Authors: Tencia Winters,Serena Vale
She opened the page at which the bookmark was and sat down beside him in her carefully placed chair so she could see him clearly and watch for any signs of improvement. As Emma positioned herself more comfortably, her eyes naturally settled upon his tired face for a split second every now and then. This time, however, his fluttering closed eyelids were faintly open and they watched her, mystified.
She gasped aloud in surprise. “Oh, Charles.”
He swallowed with some effort.
She gripped his hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I’ll get Doctor Seymour.” She had since learnt his name.
She felt his fingers squeeze tightly around hers as she tried to pull away.
“St-stay,” he croaked; his throat dry.
Emma was confused and somewhat taken aback but she nodded and sat on the edge of his bed; her hand entwined with his sweaty palm. She leaned over him and caressed his roasting forehead. His eyes followed her as she fussed over him. A strange look in his eyes she could not identify.
“How are you feeling?” she gave as much of a smile as she could.
He attempted to smile wearily and Emma laughed nervously in reply.
“You look terrible,” she whispered. “But so much better than you were,” Emma promised.
He breathed loudly and a small smile appeared on his lips again and she could sense he was writhing in some kind of agony.
Emma bent down and pressed her moist lips against his heated brow; she lingered there for a few moments and felt him sigh deeply. Pulling back, she gazed him intensely in the eye.
“What you did,” she paused, unable to fit words to what she felt and wanted to describe. “was the bravest act I have ever witnessed.”
She sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady her voice.
“You saved me.” She stated simply.
He smiled again and attempted to speak again; his mouth opening slightly.
The door opened squeakily and both of them looked toward the intruder. Doctor Seymour came in and a huge smile erupted across his face.
“Your Grace,” he addressed the Duke. “It is heartening to see you awake.”
Emma smiled at the doctor; her heart fluttering with a newfound joy. She looked back at the Duke; his eyes were on her face. Emma did not know whether to feel uncomfortable or finally flattered. She smiled at him and realised he was still dazed and in the charge of his fever.
“He is still too unwell to speak, doctor,” informed the Duchess, raising herself up from his side.
He stepped aside, allowing the doctor to examine him further. Emma looked back at him; his puzzled eyes still followed her, fixated upon her in almost a wild way. She looked away and sat somewhere away from them. Emma was greatly fatigued. The anxiety of the past few days now became apparent to her body and she collapsed readily into the inviting chair. Her ears half listened to the warm-hearted questions being asked her husband by Doctor Seymour. His cheery disposition was more than comforting to Emma and she felt, for the first time in days that she could finally fully relax.
Despite the vast advancements in the Duke’s health, he was still weary in body and spirit. His body was still weak although his fever had broken a great deal and some colour, if looked closely, had returned to him. The wound in his chest was the worry of all five of the doctors’ minds. The fear of infection was great and was increasingly watched. His spirit, on the other hand, was low and even more worrisome than his physical being. He was guilt-ridden and anxious. Emma wondered profusely over what was racing through the contents of his mind and worn out heart. Upon discovering the atrocious truths of the distressing ordeal, Emma had thus come to understand more the stresses imposed upon her husband.
Families were faring badly in the county and riots were now part of the problems. Hungry men and angry men were igniting passions best left without spark. More so, it was left to the Duke to come up with some sort of solution and now his current situation meant the circumstances of those people were left unanswered for longer. Emma was in wonderment and acute admiration for the profound compassion driving the workings of her husband and she had taken it upon herself to help him find some solace in his incapacitation.
She met Doctor Seymour entering the Duke’s chambers just before she did. The room was quiet as her husband lay sleeping deeply. She smiled when she saw him in his tranquillity.
“Good afternoon, doctor,” she whispered a greeting.
Doctor Seymour smiled widely; his likeness of her was growing fonder every day they spent caring for the Duke.
“Your Grace, how are you?” he whispered back.
“I am well.”
“I know you have developed a strong stomach for gore and wounds but I feel I still must warn you, I am here to clean the Duke’s injury.” He held up his equipment as proof.
