Chapter 14

Fourteen

All Minnie wanted to do was sleep, so sleep she did. She wanted to sleep away the misery of the rain and falling in the mud. She wanted to embrace oblivion rather than examine her increasing feelings toward Lawrence. But perhaps most of all, she wanted to hide away under the counterpane in the tiny parsonage Lawrence had found for her so that she could avoid the reality of the fate that awaited her.

She did not know what she would do. She did not know what she could do. What she thought she’d wanted taunted her in her fevered dreams as she imagined herself standing on the cliffs near Bristol, gazing out over the sea that would take her to Sweden. What she knew she did not want taunted her as the ghostly shapes of her mother and father and Owen chased her through the fog of her nightmares.

What her heart longed for waited for her, sitting beside her bed when she sneezed herself awake some indeterminate amount of time after she’d taken to bed.

Her entire body felt as heavy and limp as a rag that had been used to scrub the muddy carriage, then wrung out over and over, until it was a brown and threadbare mess. Nearly as soon as she opened her eyes and became aware of the world around her, her head filled up with congestion that made her pinch her face in upset.

At least her throat was no longer sore. That was a small blessing, but a welcome one. Minnie truly did not like the sensation of knives slicing at her poor throat from the inside.

“Yea…thou I…walk th-thr-though the…valley?—”

Minnie turned her head and scowled at Lawrence. He sat in a chair beside her bed, frowning sharply at the old, heavy Bible in his hands. His entire face was screwed up with his efforts to read aloud from what was supposed to be a comforting psalm.

Minnie had never liked the cheery picture that psalm was supposed to paint. Then again, as she pushed her tired body in an effort to sit, she considered that the valley of death might not be as thrilling and romantic as she had once imagined it to be.

“My God, you’re awake!” Lawrence cried out as soon as he noticed her movements. He snapped the Bible aside and tossed it on the bed beside her, nearly knocking Clarence to the floor.

Minnie reached out to steady Clarence before he could fall, pulling him closer to her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice thick and miserable.

Lawrence laughed and answered for Clarence. “I retrieved him from the carriage before Silas took it to the nearby village for repairs. I did not think the wainwright would find it a good omen to have Clarence staring back at him when he opened the carriage door to look around. And I thought you might miss him if he were gone for too long.”

Minnie smiled and patted Clarence’s head. “He has always been a comfort to me, and a dear, dear friend.”

Her heart inserted Lawrence in place of Clarence in her mind. Minnie could not think of many, outside of her most intimate female friends, who would have taken such care of her at such a distressing time, and with so little promise of reward. Lawrence had his statue now. It would have behooved him to return directly to London with it so that arrangements for his German exhibition could continue.

“Did the parson ever return?” she asked, dragging her eyes up to meet Lawrence’s.

The worry and joy and affection she saw, all bundled up together in his expression, melted her heart. The way he almost reached for her hand, then held back, as if he did not feel he had a right to touch her nearly broke it.

“Silas learned that the parson is away in Winchester, visiting relatives,” he said, clearing his throat and assuming a stronger presentation. Instead of grasping Minnie’s hand and perhaps twining their fingers together and kissing her with heartfelt gratitude that she was still alive, he gave her hand two, quick pats. “A local wise woman has been by a few times in the last few days to visit you and prepare healing teas.”

Minnie’s eyes went wide. “The last few days ?”

“Yes,” Lawrence said. He cleared his throat and squirmed nervously on his chair. “She, er, believed that you are afflicted with the same putrid fever that has, um, killed several people in the county in the last few months. She…she told me to prepare for the worst.”

Minnie blinked at him, then pushed herself to sit against the pillows piled behind her. “It’s been days?” she whispered, then sniffed as her nose began to leak, then sneezed at the sensation that caused.

Lawrence quickly fetched a handkerchief from the table beside the bed and handed it to her, saying, “Just three days. I have taken it as a good sign that you have slept so well and so deeply. Sleep is healing, as my father always used to tell me. And you were somewhat lucid at times. Enough to drink the tea.”

Minnie blew her nose, too wobbly still to be embarrassed at making such sounds and producing such fluids in Lawrence’s presence. Now that she thought about it, she did vaguely remember waking long enough to drink something. There had also been a mortifying discussion between Lawrence and an old woman about how to manage soiled sheets and linens because Minnie could not get out of bed.

Thinking of that made her too aware that she needed to find a chamber pot right at that moment.

“I could use more tea,” she said once she’d finished blowing her nose, which left her with a sodden handkerchief in her hands. She glanced at Lawrence with a look that, on anyone else, would have been coquettish. “Would you make me some?”

“Yes, of course, my?—”

Minnie’s mouth twitched slightly at the endearment Lawrence bit off.

