Breakfast forgotten, as the maid scurried away, the Duchess rushed to her eldest daughter’s room, needing to see Eugenia’s condition for herself. She had always been a doting mother, and more directly involved with her children than was considered fashionable, but she did not care. She loved her children passionately, and cared equally for the wellbeing of each of the ten of them.
With a cursory knock, she let herself into Eugenia’s bedroom, and her heart clenched at the sight of her daughter. Her damp golden hair clung to her head and her usually pale face was quite red in the cheeks as she tossed fitfully, mumbling some sort of incoherent soliloquy which must have been prompted by whatever she was dreaming about. The Duchess sat down on the edge of the bed, right beside Eugenia, and gently stroked her daughter’s feverish brow with a cool, soothing hand.
“I have sent for the Physician, my darling girl. Do not worry. We will have you well again in no time at all.”
Completely unaware of her mother’s presence, Eugenia continued her incoherent mumbling, occasionally interspersed with whimpers that tugged at her mother’s heartstrings. As she waited for Charlotte to return and the Physician to arrive, the Duchess noticed something strange.
Just a couple of steps away from her, there was a patch of dirt and grass on the soft rug which covered the polished wood of the floor.
“I wonder…”
The Duchess murmured, her gaze flicking to where Eugenia’s feet were tucked under the covers. An idea bloomed, then, and she rose, lifted the covers away from Eugenia’s feet, and checked them. As she had suspected they would be, Eugenia’s feet were dirty, as if she’d been wandering barefoot in the garden.
She’s started sleepwalking again,the Duchess realised.My poor girl. Upsetting situations have always disturbed her so much more deeply than they do the others. She feels so much, so deeply, and it affects both her health and her safety. It is astonishing that she somehow manages to get down the stairs without falling and hurting herself.
Shaking her head, the Duchess clicked her tongue and sighed, just as Charlotte let herself into Eugenia’s bedroom.
“Boswell has gone to fetch the Physician for you, Your Grace. What can I do to be of help?”
“We should wash her face and try to cool it down, I think. She feels a little feverish.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Charlotte curtsied and went to retrieve some washcloths and a fresh bowl of cool water. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind the lady’s maid, the Duchess stood and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. Striding over to the pitcher and basin on the far side of the room, she dampened the kerchief, wrung the excess water out of it, and hurried back over to the bed to clean Eugenia’s feet. She would, of course, mention the sleepwalking to the Physician, as it was most likely — at least in part — to blame for Eugenia’s illness, but that did not mean that she had to let her daughter sully the bedclothes with her dirty feet. Besides that, the Duchess did her best to dust off thebedclothes because she abhorred dirt, and could not think of anything more horrid than rousing to consciousness in a dirty bed after suffering with a fever, and she wouldn’t have Eugenia suffer that fate if she could help it.
When she was finished, she crossed the room again and left the dirty handkerchief beside the pitcher and basin where Charlotte would be sure to see it and know that it needed washing. Then, the Duchess perched once again on the edge of the bed and stroked Eugenia’s hair, murmuring soothing nothings to her daughter in an attempt to calm her fitful sleep. Charlotte soon returned with more water and washcloths that they could use to cool Eugenia’s face, and the Duchess motioned the lady’s maid to the other side of the bed, so they could each reach and tend to Eugenia. The Duchess was still sitting in that very same spot, bathing her daughter’s face with a cool, damp washcloth, when the Physician arrived.
The man bustled into the room, and with one look towards the bed became all business. He brushed the maid aside, sending her for more cool water, even as he bent over lady Eugenia’s fevered brow.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. She appears feverish, and I suspect that it was caused at least in part, by her sleepwalking again – as you may remember she did when she was quite young. I think that she went out into the gardens in the damp air of dawn…”
“Your Grace, I believe that you are correct. Care will be needed, to prevent that from happening again – but as to the fever, I am sure that, if you continue as you have begun, with keeping her skin dry and cooled, whilst not letting her become too cold, all will be well. The fever may take some days to break, but she is a strong and resilient young woman.”
The Duchess gave a sigh of relief at his words.
“Then I shall persist, I will not let harm come to my daughter! Someone will be with her always, at all hours of the night and day, so that we can prevent any further sleepwalking.”
They spoke for another few minutes, and the Physician gave further instructions, eventually departing after promising to return in two days’ time, unless sent for earlier than that.
ASHEWOOD HALL
“I beg your pardon, My Lord, but are you saying that the fire at the gatehouse was set on purpose?”
Mr. Morgan, who had long been the steward of the Ashewood estate, frowned fiercely, even as he paled at the notion.
“Yes.” Marco nodded grimly, rapping on the dark wood surface of his desk with his knuckles for emphasis. “That is exactly what I’m saying, Morgan. Someone threw a torch through the sitting room window. It’s just lucky it was on the far side of the gatehouse from Stanley, and the sound of the glass shattering woke him. As it is, he barely managed to make it out alive. It’s a terrible incident, to be sure.”
“Do we have any idea why someone would do such a thing, Lord D’Asti?”
Morgan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk and giving Marco his full, undivided attention.
“Yes, we have a clue, at least, but I do not wish it to become common knowledge just yet, so what I am about to tell you is just between us until we know more about who torched the gatehouse and why.” Marco paused, pulling the threatening letter out of his jacket pocket. He unfolded it and slid it across the green felt blotter on his desk so that Morgan could see it for himself. “I returned here from London because I received an anonymous threat from someone saying that they would burn Ashewood to the ground if I did not return here immediately. I’m not certain what their motivation is. It could be that they wanted to bring me back here for a reason, possibly to address something, but I do not yet know who they are or what grievance they are levying against me. It could also be that someone simply wanted me out of London for the time being, but I do not know why that would be, either. Until we know more about who is doing this and what their motivations are, I do not wish the rest of the staff or the other local residents to know that I came here expressly because Ashewood was being threatened, you see.”
“I understand, my Lord.”
Morgan nodded his agreement, stroking his greying beard thoughtfully as he took in the information Marco had shared with him.
“For now, I would like to focus on doing whatever we need to do to rebuild the gatehouse and uncover who is behind the threat, and what they want from me. Also, see that Stanley is well taken care of here in the main house in the meantime. He was quite shaken up, and feeling the loss of his wife all over again, after losing everything they owned. It was all in the gatehouse and lost in the fire.”