Emma smiled, almost giggling at his compliment. “Of course, thank you Doctor.” She paused looking over at her husband. “In fact, if I may be so bold. May I clean it?”
The sweet old man looked significantly stunned at her proposal.
“I would like to learn how to do it, Doctor,” she explained. “At least take some weight off your daily burden.”
“That is beyond kindness, Your Grace,” he smiled. “Only if you are sure?”
“I am,” she assured him.
The old man was hesitant but eventually he nodded. Once it was decided, Emma felt the nerves of her choice affect her as she followed Doctor Seymour to the sleeping figure of her husband. She sat next to him on the bed as the thoughtful doctor arranged the cleaning supplies and began to remove the bandage from his chest.
The smell hit her first. The pungent aroma of rotting flesh. Then, she caught sight of the gory pulp of mangled flesh and she felt her stomach knot tightly. She sucked in a deep breath and Doctor Seymour checked on to her.
“Are you fit to continue?” he inquired; his face full of concern.
She nodded swiftly, looking at him for some confidence and he smiled encouragingly. She washed her hands in the steaming hot water and Doctor Seymour waited patiently to show her what to do. She breathed deeply, peering curiously over his shoulder, observing the manner in which he cleaned away the blood. He smiled over at her every now and then until finally he offered her the clean cloth.
Emma looked to him for some faith once more and he urged her on. She took the hot cloth within her fingers and shuffled closer to his side. He murmured in his agitated sleep and winced against every touch. Emma softly dragged the moist cloth against the spongy flesh of his weeping lesion. She shivered in disgust but it did not cause her panic. The white cloth began to stain with vivid colours of red, brown and yellow. Swapping the dirty cloth for a new one, she gained some more belief in her ability and studied the wound with some attention, cleaning out particular areas more thoroughly.
“Here, Your Grace,” she heard the doctor whisper beside her. “This ointment will help heal the wound.”
He passed her a new square piece of cloth and a small bottle of some healing lotion. She dabbed it carefully on the cloth and sealed it on his chest. Doctor Seymour grasped her hands gently and guided her to fasten the bandage securely around her husband.
“Well done Your Grace,” he commended her. “That took courage.”
She smiled somewhat embarrassed by his sincere praise. “Thank you.”
“If you would like, you may repeat this process in a couple of hours?”
Emma gazed at him thoughtfully and then at her husband. Something about him seemed to raise hope within her and he looked somewhat healthier.
“If you trust me enough to tend to him alone, I shall be happy to oblige, Doctor.”
He nodded content. “Very well, Your Grace, I trust you completely.” He made his exit toward the door and turned before leaving. “I shall bring back some clean instruments and cloths later.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Lady Hadlington stared after as he left and then turned back to her husband, smiling to herself as pride soared through her. Charles’ face was consumed with a sort of equanimity and it was calming to look at. She wished he possessed the same serenity in real life as he did in his dreams. She had long spent her time trying to come up some solution to his predicaments; the trust he had placed in her intelligence and wit now felt like she owed him some useful answer to his plights but she had been dissatisfied with every outcome she thought of.
As she cleansed the revolting gunk away from his chest, hours later, she was made to jump by an abrupt flinch from his body. He looked at her, startled and in pain.
“I’m sorry,” she apologised quickly. “Did I hurt you?”
Charles’ breaths were quick and laborious but he shook his head swiftly.
“What are you doing?” he whispered breathlessly.
She smiled and sighed, returning her attention to her task. “I hope I am being useful.” She commented. “If not, then I might be ending your life,” she jested.
His chest shook slightly as he chuckled at her. “I always knew you would kill me.”
She smiled. “How are you?” she implored of him.
Charles scoffed slightly. “I am fine.”
“I wish you would have told me of your pressing matters sooner.” She mentioned quietly.
His eyes bore upon her and she couldn’t bear to look but kept herself occupied in cleaning the wound.
“I should have, I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I was angry with you yet you had the right to know.”
“I am more sorry for my foolishness and my disregard toward you.” She gulped. “I fear it is unforgiveable.”
