Page 74 of A Foreign Crown
His father nodded. “You’ve implemented excellent negotiations with them and secured Britain as an ally for many generations.” He turned to the group. “A potential marriage with Princess Mary or Princess Elizabeth of England is being considered.”
The room erupted in cheers again. Layton’s heart tightened, but he smiled, and he told himself he was pleased to bring peace to his nation and happiness to so many. “The captains of the ships and the admiral himself are doing an initial sweep to let the privateers in the area know of their presence, but they will dock in a week’s time. We can strategize more with them then.”
Cheers erupted again.
The meeting continued as Layton explained the sweeping patterns the British planned to take. They coordinated their own runs accordingly, and Layton marveled that at last his navy would be free to actively protect his homeland. It felt nice to take a side, to make a stand, and to defend themselves.
He found himself planning for a time when he could sneak away to go walk the gardens to see Aribella like he had so often in the royal courts of England, but then he reminded himself she was not anywhere near him, and there was nothing so enticing to look forward to in his country.
Aribella and Lord Bartholomew arrived in front of her estate to no pomp and circumstance. The stark difference from the wildly ostentatious displays at the palace warmed her toward those who remained in her home. Four servants stood at the door: Julia, Aribella’s lady’s-maid-turned-maid-of-all-work; Marzelle, their cook; Mrs. Givens, the housekeeper; and James, the one lone footman. The broken lattice had been fixed and its paint redone.
“I wonder where Father is,” Aribella said.
“I don’t know.” Lord Bartholomew helped her out of the carriage and held out his arm for her to take. “He’s taken to walking the back gardens. Perhaps we will find him behind the hedgerows.”
Aribella tried to ignore the new clenching in her throat. “Perhaps.” Father was well. Lord Bartholomew had said he was doing well when he’d left for London. There was nothing for her to worry about as far as her father was concerned. But he wasn’t there to greet her.
She greeted each member of the staff. “Thank you for being here.” When she got to Julia, she embraced her. “How’s Father?”
“His Grace is very well. He worked in the side garden all morning—said he wanted to work on the duchess’s flowers.”
Aribella smiled.
“And I think he fell asleep. You can find him in his tower room.”
She squeezed Julia again and curtsied to Lord Bartholomew. She hurried through the rooms of the house, noticing enhancements here and there—a room opened that had previously been closed, the draperies washed. She smiled. Perhaps there was hope for their estate after all. She climbed the circular stairs leading up to her father’s tower. Bless the servants who waited on him; bless his valet. Her legs began to burn halfway up, and she chided herself for her inactive lifestyle at court. By the time she reached the top stair, she took a moment to catch her breath before knocking on the door to her father’s chambers. The slits for windows in the stairwell let in a surprising amount of light this time of day as the sun faced the openings directly. She squinted against the bright light, then opened her father’s door.
The room was still and dark. Her father’s form lay under the blankets on his bed. But the curtains over his windows had been closed, and the room smelled musty, somethingAribella could never remember noticing at any other time she’d been up there. She resisted her inclination to throw open the draperies and let in the breeze and the sun. She crept closer to her father’s bed, hoping not to disturb him. He hadn’t moved, and the stillness in the room raised the hair on her arms. Her attempt to shake the worry that fought to rise inside her failed, and she at last stood at her father’s side, afraid of what she might find.
His chest rose and fell.She breathed out in relief.But his skin was pale, so deathly pale that she placed a hand on his forehead. His skin felt clammy but not warm, not feverish. She studied his face, relaxed in sleep, and the love that filled her brought tears to her eyes. This dear man, living still for one reason: to see his daughter happy. She knew he wished to be reunited with his wife, knew he missed her every moment, knew that were he to have a choice, he might at last be at rest. A great humility rose inside of Aribella as she watched the sleeping face of one who had lived entirely for others. How had she ever deserved such a father?
His eyes fluttered open, and she smiled in relief. “Father.”
“My Bella, you’ve returned.”
Tears welled. “You haven’t called me that in years.”
“Haven’t I?” His lucid, twinkling eyes brought further relief. “Well, that is how I always think of you.”
“I hear you’ve been out gardening.” She reached for his hand and held it in both of hers.
“Your mother’s flowerbeds are looking much better. She would be happy to see them now. Were she to stumble across their sorry state yesterday, we might well have had a ghost haunting our heels.” His laugh started quiet and shook the bed but then led to a fit of coughing. His fit led to a near panic in her, which she tried to hide. His body quaked, and he seemed to struggled to breathe. When he at last subsided, his energy all but spent, she pulled the covers up closer to his chin, her hands shaking.
She swallowed twice to try to keep her voice calm. “Would you like some sunshine?”
He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I think I must rest. I’m sorry I wasn’t down to greet you. Sleep snuck up on me, I’m afraid, and it appears not to be finished with me yet.”
“Sleep well, Father.” She battled a sharpness in her throat.
His eyes opened again. “Lord Bartholomew is a good man. I am happy thinking of you here with a good man.”
She nodded, and he closed his eyes again.
When his breathing evened out, she stepped away from his side, making no sound. As soon as her feet touched the stairs, she raced to the bottom, then called out, “Father needs a doctor!”
James and then Julia found her immediately, their faces full of concern.
“He is so weak, and he’s coughing again. He’s sleeping, but I’d feel better if Dr. Malone sat with him.”
