Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

Nigel

N igel's eyes opened. He sat forward in the armchair, finding a blanket half tangled around his legs. He panted, struggling to breathe clearly as he took stock of what he had seen in his mind.

It was a dream. Just a nightmare. That was all. Kathryn is not in a coffin!

He raised his hands and rubbed the palms over his eyes, trying to dissuade any last images from his mind. He'd dreamt many times over the night, sometimes of Emily, and other times of Kathryn. What struck him now was how he had stopped thinking of her as Miss Fitzroy at all, but simply as Kathryn.

What is happening to me?

He shifted the blanket from his lap and looked around, only to see that his second blanket was across another. In the chair beside him, practically leaning out of the chair and nearly on his arm, was Kathryn.

Fast asleep, her eyes closed, her chest rose and fell with her calm, peaceful breath. Her hair had tumbled out of her updo a little, the rich brown tones curling at her neck.

Nigel blinked, for a second certain she would disappear – he had to still be dreaming, surely? Yet the more he looked at her, the more he realized it was no dream at all. Kathryn was indeed sitting beside him.

He leaned toward her, reaching for her loose hair and praying she would not wake at his touch. He gave into temptation and trailed a finger through a loose lock of her hair, pushing it back from her cheek and behind her ear, so that he could see her face. She had a pleasant pink hue to her cheeks, showing she was warm.

There was a strong scent of lavender in the room too and he lifted his head from her, looking around to see much had changed. She'd arranged herbs around him, all scents that were supposed to have calming effects. The blanket on his lap suddenly made sense too.

She did all of this. She took care of me.

He longed to wake her and to thank her. Her efforts to bring him peace, when it must have been apparent that he was having nightmares, showed kindness indeed. He reached for her another time, tempted to give into even greater temptation, maybe lay a hand on her cheek, just to let her know he was there.

It was then he caught sight of the burnt down candle beside her elbow, placed on the table with the periodicals on her other side. The light in the room wasn't from the candle at all, but from a glimmer of light through the curtains.

No…it cannot be morning already?

He moved to his feet, hurrying to the window where he pushed the curtains open, peering beyond. It was early morning. The lane was still mostly empty, but with the grey light, it was clear it wouldn't be long before the sun rose above the rooftops.

"It's morning." He turned around, his eyes darting to the sleeping figure of Kathryn.

Back at Lady Georgiana's house, people could be rousing any minute. They could discover that Kathryn wasn't at home. What then? The scandal that would ensue would be outrageous!

I have to get her out of here.

"Kathryn?" He didn't think about the fact he hadn't used her title. He crossed toward her, reaching for her shoulder. "Kathryn?" He shook her shoulder.

She roused, her eyes blinking open as she sat straight.

"Doctor? You're awake?" She smiled softly. His chest ached to see that smile, for he knew he was about to ruin it. "I hope you didn't have any more of those nightmares?—"

"It is morning." He didn't have time to chat now. Her eyes widened and she sat forward, with his hand dropping from her shoulder.

"It can't be." She stood up and moved to the window, copying his same movements. "God's wounds." She thrust her hands into her hair, ending up pulling at what remained of the updo even more.

"You have to get out of here. If you're seen around here at this time?—"

"I know, I know," she said hurriedly. She darted past him, running toward the nearest mirror where she tried to fix her hair.

"What time does your maid check on you in the morning? Will she know you are missing yet?" He reached for her cloak and gathered it together along with her books, stuffing them into her bag.

"She comes in at eight o'clock."

He reached for his pocket watch, discarded on the table.

"You have time to get home."

"How long?"

"Not long." He grimaced, catching her eye in the reflection of the mirror. "You shall have to move fast. I'd offer to take you there on my horse?—"

"Pah! That would make the whispers even worse!"

"Exactly." He nodded, moving toward her and wrapping the cloak around her shoulders. "Go, quickly. Before anyone can know."

"I'm going." She turned her chin down. He thought he caught sight of a glimmer of sadness in her eyes, but that could have just been panic and he had mistaken it for something else.

He followed her to the door where she pulled her hood up around her head.

"Oh, Kathryn?" he called to her as he held the door open for her. She stopped at the top of the stairs, turning back to face him. "Thank you. For last night." He jerked his head back into the room. "The drink, the herbs…they helped." He offered a soft smile.

She smiled back briefly.

"Any time." The kindness of the words made him inhale sharply. Then she was gone, all too quickly, darting down the stairs and out of sight. As he heard the door close in the distant regions of the house, he hastened to the window, looking down into the street to watch her path as she left.

She disappeared into what remained of the shadows of the street. The effect was so instant, so sudden, that Nigel had to remind himself that her presence there hadn't been a dream at all. She had been real.

"Why did I dream of her?" Nigel sighed deeply as he rushed through the house. He fetched fresh water from his garderobe and pulled out his bath in his chamber, preparing for a bath. The entire time he worked, he thought of the dreams he'd had of Kathryn, and of everything that had passed between them.

When he caught sight of their empty cups and remembered the tea she'd made the previous night, he made his own version, trying to remember as best as he could what quantities she had put in of each ingredient. With the water freshly boiled, he poured himself a cup of tea and took the tea with him to the bath.

Plunging into the water, the heat helped to dissuade the memories of dreaming of Emily, and that awful day when he had witnessed her death. Since then, he hadn't lost a patient. It didn't seem to matter how many times Doctor Richards had reminded him of the fact that consumption was a highly fatal disease, one that was nigh-on impossible to fight, it still left Nigel riddled with guilt.

