“Y-yes. He took it all.”
“That’s good. And, Cyril … thank you. Lily will be in soon, and you can go home.”
“N-no. I will s-stay here. He is m-my charge. I w-want to stay.”
She gave him a long look. He was slightly flushed, and there was a look in his eyes that was different, a sense of purpose, perhaps, of genuine concern for someone other than himself.
“Very well, Cyril. If you insist. But I warn you, it will no doubt be a long night. I’ll ask Lily to make you up a pallet on the floor.” She stroked Pascal’s fevered brow one more time, then went into the next room and closed the door behind her.
She sat in the armchair and picked up her mother’s book of medical notations, but she could find nothing that approximated Nicholas’ condition. His skin had warmed, his lungs were clear, his heartbeat was back to a normal pace. And yet she could not rouse him. She prepared to wait out the night.
By the third night Georgia was at her wits’ end. Pascal’s fever had not broken, and he was delirious. And yet she was more worried about Nicholas than she was about the child. She knew that if Nicholas did not wake soon and take nourishment, he would die. But what could she do? There was no point trying to dribble liquid down his throat, for it would only choke him.
“Nicholas, I’m just going to put some more of the poultice on,” she said, pulling back the covers and lifting his nightshirt. Binkley would no doubt have been shocked, but he wasn’t there to see, for he was finally getting some much-needed sleep. She rubbed the poultice on his poor ribs, wondering what he had come into contact with to create such bruising.
“Oh, Nicholas,” she said, wondering if he could hear her. “You must get better. You really must.” She replaced the covers and rested her forehead on his chest for a minute, so exhausted she didn’t know what to do with herself. “I miss you, you know. I miss your silliness, and hearing you laugh. I even miss arguing with you. I miss everything about you, Nicholas. And Raleigh misses you too.”
Raleigh, hearing his name, lifted his head and nudged at her feet. She’d been amazed by his devotion. When Binkley had remembered him the morning after the shipwreck and let him out of the tack room, he had barreled directly up to Nicholas’ bedroom, refusing since to leave him except to eat and briefly go outside so as not to disgrace himself. Georgia wondered if his frantic behavior before they had left that night hadn’t been some sort of premonition. Animals were uncanny in that way. She sat up and gave him a pat. “You must be worried too, my friend. I’m sure you love him every bit as much as I do.”
Raleigh yawned and licked her hand, then put his head back down on his paws and closed his eyes.
Georgia stood and went to the connecting door, putting her ear against it. She heard nothing, so she carefully opened it and put her head through. Pascal was finally sleeping, and Cyril was stretched out on his pallet, his arms flung over his face. She quietly shut the door again and went over to the window, where dawn was just breaking. Everything was quiet. It was as if the whole world slept, except for her. And Nicholas slept most deeply of all.
Helpless frustration washed over her, and she slammed her fists against the wall. Why wouldn’t he wake? Why? It was as if he’d lost the will to live, as if he’d just given up. She couldn’t do a thing for him, and he wasn’t doing a thing for himself.
“What am I to do with you?” she shouted furiously, turning around to glare at him. “You haven’t much time left, you know. Do you want to die? Do you? It would seem so, for there is nothing else wrong with you that I can find. Very well, then. You’ve always been mule-headed. If you want to die, go right ahead. Don’t worry about the fact that I love you, that you’ll break my heart. Oh, and don’t worry about Binkley’s heart either, even though he loves you as if you were his son. Then there is your uncle—you said it half-killed him the first time you went away. What do you think your permanent departure will do to him, especially in his condition? But fine, Nicholas. Be stubborn. Off you go, leaving a trail of heartbroken people behind. I suppose we’ll all find a way to get on without you, even though life will never be the same. I think it is extremely inconsiderate and unfeeling of you. The least you could do is to put up the semblance of a fight.”
She took a deep breath, having worked herself into a righteous fury, and marched over to the bed, glaring down at him. “I just want you to know one thing, Nicholas. If you die, the troll wins. And I don’t think I could stand it.”
She went back to the armchair and slumped down into it, her body shaking with spent emotion. And then she picked up her mother’s notebook again and began to read through it, not taking in the words.
