Sylvia Andrew - Reawakening Miss Calverley

She shook her head at him, and then put out her hand. ‘Go, James. A visit to Hatherton and Roade might give you a purpose in life, help you to see your future in a more positive light.’

James had hesitated. Then he had recalled the many happy times he had enjoyed at Hatherton Grange. It was a relatively unpretentious country house, but Aldhursts had lived in it for three hundred years before his great-grandfather had built Roade House on higher ground a mile or so away. After his grandfather had died his grandmother had left Roade to move down to Hatherton and had made it her own. Its servants and tenants were all fiercely loyal to her, and many of them were old friends of James, too. He and his brother John had been brought to live with her there after she had discovered that her two small grandchildren had been left behind at Roade, while their parents travelled abroad.

At Hatherton he and John had learned to ride and shoot under the strict supervision of Tom Gage, his grandmother’s gamekeeper and chief groom. Mrs Culver, her housekeeper, had bound up their injuries, looked after them during childhood illnesses, and scolded them after their many escapades. And his grandmother had given them the love his parents had denied them. Hatherton had always held a special place in his affections. It should be a good place to come to terms with the life ahead of him.

So he had looked at his grandmother and nodded. ‘Very well,’ he had said. ‘I’ll go.’

But when he had set out from London that day he hadn’t expected to be sharing the house with a mysterious stranger, let alone a young woman! Where had she come from? The road to his grandmother’s house was an unfrequented lane; their nearest neighbours were four miles away, and the Portsmouth Road was several miles to the west. And how had she come by that ugly bruise on her head? The rope burns on her wrists?

He turned to look at her and saw that her eyes were open. ‘You’re still here.’ Her voice was a thread of sound. He came over to the bed and sat down.

‘Are you warm?’

She frowned. ‘Too warm. Water? Please?’

Mrs Culver had left a pitcher on the chest by the bed. He poured a little water into the glass beside it, raised her slightly and held it to her lips. But she had taken no more than a sip when her eyes closed.

‘Who are you?’ he asked softly.

He thought that she hadn’t heard him, but then, ‘I’m An…’ she began. She stopped and a small frown wrinkled her brow. After a moment she tried again. ‘I’m An…’ There was another pause, longer this time. ‘I know who you are,’ she said at last. ‘You said I was safe here.’ He nodded and she gave a small sigh. ‘I’m An…’

‘Anne who?’

Her head moved restlessly on the pillow. ‘I don’t…’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ He put his hand reassuringly over hers. ‘You can tell me later. And you are safe here, I promise.’

‘I know. Your name is James Aldhurst. This is your grandmother’s house.’ Her eyes opened. ‘Where is she?’

‘She isn’t here. She’s in London.’

She closed her eyes again and seemed to fall asleep. Thankfully, he tucked the covers round her and relaxed. After a while one of the maids came in to see if he needed anything. She offered to sit with the girl for a while too, but James refused. The frantic appeal in the girl’s eyes, the way she had clung to him, had touched him, and he intended to be there when she woke again.

The girl slept quietly for an hour or two, but after a while began to mutter and turn her head restlessly on the pillow again. James had to replace the covers as she tried to push them from her, but she protested, ‘No, don’t! I’m too…hot. Too hot. Thirsty…’ When he lifted her again and gave her a sip of water his heart sank as he realised that she was burning with heat. She was muttering incoherently, but he caught the word London several times. Then she opened her eyes and said quite clearly, ‘I must go to London! Now!’

‘You can’t go anywhere at the moment. You’ve hurt your head. You must rest.’

She resisted his efforts to put her back on the pillow and cried, ‘But there isn’t time, I tell you. You mustn’t stop me. Let me go, let me go!’ Eyes bright with fever and cheeks flushed with two spots of brilliant colour, she pushed his hand away with unexpected force and struggled to sit up. When he put an arm out to hold her back she grew even more agitated and shouted, ‘You can’t stop me! I won’t let you keep me here!’ Thrusting the covers back, she scrambled to get out of the bed, but before her foot even touched the ground she gave a cry and if James had not caught her she would have fallen to the floor. He could feel the heat of her body through the fine linen of the nightgown. She was burning up with fever.

James put her back in the bed as quickly and as gently as he could and covered her up. Then he went to the door and shouted for a servant to send for Mrs Culver, who came hurrying into the bedroom in a surprisingly short time. ‘I hadn’t gone to bed—I thought something like this would happen,’ she said briskly. ‘Now, Master James, I’d like you to hold the young woman while I give her a sip of the draught Dr Liston sent. That’s the way.’

The girl stirred as he raised her, but made no protest as Mrs Culver administered the sedative and James laid her back against the pillows. She was quiet again. Mrs Culver straightened the covers, and said firmly, ‘And now I want you to leave her with me till morning, my lord. This is a sick woman and she needs proper nursing.

She’ll be well looked after, never fear. One of the maids will join me in a minute. If she wakes and asks for you, I’ll send for you. Meanwhile, you’d do better to have some rest yourself.’

James went to his room reassured. Years before, whenever he and John had been sick, they had only ever wanted Cully to nurse them. She was the best possible person to look after his mysterious and unexpected protégée.

To his surprise James slept for a few hours, but woke soon after dawn. He had not been disturbed during the night, and hoped this was a good sign, but he nevertheless threw on his dressing robe and hurried along to the green bedroom. The maid was fast asleep in a chair on the other side of the room, but Mrs Culver was leaning over the bed, bathing her patient’s face.

‘How is she, Cully?’ he asked as he came softly into the room.

‘She hasn’t stirred all night, and seems to be breathing quite naturally. The fever has gone down.’

‘That’s good news! You must be tired. Let me take over.’

‘I never need much sleep, Master James. And I think…’ She paused as the maid stirred and woke up. Then, with a critical look at James’s state of undress, she raised her voice and said, ‘I think I can say the patient is doing well, my lord. It’s kind of you to be concerned. I’m sure it would be quite in order for you to visit her later in the day—after breakfast, perhaps?’ She turned to the maid. ‘Rose, go to the kitchen and tell cook to have his lordship’s breakfast ready in half an hour. And if Mrs Gage is in the kitchen, ask her to come up here.’ The girl turned to go. ‘And, Rose! Remember to hold your tongue about this young woman!’ Rose nodded and left.

Ater she had gone Mrs Culver said severely, ‘My lord, I have to say that coming along here at this hour before you are properly dressed was very unwise. The sudden arrival of this young woman has given the servants enough to talk about already. It won’t do to give them any more.’

James brushed this aside and asked, ‘Why do you wish to see Mrs Gage?’

‘She’s a good nurse and knows how to keep a still tongue in her head. If you agreed, she could sit with the young woman during the day.’