Since that day, he'd fought tirelessly to save every single one of his patients and he'd determinedly refused to ever be charmed by a woman again.

"Until now," Nigel muttered aloud to himself. He took a big gulp of the tea, praying it would help distract him, then he plunged his head under the water, feeling the heat envelop his face.

Kathryn.

It was plain to him what the dream meant now. He knew it as well as he had known what she meant that day of the tea party, where he had been incredibly jealous at Robert's attentions toward her.

I care for her. Far more than I should do.

When he ran out of breath, he pushed his head above the water again and brushed back his wet hair across his forehead. He coughed a little on some of the water and shook his head.

This was not supposed to happen. Good God, what am I going to do about Kathryn now?

* * *

Kathryn peered around the gate of Manor Cottage, looking toward the house. Her eyes danced between the windows as she watched warily for any sign of life. Fortunately, it was still so early that the road behind her was relatively quiet, but she also knew that Lady Georgiana was sometimes an early riser, and she feared her cousin would come to her chamber window and notice Kathryn trying to sneak in.

I cannot use the front door. It is too risky!

By this time, the butler could have risen, and he could be preparing the dining room for breakfast.

Determined to avoid meeting him or their eyes passing as she walked past the dining room window, she darted for the longer way around the house. She kept closer to the walls, at all times moving fast passed the windows and peering inside before she dared step out. Where the curtains had been pushed back, fortunately, there was no one inside.

When she reached the back of the house, she hovered by the door to the servants' entrance. She reached for the handle, but before she could take hold of it, it turned. Someone was opening it from the other side.

Kathryn leaped back and hid behind the door just as it opened wide. With a hand across her own mouth, she held her breath, trying not to make a sound as someone strode out of the house.

It was the gardener. He always rose early and now stepped away from the house shaking out his legs. He must have had his breakfast already, for he wiped his lips and moved toward the thick borders of flowers, rubbing his hands together as he prepared for the day.

As he kept his back to Kathryn, she slowly reached for the door again, opening it a crack and peering inside. No one was in the hallway. Checking back over her shoulder to ensure the gardener hadn't seen her, she stepped into the hallway.

Walking on her toes, she tried not to put her heels down, fearing they would make too loud a sound and give her away. She crept down the corridor until she reached the kitchens and the open doorway, hearing the unmistakable sounds inside of people moving around.

"Won't be long now," one of the cooks said to another. "Get those pastries upstairs, girl."

"Yes, Simmons." The maid must have grabbed a tray, for she emerged out of the doorway.

Kathryn once more flattened herself to the wall, only daring to breathe again once the maid had gone far enough that she was certain she would not be seen. When the cook in the kitchen started to hum a soft tune, Kathryn peered around the doorframe. He was lost to his work, kneading fresh dough and singing his merry song.

She walked on, darting past the open doorway quickly before he could see her. Reaching for the stairs that led to the top floor, she hastened up as quickly as she could, trying to avoid the steps that she already knew creaked. On the top floor, she peered out of a door, looking up and down for any sign of Lady Georgiana.

For a moment, she imagined what her cousin would say if she discovered the scandal.

She could practically hear Lady Georgiana's voice, taking on that sharp tone, echoing through the rafters of this great house. What would be worse than the voice would be the icy gaze. She much preferred Lady Georgiana's soft and often humored smile. Only occasionally would her cousin raise her eyebrows in a little shock or derision, usually when Kathryn tripped up or made a spectacle of herself.

What would her expression be if she truly knew where I had been this last night?

She shuddered as she looked up and down the corridor. Seeing no sign of Lady Georgiana nor a maid, she walked quickly down the hallway, heading for her chamber. Turning the handle, she darted inside and planted her back to the door, looking around the room with a heavy sigh.

Her eyes widened when she realized the mess that she had left the room in. The nightgown she had changed into the night before with the maid's help was curled up at the bottom of the bed, and the bed was too neat, showing it hadn't been slept in at all. There was a pile of shoes by the open cupboard door, where Kathryn had hunted out a pair of boots for her walk to Doctor Beille's.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor behind her.

That must be the maid!

She reached for the laces of the gown and dropped the dress fast, casting it aside so that it fell across the pile of the shoes, conveniently hiding them. She didn't have time to undress out of her undergarments, so she pulled the nightgown on over them and kicked off her shoes into the cupboard. Pulling on the ends of her hair, they fell down out of the hasty updo she had made that morning. Falling back on the bed, she scrambled in it, trying to make the covers as messy as possible, just as the maid knocked on the door.

"Miss Fitzroy? May I come in?" the maid's voice sounded softly from the other side of the door.

"Yes," Kathryn called, laying still and affecting a yawn as the door opened.

The maid stumbled on the doorframe as she looked around the room, clearly finding the space in a different state to how she had left it the night before.

"Is all well?" the maid asked with concern.

"Yes, all is very well, thank you." Kathryn attempted to clear her throat, to take on some semblance of nonchalance, though she felt her heart pounding in her chest, fearing the maid would suspect something. "Actually, I do have something of a headache. Perhaps I could have breakfast served in my chamber this morning?"

"Yes, Miss Fitzroy. Of course." The maid bobbed a curtsy and left the room, but not before she cast a glance at the gown that had been dropped over the boots. As she left, Kathryn dropped down to the pillows on the bed and exhaled sharply, blowing the loose hair out of her face.

I was far too close to discovery then.