Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

T he note slipped from Stephen’s fingers. He knew it fell to the floor, but he didn’t care. All that filled his mind was the thought of Ruth and the distance that separated them. He remembered how she had looked the night before, shivering in the rain. He had heard of people falling ill after exposure and failing to recover.

He turned blindly to the butler, who had followed him out into the hallway.

“A horse,” he said abruptly.

“Sir, your horse is at the blacksmiths being reshod—”

“Then a different horse!” Stephen cried, turning on the man. “And quickly. I’m going to my room to gather my things and then I am leaving.”

“Stephen, where are you going?” Lord Richmond was just behind him in the hall, and so was his mother. “This is completely uncalled for. We have guests.”

Stephen turned and climbed the stairs, ignoring his parents below. He threw his things into a small valise, put on his riding boots and coat, and then ran back down the stairs. Lord and Lady Richmond were waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Stephen saw a new expression in his mother’s eyes — a mix between pity and fear. She held the discarded letter from his aunt in her fingers.

“Son,” she began.

“You read it.” He nodded at the letter. “You know why I have to go.”

“I know that you feel some obligation to be at Miss Selwyn’s side — perhaps because you were the one to hire her,” Lord Richmond answered. “But this is not the time. There are doctors at March Manor — there are servants. There is nothing you can do to help her that they cannot do.”

“I will not hear this,” Stephen said. He turned to the butler. “The horse?”

“Coming around at once, my Lord.”

Stephen stepped out onto the front terrace. His parents were close behind, still pleading with him .

“You told us you would stay for dinner,” his mother begged. “We had hoped that you would stay for the entire season.”

“Plans change,” he said, his eyes on the stables.

“This Miss Selwyn is practically a servant,” Lord Richmond cried. “Why should you rush to her aid? What does she mean to you?”

Stephen whirled on them, his heart crashing wildly in his chest. “She means everything,” he said, the words becoming real to him even as he spoke them. The revelation washed over him, bittersweet and devastating. “I love her,” he said, watching their faces register shock even as his own heart did. “I think I have always loved her, and now, due to my foolishness, I risk losing her.”

The horse was at the bottom of the stairs. He rushed down, tying his bag onto the back of the saddle and swinging himself up into the seat. He realized his parents hadn’t said anything to this last declaration. They made no attempt to reason with him; just stood dumbly with their arms at their sides and their gaze fixed on him.

He turned and rode down the lane, leaning into the neck of the animal and urging him as fast as his hooves would go. Please let me get there in time. Please let her live.

Stephen reached the manor in record time. He had to stop once to change out his mount for a fresh one, but it was a matter of minutes for the money to exchange hands and the saddle to transfer over. Then he was back on the road again, riding like a fiend. As he rode, the clarity he’d reached about his feelings for Ruth solidified further and further.

He thought back over all their interactions — conversations in the library, dances in the drawing room, the way she’d looked in the silvery moonlight before they’d entered the ball — and it was all so devastatingly obvious. He loved her. He’d loved her for some time.

His mind ran down every track, even the familiar one of doubts about their future and their station, but this old path was stale and meaningless now. All that really mattered to him was seeing her again.

At the manor he tumbled off his horse and sprinted into the house. Mr. Tylor was just inside, looking pale and drawn. He jumped when he saw Stephen, clearly not expecting someone. Stephen paused in the doorway.

“Where is she?” he asked. He didn’t know if it was his new revelation, but he felt that the whole world could see his heart laid bare now — the desperation in his voice. And he didn’t care.

The butler looked confused. “My Lord, we didn’t know you would come so soon,” he began.

“Mr. Tylor.” It was his aunt’s voice. She stood behind the butler, back into one of her own day gowns, a shawl drawn tight around her shoulders. “Please see that the footmen take care of Lord Darnley’s belongings. And alert his valet to his master’s presence.” She looked at Stephen solemnly. “When he thought you were staying in London for a time he began packing his bags to return.”

“I’m not staying in London,” Stephen said.

“I see that.” She came forward and clasped his hands, her eyes looking up at him with pity. “I’m glad you’ve come. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know who else to write to.”

“What happened?” he asked.

She took his arm and led him into the parlor, talking as they walked. “Something was not right when we got back from London. I don’t know much of these things, but I can tell you that she seemed overtired and faint. It isn’t like her to swoon.”

“No, it isn’t.” He was trying to listen, but every bone in his body just wanted to find Ruth; to take her in his arms and be sure of her heartbeat.

“Then she started talking and her words were slurring. She tumbled forward. If not for Mr. Tylor I think she would have struck her head.” His aunt pressed her thin fingers to her temple and frowned. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said.