An hour later Nicholas opened his eyes.
Georgia came awake with a start, the book having fallen open in her lap, and she realized she’d been dozing. She rubbed her burning eyes, then pushed herself to her feet and went to check on Nicholas.
There had been no change. She sighed heavily, then went next door to see how Pascal was. He and Cyril were both still asleep, and she had no intention of disturbing them. She closed the door and went to stir the fire.
She thought she heard someone whisper, and she spun around, thinking she was beginning to imagine things. Nicholas had not moved. She started to turn back to the fire, when it came again.
“Water…”
“Nicholas?” she said, running to the bed, almost knocking the chair over as she went, and banging her shin in the process, but she didn’t even notice. “Nicholas?”
His eyes opened, and she covered her face with trembling hands for a moment, trying to collect herself. Her relief almost sent her to her knees. “Nicholas, thank God … oh, thank God.” She poured a glass of water from the carafe next to his bed, her hands trembling so badly that she nearly dropped it. “Here, my love, here you are. Let me help you.”
She held his head for him as he drank deeply, and then she helped him to lie back. He was weak—terribly weak. But he was alive and awake, and she couldn’t have asked for more.
His eyes fluttered closed again, and he turned his cheek into the pillow with a sigh. Georgia, her entire body shaking, sat down on the side of the bed, holding his hand. She avoided the temptation of shaking him to see if he would wake, although it took tremendous willpower. She bit her lip, not knowing how to contain her happiness.
Nicholas had come back. Everything was going to be all right. She covered her face and gave in to her tears, but for the first time they were tears of relief.
She was still sitting there when Binkley came in with hot water. “Binkley,” she said, looking up through swollen eyes, and Binkley very deliberately set the pitcher down and straightened.
“Is it over, madam?” he asked with great dignity.
“Oh, Binkley, no! It’s not over in the least. He was awake—only for a very brief time, mind you, but he asked for water, and he drank an entire glassful!”
“Madam! Madam, this is true?” He approached the bed and peered down at Nicholas as if to find some illumination there.
“It is true. I think he is sleeping a natural sleep now.”
“Then I must prepare gruel, for when he wakes he will need nourishment. And I have already made broth. Good strengthening beef broth from the bone I saved. And then no doubt after his meal he will want to be shaved. And a bath. I am sure he will want a proper bath.” He cleared his throat and turned away for a moment, wiping at his eyes.
Georgia smiled, thinking Binkley’s priorities perfectly in character. “It sounds wonderful, Binkley. It really does. I think the broth first, for his stomach might rebel against solid food.”
“Indeed, madam. I bow to your superior judgment in these matters. Perhaps the boy, Pascal, will want the gruel.”
“Binkley … you have already prepared the gruel, have you not? There is no point prevaricating, for I can see that you have.”
Binkley sniffed. “I had hoped it might be needed, madam.”
Georgia’s smile widened. “And so it shall be. You are an excellent man, Binkley, as Nicholas has said repeatedly. He will be very happy to wake and find himself in competent hands.”
“I do not feel your hands incompetent in the least, madam, although there are certain tasks that a gentleman’s gentleman is meant to perform. I will be most happy to see to those details, for Mr. Daventry will no doubt be bedridden for a short period.”
“Thank you, Binkley.” Georgia smothered a laugh as Binkley took himself away. Binkley had a way of leading her through the maze of correct behavior without ever making an exact statement. She was learning all sorts of things about life in the upper class in a most unconventional fashion, and Binkley was an education unto himself.
Nicholas slept the morning away, which gave Georgia a chance to turn her attention to Pascal. When she went next door, she found Cyril still sound asleep and Pascal tossing and turning, muttering all sorts of things that made little sense. His fever still burned, and his chest was more congested than ever. She quickly administered an infusion of betony to help ease his chest, then sponged him with cool water.
“G-Georgia,” Cyril said, sitting up and digging at his eyes. “I f-fell asleep. I’ll d-do that.”
“It’s all right, Cyril. I’m nearly done.”
“B-but how is he? Is he improved at all?”
