“Then it’s likely something they ate. Had it been something more severe, it would have persisted much longer.”
“Mr. Michaels’s symptoms seem pretty severe to me,” Brody grumbled.
A pause followed before the doctor suggested, “I can provide a more thorough examination of your guest if you wish, Your Grace, but to do so we’ll have to remove the covers and have him sit up.”
Propelled by pure dread, Harriet flung her head over the side of the bed and proceeded to retch while spitting into the bucket and groaning.
“Thank you,” Brody said, “but I don’t believe he’s up for that. Besides, I’m sure you’ve made an accurate diagnosis as usual.”
“He should recover as long as he gets enough rest,” the doctor added while Harriet kept up her act, which wasn’t hard to do, considering the state she was in. “Be sure to give him plenty of fluids to compensate for what he’s lost. And feed him as soon as he’s able to hold food down. Toast and porridge are my recommendation.”
Exactly what the other doctor had said about Lucy.
“And the fever?” Brody asked.
“It would appear that you’re managing that as well as possible, judging from the compress you’re holding and the fact that it looks like that tub was recently used. I can suggest nothing more, besides having one of your maids tend to him while you rest.”
“Thank you.”
There was a pause before the doctor said, “If that is all, I fear I must be going.”
“I’ll see you out,” Brody said.
As soon as the room fell quiet, Harriet scrambled from the bed and located the chamber pot. Even though she could barely stand or see, she managed to make quick use of it and was back in bed, tucked under the blankets, before Brody returned. She expelled a long breath. There was only so much lack of dignity she could muster. Despite everything else he’d assisted her with, having him watch her empty her bladder was not to be born.
She slid farther under the blankets and was curled into a tight ball when she heard him walk into the room. “What time is it?”
“Almost four.” His voice sounded strained, most likely because of exhaustion.
He ought to get some sleep. So should she. Going to work tomorrow would be… Oh God…she couldn’t afford to miss one more day.
“You’ve got to send word.” A chill swept over her shoulders. She shivered, no longer hot but chilled to the bone. Her teeth began chattering. “Mr. Hudson must know…I…can’t…work.”
“Christ, Harriet.” Brody was instantly there, his strong body climbing into the bed behind her. Undoing the blanket with which she’d cocooned herself, he pulled her snug up against his warm frame and blew hot air against the top of her back.
Unable to resist the soothing effect of being held and cared for by him, she snuggled closer. “I hope I don’t get you sick.”
“I think that’s unlikely. I’m fairly certain your ailment is linked to the baked goods you ate. The delay between you and Lucy eating those pies coincides pretty well with the time between each of you developing symptoms. The doctor agrees.”
“Yes, but—”
“Would you like me to fetch some toast?”
“I’m too…tired…”
“Rest then. You can eat when you wake.”
His lips brush the back of her neck. Harriet sighed and allowed herself to relax against him while drifting off to sleep.
When she woke, sunlight filled the room, but Brody was gone.
20
Sending a note to Mr. Hudson did not feel sufficient. Considering how well he’d treated Harriet, offering her a promotion she probably wouldn’t have gotten elsewhere, Brody decided it would be best to meet him in person. It would also be easier for Brody to convince Mr. Hudson of his need to keep Harriet on, if it came to that.
He set off after eating a quick breakfast and left the servants with instructions to give Mr. Michaels some toast, should he wake before Brody returned. It was almost six-thirty. The duel would have ended a while ago and Finn would soon be returning.
Hopefully in one piece.
