Grace: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters' Series Book 3) Page 17

  Harry would have gawped at her like a stunned child, but Mrs Adams distracted him by chuckling loudly. He turned to the elderly woman, his expression half mortification, half humour.

  “I do think we need to check your parentage,” Mrs Adams said to Eleanor. “You must be my daughter; but if not, I think I ought to adopt you.”

  “I think you ought,” Eleanor said with a smile. “If Grace marries Harry here, that means I’m doomed to marry the man my father has decided one of us should marry. As I will be the last remaining unmarried daughter, I feel it will fall to me to be the sacrificial lamb.”

  “And your opinion on that situation?” Mrs Adams asked quirking her brow at Eleanor.

  “Oh, that is for another day; I’m off to give my sister the best medicine in the world: to hear the voice of the person she has been longing for. Please follow me, Harry,” Eleanor said, leading the way out of the room.

  Rosalind relieved Mrs Dawlish. She was sure Mrs Dawlish would find out soon enough about Harry’s visit, but she wanted time to become accustomed to the idea herself. The sight of Grace on the bed, looking wan focused her mind on what was important in all this. She composed herself for when Harry entered the room.

  Harry faltered at the doorway the change in Grace so marked from the beautiful young woman he knew. Her skin was almost grey in colour; she had dark rings under her eyes. She looked smaller, if that were at all possible. Harry took a moment: he could not have continued into the room without gathering himself together; in fact, he wanted to run away and hide if he was being truthful. All he kept thinking was she was lost to him; she was too far gone.

  Rosalind was reassured by Harry’s reaction: the look of horror and pain on his face as he took in Grace’s form was that of someone who cared deeply. Harry looked at Rosalind as if she could offer some answers, but she shook her head sadly.

  “It is not easy is it?” she said, her tone gentle.

  “What can I do?” Harry asked.

  “Stay with her; talk to her,” Eleanor said from behind him. “We will leave you alone, but if you need anything, please just ring the bell.”

  Harry walked into the room and waited for Rosalind and Eleanor to leave, closing the door behind them. He had never been in a sick room before, but his sense of loss was more than being in a strange situation; it was an overwhelming sense of not knowing what to do. He had always been sure of his role in life, but faced with helping someone who was so ill left him stumped.

  He moved to the side of the bed and sat down on the chair next to the bed. He lay his hand on Grace’s shoulder but could hardly feel anything because of the amount of blankets that lay between them.

  “Now then lass, what’s all this trouble you’ve gone and got yourself in?” Harry asked gently. He did not wait for an answer. “I’m here now, so let’s stop this and concentrate on how to get you better.”

  Once Harry started to talk, he found it easy to continue. He told Grace everything: about his early life, about every plant he had ever grown, about what had happened to her and himself since the day with the poisonous blackberries.

  There was no response from Grace throughout his monologue; she remained still, but her breathing was steady. Hours passed, and Rosalind returned to the room. Harry looked up, always wary and unsure of what reception he would receive from the Duchess.

  “I’ve ordered some food to be brought here for you,” Rosalind said. “Would you like me to take over for a few hours while you have some rest? You’ve been here a long time.”

  “Thank you, I’m willing to stay all night, if it would be allowed, Your Grace,” Harry said.

  “Are you sure?” Rosalind asked.

  “There is nowhere I would rather be, Your Grace,” Harry said quietly, but there was a firmness in his tone.

  “Then you must stay,” Rosalind responded. “If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ring the bell. Mrs Dawlish is aware of your presence, and she will be the one who answers your call.”

  “Does the Duke know I’m here?” Harry asked.

  “Yes, he’s in support of what we are trying to do,” Rosalind said. She had spoken to Peter soon after Harry had been left with Grace. Peter had been fully in agreement of the scheme, willing to try anything to help Grace.

