Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“ W e should wake her. I am worried for her,” a soft voice whispered.

Through the layers of deep sleep, Helena stirred slightly at the sound. For a moment she felt drawn to it, but the warmth of her bed dragged her back down.

“The doctor said she would be fine, and that such deep sleep was normal,” another voice said just as Helena was about to drop off again.

“How will we keep her hydrated if she is asleep?”

“It has only been a day. Let her rest!”

Now drawn completely from her slumber, Helena fluttered her eyes open and was greeted by the sight of Ambrose and Barbara at the side of her bed, glaring at one another as they each stood with their fists on their hips. They both looked angry and worried, and memories of the previous night’s events came flooding back to her.

The last thing she remembered was waiting to speak with Morgan. How had she gotten into her bed? Worried over how much she had missed, Helena attempted to clear her dry throat and sat up among her pillows. Ambrose and Barbara immediately turned to her with smiles of relief.

“What time is it?” she croaked, rubbing her eyes.

“Just past ten in the morning,” Barbara answered quickly.

“Are you thirsty?” Ambrose asked, going to pour her a glass of water. “It has been quite a while since you have had something to drink.”

Helena’s brows furrowed as she accepted the glass.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, “It has barely been seven hours.”

She tilted the glass to her lips and began to drink.

“Actually, dearest, it has been seven hours and a day,” Barbara said gently.

Helena choked on her water as she looked at her brother and sister-in-law in surprise.

“What?” she croaked.

“She is concerned,” Ambrose noted, sounding worried. “See, I told you it was too long. We should have woken her yesterday evening.”

“The doctor said not to, and that all would be well,” Barbara sighed in agitation. “And look! Now she is awake and will certainly be well.”

“I am well,” Helena insisted, her thoughts not of herself. “And what of Morgan? Is he well?”

A tense glance between the two was the only response she received, and she immediately moved to get out of bed. She was stopped by Barbara’s gentle but insistent hands while Ambrose fetched a tray from the nearby table. Helena looked at them both dubiously as fear began to rise through her body. “One of you answer me! Is he well?”

“That we know of,” Ambrose answered, his tone soothing as he braced the tray over her lap, keeping her still.

“What do you mean that you know of,” she hissed, still fighting him, “Let me up this instant!”

“Helena, please,” Barbara urged. “He is well. I promise that he is well. Drink. Eat your breakfast, and we will talk.”

Helena had half a notion to start throwing the items on the tray at them until they started speaking more plainly, but knowing it would get her nowhere, she settled for picking up the silver spoon on the tray and dipping it into the bowl of porridge and sweet cream.

Her stomach growled hungrily as she swallowed the first bite, and she quickly took another. Between mouthfuls she pointed her spoon at the duo and said, “start talking. Now.”

“Well, the fact that she is still bossy is a clear indicator that she will be fine,” Ambrose sighed, throwing her a bemused look.

“Morgan’s wound was not deep,” Barbara explained as Helena glared at her brother. “He has chosen to heal in his own home.”

“When did he leave?” Helena asked.

“Not long after I found you asleep on the love seat outside his room,” Ambrose replied.

Before she could ask if he was sure that Morgan was still all right, Ambrose added, “I have been by twice to visit him. The last time was only two hours ago. I assure you, Helena, he is well.”

Though this information brought Helena some minor comfort, she still despised the fact that he had left. Why had he done that after promising to talk? Her mind flashed back to their last night together, the pain of him ignoring her rising anew. Had he lied to her to get her to leave?

“Enough about Morgan,” Ambrose insisted when she said nothing else, “Please, tell us how you are truly feeling? Are you still dizzy? Does your stomach still pain you?”

The memory of the mysterious ailments that had befallen her for the last two weeks returned to her, and Helena took a moment to take a silent inner inventory of herself. She flicked her eyes around the room, flexed her fingers, felt along her stomach. Nothing. She felt no lingering effects from her earlier symptoms, and though she was worried for Morgan, she smiled in relief.

“I feel completely myself again,” she answered with certainty.

Ambrose and Barbara both gave her a look of great relief, and Barbara reached out and slapped Ambrose on the shoulder.

“See? The doctor was right. The rest helped. We did well in not waking her.”

“But I am awake now and ready to get out of this bed,” Helena insisted, pushing at the now-empty tray on her lap.

“Are you sure you want to get up?” Barbara asked. “After everything that has happened to you?”