“Yes, of course,” he repeated in a more serious voice.

Minnie smiled gratefully at him as he rose and took himself into the other room.

Her smile died as soon as he was out of her sight, however. Her heart longed for him so desperately. Now more than ever, as he had clearly been the most perfect nurse and caretaker for her.

She simply did not know what to do about the predicament she found herself in.

She knew enough to push herself to rise from bed, at least. It was alarming how weak and groggy she felt, despite so many days of sleep, as she pushed the Bible aside to swing her legs around to the edge of the bed. She paused once she was in position, then pushed with a tremendous amount of effort to rise to a standing position.

As soon as she was supporting her own weight, Minnie closed her eyes and frowned. No, walking through the valley of the shadow of death absolutely was not romantic at all. As she shuffled to the screen in the corner where a chamber pot was located, she shook her head at the silly version of herself that would even consider that expiring of a fever would be a poetic way to die.

She used the chamber pot with great relief, then made it halfway back to the bed before Lawrence returned to the room with a plate of some sort of tarts. As soon as he saw her, his eyes widened.

“Gracious, Minerva, what are you doing?” he demanded. He set the plate aside, then moved to sweep her into his arms and carry her back to bed.

Minnie scowled, but every other part of her aside from her face sang with relief and begged her to cling to Lawrence. It felt so good to be in his arms once more, even though the circumstances were very different to the last time.

“I cannot lie abed forever,” she said, sounding far more peevish than she felt. “I feel much better now and should be up and about.”

Her traitorous head sent her into a sneezing fit as soon as she said the words. With no handkerchief immediately at hand, she accidentally sneezed directly onto Lawrence’s waistcoat.

It was mortifying, but Lawrence did not seem to notice.

“You are not yet well, my—” He cleared his throat as he lay her in the bed again. “Your fever has broken, but you have a long way to go yet along your road of recovery.”

Perhaps it was wicked of her, but Minnie did not want to be out of Lawrence’s arms yet. So she clung to him, grasping at his waistcoat as if she were concerned for the mess she’d made, and generally doing whatever she could to make it more difficult for Lawrence to put her down.

After a few, vain attempts, he gave up the exercise and sat on the bed with her. From his expression when Minnie peeked up at him, he knew her game, but was perfectly willing to be complicit in it.

What Minnie wanted to do was to sigh and sag gracefully into Lawrence’s embrace, closing her eyes and resting against him, like the picture of a delicate maiden relying on her prince. What she actually did was sneeze again, sending snot dribbling over her upper lip.

“Here,” Lawrence said, half laughing as he twisted to retrieve another handkerchief from the bedside table. “I believe you require this.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Minnie asked as she took the handkerchief, then adjusted so that she leaned her back against Lawrence’s side before blowing and cleaning her nose.

“No,” Lawrence said, laughing harder and seeming to contradict himself. “I am merely grateful that you are still alive. I would have had quite a conundrum on my hands, had you expired in my care.”

“Yes,” Minnie said, feeling slightly better once her nose was marginally cleared. “There would have been inquiries.”

“No, I mean that I would have had a devil of a time digging a hole to dispose of you in,” he said, still far too cheerful for the topic. “Granted, the church has a small graveyard attached to it, so there must be shovels and other tools for the job nearby. And perhaps one of the current graves is new enough that the soil is still loose. I could have buried you atop someone else, I suppose.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Minnie said with mock horror in her eyes. In actuality, her poor, weakened heart danced and twirled at the ridiculous situation Lawrence had concocted.

“I would have to dare,” Lawrence said with a nod, not to Minnie, but to Clarence, who had been moved to one side so Minnie and Lawrence could sit together in the bed. “I would need to avoid those authorities, after all. I cannot blame your death on highwaymen this time.”

“ This time?” Minnie raised her eyes to him, using the handkerchief to catch a few more drips from her nose.

“Yes, well, you have faked your own death before,” he said, as casual as you please. “You blamed those blasted highwaymen. Do you not remember?”

Minnie’s insides twisted with guilt. It was as if Lawrence had come to know her too well. Or as if he could read her thoughts to know what she’d had planned for the end of their journey.

It occurred to her with a start that she could not carry on with her original plan at all now. Not with Lawrence so near to her, both in terms of proximity and so near to her heart. He would suspect at once that her demise was not real, and he would come after her.

Minnie sucked in a breath, but hid her excitement by blowing her nose again. Lawrence would come after her. He would search for her, picking up every clue that she left along the way, and he would find her. Perhaps he would travel all the way to Stockholm and find her in her new life. He would inquire after a Welsh spinster with raven hair living alone in the city. He would appear on her doorstep late one evening, declaring that he had found her at last. She would feign fright at first, then invite him in for the welcome of all welcomes once he?—

“I say, Minerva, are you certain you are recovering? Your face has just flushed deeply,” Lawrence said.

