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A deceptively cheerful smile lit her face, though it failed to reach her eyes. “Is something the matter, Charles?”
“No, I only wanted to remind you that I am here to help, should Mr. Boyle require further assistance. I have as much at stake in this as you do, and Mr. Green, and I don’t want you carrying the entire burden of this alone. Whatever financial agreement you come to, I would like to be included.”
“This is my affair, Charles. Mr. Boyle is my connection, and I am the person who wrote to beg his assistance. I feel it is only right that I take on full responsibility. Though you can rest assured I will keep you informed of what he discovers or how you may further assist him, should he ask.”
He could see that she was not going to relent on this matter. He bit his tongue, swallowing any further rebuttal. If he knew anything about this woman, it was her stubborn ability to argue her independence. There would be time to sort through the financials later.
Amelia let herself into Mrs. Halpert’s room first to ensure the woman was available for a visitor and returned shortly to beckon him inside. Making his way toward the chairs set at the head of the bed, he was overcome by the progress Mrs. Halpert seemed to have made in just a few short days. Her cheeks, though still too gaunt for comfort, had some color in them, and her eyes were brighter. Her stomach still bulged underneath the blankets, and he wondered how close her time would be—for he believed it would be quite soon.
Surely they would have more warning than Mrs. Pepper gave, though.
“Good day, Mr. Fremont,” Mrs. Halpert said, a smile spreading over her mouth as he sat beside her. She tried to push herself into a sitting position, but he lifted a staying hand, and she lowered herself back onto the mound of pillows. Amelia came to her other side and helped her sit up a little more, fluffing the pillows beneath her back so she might be more comfortable.
“And the cricket?” Mrs. Halpert asked. “Where is Dr. Mason?”
“He has gone to Halstead Manor. Giulia is having her baby,” Amelia said, leaning over to fluff another pillow.
“And the match ended a little early because of that same reason,” Charles added. He pulled a face. “Though Graton would have lost even had we been given a proper opportunity to finish.”
Amelia shot him an amused smile, and it occurred to Charles that he sounded quite put out.
Mrs. Halpert’s smile was commiserating. “I am sorry for it. I was hoping Graton would win. My George played last year and Melbury beat Graton by quite a large margin. He was distressed by it for weeks.”
“I remember that,” Charles said, smiling fondly. “It was not too long after you arrived here. We were down a man and George stepped in. Good man.”
Mrs. Halpert’s eyes shone with a film of tears, reflecting from the sunlight pouring through the open window.
Amelia crossed back to the side of the bed near Charles and quietly claimed the seat beside him. He wondered why she was not speaking to the distraught woman before them, so he cleared his throat. “We are all sorry that he wasn’t here to share this with us today.”
She gave a watery smile.
“And I do think he would be proud of you and the progress you’ve made. I’ve been told that bread is the magic cure.”
Mrs. Halpert chuckled, sniffing. “It has certainly made a world of difference. I can’t abide eggs or pheasant, or anything I used to love. But once I’ve eaten some bread and waited a little while, I can eat a bit of ham, too. I do think it is working, for I feel much better than I did just yesterday. Every day is an improvement.”
Charles beamed, so grateful they were able to pull Mrs. Halpert from the terrifying depths she had reached. “I am so glad to hear it.” He reached across the blanket and took Mrs. Halpert’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze and a smile. “I know George is watching you, and that he only wants the best for you. I know it in my heart.”
Tears pooled in Mrs. Halpert’s eyes, dripping down over her cheeks. She nodded, seemingly unable to speak. When she opened her mouth, her words were naught but a whisper. “I did need to hear that. Thank you, Mr. Fremont.”
“I only spoke the truth.”
Amelia rose to her feet beside him, calmly smoothing down her gown and straightening her sleeve. She was so nearly perfect, never a hair out of place on her coiffure nor a stain to be seen on her gown. She ran her house with the same precision with which she dressed, and it was likely why the maid Tabby stepped into the room bearing a tea tray laden with bread, small cuts of ham, and a tea service as soon as the hour struck on the mantel clock.
“We will leave you to your meal,” Charles said, sensing that Mrs. Halpert would like to be alone with her thoughts.
She smiled her gratitude. “This ginger tea is wonderful. If you haven’t had any before, I highly recommend it.
He nodded and left the room, a lightness lifting from his chest as he stored the image away of a content, healthier Mrs. Halpert. She had a long journey ahead of her before she would be considered healthy, but she was healing, improving, and it was all thanks to the lovely creature closing the bedroom door behind him. “You are marvelous,” he said, startling Amelia.
“I said nearly nothing the entire time we visited with her.”
Charles scoffed lightly. “It is because of you that Mrs. Halpert is improving. Your idea, the bread—that was…well, it was marvelous. She owes you a debt of gratitude. We both do.”
Amelia’s face tightened. “Think nothing of it. It was only bread.” She turned to walk away, and he reached for her hand, gently pulling her back to face him. Her icy blue eyes widened, but her fingers squeezed his on the impact, loosening again when she faced him.
He released her at once. “What did I say to displease you? I merely wanted to show my gratitude.”
“Nothing. I am not displeased.”
