She came over to the bed.
‘Take a little water, then I will find you something more nourishing. A mug of ale, perhaps.’
‘Splendid idea.’ He winced a little as she helped him to sit up and pushed another pillow behind his shoulders.
He sipped at the cup she held to his lips. The cool water soothed his parched throat and helped him to collect his scattered wits.
‘How long have I been unconscious?’
‘Lord bless you, Master Andrew, nearly all the time since Dr Hall took the bullet from your arm, so that’s four full days.’
‘The devil it is!’ He struggled to hold on to the returning memories. ‘And the lady who came with me—is she gone to Bath?’
‘Heavens, no, sir. She’s been nursing you night and day. She’d be here now if I hadn’t insisted that she take a turn around the gardens. Very reluctant to leave you, she was, but I told her it would do you no good if she was to become ill, too, so I sent her out to get some fresh air. But you need not fret, she won’t be away from you any longer than she can help, I’m sure.’
‘She has been nursing me?’ He rubbed his good hand over his chin. ‘Has she been shaving me, too?’
‘No, not that she wouldn’t have tried, but she persuaded Stinchcombe to do that.’ Mrs Parfitt gave a cheerful laugh. ‘Quite adept she is at getting her own way.’
He frowned.
‘She is a lady. She should not be looking after me.’
The housekeeper directed an arch look at him.
‘And who else is to nurse you, pray? I have done what I can, but a body’s only got one pair of hands and mine have been busy running this house and looking after Sir Edward, and since the master refuses to take on anyone else I’m very thankful to the young lady for knuckling down to work with me.’
‘Yes, of course. I beg your pardon, Mrs Parfitt. My coming here has placed an added burden upon you.’
‘Now you are not to be thinking like that, Master Andrew. Where should you come, when you’re in need, but to your old home?’ She put down the cup and straightened, beaming at him. ‘Now, I shall be off to get your breakfast and I’ll be back just as soon as ever I can.’
She hurried away and Drew was left alone once more. He put back his head and closed his eyes, trying to recall the events leading up to his coming to Hartcombe, but the harder he tried to think the more confused he became. He heard the door opening again and looked towards it, expecting to see Elyse come in. Instead he was surprised to see his father standing in the threshold.
He had some memory of seeing him at the door when he and Elyse had arrived. His thoughts were confused, hazy and he recalled only the vague image of a stooping figure with white hair. Now he took the opportunity to study his father and he suffered a severe shock at how much he had aged. Ten years ago Sir Edward had stood tall, a proud man in the prime of life. Today his face was lined and his back hunched, as if he had suffered much. He had always worn a powdered wig over his shaved pate but now he stood before Drew with his white hair flowing untidily around his head.
This is all my doing.
‘Parfitt said you were awake.’ Sir Edward took a few steps into the room. ‘How are you?’
It was a cold, grudging enquiry. Drew thought bitterly that he would be a fool to expect anything different.
‘Damned weak,’ Drew said shortly. ‘What date is it?’
‘The twenty-sixth.’
‘So late?’ Drew sat up, then fell back again as the pain shot through his injured arm. ‘And Elyse has nursed me all that time?’
‘Is that her name?’ Sir Edward’s shaggy brows rose a little. ‘Aye. She’s looked after you. Waited on you constantly.’
‘But she is not a servant,’ exclaimed Drew. ‘You should not have allowed it.’
‘You both arrived without attendants and without baggage, how was I to know she was anything other than your—’ Sir Edward broke off, flushing a little when he met Drew’s angry look. He said defensively, ‘There was no one else to nurse you. Parfitt did what she could but she was not able to sit with you day and night.’
‘Then I should have been left alone,’ snapped Drew. ‘The lady should never have been allowed to remain here.’
‘Oh, and what do you think I should have done with her?’ demanded Sir Edward, his colour rising. ‘She refused to leave your side.’
‘I told you I was taking her to Bath, you should have packed her off there and placed her in the care of her fiancé’s family.’
‘She has refused to leave until she knows you are out of danger.’
Drew snorted angrily.
‘You could have made her go.’
