Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Matthew burst through the door with his face flushed from exertion, his eyes immediately finding Julian's.

"The doctor is on his way," he announced, his voice tight with worry. "How is she?"

"Unconscious, but alive," Julian replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "She is so cold. We need to warm her up."

Matthew nodded, joining the effort to bring warmth and comfort to Cordelia. The house buzzed with urgent activity, everyone working together to help their beloved mistress.

"Julian, I am so sorry. I never meant any of this to happen," Matthew said, his voice choked with emotion.

Julian shook his head, his eyes never leaving Cordelia's pale face.

"Now is not the time for apologies, Matthew. We need to focus on her. Help me get her out of these wet clothes."

Julian called the ladies' maid, who carefully removed Cordelia's soaked garments and replaced them with warm blankets. Julian's hands trembled as he tugged the blanket higher up her body, the reality of the situation pressing down on him. He had to be strong for her now to make up for the distance he had allowed to grow between them.

Julian knelt beside the bed, holding Cordelia's hand, his heart aching with love and guilt.

"Please, Cordelia," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please come back to me. I need you. I am so sorry for everything."

The minutes stretched on, the doctor finally arriving and taking charge, his skilled hands working quickly to assess and treat Cordelia's injuries. Julian watched anxiously, every moment a trial of his patience and hope.

"She is stable," the doctor finally said, his voice reassuring. "She needs rest and warmth. The cut on her head is not serious, but the shock and cold have taken their toll."

Julian let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

"Thank you," he said, his voice choked with gratitude. "Thank you."

As the doctor continued to tend to Cordelia, Julian sat by her side, never letting go of her hand. He could feel Matthew's supportive presence nearby, a reminder that despite their differences, they were united in their care for Cordelia.

Julian sat in the dimly lit room, his eyes fixed on Cordelia's pale face. She lay motionless on the bed, her breathing shallow but steady. The doctor's words echoed in his mind, bringing relief but lingering fear. He had said she could be out for a few days, but she should recover … unless she got a fever.

The implications of those words weighed heavily on Julian's heart.

As the doctor gathered his supplies, Julian forced himself to remain composed. "Thank you, Doctor," he said, his voice strained but sincere. "Is there anything else we can do for her?"

The doctor nodded, his expression serious. "Keep her warm and dry. Monitor her temperature closely. If she shows any signs of fever, send for me immediately. The next few days are critical."

Julian nodded, feeling the gravity of the situation settle over him like a heavy shroud. "We will watch her closely," he promised.

Matthew, who had been standing quietly by the door, stepped forward.

"I shall stay with her tonight," he offered, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "You need rest, too, Julian."

Julian shook his head. "No, I want to stay. She is my wife. I should be the one to watch over her."

Matthew hesitated but then nodded, understanding the depth of Julian's determination. "All right. But I will be nearby if you need anything."

As the doctor and Matthew left the room, Julian pulled a chair close to the bed and took Cordelia's hand in his.

Her skin was still cool to the touch, and he gently rubbed her fingers, willing warmth back into them. The memory of finding her on the moors, cold and unconscious, was carved into his mind. He had never felt such fear, such helplessness, and he truly did not want to feel that way again.

Especially knowing that all of this was his fault.

He watched her chest rise and fall, each breath a reminder of her fragility and his own failings. He had promised to protect her, to make her happy, yet here she was, lying helpless because he had not been able to shield her from the storm brewing within their home.

"Cordelia," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I cannot say it enough. I am so sorry. I should have seen how unhappy you were. I should have listened. I should have pushed my insecurities aside to give you the life you deserve."

The room was silent except for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. Julian's thoughts spiralled, each one a harsh critique of his own actions. His worries about his scar had turned him into a version of himself that he did not want to be.

Julian's mind churned with guilt and self-reproach, each thought like a hammer against his heart. He had always believed that keeping his distance was a form of protection, a way to shield Cordelia from his own vulnerabilities and inadequacies. But in doing so, he had inadvertently driven her away, leaving her feeling isolated and unloved.

He looked at her peaceful face, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him. The woman he loved more than anything in the world had been slipping away from him, and he had been too wrapped up in his own selfish worries.

The hours dragged on, the night deepening around them. Julian barely moved, his focus entirely on Cordelia. He listened to her breathing, watched for any sign of fever, and prayed silently for her recovery. The weight of his responsibility pressed down on him, but beneath it was a fierce determination. He would not let her slip away. He would fight for her, as he should have done from the beginning.

If she would just come back to him, then he would do everything differently, that he was certain of now.

He would ensure that her happiness always came first.