Though she had appeared completely composed until then, Barbara’s eyes suddenly turned wide and misty and her face contorted into a heartbreaking sob as she sank onto the side of Helena’s bed and began to cry. Helena looked at her, startled, and pressed a comforting hand to her friend’s back.

Barbara was not the crying kind. She was tough and willful. Even during her pregnancy, when most women were prone to crying, she rarely did. And even after the feat was accomplished, Barbara would become frustrated with herself.

Worried by this rare show of emotion from her friend, Helena looked to Ambrose for an explanation. He only grimaced and gave her a pleading look. What was not being said?

“Barbara? Barbara, darling what is wrong?” Helena asked.

“My fault,” Barbara sobbed, wrapping her arms around Helena’s waist, “It is all my fault, this entire thing!”

Helena had no idea what Barbara meant and she did not find the moment humorous, but a laugh bubbled up from her lips. Ambrose looked at her with alarm as Helena shook her head and pulled Barbara fully into her arms.

“Listen to me, Barbara,” Helena said calmly, drying Barbara’s tears with her blanket, “this was absolutely not of your doing.”

“He is my uncle ,” Barbara spat out, her watery gaze going up to Helena’s eyes. “And Luke is my cousin. It was my family that did this. All of it. It was my family that killed your father.”

“You are not them, Barbara,” Ambrose stated in a level, patient voice as he reached out to touch his wife’s back. “You did not conspire with them. This is not your burden to carry, my love.”

“Ambrose is right,” Helena agreed soothingly. “We would never blame you for any of this, ever. You are my friend; my sister. You are not, have never been, and will never be my enemy.”

As she said the words, Helena felt the truth of them resound within her soul. Barbara had been her friend and a pillar of support long before she and Ambrose had fallen in love. Barbara had taken her in like she was her older sister. She had of course supported Helena’s more rebellious acts against Ambrose’s overprotective rein, but Barbara had also been there to stop her right when she was about to take things too far.

Barbara loved her deeply, and Helena knew that she would never intentionally cause her harm.

“God, I detest crying,” Barbara croaked, pulling away from Helena with a sniff. Then to herself she said angrily, “come on, pull yourself together, you loon.”

A light laugh broke from Helena and Ambrose as he pulled out his kerchief and handed it to his wife.

“Stop that,” Ambrose urged gently, pulling her to him. “I shall not have anyone talk to my wife that way. Including herself.”

Barbara let out a soft chuckle as she dabbed at her eyes. Then her chin began to wobble and she shook her head, as if fighting off another bout of tears.

“They were going to hurt you. Hurt all of us.”

“We stopped them,” Helena said gently.

She wanted to point out that Barbara was right. All of them. Which included herself. Barbara had been in just as much danger as they all had. Instead, she grasped Barbara’s hands and urged her to look at her.

“Please do not do this to yourself, sister,” she insisted quietly. “As I said, this blame is not yours to take, and to try and do so will surely lead to madness.”

After a few more minutes, Barbara calmed down, and she excused herself to go check on Beau. Once alone, Ambrose turned to Helena and said, “this has been tearing her apart. Thank you for telling her she is not to blame.”

“It is the truth,” Helena replied quickly. “But keep watch over her, Ambrose. I fear it will take her some time to truly accept that.”

“You know I will,” Ambrose said firmly, standing up from the bed.

He then leaned down and kissed her affectionately on the forehead, and as he straightened, he sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets.

“I am assuming that you have not changed your mind about staying in bed?” he asked, giving her a look that said he already knew the answer.

With a hint of a smile on her lips, Helena shook her head.

“Right,” he sighed, taking a few steps towards the door.

“Let a carriage take you to him, at least,” Ambrose continued as he reached the door.

“I am assuming that is your plan?”

“It is at that,” Helena agreed, her brow rising up in challenge as her brother turned back to look at her.

The truth was out now. There was no pushing it back into the dark. They all needed to move forward, no matter the discomfort.

Ambrose sighed wearily, then nodded.

“Bring him back to us, would you? We all belong together.”

Helena’s heart stuttered at Ambrose’s words and his acceptance as he slipped quietly out of her room, no doubt on his way to be with his wife and son. Alone, Helena once more shoved the covers away from her, and took a tentative step out of bed.

Excitement rushed through her as she felt no trace of dizziness or pain. The poison was completely gone, vanished along with its strange effect, and she was fully herself again. Feeling empowered, Helena smirked as she twirled, easily finding her sure footing, and then marched to her closet to find a dress.