Page 46 of Earl of Excess
Sinclair turned to Miss Phillips and gaped. He encouraged her story and spent an enjoyable hour with the three women, rehashing the recent exploits of Matthew Romney and Miss Phillips. He could not miss the light in her eyes whenever Miss Phillips spoke of Romney and realized that he may have to look for passage for two.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bethany woke withan ache in her neck. She had spent the previous night sitting in a chair next to Matthew’s bed, cooling his head with a damp rag, giving him fluids, and praying the fever would end. She and Grandmère thought he had gotten past the high fever, but after a couple of days of low-grade fever, it began again, as hot as he had been in the beginning. At least the vomiting had subsided. She was worried. Matthew seemed so weak.
Dandie had followed her everywhere, as if she was guarding Bethany against becoming sick. While she had no memory of having had it as a child, she was immune to the fever, thankfully. Most Louisiana natives were. It was the people that came to visit that usually picked up the fever. And many never lived to leave.
True to his word, Mr. Sinclair had helped around the house. Grandmère and Aunt Theo had jumped on his offer to help. The man had mended the fence, replaced a few weak boards, and painted the porch white. He had proven an outstanding worker. With his investigative talents, he had also helped Aunt Theo find some things she had lost around the house. That made Bethany laugh. Grandmère teased her she was growing sweet on the man, and her aunt took it in stride, laughing and being a good sport.
All the while, Matthew lay in the bed, sick.
They had seen little of young Johnny these past few days—mostly because she had been helping Matthew. Also, Bethany was unsure if the young lad had already had the fever and was not willing to take the chance. She considered it good luck they had not gone fishing, as she had wanted to do. It would break her heart if anything happened to the lad.
However, she needed to know more about Caleb Smoot. Had he shown up again? If so, he would not have seen her—only her aunt, grandmother, and Mr. Sinclair. Maybe he left and went back home. Maybe he never came back. She prayed that be the case. Mr. Sinclair had a description of him and was keeping watch for him to show back up, although what Smoot could find important about Matthew now eluded her. The war was over.And... he was still a deserter! What was she not seeing?
“Bethany. I brought you some hot coffee. You should rest,” Grandmère said, handing it to her.
“Matthew is still so sick. I am afraid to leave his side.” She took the cup and noticed Matthew moving his lips, shaking his head, and smirking. Her grandmother stared at him and chuckled.
“Grandmère, he has been talking to his friend, Chris—I think about old times. They talked about some sort of prank they were planning. They must have been very close. It feels wicked to listen to his dreams, but you will have to pay close attention if you want to hear what he says. His babble has preoccupied me. Perhaps I should stretch.” Bethany stood and stretched.
“I’m happy to watch over him for a while,” Grandmère said, taking Bethany’s seat.
“One more thing. Besides his British accent, the man speaks very fast in his dreams—much faster than when he is awake. I feel a little like I am spying on him. But I cannot help it. He laughs a lot when he is with these friends of his,” she said. “It makes me happy to hear him laugh. It’s so much better than thinking of him in pain,” she added, thoughtfully.
“I will watch your colonel.” Grandmère smiled. “Get something decent to eat. Maybe a bath. Your aunt has the copper tub in her bathroom. I am sure she would not mind you using it. She only uses it when I am here to help her.”
She had grown used to Grandmère’s jabs about Matthew beinghercolonel and ignored them. “Thank you, Grandmère. I will ask her.” Bethany left the room with her coffee, glad to stand up and be able to stretch. She stepped into her room and grabbed her bar of honeysuckle soap and headed into her aunt’s bathroom, noticing that her grandmother had already filled the tub for her. She would be certain to thank her later.
Stripping off her clothing, Bethany eased herself into the tub. It felt delicious. She dipped her head into the water and emerged, lathering her hair with her soap. Once the water started cooling, she stood, dried, and put on a navy muslin dress. The weather seemed a little warm, and she wanted to be comfortable. She hurried with her stockings, slipped her feet into small leather shoes, and tied her hair back, away from her face. Feeling refreshed, she walked into the kitchen, where she found her aunt and Mr. Sinclair talking and laughing. The man had become a good friend to the family almost overnight.
“Grandmère is relieving me, right now. I can help with dinner,” she offered.
“You look lovely, Miss Phillips,” Mr. Sinclair said, before clearing his throat. “How is the patient?”
Bethany thought she saw him blush. “Thank you for the compliment. I feel so much better. Unfortunately, Matthew’s fever is still high. I hope it breaks soon. However, I am encouraged that he has not become worse.”
“I am leaving tomorrow for New Orleans,” Sinclair said. “There must be business to attend to, including messages. You have convinced me that Matthew will need more time to recuperate and regain his strength,” he added. “It will probably take time to find a ship that can provide passage to London. I would hope to find something from New Orleans. However, I realize we may have to make our way to the Carolinas—perhaps, Charleston.”
“What about engaging a privateer?” Aunt Theo asked. “If the war is over, perhaps some privateers may be interested in securing legitimate ‘cargo’ for Europe–not just England. I suspect many will transport merchandise.”
“I am not sure,” Sinclair responded. “There’s a trust issue with England and the privateers. They have taken many British boats as prizes.” He sighed. “It may be awhile before shipping resumes any sort of normalcy.”
“It waswar.” Aunt Theo persisted.
“You do not have to convince me,” he chuckled. “But my homeland can be rather rigid where the Americans are concerned.”
“You are British?” Aunt Theo asked, obviously startled and taken aback. “You do well with concealing your accent.”
“I spend a lot of time in the wilderness of America among the different dialects. I enjoy adopting them and have for these past years. There’s a lot to recommend this country. However, at some point, I will return home,” Sinclair returned.
“I would never have guessed,” Aunt Theo said. “You are very good. You sound like you could be from among us here in Louisiana.” She laughed.
“How long will you be gone, Mr. Sinclair?” Bethany asked.
“I’m not sure. If things go well, a week. I could be gone longer,” he answered. You still have the address where I get my mail?
“I do.” Bethany gave an appreciative smile before turning her attention back to the stove. “Look at all of this catfish! I hope everyone is hungry!” She pulled the last piece from the skillet and put the vegetables in the bowl. She readied Dandie’s food. While Dandie would love the fish, Bethany never allowed it. She did not want to risk her dog choking on a bone. Satisfied everything was ready, she excused herself and went to retrieve Grandmère.
