“Take this mug of broth and be careful you don’t burn yourself. Let me put a drop of whiskey in it . . . there.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it with me while I talk to Greysteel.”
He moved back from the kitchen door, but when Velvet saw him, she glared so sternly, he retreated back to the sitting room. She followed and they each took chairs before the fire.
As he looked at her, his mind conjured her beautiful naked portrait, and he remembered her cruel words about carrying the king’s child.
She was lying to me—please, God, she was lying!
“Greysteel, Princess Mary has come down with smallpox.”
He saw her hands tremble and the broth almost spilled. “Holy God, she must have contracted it from the ship. That’s how Henry caught it, you know.” He knelt to remove her boots. “Charles must be consumed with worry.”
“At least one of her ladies has it, possibly more. You were in close contact with her for almost ten days. You too may have been infected.”
He jumped back from her. “You must be mad to come here and risk exposing yourself. You should have just sent a message!” He moved away from her across the room. “You are putting your child in unnecessary danger too, Velvet.”
“Danger, yes, but absolutely not unnecessarily. If you fall ill, I shall be here to nurse you.”
“No, you will not. As soon as you have warmed yourself, you are getting back in your carriage and returning to London.”
She smiled wanly. “My carriage is stuck in the snow at the end of the drive. Ned and I had to unharness the horses and bring them to the stables.”
“You struggled through this storm to get to me?” Greysteel was incredulous. What she’d done had taken a great deal of courage, tenacity and love too, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“How are you feeling? Do you have a headache or backache?”
“No, nothing like that,” he lied. “I never felt better.”
“Thank God! To be on the safe side, you must keep your distance from Mr. Burke and the Cleggs.”
“And
you,
Velvet, for Christ’s sake!” He brushed his hair back from his forehead with an impatient hand. “What about the King’s Guards who also traveled with Mary—have any fallen ill?”
“I don’t honestly know; I didn’t wait to find out.” She took a deep breath. “I think I should go up to bed. I’m exhausted.”
“You take the master bedchamber and I’ll use one of the guest rooms. Put your boots near the hearth. After you go up, I’ll put the guard in front of the fire down here.”
Velvet put her boots to dry. “I want
you
to sleep in the master bedchamber tonight. If you are in a guest room and you do get sick, it will be an added burden for me to move you.”
“We’ll do it your way, if it makes you feel better.”
“Thank you, Greysteel. Good night.”
“It is I who thank you, Velvet. What you have done is so selfless and I know how much courage it took.”
“It’s not courage, Greysteel.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s love.”
He could not hear the last word, but he knew what he wanted it to be.
I love you with all my heart and soul, Velvet.
“Good night . . . get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.”
He watched her leave; then he returned to the fireplace and set the protective guard in front of the fire before he sat down.
Mary Stuart mustn’t die! Charles must not lose both a brother and a sister to smallpox in such a short time. Fate couldn’t be that cruel!
Yet Montgomery knew that Fate could be that cruel. More than anything in the world he wanted Velvet to return to London, but Fate had stepped in and disabled her coach. He willed the contagion to leave him untouched; at the same time he pressed his hands to the staggering pain in his head.
“I have to face up to it. The possibility I’ve caught smallpox is very real.” He forced himself to get up from the chair and go up to bed, for as Velvet had pointed out, she didn’t need the extra burden of moving him.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he thought about awakening Mr. Burke. They could lock Velvet in her room to try to keep her safe. He heard a noise in the master bedchamber that distracted his thoughts. When he opened the door, he saw that a log in the fireplace had fallen to ash, and he suddenly shivered from the coldness of the room. He replenished the fire before it went out entirely, and then he undressed slowly and crawled into bed.
Velvet opened her eyes and for a moment wondered where she was. Then she remembered. She was at Roehampton, where she had fallen into an exhausted sleep in one of the guest bedchambers. She was no longer tired and slipped from the bed to look out the window. The moon was still fairly high, rather than low on the horizon and this told her that it wasn’t yet morning. She guessed that she had slept deeply for about four hours.
