Saturday, 13 August 1814
Sculthorpe Manor
Seven in the morning
“Who are you?
Two bright and wide brown eyes stared at Mark over the foot of Judith’s bed. He blinked and so did those eyes. Mark waited, swallowing hard and trying to clear the grogginess of sleep from his brain.
He had merely drowsed now and then through the night, never sleeping deep enough for the nightmares to appear—he had drunk far too much coffee before coming to Sculthorpe Manor the night before for that to happen. He had also gotten up and moved around some, once Judith’s laudanum-induced slumber seemed deep and secure. He had stoked the fire, wrapped the heated brick for her bed when he was not in it, found the chamber pot, and discovered one of Mrs. Burney’s novels to keep him entertained as he watched Judith rest. At the least movement from her, Mark had returned to her side, holding her, sometimes dozing. Enough, apparently that he had not heard the bedchamber door open or soft footsteps enter.
“Why are you here?” The bright eyes came with a mass of dark curls and a sweet boy’s voice.
Mark put his finger to his lips and pointed to Judith.
“Nanny said Mummy was sick. Is she still sick? Are you the doctor? You do not look very much like a doctor. And not like our doctor at all.”
Mark pressed his finger hard against his lips, even as his shoulders quivered with repressed laughter.
“I want her to get well. She needs a doctor. I miss her.”
Persistence, thy name is child. “I am sure she will be better soon,” Mark whispered. “Right now, she is asleep.”
“Not any longer,” muttered Judith.
“Mummy!” The boy clambered down from the bench and trotted around to the side of the bed. “Are you awake?”
Mark shifted as one of Judith’s arms snaked from beneath the covers, her hand cupping the boy’s face.
“My jammy boy.” She cleared her throat to push away the gravel in those first words. “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you! Nanny said you would only be sick a few days, but it’s been three whole days!”
Judith shook her head. “Barely a day.”
“It seems a lot longer. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Who is that man? I do not think he is a doctor. Is he a doctor come to help you?”
She patted his cheek, then tucked her arm beneath the covers again. “He is a friend who has helped me. Where is Nanny?”
The boy grimaced. “Looking for me.”
“You have probably given her a fright.”
A pout creased his face. “But she wouldn’t bring me down to see you.”
“It is still rather rude to cause someone a great scare.”
The pout deepened, and Mark almost laughed. This child was going to be trouble.
A flurry of rustling cloth and hasty footsteps sounded outside the still open bedchamber door, and two people appeared in the frame, Epworth and a younger woman in a blue-and-whiteuniform. She gasped, rushing into the room. “Master William!” Then she spotted Mark, stopping cold. “Oh!” Her hand covered her mouth. “Oh, no!”
At her expression of shock and alarm, Mark could not resist. “What a fine kettle of fish this is.”
Judith gave a bark of laughter, then struggled to sit up. Mark slid his arm behind her, bracing her shoulders and helping her scoot up against the headboard as he did the same. They both pulled the covers up to their chests, tucking them in tightly.
Epworth, a wry grin on her face, stepped around Nanny. “My lady, how do you feel?”
Judith sighed. “Better. I think sleep and”—she glanced at William—“the other helped.” She slipped her hand into Mark’s. “As did the heat.” She nodded at Epworth. “You were correct. Thank you.”