“No—the worst is yet to come, I think. The best we can do is to keep him comfortable. The herbs will help a little. The rest is between God and Pascal. And as I believe Pascal has already had a word with God, we might be lucky. Cyril, are you sure no one is worrying about you at home?”
“Who is there to w-worry about m-me?” he said with a shrug. “They know where I am.”
“Yes, I suppose. Well, I’ll leave you now to look after Pascal. Nicholas is slightly improved, you’ll be happy to hear. He woke briefly.”
“Oh,” he said with a return of his former sulkiness. “I s-suppose that’s g-good news.”
“Don’t stretch your concern,” Georgia said with disgust. “I’m sure he’ll survive without it.” She went out of the room, and this time she slammed the door behind her.
Later that morning Nicholas rolled his head on the pillow with a low moan. Georgia was immediately there. “Nicholas? It’s all right. Everything is going to be fine. Wake up, for you need to drink something now.”
He obliged her by opening his eyes, and she smiled as if he’d just given her an enormous present. “Hello, Nicholas,” she said very softly. “Welcome back.”
He looked at her without speaking.
“We’ve all been terribly worried about you. It’s been three days, did you realize? I have some broth warming by the fire. Let me get it for you. The very first thing you need is some nourishment.”
She fed him from the cup, and he drank it all, and then drank a glass of water, and Georgia was very pleased. “Would you like to sleep again?” she asked when he had finished. “You should know that Binkley is most anxious to shave you and bathe you, and goodness only knows what else. He has been beside himself with worry, Nicholas, only he has disguised it in a more becoming fashion than I. I have been unfashionably frantic.”
Nicholas continued to look at her, and it was only then that she realized his eyes were blank. It was as if he didn’t recognize her, or know what she was talking about, or even care.
Her heart froze as she understood.
Nicholas hadn’t come back at all.
Binkley came out of the bedroom with the slightest crease of frown on his brow. “He does not know me, madam. You are quite correct. His eyes are open, but he does not really see. Yet he hears, and he does respond to simple requests. I was able to shave him and bathe him with no trouble. But it is as if there is no one there.”
“And what does that tell you, Binkley?” Georgia asked, anxiously pacing back and forth.
“In truth, I do not know how to answer, madam. I am perplexed. Mr. Daventry has always been possessed of a superior intelligence. I am puzzled indeed.”
“As am I, Binkley. But there is reason in this puzzle. Somewhere there is reason. I have been thinking this through for the last hour. Nicholas responds to basic needs. He knows he is thirsty, for example. He will no doubt soon know he is hungry. I believe he has everything necessary to recover his physical health. But the one thing he does not have is his cognizance. There have been no signs of injury to his head, and although injuries to the head can have odd manifestations, I do not believe this is the case. I do not think it is his brain that has been damaged.”
Binkley pulled on his ear. “What are you implying, madam?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I really don’t know. It’s the most peculiar feeling. As you said, it’s as if Nicholas has gone away somewhere. And if you trace it to an exact point, it was when he collapsed after he brought Pascal in.”
“But he collapsed from exhaustion,” Binkley said. “There is nothing uncommon in a reaction of that kind.”
“No, but there, was nothing common about the way in which Nicholas rescued Pascal, was there? They told me that Nicholas could not be dissuaded from going back into the water. They told me that he was frantic, that his strength was extraordinary—he could not be stopped by anyone.”
“It is true,” Binkley said.
“So you see, I think there is a connection.”
“A connection, madam? What sort of a connection?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. I just don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“In truth, madam, none of it makes sense. I was astonished that Mr. Daventry went into the sea at all. He has always had the most terrible fear of the water. In all the time I have known him, he has avoided it at all costs.”
“Oh, dear heaven, Binkley,” Georgia said, shocked. “You cannot be serious? He is terrified of water?”
“Yes, madam. Mr. Daventry had to drink himself into a stupor just to cross the English Channel. He is usually very accomplished at masking his feelings, but he could not disguise his terror on this occasion.”
“My God … and yet he went into a raging sea? Why would he do such a thing?”
“I do not know, madam. It has puzzled me.”
“He p-probably thought p-people would think him p-particularly brave,” Cyril said from the other door, and Georgia jumped.