Sir Edward cursed roundly.
‘Since she would not divulge her name, nor that of her betrothed, what would you have me do, abandon her at the doors of Bath Abbey?’ he stormed. ‘Dashed cantankerous woman has had us all at sixes and sevens.’
He glowered at Drew, who felt his lips twitch and after a brief struggle he burst out laughing.
‘Aye,’ he grinned. ‘She has a rare talent for that, I admit.’
‘It’s all very well for you to laugh,’ growled his father. ‘You have no conception of the trouble you have caused.’
The black cloud descended over Drew’s spirits once more, stifling all desire to laugh.
‘Oh, I think I have, sir. I—’
He broke off when he heard someone hurrying along the passage towards the open door. The next moment Elyse came in, the jacket of her travelling gown unbuttoned, her curls disordered and a becoming flush mantling her cheeks. At the sight of Sir Edward she stopped.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’ She sank into a hasty curtsy. ‘I heard a noise and feared—’
‘You thought your patient delirious?’ Sir Edward barked at her. ‘No, he is conscious at last, and I hope to heaven you will soon be able to remove him from this house.’
With that he stalked out, leaving Elyse to stare uncertainly at Drew.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said again. ‘I am sorry if I interrupted you—’
He put up his hand.
‘You interrupted nothing save possibly a quarrel,’ he said shortly. ‘It has always been thus between us.’
‘He did not turn you away from Hartcombe.’
‘I have no doubt he would have done so, and he could.’
‘He is an old man, Drew, and he is suffering a great deal.’
‘And I am not?’ he bit back at her. He let his breath go with a hiss and raised his hand. ‘I should not have spoken so, forgive me.’
‘Willingly.’ She came closer, her dark eyes fixed anxiously on his face. ‘Did you know about your brother?’ she said gently. ‘Did you know he had died?’
‘Simon? No, I did not.’ The news was like a blow to the stomach. He stared her, the gut-wrenching pain making his head spin. ‘When was this?’
‘Two years since. A riding accident. Mrs Parfitt told me.’
He closed his eyes, his good hand gripping the bedclothes until his knuckles gleamed white.
‘No, I did not know,’ he said again, adding bitterly, ‘I have had no communication from Hartcombe for years.’
‘I am very sorry.’ She covered his hand with her own. ‘Perhaps you understand now some of your father’s unhappiness.’
Oh, yes. He understood it. He had been the cause of most of it. He had hoped at some point that he might at least make his peace with Simon, but now that would never happen. With an effort he brought his mind back to the present and opened his eyes again.
‘There was no need for you to stay here.’ He pulled his hand from beneath hers and had to steel himself against the feeling of loss. ‘You should have asked my father to convey you to Lord Whittlewood in Bath.’
‘How could I leave when there was no one to look after you?’
‘Easily. It was not your place to be nursing me.’
‘Someone had to do it, and to help Mrs Parfitt get you into bed. I helped to wash you and put you in a nightgown, too, although I decided not to try shaving you.’
The twinkle in her eyes and the mischievous smile playing around her lips succeeded in putting to flight his morbid thoughts, at least for a while. He grinned.
‘I dread to think what you would have done with a razor in your hand. My father’s valet did that service for me, I believe.’
‘Yes. Sir Edward was a little reluctant to allow it at first, but when he realised that I was prepared to shave you myself he relented and ordered Stinchcombe to assist me.’
‘Thank heaven for that!’
‘I know.’ She giggled. ‘I think he feared I should cut your throat, which is very likely, of course, because I have never shaved a man before.’
‘You should not have had to do anything for me.’ He frowned at the seriousness of her situation. ‘We have only three days to get you to Lord Whittlewood. If I am not well enough then you will have to go alone. We can find a village maid to accompany you, and I will write a letter to explain—’
‘Is that necessary?’ she asked him, startled. ‘Could we not write to the viscount now, telling him that we will be delayed?’
Drew shook his head. ‘Lord Whittlewood’s letter was most specific. You are to be delivered into his care by Michaelmas. If not, the marriage agreement is null and void.’