Page 58 of Fair Weather Enemies
“Thank you, Mary. We did not mean to inconvenience you.”
“None at all, sir.” She looked up at him gravely. “I lost two children to fever not so long ago. This is the least I can do.”
He understood then why she had sent her remaining children to a neighbor. Yet despite the danger, she had not hesitated to offer her home. After meeting so much hardship and resistance along the road, a stranger’s willingness to help touched him deeply. When they reached Jane, Mary squatted to touch her forehead. Her concerned gaze found Adam. “Can you carry her? My house is just there. The Gardens.”
She pointed to the fine house on the hill. Without so much as a nod, he scooped up Jane and cradled her to his chest. Her eyes flickered open. Surprise seized her features when she seemed to grasp where she lay.
“Where are we going?”
“To a safe place. All will be well. I have you.”
She nuzzled her face into his shoulder with a sigh and draped her arms around his neck, an action that nearly shattered his heart. His feet grew wings as he strode desperately toward the house on the hillside.
…
The onset of chills forced Jane to melt into Adam’s chest and shoulder. Worries of impropriety flitted along the edges of thought but did not manage to move her an iota from his embrace. Warmth emanating from him only pulled her intimately nearer. She drifted in and out of sleep while he walked, remarkably content despite the discomfort of fever. Conversation flowed around her, the topic seemingly involving her.
After a time, she became vaguely aware of going indoors. When she allowed her eyes to blink open, an unknown woman was standing behind Adam, concern written large on her features.
“Follow me, sir.” Adam did as the woman instructed. Within moments, he set Jane gently on a bed. Only with great reluctance did she release his neck. She forced her eyelids open and resolved to understand where she was. The ceiling and walls of a well-kept house met her gaze. She lowered her eyes to find Adam hovering above her, his face lined with worry. A pair of hands gently moved him aside and the strange woman reappeared.
“Where am I?”
“A guestroom of my house.”
Jane attempted to rise. “I mean not to impose…”
The woman prompted her to remain prone. “You are no imposition, Miss Hancock. However, you are ill. You must rest while we attend to your health.”
Even in her bleary state, the kindness nearly overcame Jane. Her voice broke as she spoke. “Thank you, Miss…”
“Wordsworth. But you may call me Mary.”
“Call me Jane, then.”
Within seconds, a balding man with a sharp nose and intense gaze came to stand beside Mary. “This must be the mysterious impending guest Dora so earnestly described before she fled with the others to Mrs. Gable’s place.”
Mary glanced at him. “Yes, William. Now, stand aside before you frighten the girl.”
Without thinking, Jane shot out a hand to snatch the man’s wrist. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “May I be of assistance, young lady?”
Only then did her mind catch up to her instincts. Her eyes flew as wide as encroaching delirium would allow. “William Wordsworth?”
“Yes.” His stern expression softened mildly, expectantly.
She huffed a short laugh and glanced around Adam to find Aunt Hester and Barlow smiling with recognition. Adam continued to watch her, seemingly oblivious to the identity of the man standing next to him. Only upon returning her study to her host did she remember her fingers clutched his wrist. She released him abruptly.
“My deepest apologies, Mr. Wordsworth.”
He smiled thinly. “No need. You may blame your fever.”
She laughed again. “Mr. William Wordsworth. Do you know you possess the same name as a poet of some renown?”
“So I have been told. However, I am merely William Wordsworth, Distributor of Stamps in Ambleside and husband to Mary when she is not disinclined to admit as much.”
Mary stabbed William with an elbow to the ribs, causing him to flinch. “Oh, William. Incorrigible, you are. Stop teasing the girl.”
“Very well, Mary.” He smiled again at Jane. “And yes, I am also a humble poet of some apparent renown, though disrespected in my own house. You know what they say about prophets and honor and home countries.”
