Grace: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters' Series Book 3) Read online

  After a while when Grace rested listlessly on the ground,Harry gave Grace further liquid, and the whole episode started again. Rosalind was nearly in tears at seeing her sister suffering so much and unable to do anything to help. “Is more really necessary?” she asked Harry, her heart breaking at the tears leaking from Grace’s closed eyes and the moans accompanying each heaving motion.

  Harry did not look away from tending Grace. “I need to be sure her stomach is completely empty. The less her body has absorbed, the more chance she has of living.”

  Rosalind gasped and started to cry into her husband’s shoulder. Peter had moved quickly to catch Rosalind; at Harry’s words she had seemed to crumple.

  Harry glanced at Peter briefly. “I’m sorry; I had to be honest.”

  Peter nodded in response. There was no doubt Harry was fighting for Grace’s survival.

  After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, Harry was certain Grace had nothing further to give. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and looked at Peter. “I will carry her to her bedchamber, but I don’t know if I’ve done enough.”

  Peter and Rosalind followed the fast-paced Harry as he strode through the gardens. He did not lessen his stride until he was led to Grace’s bedchamber by Mr Bryant the butler. He lay her down on the bed as if she were made of glass, gently tucking behind her ear the hair that had come lose.

  “Fight it, Grace! Fight it,” he said quietly, bending down to kiss her head.

  Peter and Rosalind watched the actions mutely for the moment at least. Harry stepped back. “We’ll take care of her now,” Peter said quietly. Harry nodded and made to move away from the bed, although it felt like the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He wanted to stay with her, to nurse her back to health, but he knew that was impossible. She belonged to them not him. “What about Mr Workman?” Peter asked Harry.

  “What about him?” Harry growled.

  “He has also eaten the berries.”

  Harry pulled the small bottle out of his pocket. “Give him some of this,” he said handing the bottle to Peter. “He probably doesn’t need it, but if it makes him suffer, all the better!” he growled.

  “Thank you,” Peter said. “Is there anything else we need to do for Grace now?”

  “Time,” Harry said simply. “Keep her cool; she may still suffer from sickness, but time will show if we were too late.”

  “I will ask him where he got the berries and make sure the plant is burned and no roots survive,” Peter said. “Harry, we will have to talk about what happened today, but Grace’s recovery is more important at the moment.”

  Harry nodded his understanding. He had revealed too much of his feelings; consequences would follow. He would accept them without argument if it meant Grace recovered. “Would you please send word of how she is? I know I have no right to ask.”

  “I will,” Peter said firmly. Whatever Grace and Harry were to each other was unclear, but Peter could see a man suffering and, at the moment, was not prepared to increase that, especially as his actions may have saved Grace’s life.

  Chapter 12

  Harry walked into the kitchen and knew immediately the gossips had been at work. The room stilled as he entered, and everyone looked uncomfortable. He paused, glaring darkly at them, waiting for anyone to say something out of turn.

  Mrs Dawlish entered the kitchen from the servant’s hall and quickly took in the situation. “Harry, Mr Bryant has offered the use of his room while you wait for news,” she said in her usual business-like manner.

  Harry nodded his head and followed her through the kitchen into the hallway that housed the butler’s pantry. He took one of the seats and rested his arms on the table, sitting in a hunched position.

  Mrs Dawlish saw his distress and expression of absolute loss and took pity on her long-time friend. She poured a glass of brandy kept purely for medicinal purposes and placed it on the table before him. “Have this; you’ve had a shock,” she said gently.

  Harry drank the drink in one gulp, placing the glass back down. “It will take a lot more to deaden what I’m feeling,” he said without looking at Mrs Dawlish.

  “She’s young and strong and from all accounts, you acted quickly.”

  “Billy was quick to report back,” Harry said with a snarl.

  “He’s a young boy,” Mrs Dawlish defended the under-gardener. “He was shocked and just babbled the whole tale out. There was no malice in his actions. It would have come out anyway.”

  Harry looked at the housekeeper. “You must think me a fool.”

  “I don’t know enough to think anything.”

  “They do,” Harry said, nodding his head in the general direction of the kitchen.

  “In the past you’ve never bothered about any other topic they have gossiped about; why bother now?” Mrs Dawlish asked gently.

  “I don’t, if I’m honest,” Harry said, running his hands through his hair and groaning. “I just want her to wake up.”

  “And when she does?”

  “I am dismissed, but that doesn’t matter; I just want her to be well,” Harry said honestly, his voice cracking.

  “You’re a good man, Harry Long,” Mrs Dawlish patted him on the shoulder before leaving him alone.

  *

  Rosalind stayed at Grace’s bedside, wiping her brow and talking to her gently. The doctor had been called but had not offered anything further; Harry had done everything correctly to try and save her. Mr Workman had taken some of the mixture and had been violently ill. When the sickness stopped, he had excused himself, feelings of guilt and mortification making him want to be far away from Sudworth Hall. He could not stay knowing he had possibly killed a young woman. He left the premises with an under-gardener to show where the deadly plant was.