  “About what I said, Your Grace, I need to apologise,” Harry started. He knew there would always be an air of discomfort between them while he was in her company because of his inappropriate language the last time they met. Harry did not want anything to affect Grace, and if it meant he had to admit he was wrong, so be it.

  Rosalind raised her hand to stop further speech. “Harry, there is no need. We have both done things we regret; mine was that of not listening enough to a beloved sister and sending away the man she loved. You were right; I was so tied up in caring for my sisters I forgot to consider what was really in their best interests. You brought that home to me, and Eleanor has confirmed what you were trying to say; there is no need for apologies.”

  “She loves you dearly because of the role of mother you willingly took on, Your Grace; she knows she would have been lost without your support,” Harry said quietly.

  “Thank you for telling me,” Rosalind said, equally as quiet. “I shall leave you alone. If you need anything, or there is any change, please let me know.”

  “I will, Your Grace. Thank you.”

  Harry was disturbed again when Mrs Dawlish walked in with a tray laden with food. “Good evening, Harry; it’s very good to see you,” she said, placing the tray down on a table.

  “And you, Mrs Dawlish,” Harry said. “I’m not used to being waited on,” he said with a small smile, trying to lighten the discomfort he felt.

  “If you can help Miss Johnson, I’ll happily wait on you for as long as it takes,” Mrs Dawlish said with feeling. “I’ve been worried about you; I’m glad Mrs Adams gave you shelter; you deserve her support.”

  “I didn’t expect it, but I had nothing to lose. She was very good to me; I have no idea why,” Harry admitted.

  “She likes this family: well, the present one. She didn’t like the previous two Dukes; I’ve heard her say it often enough, but she has a lot of time for Master Peter,” Mrs Dawlish said referring back to Peter’s name when he was in leading strings. “Then again, who wouldn’t? He was a delightful boy who has turned into a fine man. Mrs Adams must have thought you deserved her help; she’s not one who would give it to anyone unworthy.”

  “I am thankful for it.”

  “Does this mean you will be returning to your cottage?” Mrs Dawlish asked.

  “No,” Harry replied quickly. “There’s no point in thinking things will return to normal; I’ve lost my job. I’m only here because of Grace’s condition; whether I can help or not, it won’t matter; I’ll be out on my ear again.”

  “I can’t believe they would be so callous,” Mrs Dawlish said, defending her employers.

  “They’re looking after Grace; I can understand why they have accepted me for now. I’m happy to do what I can. Beyond that it doesn’t really matter,” Harry said, sitting at the small table.

  “I hope they appreciate what you’re doing,” Mrs Dawlish said with a frown.

  “It makes no difference if they do or they don’t; if Grace recovers, that will be thanks enough.”

  Chapter 17

  The sound was so soothing. It seemed to come from a long distance, but it was constant and reassuring. For the first time Grace was sure she was safe, so it didn’t matter that the darkness was all around; she no longer needed to call out to Harry—somehow he was here.

  She felt so cold. All she had wanted to do was open the window to let in a little air, but she had felt dizzy and fell; then the cold came. It had seeped into every part of her until her very bones were cold. She could not remember who she was, or where she was. All she had known was she needed Harry.

  No one was listening to her. She kept asking for Harry, but he never came. The weight on top of her felt too
heavy to move, so she stayed still, waiting for him; she needed him. At last she knew he had come, but he still seemed so far away. It was too much effort to move the heavy weight, but she could hear his voice, and she was happy.

  Then it changed: Grace felt frightened; Harry had gone. She thought she could hear his distant voice, but she was not sure. She wanted Harry; she needed him; he could not leave her again.

  Slowly she started to fight the blackness. It was no longer quite as hard to fight as the cold was not muddling her thinking anymore. The heaviness was still a problem; she had no strength, but Harry was not next to her; she had to reach him. Trying to move her arms was too much of an effort, so she just resorted to moving her eyelids.