She felt chilled in her petticoat and sat on the bed to pull on her stockings. Then she put on her green velvet gown. Silently she gave thanks that she had reached the manor without incident and that Greysteel was well. Then she said a prayer for Charles and asked God to give him strength.
She lit a brace of candles and wrote a note for Mr. Burke, telling him about Princess Mary’s smallpox and her husband’s exposure to the contagion. She gave the steward strict instructions to keep his distance from Montgomery. Then moving slowly, with as little noise as possible, she left her chamber, walked down the hall to Mr. Burke’s room and slipped the note beneath his door.
Velvet felt invisible threads drawing her to Greysteel. She tried to resist their pull and told herself that she should not disturb his sleep. When she got to her own door, however, she could not go through it. She gave in to her instincts and went down the hall to the master chamber.
She turned the knob quietly and held her breath, hoping the door wouldn’t creak. She slipped inside and moved toward the bed. There was no sound, no movement, and she assumed he was asleep. Then she saw him. The moonlight showed that he lay naked and his eyes were open.
She reached out and placed her hand over his. Its burning heat alarmed her. “Greysteel!” She felt his forehead and knew he had a raging fever.
Velvet lit all the candles in the room and came back to the bed. His pewter eyes glittered feverishly; his face and neck were flushed a dull red. His lips were dry and cracked.
“Water,” he murmured indistinctly.
She rushed to the washstand and poured some water from the jug into a cup. She lifted his head and tipped the water toward his dry lips. She watched him drink avidly and when he would take no more, she eased his head back down onto the pillow.
Velvet poured the rest of the water from the jug into a bowl. She took it to the bed with a sponge and a towel, and then she bathed his face, neck, chest and arms. She did it over and over in an effort to cool him down. Fear gripped her, but she knew that so long as her hands were busy, it would help to keep her devastating thoughts at bay.
She drew in a swift breath when she heard a knock at the door. She crossed the room and asked who was there.
“It’s Mr. Burke, my lady. I read your note.... I hope you are wrong about Lord Montgomery catching the contagion.”
“I am afraid I’m not wrong, Mr. Burke. He has a raging fever. For safety’s sake, I want you to move to the servants’ wing. I’ve exposed myself to Greysteel and I wish to remain the only one at Roehampton who is exposed. I’ll do the nursing, but there will be lots of other things you can do.”
“I’m so sorry, Lady Montgomery. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“As soon as it stops snowing, you can retrieve my luggage from the carriage. It got stuck at the end of the drive. You and Ned, my coach driver, can help Mr. Clegg to keep us supplied with wood for all the fires. I’ll need water to bathe my husband and something for him to drink . . . water and whatever else you think best. I know how staunch you are, Mr. Burke. Your presence is a great comfort to me.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Don’t come to the door again. Leave the stuff I need at the top of the stairs, and you can leave me a note too, if there is something you want to tell me.”
“Is there anything you need right away?”
“Yes, you can fetch an empty bucket and some fresh drinking water, thank you.”
Velvet pulled a chair to the bed and sat down. She had no idea if her husband could understand her, but she knew she must talk to him, mostly for her own sake. “I know how ill you feel, Greysteel, yet you refuse to moan. Let it out—I’m sure it will make you feel better, my love.”
He moved his head on the pillow so that he could see her, but he uttered no sound.
“It’s almost dawn. The wind has dropped and the snow is not falling as thickly. Once it stops and the sun comes up to sparkle on the soft blanket of white, I’m sure that Roehampton will look more beautiful than it ever has before. I love this old manor. It is the loveliest present I’ve ever had, or could ever have, and I thank you for it with all my heart, Greysteel.”
“Water,” he mumbled.
Velvet went into the hall. She found an empty wooden bucket and a fresh jug of drinking water. She carried a cup to the bed and again raised his head. He was burning hot to the touch and when he drank eagerly, she prayed it would lessen his fever.
