Page 93 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
Sometimes, she thought she recognized voices or faces but she was far too feverish to comprehend much but a drone of noises filtering in and out of a head which seemed to buzz incessantly.
“…worse…children…” someone muttered near her side.
“No…” she moaned. “The ch-children…”
“Shh, Miss Rose. All will be well with you and the children. You must rest now.”
The duchess. The duchess is here with me in Bedlam.
It seemed improbable that the Duchess of Buford would step foot in an asylum for the mentally unsound and yet, Rose was certain that was who spoke.
“D-duchess B-b-buford…?”
“Rest, my dear.”
She was gone again and Rose plunged back into the abyss, sweating and scared.
The next time she opened her eyes, she did so with less effort than she remembered. Her voice was raw and dry. Struggling to sit up, she looked around, uncertain of where she was at first.
When did I return to Rosecliff?She wondered, her eyes widening in shock.Why would the duchess take me back?
Licking her lips, she spotted a jug of water on the toilet and she tried to swing her body over the side of the bed to retrieve it.
The effort was great and she moaned softly as her feet attempted to support her wobbling legs.
Tis not far,she coached herself.You can make it.
The door opened and Trudy gasped, rushing to put the silver tray she carried on the toilet.
“Miss Rose! Please, get back into bed before you injure yourself!”
Rose blinked hazily at the servant and a flood of relief washed through her.
“When did I return?” she gasped. “Did Duke Buford send for me?”
Trudy’s brow creased as she guided the governess back to bed.
“Return from where, Miss Rose?”
“Bedlam.”
Trudy gasped again, her brown eyes huge with shock.
“Bedlam? Miss Rose, you were never in such a place. You have been very ill these past days but you are on the mend.”
Rose allowed for Trudy to replace the quilt over her body.
“Days?” she echoed. “What am I ill with?”
“The household has all taken ill with fever,” Trudy explained. “The children are doing much better but I fear it lingers with you and Duke Buford.”
“How—how did this happen?” Rose asked, her head swimming in confusion but Trudy had no answers and she placed the tray before Rose, revealing a clear broth.
“You must eat, Miss Rose,” the maid said sternly. “You have not consumed anything since falling sick and you must keep up your strength if you hope to recover in time.”
“In time?” Rose repeated dully, permitting Trudy to tuck a napkin inside her sweating nightgown. “In time for what?”
Trudy glanced toward the door and then back at Rose, leaning in conspiratorially.