  Grace was unsure how much time had passed; how long her eyes had been closed, but she could not focus on anything just yet. Eventually, shapes started to make sense, and she looked at her surroundings. The fire was built high in the grate; she could feel the warmth on her face as the flames flickered. When her eyes rested on Harry, she had to fight the urge to go back to sleep. He was talking to the housekeeper while eating a meal. She let her eyes rest on his shape; he was only a few feet from her, far closer than she had thought.

  How she had missed him! Every moment separated from Harry Long was a wasted moment in Grace’s opinion. She never wanted to be apart from him again. Rosalind and Peter had sent him away; Grace could not think through the possibilities that had brought him back to her, but she did not care; he was sitting in her bedchamber.

  The housekeeper left the room, and Grace watched Harry finish his food. Her eyes never left him, watching his every movement, absorbing his every feature.

  Harry stood and stretched before turning towards the bed. Two eyes were watching him carefully. He paused; he did not want to make any sudden movements; he fought the urge to run to her and gather her in his arms.

  “Grace?” he asked quietly, moving towards the bed.

  Grace wanted to speak, but she could not; her throat was dry, and her tongue felt thick and unmoving. She smiled at Harry; it took a lot of effort, but she managed it.

  Harry’s heart soared when he saw the smile. She was conscious, and she was responsive. He sat at her side, moving the blankets slightly to enable him to hold her hand. “Grace,” he whispered quietly, squeezing her hand gently.

  Grace watched him, her eyes an illuminous green. Harry thought he had never seen anything as beautiful as Grace looking at him; he had thought he would never see her awake again. His thoughts stirred him; he needed to let the Duchess know Grace was through the worst.

  “Grace, I need to ring the bell; we need to tell everyone you are awake.”

  Grace frowned and gripped Harry’s hand. Her strength was so lessened it was hardly a tight grip, but it was enough to make Harry pause.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “N-no,” Grace croaked, her throat feeling constricted and tight.

  “Everyone has been worried about you; they need to know,” Harry insisted, always one for doing the right thing.

  “N-no, j-just you,” Grace said, trying to maintain the grip on his hand.

  Harry looked at Grace with a frown. He had always had a strong sense of right and wrong that had guided him throughout his life: that was until he met Grace. Only then had he broken the rules in order to spend time with her. If he rang the bell and notified the Duke and Duchess, he would more than likely be sent on his way. He wondered if Grace was thinking something similar.

  “You want to be with me for a little while do you?” he asked.

  Grace moved her head a little in acknowledgement.

  “You are a bad influence on me, Miss Johnson,” Harry smiled. “I should be shouting from the window that you are awake; there are a lot of people waiting for news of you.”

  Grace frowned at Harry, which brought a smile to his face. “Shall we keep it our secret for a little while?”

  Grace smiled in response and relaxed her hold. The effort had been very tiring. “D-drink,” she croaked.

  Harry jumped up from his seat, “Of course, how stupid of me.” He walked over to the table where there was still some small beer left over from his meal. He carried it over to Grace. “Here have some of this,” he said, gently lifting her head from the pillows.

  Grace sipped the liquid; it felt wonderful on her dry, cracked lips and dry throat. She took more as her throat started to ease and work more effectively. “Thank you,” she whispered when her thirst was sated.

  “Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asked, laying her back down.

  “No,” Grace replied.

  Harry returned the glass to the table then once more sat next to Grace, holding her hand. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said quietly.

  Grace swallowed a few times before answering. “They sent you away.”

  “Mrs Adams brought me back,” Harry replied. There was no point going into a lot of detail at the moment; he could see she was far from well still.

  “Don’t leave me,” Grace said, the ever-close frown visible.

  “They might send me away tomorrow,” Harry said; there was no point in lying to her. He did not wish to upset her, but she would be even more upset if he lied to her.

  “No. Don’t leave me,” Grace repeated.

  “I will try my damndest to stay with you Grace; that is all I can promise. Neither of us are in control of our lives; it is the way it is, and we have to accept that.”

