Page 48 of The Defiant Governess
Saybrook was tossing feverishly when Jane and Mrs. Fairchild returned to his room, his arm thrashing about at the covers, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. He was burning to the touch and Jane was gripped with a stabbing fear.
“Send for Dr. Hastings!” she called as she lifted his head and put the glass of laudanum-laced water to his parched lips.
He managed to swallow some of the liquid. After a few minutes it seemed to ease some of the discomfort and he became quieter. Jane took the opportunity to change the bandage,noting with alarm that the edges of the wound looked even more red and inflamed.
The shirt he was wearing was soaked with sweat so she stripped it off. As Jane unfolded a fresh one she couldn’t help but be aware of his broad, muscular chest, the chiseled contour of his stomach and the intriguing curls of dark hair across his breast. She had never seen a man in such a state of undress before. There was a stirring deep inside her as she placed her palm on his chest, tracing lightly over his undamaged ribs to the hollow of his stomach, where it lingered just for a moment.
Jane found herself wondering what it would have been like if she had accepted hiscarte blanche. She could have been lying in these very sheets with his arms around her, his lean, hard body pressed tight to hers. A part of her longed to experience the strength of his arms and the fire of his kisses.
She thought back to his kiss. Yes, she wanted more. A ragged sigh escaped her lips. But she wanted more than just his passion.She wanted his love.
Saybrook began talking in his sleep, mostly unintelligible mutterings but occasionally a discernable word.
“No!” A gasp. “You mustn’t!”
Jane touched his cheek. “It’s alright, sir,” she whispered.
“Father!” he groaned. “No!” He began tossing so violently that she could hardly hold his shoulders down. “No! No!” Then quite softly, “Jane.”
“I’m here, sir. I won’t leave you.”
The tension seemed to drain from his body and he fell into a fitful sleep.
Dr. Hastings finally arrived. After a quick examination, he rose, shaking his head slightly. “It is as I feared. The fever has taken hold and we can only hope that his constitution proves strong enough to weather it.”
He looked at the frightened faces of Jane and Mrs. Fairchild as he reached into his bag and took out a bottle of medicine. “You must try to get him to swallow a dose of this every two hours. It is of utmost importance.” He paused. “Should I send I send a woman from the village?”
Jane shook her head doggedly.
The doctor regarded the dark circles under her eyes, then the determined thrust of her chin. “Very well, then. I shall call again in the morning.”
Jane sat uprightin the chair, rubbing the sleep—what little there had been—from her eyes. The fever had been going on for over two days. At times it raged, forcing her to call for assistance in holding the writhing marquess down in his bed. Then there were periods when it seemed to slacken, allowing him some fitful rest. She had managed to get the medicine down him, but was beginning to doubt its efficacy. With each visit, the doctor merely pursed his lips and muttered that they must wait, that the climax would come soon when the fever either broke or …
Jane splashed some water on her drawn face. She was tired of waiting. She felt so helpless watching him suffer. Perhaps Dr. Hastings wasn’t as skilled as they thought. Perhaps they should send to London for a specialist? A quick glance at the bed showed that Saybrook’s face was more pallid than ever, and he seemed smaller, as if his ravaged body were wasting away in front of her.
But at least for the moment, he was resting quietly.
“Miss Jane!” Mary hurried into the room. “It’s Master Peter! He’s opened his eyes. And he spoke! He asked for you.”
Jane rushed to the boy’s chamber.
“Miss Jane, I’m thirsty.” He tried to throw his arms around her neck. “Oh! And my arm hurts!”
“Yes, I know, my love,” she soothed, as she settled the broken limb. “You’ve been a very brave boy, but now you must keep still so your arm can mend.” She motioned for Mary to pour a glass of water, then added three drops of laudanum as Dr. Hastings had advised. “Drink this and you’ll feel better.”
Peter took a sip and made a face. “It tastes awful. I don’t want it.”
”Your uncle has to drink it too, and he doesn’t complain.” Jane decided a half lie wouldn’t hurt.
The boy looked at the glass for a moment, then swallowed the rest without further complaint. “Uncle Edward was coming to get me, wasn’t he? I don’t remember anything more. What happened after that?”
“Yes, he was. He saved you from the bull, but not before it knocked you down.
“Did the bull knock Uncle Edward down too?”
“Yes.”
“Did it break his arm?
