Page 33 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

Speke Hall - Liverpool .

Frederick didn’t come.

Frances spent the entire night with Elinor. She and Jemie worked to keep her cool, dosed at regular intervals with the doctor’s draught, and as comfortable as possible while the fever took hold.

She glanced over at Jemie, who still sat on the opposite side of the bed.

They’d spent a harrowing hour only a short while ago as Elinor, battling the fever, was incoherent and clearly suffering with the most appalling nightmares.

She’d cried, thrashed, and shouted, breaking Frances’ heart.

They’d held her through it, bathed her to keep her cool, and done everything that they could, but it felt precious little.

They only had love, cool water laced with tincture, and a draught from the doctor which was nothing compared to what the fever brought as it ravaged its way through Elinor’s small, defenceless body.

“You should sleep,” Frances turned to Jemie.

“In a while. Look, dawn is breaking.” He stood up and stretched, then went to the window and pushed back the curtains. “Let’s let some sunshine in.”

Dawn filtered through. Pink and apricot shades bathing the room in its glow.

“I’ll go and make us some tea.”

“The servants will be up by now.”

“Then I’ll get one of the servants to make us some tea.”

Frances managed a small smile. She could scarcely believe he’d stayed with them. She knew in her heart that whatever happened, she would love him for it for the rest of her days.

He disappeared and Frances turned back to Elinor, who seemed to sleep peacefully, so she sat back in the chair and peered out of the window at the sky.

She had exhausted all prayers she knew, reciting them over the course of the evening, often resorting to begging.

She’d tried bargaining too. She wasn’t sure if any of it had been heard, but the glorious morning seemed somehow optimistic.

Jemie returned with tea and resumed his place on the opposite side of the bed. He picked up Elinor’s hand. He stroked the back of it, then laid his hand across her forehead.

He hesitated. “I may be indulging in some spectacularly wishful thinking, but she doesn’t seem as hot?”

Frances stood up and surveyed Elinor’s sleeping form. She, too, placed a hand gently on her forehead, and was inclined to agree. She was warm, but not burning as she had been for so long and her head was coated in a clammy sweat.

“You may be right.” She felt her neck and then pulled back the sheet to feel her arms. “She’s definitely not burning anymore?”

A tiny shiver of hope fluttered in her chest. “Let’s see what Doctor Emslie says when he arrives. He promised he’d be back this morning.”

Jemie nodded with a small, hopeful smile and sat back.

“Don’t,” Frances said sharply. “Don’t say anything. Don’t raise our hopes.”

She gathered Elinor’s pale hand in both hers and kissed her fingertips.

***

Jemie sat restlessly in the drawing room with Lizzie and his mother, whilst the doctor was upstairs with Elinor and Frances. He had to force himself to sit still. Lizzie stared out of the window, while his mother sat in the chair by the fireplace, smoothing the fabric of her dress.

When the door opened, they all leaped up as one.

“Doctor?” Lizzie rushed over to him.

He smiled. “Miss Elinor Leyland is a very strong young lady. She seems to have shaken off the worst of the fever and is sleeping. I don’t think she’s quite out of the woods yet, but she is considerably better than she was yesterday.”

Jemie sagged with relief.

Lizzie wiped her eyes, comforted by his mother, and then rang for the tea tray while Jemie searched for an excuse to go up to Elinor’s room but came up with nothing satisfactory. Certainly nothing that would get past his mother’s sense of propriety.

The doctor accepted a cup when the tea tray arrived and sat beside his mother. Jemie sipped his own tea and tried not to fidget.

After some polite discussion, the doctor declined any further sustenance, signalling his imminent departure.

Frances entered the drawing room. Clearly tired, and more than a little dishevelled, but looking more beautiful than Jemie had ever seen her. He wanted to gather her into his arms. More than that, he wanted the right to be able to gather her into his arms.

He held his hands behind his back to restrain himself as Lizzie and his mother went and embraced Frances.

Doctor Emslie came over and stood beside him with a smile.

“Young Elinor is a lucky girl.”

Jemie nodded and cleared his throat.

“I will leave you now,” Doctor Emslie told them. “But please just send word if you are even a little concerned.”

Jemie watched as she saw him out, leaving him with his mother and Lizzie, who each collapsed into their respective chairs, clearly weak with relief.

“My word,” Lizzie sighed. “What an awful night.”

His mother nodded her agreement. “As a matter of interest, what, exactly, did you put in your note to Mr Leyland?”

Lizzie sniffed. “I simply told him that the doctor had said that Elinor was gravely ill and suggested it might be wise to return before morning.”

His mother looked puzzled. “I know he’s an odd fish, but I thought he would be here by now.”

“It took a long time to locate him,” Lizzie had no qualms in speaking freely.

“Locate him… oh.” His mother frowned. “I see.”

Jemie cleared his throat. “The footman was very discrete. He didn’t tell me where he did eventually find him, but clearly, he was not at the Bibby office, nor his flat in the city.”

“Have you relayed that to Frances?” his mother said.

“No. Nor do I intend to. I don’t want to add to her worries. She has enough to deal with in looking after Elinor without worrying about what her husband is up to,” Jemie said quietly.

His mother rubbed her forehead. “We would only be surmising. It could have been entirely innocent.”

Jemie sniffed, and his mother threw him a warning glance.

When Frances re-joined them a short while later, she had tidied her hair into some semblance of order and put on a fresh gown. She looked slightly less careworn.

“How is she?” his mother asked.

“She’s very weak and drained but holding up.” Frances forced a smile.

“Then do have some tea,” Lizzie encouraged her. “I will arrange something light for lunch. Would you like a tray in Elinor’s room?

“I feel very fortunate to have you all looking after me,” Frances told them. “I’ll have that tea and then venture back upstairs.”

Lizzie busied herself with the teapot, but the slam of a door, and a long tread along the corridor made them all still. Jemie saw Frances flinch as her husband strode into the room. He appeared clean, and well rested, unlike the rest of them, who were exhausted and dishevelled. Nobody moved.

He looked at them and raised his eyebrows. “I take it all is well?”

Frances was rigid. She stood, lifted her chin, and looked up at him. “It is now.”

Leyland smirked, seeming self-satisfied.

“So, despite all the howls and protestations, none of my children died after all?”

Jemie’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. What in God’s name…

Lizzie audibly gasped. His mother’s hand flew to her mouth.

Frances paused for one perfect moment, then walked over to where he stood, looked him in the eye, and slapped the bastard across his smug face.

All hell broke loose.