Page 37 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“Someone struck you over the head, and you have been unconscious for two days,” Marybeth explained, searching his eyes for signs of more serious injury.
“Was the intruder caught?”
“No, I am sorry, Oliver, but he has vanished once more. Every groomsman and footman on the estate is searching for him, but thus far they have not met with success.”
“Where is the Duke?” Oliver asked, looking around the empty sitting room.
“I do not know.”
“His Grace has gone with the Earl of Bredon on a hunt,” Mr. Wheatly’s voice informed them from the open doorway. “He will return as quickly as he is able. I know he wished to be here by your side when you awoke. He was quite vigilant in watching over you both while you slept.”
“No one else was hurt?” Oliver inquired, his concern for the others of the household clear upon his face. Marybeth’s heart went out to him for all he had been through and yet he still managed to worry about others. It was the quality that had made them fast friends as children.
“No. No one else was harmed,” Mr. Wheatly reassured him.
“Good,” Oliver sighed in relief.
“I should change your poultice and bandage,” Marybeth informed him, standing up and gathering her medicinal supplies. When she had gathered all that she would need, she began unwrapping the bandage from around his head, taking the old poultice off with it. She washed the wound once more in the honey rose water, then mixed a fresh poultice, applying it to the wound. When she had finished with this, she wrapped his wounds in a clean bandage. “Done,” she announced, cleaning up the remaining mess.
“Thank you,” he gritted out, his face as pale as the pillow upon which he rested.
She had tried to be as gentle as she could, but Oliver’s jaw was clenched in pain the entire time that she tended his wound. “I am sorry that I hurt you.”
“I have the distinct feeling that if it had not been for your skilled care, I would not be awake now. You never need apologize to me for anything that you do, Marybeth. Thank you for your efforts on my behalf.”
“Always,” Marybeth replied, waving away his gratitude. “You would have done the same for me.”
“Yes, I would, but I do not have your healing hands.”
“Miss Wright did not leave your side for more than a moment,” Mr. Wheatly informed Oliver, a gleam of pride and admiration in his eyes. “I believe Miss Wright is stating that you would have done the same were she the one that was wounded.”
“In that regard you are correct,” Oliver nodded, then stopped, clenching his teeth in pain. “I must cease from moving my head about,” he moaned.
“That is advisable,” Marybeth replied, making sure that his pillows were in a comfortable position. She moved over to the fireplace and poured the hot water from the kettle to make Oliver some white willow bark tea with honey to ease his pain. When the tea had sufficiently cooled, she handed it to him and helped him to swallow the soothing liquid.
Seeing that Oliver was able to swallow and keep the tea down, he announced, “I will alert the cook that you have awakened, and she will send you something to eat. You must keep your strength up.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wheatly.”
“Not at all. I am beyond pleased to have you among the living. Arkley Hall would not be the same without your cheerful face.” The grandfatherly affection that the butler felt for the young groomsman was clear. Mr. Wheatly left the room for the kitchens.
A short time later, the pretty kitchen maid named Betty came bearing a tray of tasty treats for Oliver. She blushed when Oliver greeted her by taking her hand in his after she had sat down the tray. Marybeth, seeing she was not currently needed, quietly left the couple to visit alone while she went to tend to the Dowager Duchess.
Climbing the servant’s steps back up to the second floor she felt a chill pass down her spine, thinking of the empty room on the other side of the wall. The groomsman guarding the hidden entrance nodded at her in acknowledgement as she passed. The thought of Oliver laying in that room all alone in the dark, bleeding out upon the floor, was unbearable.
Marybeth was grateful beyond measure that he had not died. She did not know what she would have done without him in her life. The thought of Oliver being the last person on earth to know and love her added to her feeling of unease.Marybeth began to reconsider her preference for a solitary life.
What would I have done if he had died? I would have been all alone in this world, completely, utterly, irrevocably alone. Perhaps I should open myself up to the possibility of creating other friendships in my life. The Duke is an honorable man. I have great respect for him and would be honored to have him as a friend, but something tells me that if we were to become true friends that it would be very different from the friendship I have with Oliver.A tingling sensation of anticipation traveled along her skin at the thought.
Continuing on up the stairs, she reached the second floor and made her way down the corridor toward the Dowager Duchess’s room. Another footman stood guard outside of the Duchess’s door. He nodded much as the last one had done, then opened the door for her to enter. “Thank you,” she murmured and then entered the bedchamber. To her surprise she found the Lady Cordelia Weatherton sitting beside the Dowager Duchess’s bed. “Oh, you have a guest. I will come back later.” She moved to exit.
“No, no, please, come join us,” the Dowager Duchess beckoned, patting the side of the bed for her to sit down. “We have just finished our tea and Lady Cordelia was about to read to me. I love literature in all its forms. Don’t you?” The Duchess’s eyes were so hopeful as she spoke that Marybeth was incapable of refusing her. Had the noblewoman asked for the moon, Marybeth suspected she would have tried everything within her power to grant it to her. Her sweet and gentle spirit were hard to resist.
“Of course, I will stay if you wish it, but only for a time. I will need to return to Oliver’s bedside before too much time has passed,” Marybeth agreed, coming around to sit on the bed.
“How is young Oliver?” the Dowager Duchess asked in concern.
“He is awake and eating,” Marybeth answered with a smile of joyous relief.