Minnie pursed her lips to remove every last trace of a smile, then blew her nose again, though she desperately needed a dry handkerchief.

“I can assure you, I am quite well,” she said in a stuffy, wet voice once she had schooled her expression back to neutrality. “In fact, I am feeling so much better that I believe I can fetch that tea you promised myself.”

To prove it, she squirmed over Lawrence, perhaps more than was strictly necessary, in an attempt to get out of bed.

“No, you don’t,” Lawrence said, resisting her efforts and manhandling her to keep her where she was.

The result was a short wrestling match in which she was most definitely overpowered. Lawrence rolled her to her back and pinned her against the sheets. After a few more seconds of struggle, Minnie gave up and switched to enjoying her defeat. She certainly enjoyed the sensation of Lawrence’s large, warm body pressing down on her.

“My lord,” she said, congested, “this is not the moment for such attentions.”

Lawrence seemed to realize what position they were in and how close his face was to Minnie’s. He pulled up a bit, fire and affection dancing in his eyes.

“You are quite right,” he said with a mock serious nod. “With the cannon of your sweet nose loaded the way it is, I would not wish to risk further damage to my clothing.”

He dipped down to kiss her forehead quickly, then pushed back and stood.

“I shall fetch your tea,” he said, as gravely as any parson, “and as many more handkerchiefs as are necessary.”

With a final nod, he turned and left the room.

Minnie sank back against the pillows, trying her best not to laugh. She failed miserably, though her burst of laughter set off a coughing fit that masked her true feelings.

How was it possible to be so blissfully happy when she felt so utterly awful? Her body still ached, her head felt as thick as a post, and the coughing fit left her feeling as exhausted as if she had not slept in weeks instead of doing almost nothing but sleeping for days. All the same, she could not recall a single time in her life when she felt as warm and happy as she was with Lawrence.

“This is a decidedly dangerous turn of events,” she lamented to Clarence as she burrowed back under the covers, glad for their warmth.

Clarence merely smiled back at her, as if he had known things would unfold this way all along.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Minnie in bed, periodically dozing and blowing her nose, while Lawrence made what she knew was a Herculean effort to read to her. She knew it was nearly impossible for him to make out the words, after his confession. As much as she loathed the idea of someone reading the Bible to her while she foundered with illness, she let Lawrence continue with his psalms, because he knew many of them by heart already, which helped him to make out the words.

Minnie was also grateful for the food that the woman from the village had sent along, since the parson had left little behind when he’d left for Winchester, and she doubted Lawrence could cook. It was a strong sign that she was recovering that the stew provided by the old woman tasted like heaven to her and she wanted to devour all of it.

She slept well that night on top of everything, which was a surprise and a godsend. Lawrence attempted to sleep on a pallet on the floor beside her, which he had done for the last few nights, apparently, but Minnie insisted that he share the bed with her, resorting to fussing when he refused, until he gave in.

“I will stay well to this side of the bed,” he said as they settled in for the night. “I fear what might happen if you decide to use my nightshirt as your new handkerchief.”

Minnie laughed, marveling all over again that a moment which could very well be considered a low point was, instead, turning out to be so wonderful.

In the morning, Minnie felt marginally better. She awoke before Lawrence and slipped out of bed on the opposite side from him as he continued to slumber away. It was obvious to her that he needed the rest after days of caring for her. She was able to use the chamber pot and wash a little before wrapping one of her shawls, which Lawrence had fetched for her the day before from the baggage that had been brought into the house, and creeping into the main part of the cottage.

It was a sign of how much better she was feeling that she was able to dress in one of her plainer day gowns before Lawrence woke up, and that she could tend to the fires, set the kettle to boil, and slice a few pieces of bread from the loaf someone had left on the counter so that she and Lawrence might break their fast.

She was able to do so many things before Lawrence awoke and rushed into the main room, as if he thought Minnie had fled, or possibly been kidnapped by pirates, that the expression that came over him when he saw she was well and breakfast was ready was one of amazement.

“You should not be out of bed yet,” he said, stepping farther into the room and looking around.

He had slept in his clothes from the day before, and looked much the worse for wear because of it. His hair stood out in all its silver glory, and his face was still pink and creased from where his cheek had been pressed against the pillow, but he was still the most beautiful thing Minnie had ever seen.

“Lord Lawrence!” she admonished him. “Do you not realize I am an invalid and should not be taken to bed in such a manner?”

Lawrence made a face at her, then they both fell into pure, affectionate laughter.

That laughter was stopped abruptly by a slam, a clattering, and a female scream that came from just outside, in the direction of the church.