  Grace nodded slightly and squeezed his hand. She closed her eyes; she was tired. Harry watched her, more relaxed than he had been prior to her waking but unsettled for different reasons. Tomorrow would probably be the last time he ever saw her; he could not blame her family for wanting a better match for her, but it would break his heart to leave her again. The youngest sister had seemed to hint there would be a happy ending for them, but she was younger than Grace, so must be only just out of the school room. She was hardly likely to be able to influence her family.

  Grace’s eyes fluttered open, disturbing his thoughts when she pulled at Harry’s hand. “Join me,” she said quietly, her face flushing.

  “What?” Harry asked.

  “Join me tonight,” Grace said, trying to move over on the bed, but failing to move. Her action made Harry understand what she meant though.

  “No!” Harry said forcefully. “They would have me slung off the land, and they would be right to do it.”

  “Please, Harry,” Grace said quietly.

  Harry looked at Grace; he wanted to always give her everything she wanted, but he could not compromise her in such a way. It did not mean he did not want to be close to her; he ached for her. He looked at her for a moment before coming to a decision.

  “Grace, I will lay on top of the bed and hold you; that is all I can offer. I refuse to compromise you in circumstance if not deed. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” Grace replied. It was more than she could hope for.

  Harry climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Grace; he pulled her towards him and turned her so she was on her side and tucked into his body. He sighed into her hair. “I’ve missed you, Grace,” he said.

  Grace felt so cossetted and protected she snuggled further into Harry and closed her eyes. Everything was well, Harry was here.

  *

  Peter accompanied Rosalind to Grace’s room before they breakfasted the following morning. He had not seen Harry but wanted to thank him for staying; he would have been within his right to refuse their request for his help. He quietly opened the door and stilled; he knew Rosalind had seen the sight before him when she took a sharp breath.

  Harry and Grace were lying together in the bed. Peter and Rosalind had no way of knowing, but the pair had not moved all night, both comfortable and content with the position they were sleeping in.

  Harry heard a sound and opened his eyes. He flushed when he saw his audience, but he did not react suddenly so as to prevent him waking Grace. He slowly moved his arm from under her head
and moved off the bed. He stood, rubbing his hands through his hair, knowing it must look a sight. He nodded to the Duke and Duchess and moved to walk away from Grace.

  Grace opened her eyes and blinked. Harry was moving away from her. She had no idea where he was going, but she wanted him to return to her. “Harry?” she said, her voice stronger than it had been the previous evening.

  Harry turned in response to her voice, and it was then she saw Peter and Rosalind standing at the door. Rosalind was spurred into action at Grace’s voice. “You’re awake!” she said, rushing to Grace’s side.

  “Harry!” Grace repeated, sounding a little panicked.

  “He’s not going anywhere, Grace; don’t fret,” Peter assured her. He looked at Harry. “Would you like to go and freshen up and get something to eat? We can stay with Grace until you return. I expect you need a leg stretch.”

  Harry smiled slightly, “I do,” he said. He needed one thing clarified before he left the room. “Will I be allowed to return to her, Your Grace?” he asked. They could prevent him gaining entry once they realised Grace had been awake for some time and he had kept it from them.

  Peter laid his hand reassuringly on Harry’s shoulder. “You will be allowed back; if you had been here the whole time, Grace would have not been so ill; it was our mis-management of the situation, and I don’t intend repeating the mistake.”

  “Thank you,” Harry responded and left the room.

  Mr Bryant smiled at Harry as he descended the stairs. “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m also a disgrace to look at; I will definitely give the staff something more to talk about when I walk in the kitchen looking like this,” Harry said ruefully.

  “If you would like to return to your cottage through the front door, you will find a clean change of clothes and some water waiting for you. Return here and breakfast is being served in the dining room,” Mr Bryant said.

  “The dining room?” Harry asked astounded.