A tear seeped.
Another gathered.
This time, she let it fall.
And now she could not stop them.
Fear and fury raging through her.
Not Hugh. Please God.Do not take Hugh from her.
She shoved palms to her face and just wept for a while.
If Hugh… If h-he were to be taken from her, she’d move far, far from here.
A cottage in his beloved Wales where the summer sea would always remind her of his eyes and–
“Miss?”
She’d not even heard the door open and frantically scrubbed at her cheeks. “Mrs Dawkins, I was just…”
“I know, Missy, I do. Just something in your eye, eh?”
“Yes,” she sobbed, placing the rose back in the drawer. “Because…because he’ll be well in the morning.”
“Aye, so he will.” And Amelia was enclosed in an embrace such as she’d not felt since childhood – comforting and maternal. “Now then…” Mrs Dawkins placed her firm hands on Amelia’s shoulders. “I’ve one more tincture to try, I have. So, dry your eyes as I want you to bathe his skin with it. Maybe a few drops to swallow as well, aye?”
“Will it work?”
“It’s all I have left, lovey.” A small brown bottle was tucked into her hands. “Took me a while to gather what I needed but ’tis the very best I know of.”
Amelia uncapped it and sniffed, half expecting horse dung or wet dog. “Roses?”
“Aye ’tis in there. Now, Sally put new bedding on earlier, and more clean cloths and fresh water are on the chest, but if there’s anything you need, we’re all sleeping with one eye open. Although Mr Cruikshank sleeps with both open apparently.”
Amelia’s lips curved. “Thank you, Mrs Dawkins. For everything.”
The housekeeper nodded, and after blessing the master with a Welsh prayer, she shuffled from the room.
With a long exhale, Amelia fetched a clean cloth and returned to sit on the bed. She uncapped the bottle and moistened the cloth with the tincture, the scent of roses rising like a benediction.
Gently, she laved Hugh’s chest and arms, the motion calming her. His muscles were just as strapping, his chest still broad, but his face was gaunt, black smudges ringing his eyes like storm-laden clouds. She dabbed his stomach and legs and down to his hairy toes.
Then she tipped some of the tincture onto a spoon and dribbled it between his lips.
It hopelessly ran from the corners and her teeth gritted, tried once more, willing him to swallow.
“Hugh,” she whispered. “Please, Hugh.”
She clambered further onto the bed for better reach and attempted once more.
A few drops and his throat bobbed. Amelia’s resolve firmed. “Just a little, Hugh, please.”
Another dribble slipped into his mouth but he choked, twisting his head to her, eyelids quivering.
“Hugh,” she murmured softly, seizing his hand in hers, knowing he would never hear. “Let’s try some more?”
His eyelids paused aloft and his lips moved, a faint rumbling in his chest.