“No,” he shook his head and took one of her hands. “I claim to see what other men don’t, but I did not act upon it in a way you deserve perhaps then we could have been spared the sorrow.”
“Nevertheless,” replied Emma, now quite sure of the meaning in her actions. “I require your forgiveness.”
He looked at her with a sincerity she was not used to, like he was seeing a beauty much more deeper than her looks.
“I forgive you, Emma.”
She nodded, relieved. “Thank you.” She busied herself yet again as she bandaged him up again.
“I am grateful to you,” he blurted bluntly. “I understand you have barely left my side.”
Emma looked away and breathed in shakily.
“Forgive me, if I distress you.” Charles searched her face with concern and confusion.
“You do not distress me, Charles,” she assured him. “I am more distressed at myself.”
“Yourself?” he asked with confusion.
Emma glanced at his eyes for but a split second but then had to look away again.
“Emma?” his voice sent a giddy jolt through her.
“Oh what it is to blind your whole life and finally now I am able to see.” She preached poetically.
“What do you mean, Emma?” he beseeched her. “I beg you, Emma, I never once asked for you to speak your mind, but now I fear if you don’t, I shall go mad.”
She smiled and bit her lip. Gathering up the courage to stare into his dark eyes, she spoke again.
“Why speak? When I can say so much more through my deeds.” She whispered with an alluring smile.
Emma watched his brow crease as she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. The warm moist of her plump lips dampened his dry coarse lips as they brushed against each other. A sigh escaped her throat but Emma was enthralled by it and the hungry desire taking over her. He had kissed her before and she had kissed him but there had been a lacking in passion and the eager lust for each other’s souls.
Emma felt a warm eruption of want explode in the pit of her stomach as she kissed him with an ever increasing passion. His tongue sliding inside her mouth and hers in his. Excited at the mischievous passion exchanging between them, Emma was fearful of when they had to stop. But she could sense his strength was failing him and she felt sure she had to pull away.
Emma giggled with embarrassment. “Forgive me,” she breathed.
“I won’t,” laughed the Duke and she chuckled.
He looked stunned and his face was aglow with a happier spirit.
“I am only sorry, I am in this condition,” he smiled mischievously.
Emma laughed heartily. “You should rest, Charles.”
“I will rest,” he promised. “Now, I have more incentive to recover swiftly.”
Emma laughed and kissed his brow. “There’s a part of me that loves you, Charles and it grows stronger with each passing moment.”
Charles searched her eyes for the same sincerity in her speech. His hands grasped her.
“I never wish to be parted with you,” she continued. “I won’t survive without you.” She admitted and only truly admitted it to herself as she spoke it aloud.
“Emma,” his fingers stroked her face and her lips and his eyes bore into hers.
She wondered what he was thinking but he said nothing. He just enjoyed the moment of peaceful clarity between them and the relief of finally bearing a small part of their souls to each other. Emma did not enjoy it for long; she was not accustomed to long silences even this one which she enjoyed immensely.
“I will let you rest now,” she spoke and kissed his brow.
“Emma,” he smiled warmly at her. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Emma nodded, agreeing. “Charles, I wanted to say,” she paused, swallowing. “Thank you for saving me. I will never forget it, all my life.”
“You do not think twice about giving your life for the one you love.” He proclaimed boldly in his breathless voice.
Emma crawled over him and lay beside him. Charles put him arm around her and she cuddle up against him, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He drifted in a slumber beside and she voiced the words she had been too cowardly to utter to his conscious self.
“I am in love with you, Charles.” She whispered. “I could not know a better man and I have never been so plagued with fear in my entire life until I thought I would lose you forever.”
She hugged him close. “My life is merged with yours and I will forever guard you and respect you. I offer you my intelligence and my wit and all that I possess that can be of value to your cause. All I ask is that you be my guide.”
“Only if you guide me,” he replied in a murmur and she smiled blissfully.
“Only if you say I’m beautiful.”
He chuckled sleepily. “I never saw such an extravagant beauty in all my life. Never has such a face turned my head nor have such eyes captivated me so.”
Emma smiled completely content.