouble she was going to, Lavinia and Annabelle had sandwiches for lunch and cold game pie and salad for dinner, both prepared by Lavinia herself. Well, she didn’t actually make the pie but she did serve it.

That evening, since Richard’s throat was particularly painful, Annabelle watered down some laudanum
in cordial and made him gargle with it, which eased a lot of his discomfort. The doses of laudanum also reduced his coughing episodes, although it far from eliminated them.

He was worse by the evening tha
n he had been that morning, but Annabelle and Lavinia put brave faces on and continued as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

The coffee house staff stopped by the house on their way home that night and assured
Annabelle that they were fine and would cover for her for as long as she needed. They had even fulfilled the choux pastry order, having asked the baker next door to make the pastry as a special favour, using Annabelle’s recipe. Annabelle felt easier after seeing them but in truth, she would have closed it rather than leave Richard at the moment.

He was doin
g his best to be brave but she could tell that he was in a lot of pain and discomfort. She could also see the fear in his eyes as well, fear that soon he would be unable to breathe at all. He had explained briefly that it felt as though his lungs were closing up, or filling up, and that he sometimes felt that soon he wouldn’t be able to take any breath at all.