Frederick entered his mother’s bedchamber uncertain how to ask her about her connection to the poachers. He could not imagine how a Duchess could possibly have anything to do with a group of outlaws. Frederick approached his mother where she sat in a chair staring vacantly out of the window. “Mother?”
The Duchess turned her face to her son and smiled. Her skin was ashen, her eyes distant. “Frederick.”
“How are you feeling Mother?”
“I am well,” she answered unconvincingly.
A loud noise sounded outside the door, and Frederick frowned. Ignoring it, he moved forward and took the seat across from her. “Mother, there is something I need to ask you about.”
“What is it dear?”
“Are you acquainted with the Evans family near Pentford, formerly of Wales?”
His mother’s face lost what little color it had remaining. “No, no, I know of no such family,” she answered her voice shaking.
She is lying.
* * *
Josephine coughed and tried to muffle the sound with her hand. She had been coughing sporadically since her near drowning in the pond. Her chest rattled, and she wheezed, attempting to catch her breath. Fatigue washed over her, and her knees trembled. Owen reached out to steady her. “Are you well?”
“I am fine. Just a bit of a cough,” Josephine remarked as another round of coughing hit her. The sound echoed down the hall bouncing off the walls.
“You have been coughing for days. I think it is time that you saw a physician,” Owen replied, his brow furrowed in concern as she gasped for breath.
“No,” she breathed. “All is well. There is no need for concern.”
“That cough tells me otherwise,” Owen helped her over to a chair and knelt down beside her. “You do not need to hide your illness simply because there are others within the household who are suffering.”
“‘Tis nothing, but a cough. You worry for naught,” she insisted, but deep down she knew something was not right. Her chest felt as if someone was sitting on it, and every time she breathed she made a rattling, wheezing sound. She had managed to hide it from everyone but Owen. With the Duchess so frail she had not wanted to cause any more concern over a mere cough by asking for the physician when he was needed elsewhere.
“You drowned and then went back to work. You nearly died. A bit of rest would not be amiss,” Owen chastised taking her shaking hand in his.
* * *
Another loud noise erupted from the hallway causing his mother to startle jumping in her seat. The sound continued, and Frederick arose, angry that Greeves would allow such a commotion so near his mother’s room.
He moved forward, jerked open the door and stepped out into the hall. What he saw caught him off guard and made him even angrier. There knelt Greeves holding Josephine’s hand. She looked like she had been crying.
“What is the meaning of all the noise? Do you have no concept of peace and mercy for the ailing, Mr. Greeves?”
“It was not Owen’s fault, Frederick. It was mine I…” Josephine was unable to finish as another round of coughing hit her. Her throat spasmed and pain knifed through her chest.
Josephine started to say something and then collapsed against Greeves’ chest.
“Josephine? Josephine!” Frederick cried out in fear. “What is wrong with her?” he demanded to know as Greeves lifted her up into his arms. He called out, and Mr. Johnson came around the corner. “Summon the physician immediately.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Mr. Johnson bowed and hurried off to do as bidden.
“She has been ill since the day she drowned, but she did not wish to be a burden, so kept it to herself,” Greeves explained.
Frederick reached out to caress her face and found it burning with fever. “She should never have done such a thing.” Frederick attempted to take her from Greeves, but the footman tightened his grip and moved past him down the hall. Frederick assumed he was taking her to the servants’ quarters and stopped him. “Put her in here,” he commanded, opening one of the manor’s many guestroom doors. “She will be more comfortable.”
Greeves nodded and entered the room laying Josephine down upon the bed. He brushed the hair back from her face. Frederick fought the urge to reach across the bed and punch the footman in the face. “That will be all Greeves. You may return to guarding the Duchess. Tell Mr. Johnson where we are.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Greeves bowed and left the room.
Frederick moved to sit next to her upon the bed. “Why did you keep such a thing to yourself, Jo?”
