When he returned, her brothers and Walsh placed the sheet under her father and used it like a hammock, to lift him and carry him to the house. Caroline followed close behind, her heart pounding beneath a deceptively calm exterior.
Since the home had only common rooms on the ground floor, the decision was made to take him upstairs to his bed.
“I can manage from here,” Dr. Hewitt said once they’d removed her father’s shoes and sack coat, and laid him back on the pillows. “I’ll come speak with all of you when I’m done.
Caroline sat in the parlor beside her mother, her hands clasped tight in her lap, while her brothers and Walsh occupied various spots in the room, Landon staring out the window and Simon pacing. The wait was unbearable, even worse than before. Her mother rocked slightly, her lips moving in silent prayer.
The stairs creaked, and Dr. Hewitt emerged from the hall. Simon stopped pacing, and everyone gave the doctor their full attention as he took a seat in her father’s leather chair.
“Mr. Bennet has suffered an apoplexy,” he said.
“Will he get better?” her mother asked.
“It’s too early to say how much function he’ll regain.”
Simon pinned him with a determined glare. “Tell us the truth.”
Dr. Hewitt looked around the room, from person to person, his gaze lingering on the women before returning to Simon. “Some patients do improve with time, but your father’s affliction is one of the more serious cases I’ve seen. He will likely be bedridden for the remainder of his life.”
Mrs. Bennet whimpered and tightened her fingers around the handkerchief she clutched, while Caroline’s stomach felt as if it dropped from a cliff.
Simon was brooding, staring at the air in front of him with silent, singular focus. He was only seventeen and suddenly the man of the family.
Her mother exhaled a shaky breath. “Oh, Caroline… What will we do?”
Caroline took hold of her hand. “Father has provided well for us. We’ll manage.”
“I can run the business,” Simon said.
The brave declaration stirred feelings of relief and regret. Their father had been preparing Simon to one day follow in his footsteps. Now he would be forced to shoulder the role.
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Walsh said. “If you need help keeping the books, I can handle that for you. No charge.”
Caroline looked up at him and uttered, “Thank you,” in a raw voice, having never meant the words so much. Then she turned her gaze to the ceiling, toward the bedroom where her father lay.
Her world had shifted again, and it would never be the same.
Chapter 7
September 20th
Three years later
A gentle, fair breeze wafted through the open window, carrying the scent of fresh-cut hay, as Jackson leaned against the doorframe, soaking in the scene before him.
Amanda nudged the rocking chair back and forth with a slippered foot, cradling their newborn daughter, Jewel, to her breast. Across the room, Noah played quietly with wooden blocks Jackson had made, occasionally glancing up at his mother and sister with curiosity.
His chest swelled with pride and a joy he'd never felt before, even though watching his family always brought a pang of guilt.
“She's got your eyes,” Amanda said softly, looking up at him with a sweet smile.
Jackson crossed the room and squatted beside her chair. “And your nose, thank goodness.”
“I don't know about that. I'm rather fond of your nose.”
As Jackson gazed at his daughter, a wave of emotion nearly overtook him. He’d adopted Noah, but Jewel was his by blood. He reached out and gently stroked his daughter’s wispy blonde hair.
“Papa?” Noah's small voice said from behind him. “May I see?”