“Have you sent for a doctor?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t come. They responded that he was out on a call.” His aunt bit her lip. “He should have come,” she said.

“We should send again, just in case,” he said.

She nodded and began to pace, her little feet tracing a nervous pattern over the ground. “I’ll have Mr. Tylor send a footman.” She looked up, her eyes worried. “I am sorry you had to come, Stephen. I know you needed to stay with your parents after everything.” She looked as though she had the weight of the world on her frail shoulders. “I just thought you would want to be here.”

“I will hear no more apologies from you,” Stephen reassured her. “Of course I want to be here. You did the right thing to send for me.” He looked around him. “Please,” he said quietly. “May I see her?”

“She is in her chambers upstairs,” his aunt said quietly. “There’s a maid in there to watch her breathing until the doctor arrives, but she has not awoken since she fell ill.”

Stephen nodded, his heart sick. He bid his aunt goodbye and walked slowly upstairs, his feet heavy with dread. Ruth’s door was ajar. He pushed gently in, the door whispering quietly against the carpet as it swung open. The maid, sitting by the fireside doing some mending, looked up at him as he walked in and held a finger to her lips. Stephen nodded and came into the room completely, his eyes falling on Ruth’s slim form in the bed.

It was a shock to see her like this. She looked even smaller than usual — her form dwarfed by the grand bed in which she was ensconced. Her arms lay limply atop the coverlet at her sides, and her soft blond hair was loose against the pillow. Her eyes were closed; her skin was pale, and her breath was shallow.

He walked tentatively towards the bed, and the maid came to speak to him in a low voice.

“She has not woken up,” the woman said quietly. “May you sit with her for a moment? I need to go and get a fresh basin from downstairs, but Lady Cecelia bid her never be alone. I do not want to leave her side.”

Stephen nodded, thankful to be left alone with Ruth. “I will stay until you return with the water,” he said softly.

The maid left, and Stephen walked forward to take a seat beside the bed. He looked at her for a long time, watching her breath rising and falling and letting his eyes soak in the sight of her. Fear thrummed in his heart. He leaned forward, his voice shaking despite his best efforts .

“Ruth,” he said hoarsely. “Ruth, can you hear me?”

She did not move. She just lay there, looking pale and fragile.

“You cannot leave me,” he said brokenly. “Please don’t leave me.” He reached out and caught up her hand in his. Her skin was hot and dry, her fingers limp. “You do not understand,” he went on. “I learned — I now know…” he let his head fall, the words failing him. After a long moment, he raised his eyes again and spoke in a more steady tone. “You have to wake up,” he said, “because I have to tell you the truth. I have to tell you that I love you. I have to tell you that I cannot live without you.” He pressed her hand. “Do you hear that, Ruth? Do you hear that I cannot live without you? I will do whatever it takes.”

He felt hot tears coming into his eyes and made no effort to hold them back. He regretted every moment that had passed without him sharing the truth of his heart with Ruth. He thought of how helpless she had looked standing in the downpour outside the ballroom, and in his heart he wondered if her illness was more than simply physical.

Is she heartbroken?

He bitterly wished time backwards, thinking of the sweet and simple moments they had shared in her first days at the manor. I should have told her that day in the library, or when we walked out in the gardens, or the night we danced. Any time but now, when she could not understand that he loved her. She could not hear. She was slipping away from him.

The door opened again. Stephen looked up, tears in his eyes, expecting to see the maid back with a basin of water. It was not the maid, however. It was Dr. Morris. He hurried in from the hall outside and turned only briefly to look at Stephen.

“How is she?” he asked, taking Ruth’s hand from Stephen and pressing his fingers against her wrist.

“I — I don’t know,” Stephen faltered. “I only just came. Did you ask my aunt?”

“She was not downstairs when I came,” the doctor said hurriedly. “The butler showed me up.”

The maid entered now, the water basin in her hands. The doctor looked over at her with a passing glance. “Yes, we will need that,” he said. “Please fetch some cool cloths as well.” He hesitated and looked up at Stephen. “I am sorry to say this,” he said, “but I need to examine her. It would be best if I had space to tend to her, my Lord.”

Stephen shook his head. “I ought to stay with her,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want to know if anything happens. I want to be here if—”

The doctor took his hands, giving him a gentle shake. “My Lord, I am in a good position to help your Miss Selwyn, but your presence here will only hinder me. If you really want to help, you will give me space to do what is necessary.” His voice was firm, but kind. “I can see that you care very much about Miss Selwyn’s well-being,” he said gently. “I will be careful to show her every attention.”

