Page 97 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
The dreams had become so vivid, Nicholas no longer knew what was real and what was his imagination.
He saw the household flitter through his chambers, mumbling words which made no sense, pressing cold compresses to his forehead, forcing spoonfuls of tasteless liquid down his throat. He recognized the servants and his mother but when he saw Balfour and Peter Alderson, the duke was certain he was losing his wits. Nicholas was powerless to speak coherently and uncertain if it was genuinely occurring.
Abruptly, however, it all ended, almost as soon as it started and his eyes opened almost effortlessly one morning. Two sets of inquisitive blue eyes peered at him as if they had been standing vigil at his side.
“Nicholas!” his cousins chorused in unison, glancing behind them worriedly.
He attempted to raise his head but Betsey reached out and lowered him back to the mattress, shaking her dark head beneath a simple bonnet. She seemed to have aged since he had last seen her but that was impossible…was it not?
“Harry, fetch him some water!”
Nicholas watched as his younger cousin turned to oblige and rushed toward the basin, hastily pouring water from a pitcher.
“How are you feeling?” Betsey demanded, perching on the edge of his bed to study his face with concern.
I am not imagining this. She seems much more mature than a girl of ten and two.
Harry thrust a cup into the duke’s half-trembling hand and he drank it thirstily.
“I feel like ballocks,” Nicholas rasped when he finally pulled the water from his parched lips. The children chuckled but relief colored their faces.
“Why have you come here? You must not stay, lest I am catching.”
The siblings exchanged a glance and shook their heads.
“You are not catching,” Harry replied quietly, again glancing behind him to peer at the door. Nicholas realized they feared being caught.
“Are you a physician now, Harry? How long have I been asleep?” Nicholas asked, trying to insert a jesting note into his voice but he was in a great deal of inexplicable pain as if his bones had been depleted of all their moisture.
“We have also been ill,” Betsey explained, studying his face with concern. “But not for as long as you.”
She trailed off, as if wishing to say more but paused her thoughts. Suddenly, Nicholas recalled what he had been told and his brow furrowed. He raised his body fully, ignoring the wave of dizziness flooding him as he did. His body felt atrophied but he could not simply lie around, not when he had already lost so much time.
“How does Miss Rose fare?” he demanded, managing to sit against Betsey’s urging to stay in a resting position. The Arlingtons did not respond and Nicholas felt his pulse quicken.
“Have you seen her?” the duke insisted. “How long have we been ill?”
“It has been days,” Betsey sighed. “Harry and I recovered at precisely the same time, just as we grew ill together but you and Miss Rose…”
“I must see her,” Nicholas growled, tossing the blankets aside but an identical look of panic crossed their faces as they shook their heads in protest.
“You mustn’t,” Harry breathed, his complexion growing waxen. “You must remain here until…”
“Until what?” Nicholas demanded. “I am not to be commanded in my own house. What brings you so much fear?”
“Please, recover quickly, Nicholas,” Betsey said, urgency in her tone. “We need you at your best.”
“I am much better,” Nicholas insisted, rising but instantly, his knees buckled and he fell back against the canopied bed. He stared at his cousins, their concern suddenly palpable.
“What has happened while I have been ill?” he asked. “Where is the duchess?”
“She is in the gardens,” Harry volunteered but that was not what Nicholas had meant.
“Send for her at once,” the duke commanded but the siblings shook their heads together.
“We cannot,” Betsey sighed. “We have been forbidden from visiting you and Miss Rose.”
Nicholas stared at them, the words sounding strange to his ears.