  Rosalind had watched Grace so closely during the night that she had noticed every change in breathing, every flicker of her eyelids. Peter had tried to persuade his wife to rest, but she would not leave her sister.

  “She looks so small,” she said to Peter. “She has always been pale skinned, but now she has absolutely no colour.”

  “She is strong though,” Peter soothed. “She can’t spend all her time outside and not be healthy. That will stand her in good stead now.”

  “I just keep thinking it is my fault,” Rosalind admitted. “If I hadn’t been so intent on promoting Mr Workman, none of this would have happened. I knew she was reluctant to spend time with him.”

  “This was an accident,” Peter said firmly. “No one attending the picnic wanted any harm to come to Grace or anyone else. None of us are to blame.”

  It was a full twenty-four hours before Grace slowly opened her eyes. After blinking a few times, trying to focus, she looked at Rosalind with a frown on her face. “Rosalind, what happened?” she croaked, her throat feeling as rough as some of the gravel paths she so often walked.

  “You ate some berries that were poisonous,” Rosalind said gently. The relief of seeing her sister open her eyes had caused tears to roll down her face, but she brushed them away impatiently.

  “I don’t remember much,” Grace said, frowning trying to recall anything. “I remember Harry,” she said and then stopped, her face flushing.

  “Yes, his quick action probably saved your life. He knew exactly what to do,” Rosalind admitted reluctantly. “Now don’t tire yourself; you have been through a lot. Have some rest, and we can talk more in a short while.”

  Rosalind waited until Grace’s eyes started to droop then left the room. They had promised to let Harry know of Grace’s progress and, because of his actions, he had a right to know; but it did not ease Rosalind’s suspicions that there was something deeper between the gardener and her sister.

  Peter was in his study, watching the young flames of a recently built fire, his mind full of the events of the picnic. He looked up as Rosalind entered and smiled; he did not need to ask if Grace was well: the relief on Rosalind’s face said everything he needed to know. He held his ar
ms out to his wife, and she willingly wrapped herself in his embrace.

  “She is awake?” Peter asked.

  “She’s fallen back asleep, but it is a natural sleep, thank goodness!” Rosalind said with feeling. “Last night I thought I’d lost her.” The long hours of the night had seemed to last forever with Rosalind watching a very still Grace. Her breathing had seemed very shallow and laboured not that of a strong, young woman.

  “Thank God for Harry,” Peter said gently. He was using the words to test how his wife felt about the situation.

  “What do we do, Peter? It’s obvious we both think there is some sort of understanding between the two of them,” Rosalind said looking into the clear hazel eyes of her husband.

  “We need to find out what has happened between the pair first,” Peter soothed. “It could all be a misunderstanding.” His words were empty; he had previously suspected Grace was fond of the gardener. He had not acted on it, doubting his suspicions, but it looked as if his conjecture had been correct.

  Peter moved to ring the bell for Bryant. “Please send for Harry,” Peter instructed when the butler appeared.

  Husband and wife sat quietly until Harry entered. Rosalind noticed the frown on the gardeners face and stood as he entered. “Grace is conscious,” she said gently. “She is sleeping naturally now, thanks to your actions.” She had to at least give him the credit of saving her sister.

  Relief flooded Harry’s face, but he remained silent, watching his employers. Peter opened the conversation they were all dreading. “Harry, is there some sort of understanding between you and Grace?” he asked.

  “What has she said?” Harry asked, not wishing to cause trouble for Grace.

  “Nothing; she is not strong enough to have this discussion. I was hoping to find the truth out from you,” Peter said pointedly.

  “She is a special young woman,” Harry responded. He was not accustomed to expressing himself and looked uncomfortable.

  “Has anything inappropriate happened?” Peter asked.

  “She is still an innocent! What do you take me for?” Harry snapped. He might be speaking to a Duke, but he was not about to let them think ill of Grace. Admitting to kisses would be bad enough, but Peter was implying something else completely.

  “I’m sorry; I had to ask,” Peter said. “Grace is expected to marry a title,” Peter explained.

  “Has anyone asked Grace what she wants?” Harry asked.

  “You know it isn’t as straightforward as that,” Peter said with a sigh. “Harry, you saved her yesterday, and for that I will give you a reference at any time you need it in the future, but we both know you cannot stay here with everyone knowing there has been some sort of liaison between the two of you.”

  Harry looked pained, but he stood firm and nodded his head once. “When do you wish me to leave?”

  “I think it’s best straight away. I’ll give you two months’ pay, but I think it would be better that Grace does not see you again,” Peter continued.

  Harry seemed to sag under Peter’s words, but he tried to keep his head raised. Rosalind turned to him. “You are older than she is; why did you let it start? You say that you have not taken her innocence, but you have taken advantage of her,” Rosalind said a little tartly.

  Harry’s eyes clouded over as he tried to contain his temper. He looked at Rosalind and some of his restraint was lost. “Have you ever asked what your sister truly wants?” he snapped.

  “Harry….” Peter warned, but apart from a sidelong glance, Harry ignored his employer.

  “I know Grace far better than you do,” Rosalind said, becoming defensive.

  Harry laughed his bitter laugh. “Do you? Do you really? What is her favourite flower?” he asked, his eyes challenging Rosalind.