Persuaded at last, Stephen pulled away from Ruth’s bedside and stepped out of the room. The door closed behind him with a hollow sound. He felt as though his heart was trapped in there alongside her. No matter where his body might walk, his true self would always be with Ruth Selwyn.

He walked soberly down the hall, thinking to check his aunt’s chambers before going back downstairs to seek her out. The doctor had said she was nowhere to be found when he arrived, and so Stephen suspected all the drama and fear had exhausted his aunt and sent her to her chambers.

She was there when he knocked, but she did not look at all overtaxed. Instead, she sat quite straight and pale in her chair by the window, her features showing only concern for her companion a few doors down.

“Did you see her?”

“I did.” Stephen came and sat across from his aunt, crossing his hands in his lap. “She does not look well at all. The doctor is here now. He sent me out.”

His aunt’s face blanched. “The doctor came?” she said. “I only just sent word again.”

“He must have been already on his way.” Stephen sighed. “He seems a level-headed man of science. I hope he will be able to help her.”

His aunt reached out and touched his face gently. The movement was so unexpected that it took Stephen aback, and yet, at the same time, it seemed natural — almost maternal. “Poor lad,” she said quietly. “I can see how this is affecting you.”

Stephen felt the tears that had begun in Ruth’s room come back into his eyes, hot and unbidden.

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologizing for the show of emotion and dropping his head into his hands. “It is just that I should not have let you and Ruth leave. I felt so defeated. I was concerned with myself and my own problems, and I did not watch you both closely enough. I should have thought of her well-being that night.”

She dropped her hand to his arm and patted him kindly. “You don’t need to apologize any more, Stephen,” she said quietly. “You are here now, and that is all that matters.” She gave a weak shrug. “Besides that, you could not have stopped a sickness with your presence alone.”

“The doctor said something when I first met him,” Stephen said, paraphrasing, “He said a person’s heart and spirit can affect their physical state. He said if someone feels lonely or abandoned, they will deteriorate in body as well as in their mind.”

“He sounds like a wise man,” his aunt said stiffly.

“That’s just it,” Stephen pressed, his heart hurting. “I’m concerned that my neglect of Ruth last night, and all the weeks I kept my true feelings to myself, have brought this upon her.”

“Your feelings?” his aunt said, arching an eyebrow.

“Do not pretend you have not seen the truth,” Stephen said with a slight smile. “I may be dense enough to ignore the obvious affection that has grown between Miss Selwyn and myself — but you are not. I believe you have hinted at it for some time.”

His aunt acknowledged this with a brief nod. “It is not too late,” she said.

“I can only hope that is true,” Stephen said.

There was a tentative knock at the door, and the maid from earlier stepped into the room.

“Duchess,” she said, giving a quick curtsy, “may I have a moment?”

“Yes, of course,” his aunt said, standing. “Is it about Miss Selwyn? ”

The maid nodded. “The doctor wishes to speak with Lord Darnley regarding her condition.”

“I will come at once,” Stephen said. He turned to his aunt. “Would you like to come as well?” he asked.

She shook her head quickly.

“He asked for you,” she said. Her lips seemed tight and worried.

Stephen bid her goodbye with a quick nod and followed the maid out into the hallway. Dr. Morris only a few doors down, sitting on a bench outside Ruth’s chambers. He stood when Stephen approached, his face sober.

“I have seen Miss Selwyn and feel confident of a diagnosis,” he said.

“Tell me,” Stephen said. “It is better that I know the worst and can prepare.”

“It is serious,” the doctor said. “She seems to have caught an illness of the lungs from exposure to the elements.”

“She was in the rain for some time last night,” Stephen said.

“Yes, the maid already gave me her history,” the doctor said. “This kind of thing is very serious. Her breathing is shallow. I have given her some medicine and seen to her current comfort, but this condition can change at a moment’s notice. It is key that you keep her room warm and monitor her breathing.”

“I will stay with her,” Stephen said. “I will not leave her side. Is there nothing else you can do to ensure she comes through this?”

The doctor stared at him for a long moment, his eyes serious. “I wish I could give you another answer,” he said, “but the truth is that Miss Selwyn appears to have been somewhat compromised already. She seems as though she was already weak when the illness took hold. The most you can do now is hope and pray.”

Stephen’s heart sank.

“I may go to her now?” he asked quietly.

“You may,” the doctor stepped aside and allowed him to pass. “I will stay for the evening. I have no other patients, and if she takes a turn for the worst I wish to be here to give my assistance.”

Stephen nodded wordlessly, slipping into Ruth’s bedroom and leaving the doctor standing outside.