She smoothed it back, then pulled up a chair and sat; she took his hand and held the palm to her lips, and whispered, ‘Je t’aime, mon amour.Please don’t die.’ She talked and sang softly to him until, exhausted, she laid her arm on the bed and, resting her forehead upon it, dozed for a few minutes. She was woken by Argyle’s voice, but, when she looked at him, his eyes were still closed. He was dreaming—hallucinating…she could not tell.
Earlier the landlord had come in, to see if she needed anything, but she had told him to go to bed, since there wasnothing more that could be done; the doctor would come again in the morning.
He had put a tray with a teapot covered in a tea cozy and a plate of bread and cheese on the table and said, handing her a warm woollen shawl, ‘My wife gave me this to put around your shoulders, my lady, in case you should feel cold. Seeing as your own things have not arrived yet.’
‘Please thank her for me, it is most kind. But you have made a lovely fire, and I will keep feeding it.’ The landlord had left, wishing her goodnight, and now she was all alone.
She had never felt so young and lost, but also strong, because she had to be strong for him. She drank a little tea, but the sight of the food revulsed her; she put the shawl round her shoulders and pulled up a chair next to the bed. She sat and stroked Argyle’s hair, and his hand, and kissed his closed eyes and his fingers one by one; and listened to his jumbled words.
Once she thought she heard ‘naked in my bed,’ and she imagined—hoped—he was dreaming of her. She whispered, ‘I will be naked in your bed, my love, every night until we die.’
Did his hand twitch slightly in hers, or had she imagined that as well? She thought again of their drive at Harwick, when he had held her hand all the way home—now she held his as though she could keep him from slipping away from her. She pulled the shawl tight around herself and sat huddled by the bed, clutching his hand; from time to time she rose to put more logs on the fire. She sipped at the tea, but it was cold and tasted bitter. It was the longest night of her life.
* * *
In the morning, as she dozed with her head on her arm, still holding Argyle’s hand, there was a commotion and the door opened to reveal her maid, Flossie, who bustled in and put her arms around her.
‘Oh, my lady, what a thing to have happened. I am so sorry. I have brought your things, and I will help all I can.’
Marguerite lifted her head wearily and saw that Argyle was peaceful. ‘Dear Flossie, I am so glad you have come. Please, can you arrange for some hot water. I am in dire need of a wash, and, as you see, I am still in my riding habit.’
‘Yes, you look done in. At least you had a warm shawl, and I see you thought to take off your boots. You will feel better when you have some clean clothes on.’
‘The doctor will come soon, and I can get changed while he is examining His Grace.’
Dr. Peel arrived presently, and she slipped out in her stockinged feet, with Flossie following, carrying her boots. Marguerite asked, ‘What did my parents say to you?’
‘The groom returned and told us you were safe, and staying at a good inn, so they were not too worried. At least your father wasn’t—it seems he knows of the landlord. Your mother helped me prepare your things, but I could see she was anxious. We left at dawn.’
‘PoorMaman—I’m afraid I’m not a very restful daughter.’
They went into the bedchamber, which Marguerite had barely glimpsed the night before, staying only long enough to wash her face and leave her hat and gloves before going to Argyle’s side. It was a small but pleasant enough room, with a window letting in plenty of light, flowered curtains, and a grate where a cheerful fire burned. The bed was spread with a red coverlet.
Flossie helped her wash and get changed; she had sensibly brought with her some simple and comfortable muslin gowns, kid slippers and a couple of warm shawls, together with nightwear and fresh linen. As she did the buttons down Marguerite’s back, she said, ‘I did not know you had become betrothed to His Grace, my lady. Your mother told me. I am not sure if I should congratulate you while things are still so bad.’
‘Do you know, Flossie, even His Grace does not know it yet. But he has asked me to marry him, several times, so I hope he will not be too shocked when he wakes up and hears aboutit.’ They looked at each other and laughed. Then Marguerite’s face tightened. ‘…If…’
Flossie said firmly, ‘When. He will wake up soon. You did well to come. Do not fret, I am sure he will recover, him being so young and strong.’
‘Thank you, Flossie, you have made me feel better. I did not think I could ever laugh again.’
Flossie brushed her hair and put it up while Marguerite avoided looking at her face in the mirror, a quick glimpse having told her it was pale and drawn, with dark circles under red-rimmed eyes; she looked down at her hands and went on praying silently. Presently there was knock on the door and, when asked to come in, the landlord stuck his head inside the room and said, ‘The doctor says you should come, my lady—His Grace has regained consciousness.’
Flossie beamed and said, ‘You see?’
Marguerite jumped up and followed him down the passageway. He knocked on the door and preceded her into Argyle’s room. Marguerite stopped at the threshold and saw him sitting up against his pillows, in the same crumpled white shirt open at the throat, still very pale but with his eyes wide open under his dark brows.
When he saw her, he said, ‘Ah,thisfiancée. Now I see.’ He did not smile.
Dr. Peel, standing next to the bed, said, ‘Good morning, my lady. His Grace is much better, thanks be to God, although his memory is still a little shaken, I fear.’
‘Yes, I noticed. I do hope he isn’t betrothed to more women without my knowledge.’ She laughed, light-headed with relief, and the landlord did as well. The doctor looked a little shocked, and said, ‘I must insist on complete rest for a few weeks.’
Argyle said, rubbing his hand over his chin, ‘Well, could I at least get a shave? I’m sure I look like a brigand. Here, Jack,’ he addressed the landlord, ‘get me some hot water and a razor, will you? And some breakfast, I’m starving.’ His voice was impatient, if a little weak, but his black eyes were dull.
‘Your valet has arrived, Your Grace,’ said the landlord. ‘I will fetch him at once.’ He left the room.
Dr. Peel said, ‘Only the lightest of fares, I beg you, my lady. I rely on you to keep His Grace sensible. This improvement has been nothing short of miraculous, and I feel your presence did much to help. I will now take my leave, but I will return tomorrow.’ He bent a severe look upon them and went out, leaving them alone together.