As dawn broke, casting a soft glow through the curtains, Julian's heart soared with cautious optimism. Cordelia's eyes had opened, if only for a moment, and she had whispered his name. Yet, the relief was short-lived. By the afternoon, a flush of heat began to spread across her cheeks, and her breathing grew more laboured. Julian's worst fears were realized: Cordelia had developed a fever.

The doctor was summoned immediately. He examined her gravelly, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing minute. After what felt like an eternity, he turned to Julian, his voice low and serious.

"Her fever is high. She is in a deep, fitful sleep. We shall do what we can to keep her comfortable and bring the fever down, but it is up to her now."

Julian's heart clenched. "Is there nothing more we can do?" he asked, desperation tinging his voice.

The doctor shook his head. "She needs rest and time. Keep her cool, give her fluids when you can, and pray she pulls through. I shall return later to check on her."

Julian nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, Doctor."

As the doctor left, Julian resumed his vigil by Cordelia's side. He dampened a cloth with cool water and gently dabbed her forehead to ease the heat radiating from her skin. She tossed and turned, her face contorted in pain and confusion, trapped in a fevered dream. Julian's heart ached to see her like this.

"Cordelia," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, come back to me."

He stayed with her through the long hours, never leaving her side. He spoke to her softly, sharing his heart in a way he had never done before because he had so many feelings that he absolutely needed to get off his chest.

"I have been such a fool," he confessed, tears welling in his eyes. "I thought that providing for you, keeping you safe, was enough. But I see now how much I have failed you. How much more you deserve. I took you from your life and should provide you with a better one."

Julian paused, his emotions overwhelming him. He took a deep breath and continued, "I was blind to your needs, your desires. I never saw how lonely you were, how unhappy. I should have listened and been there for you in more than just the practical ways. I am so sorry, Cordelia."

Her breathing remained steady but strained, her fevered state showing no signs of abating.

Julian felt a crushing load on his chest, a desperate need to make things right.

"If you pull through this," he whispered, his voice filled with a fervent promise, "I swear I will be a better husband. I will listen to you, cherish you, and show you the love and attention you deserve. Please, Cordelia, come back to me. Give me the chance to make things right."

The night stretched on, each hour feeling like a lifetime. Julian's eyes never left Cordelia's face, his heart pounding with fear and hope. He continued to whisper his apologies and promises, his voice a steady murmur in the quiet room.

"Remember our walks in the garden?" he said softly, his mind drifting back to happier times. "How you would laugh at the smallest things? I miss that laugh, Cordelia. I miss seeing you smile. I want to see you smile again."

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. Julian's thoughts spiralled through memories and regrets, through promises and hopes. He would fight for her with everything he had and not let her slip away.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains again, Julian felt a shift in Cordelia's fevered state. Her breathing, though still laboured, seemed to ease just a fraction. He dared to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, his words were reaching her, giving her the strength to fight.

"Cordelia," he whispered, his voice projecting love and determination, "I am right here. I shall always be right here. Just come back to me."

Knock, knock.

Julian looked up, startled at the intrusion, but the expression on Matthew's face stopped any words of anger that might have come. Instead, they shared a moment of silent understanding.

"Julian," Matthew began, his voice low and sincere. "I need to apologize properly this time. I did not understand ... I did not see how much you truly love her. I thought I was doing what was best for Cordelia, but I see now that I was wrong."

Julian's eyes, red-rimmed with fatigue and worry, softened slightly. He nodded, gesturing for Matthew to come closer.

"I have made mistakes too, Matthew. I have been so wrapped up in my duties and my own fears that I failed to see what Cordelia needed. I failed her."

Matthew placed a hand on Julian's shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. "We both want what is best for her. I see now that you love her deeply. I am sorry for doubting that and for overstepping my bounds. Can you forgive me?"

Julian met Matthew's gaze, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "I do. We both have a lot to make up for, but right now, she needs us. She needs us both."

They shared a brief but heartfelt embrace, their past tensions dissolving in the face of their mutual concern for Cordelia.

United in their purpose, they settled into a companionable silence, watching over her together.

As the night wore on, Julian spoke more openly, his voice steady with newfound resolve.

"I have been thinking, Matthew. About everything. If Cordelia pulls through this, I am going to be different. I need to be different. I have been too distant and focused on my fears and responsibilities. She deserves better."

Matthew nodded, his respect for Julian growing with each word. "You are right. She needs to know how much she means to you. And I will be here to support both of you in whatever way I can."

The bond between them strengthened in the shared vigil, and their combined love for Cordelia created a powerful force of hope and determination. It was unexpected, but Julian was grateful for it.