  “There is no need for this,” Peter said, but he could see his words were falling on deaf ears; both were squaring up against each other.

  “Roses, of course,” Rosalind snapped.

  “No! Dianthus, of course!” Harry snapped sarcastically. “She thinks roses have a nasty side, because they entice you to look at them but then scratch you with their thorns. She prefers a friendlier flower.”

  “That doesn’t show that you know her!” Rosalind snapped, her face flushing. “Of course, she would talk about plants and flowers to you; she would value your opinion.”

  “What happened to her when she wore the dress with the crystals on it?” Harry challenged. He had already lost his job; there was nothing else to lose, but he was determined these people would start to listen to Grace if it was the last thing he did.

  “I-I don’t know; that was a long time ago,” Rosalind stuttered.

  “A long time ago, but the memory stills makes her feel uncomfortable,” Harry said. “The crystals kept falling off throughout the night, and she was distressed, longing for the simplicity of her day dresses.”

  “These are just stories she has told you; they mean nothing,” Rosalind said.

  “Do they not? Yet they mean a lot to that dear sister of yours,” Harry said with a snarl. “She says that, although you were like a mother to her, even you have never asked her what she really wants. What would make her happy. Have you ever asked what type of house she wants to live in? What plans she has made for when she marries?”

  “She wants to marry a man she loves, one suitable for her,” Rosalind said pointedly, “We all want that for her.”

  “Yes, but to achieve that she would have to go against the wishes of your father. She wants a little cottage with some land around it, so that she can grow whatever she likes. Those are the things that would make her fulfilled.”

  “Father would never accept that,” Rosalind said.

  “No, so she is doomed to be hurt. I am under no illusion, I never was. I knew that what we had would not be allowed, but I want one thing for Grace. I want those who say that they care about her to really listen to her, otherwise she will just fade into the background as she has until now.”

  “Harry, I think you have said enough,” Peter said, understanding what the man was going through, but aware that he had severely overstepped the boundaries. “I suggest you wait downstairs and I will send your money in a few moments.”

  “Thank you, goodbye,” Harry said, with a slight bow, before leaving the room.

  Rosalind sank into a chair and let out a breath. Peter crossed to his wife and knelt before her. “He was angry and upset,” Peter said gently.

  Rosalind looked at her husband. “He’s correct though isn’t he? I didn’t know any of what he said.”

  “But you know things about her that he doesn’t, forget it, just concentrate on Grace now,” Peter soothed.

  *

  Harry stood when Mr Bryant entered the butler’s pantry. The butler handed the money over that the gardener had been promised. Both men looked at each other, they had worked for the same establishment for as long as they could remember.

  “What are you going to do?” Mr Bryant asked.

  “I have no idea,” Harry said honestly. “I thought I would be here until my dying day.”

  “We both did, it’s a sad day Harry, it shouldn’t be ending this way,” Mr Bryant said. “I will be sorry to see you go.”

  “I knew what the consequences would be,” Harry said with a shrug. “I can’t blame anyone else but myself. I took the risk, now I have to face up to my actions. I don’t want any blame resting at her door.”

  “You’ve paid a high price,” Mr Bryant said.

  “It was worth every struggle that I’m going to have to face now and in the future,” Harry said honestly. “To have known her for a little while, is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  “Well I wish you all the best for the future,” Mr Bryant said, holding out his hand to shake. “Where are you going to go?”

  “I have somewhere that I think will offer me shelter for a few days at least,” Harry said. “I will pack and leave within the hour.”

  “I hope you find em
ployment soon. You will certainly be missed here.”

  *

  Rosalind returned to Grace’s bedroom, once the interview with Harry had taken place. His words had troubled her, but her overarching concern about Grace’s condition helped to put aside any doubts Harry had managed to stir.

  Grace slept for most of the day, but towards the evening she opened her eyes, looking far more lucid than she had done previously.

  “Rosalind, what time is it?” Grace asked quietly, licking her lips to try and rid herself of the excessive dryness she felt in her mouth.

  “It has gone seven,” Rosalind said quietly. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yes please,” came the croak.

  “I think we should try you with a small amount, to start with,” Rosalind explained, putting a glass to Grace’s lips. “Your stomach is probably tender and won’t want a lot of anything for a day or two.”

  “I remember being so ill again and again,” Grace said after she had enjoyed the feel of cool liquid in her mouth. “I thought it would never end.”

  “It was important to get as much of the berries out of your stomach as quickly as possible,” Rosalind said.

  “I don’t think I would have got through it without Harry being there,” Grace acknowledged with a flush. She was aware she was probably saying too much, but she had already decided to tell Rosalind about her feelings; the poison from the berries had just delayed it. “I could hear his voice encouraging me, telling me all would be well. I knew he would look after me; it was horrible, but I wasn’t afraid.”

  “He knew exactly what to do,” Rosalind acknowledged.

  “Rosalind I need to talk to you about him,” Grace said with a blush.

  “I know some of what has been happening,” Rosalind acknowledged, trying to keep her voice level. She did not want to overset Grace.