Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

E mily bit her thumbnail, watching as the physician examined Alex. Her heart raced, though not for any health difficulty of her own. Her nerves were shot due to lack of sleep, from waking every time her husband coughed in the opposite room. She was not upset with him, for he obviously was experiencing much worse, along with the same sleep deprivation. But just the sight of the doctor, seeing his tools and the way he poked and prodded, brought back frightful memories from her youth, and when the panic set in, she did not want to face the reality that her husband might not survive.

"He has an infection of the lungs," Doctor Smith explained, and Emily's heart dropped. Such an illness would not be as easily overcome.

"Was it not just a mere cold?" she asked in a small voice.

"If it had been a cold before, it has expanded to his lungs, I'm sorry to say." Doctor Smith returned his things to his bag. "We will need to administer milk weed tea for the infection, and laudanum for the pain. We will also need to let blood from his arm, as well as apply leeches to his chest, which should reduce the pressure there."

Emily swallowed hard. Of course there would be drastic measures for such a dire situation.

She cast her eyes to her husband, who was finally sleeping in his upright position after so much difficulty. If it was her choice, then she would do what she could to alleviate his pain.

"Very well. Please proceed."

From his black bag, the doctor pulled out a jar of leeches and a small medicinal tincture. The laudanum was administered first, then the doctor proceeded to retrieve a porcelain bowl to hold the blood, and a white cloth, which opened to hold multiple short blades.

"Please help me remove his shirt."

Emily immediately stiffened. Remove Alex's shirt? That belonged firmly in a part of their relationship that she had continuously delayed, but there was no avoiding it now.

Together they lifted his white shirt out of his arms and over his head, and Emily averted her eyes while the doctor turned to prepare.

"Please sit with him while I make the incision," the doctor asked.

Emily moved to the other side of the bed and sat down beside Alex, wondering how any of her efforts would make a difference with his broad shoulders. But she put her arm around him, hands securely resting on top of his warm skin, then gave the doctor a nod.

The older gentleman held tightly onto Alex's forearm as he made the incision in the divot of the elbow. Alex groaned and rolled his head but did not wake or open his eyes. Emily held him fast, shushing his fears, and caressing the side of his head.

She watched the blood slowly trickle down Alex's arm into the porcelain bowl, and hot tears pricked in the back of her eyes, but she swallowed them away. What was wrong with her? She had seen countless friends suffer with similar illnesses and face death, but somehow this time, it was a bold, colorful reminder of her husband's mortality. There was no guarantee he would survive this, and that possibility terrified her.

Once Alex's arm was propped on the bowl that rested on the bed, the doctor reached for the jar of leeches, and Emily had to steel herself. The little black wriggling devils were placed on Alex's stomach and ribcage, until they attached. This was enough to make her turn pale herself.

Doctor Smith sighed. "Now we will give the arm some time, but I must fetch the milk weed. I will return shortly."

Emily nodded as the doctor took his bag and left the room.

Then she was alone with Alex again, so she sat back and sighed. She ought to go about her day as normal. Have one of the servants sit with him, for she was certain Mrs. Barnes would willingly volunteer. Emily ought to go ride her horse, enjoy the outdoors, read her books, visit every room in the estate, anything to distract herself. But she felt chained to Alex's side. Her mind would not be freed from the sickroom until she saw some improvement. But how could that be? She remembered seeing him in the duke's study, how every little thing about him repulsed her. She did not want to be near him, let alone touch him. And yet somehow, without warning, that had all changed. Now she was calmed being in his presence, grateful to be close enough to touch, to support him when his health was failing.

He let out a light groan, and Emily reached up to dab the cloth against his fevered brow. She did not like seeing him so deathly still, but she knew his poor body needed to rest.

"Come back to me, Alex," she found herself saying. "Come back and fight with me if you must. Just come back."

Her heart wrenched at the thought of losing him, but why? It couldn't be because of a simple signed marriage certificate that made him her husband. And yet the man she had previously despised was now the person she would willingly lose sleep over? Fight off tears at the sight of his blood?

Emily shook her head. She knew the panic likely stemmed from the nightmares of her past, losing friends to illness at the boarding school. So many of the girls came from wealth and status, and their families paid for the best possible doctors. Others did not have such means, and they were left with the local physician, without the support of loved ones. Emily had tried to help those girls as best she could, but even one death was too many. And she had seen many. The sound of the doctor's tools and the smell of blood was already too familiar to her. Emily could not endure another death. Especially not her husband.

But even more than just her past experience, Emily knew deep down she genuinely cared for Alex. No matter that he said he did not want her and consistently told her she was the most infuriating woman. No matter that he drove her to madness at times. And she had consistently pushed him away; she knew that much was true. Ever since that night in the carriage, when he had denied her access to his heart, she had sought for their solution in living apart. She had tried to keep him at bay, but it was no use, even with all his failures and repeated apologies. He was her husband, and she wanted her chance to actually live a married life with him. But what if she wanted all of this with a man who was only going to die?

She sighed, resting against the headboard and closing her eyes, despicable thoughts entering her mind. If Alex did not survive, she would be a widow, and a wealthy one, at that. She would no longer be bound by a husband or by the duke. She would be free.

She could even return to Mr. Evans if she wanted to .

But that thought was immediately rejected. In fact, it sickened her now.

Alex suddenly leaned forward, waking in a coughing fit. Emily balanced his bleeding arm in the bowl, made sure the leeches were undisturbed, and tried to soothe him until he leaned back again in fitful sleep, his labored breathing sounding that much worse.

Tears burned in her eyes again, but she did not let them fall. The all-encompassing fear that she might lose him settled over her, so she continued to run her hand over his sweaty hair and shush his aching sounds.

"Please do not die, husband," she whispered, touching her forehead to his. "I do not wish to be a widow."