A short time later she heard a noise in the hall and, when she went to investigate, found a bucket of warm water and a note. Mr. Burke told her that he had put borage leaves in the wash water that would turn it red. He also said that he was boiling some borage leaves and seeds, a common drink for fever.
When Velvet sponged her husband with the red-tinted, piquant-smelling water, she saw old scars on his torso that she’d never noticed before, and it reminded her that Greysteel had been a soldier most of his life, fighting to put Charles on the throne. “This is one battle you must win,” she told him firmly.
By the time morning arrived, she saw that he had closed his eyes and he seemed to have fallen into a fitful sleep. An hour later she found her two bags and the wooden crate at the top of the stairs. “Thank heaven they left my portrait crated up!” She dragged it into the bedchamber, and went back for her bags.
The day went by in a blur. She changed her clothes and put on a peach-colored gown. It was an impractical shade for nursing duty, but she chose it for her beloved. She remembered eating food that had been brought upstairs, but later could not recall what it was. As twilight neared and Greysteel’s fever had not broken, terror of the coming night gripped her.
She lifted his head so he could sip the borage drink, but he turned his face away, and muttered incoherently.
She fought her fear, feeling contempt for her cowardice. She turned his face back to her and stared intently into his fever-bright eyes. “Robert Greysteel Montgomery, you are going to have to give your control over to me. I am in command tonight and you must obey my orders. Do you hear me, Captain?”
“Cold,” he murmured.
She pulled up his blankets and tucked them about his neck and when her hands came in contact with his skin, it scalded her. She tried to mask her alarm and went to the fire to put on coal and wood to make it blaze hotter. “Are you warmer now, love?”
He shivered and his teeth chattered. “So cold.”
Velvet began to panic.
He’s cold because he’s going to die!
She brought an extra blanket from the chest and threw it over her husband, yet still he shivered. Instinct took over and told her what to do. She threw off her clothes, slid beneath the covers and enfolded him in her arms. Though he shivered, his naked flesh against hers felt hot as fire. “The heat from my body will seep into yours.... Feel it, Greysteel, feel the heat!”
Gradually, his shivering stopped and he lay still as death. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. Her throat choked with tears.
If you die, this is the last time we will ever be able to sleep together.
She swallowed the lump and whispered, “I love you more than life.... Feel my love seep into you.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
When Velvet woke, dawn was lighting the sky. She was immediately aware that she lay against Greysteel’s back. She could feel wetness between their bodies and her heart lifted in hopes that his fever had broken. When she slid down the covers and peeled her body away from his, she saw to her horror that his back had a dozen large blisters filled with water and she had broken some of them.
She scrambled from the bed, hurried around to the other side and found him awake. “Can you understand what I say, love?” He closed his eyes once, and she took it to mean that he could. She saw his tongue come out to lick cracked lips, but his mouth had no moisture in it. She poured him a drink of bitter borage and water and held it to his lips. Miraculously, he drank it and she knew he had given his control over to her.
When she cupped his unshaven cheek, she found him still warm, but not raging hot. She sent up a swift prayer of thanks and then quickly donned her petticoat. She emptied the old wash water into the wooden bucket and filled the bowl with fresh. Before she began the sponge bath, she examined him all over to see how many smallpox vesicles had erupted. As well as the dozen on his back, he had at least another dozen scattered over his arms, legs and belly. Velvet decided to fudge the number. “Greysteel, you have maybe twenty pox on your body, but miraculously, you have none on your face.”
When his mouth curved slightly, she knew he had understood. She sponged his front first, moving slowly so that she would not break any more blisters, and then she washed his back, which was the worst. She put a clean linen case on the pillow and urged him to lie on his stomach. Again she emptied the dirty water into the bucket and carried it to the fireplace.
She scooped up all the ashes from the hearth and put them in the bucket too and carried it to the top of the stairs. Along with fresh water, Mr. Burke had left her another note.