Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen) (20 page)

Sophie drained a glass and then asked for another.

“Oh, Soph, I am so glad you are awake. How do you feel?”

Sophie blinked and seemed to be thinking about Fanny’s question. Finally she answered, her voice like a croak, “My chest is better. Much better.”

“Sophie, it is a miracle. A true miracle. I love you so, and thought I would never be able to tell you again! I am not going back to London. I am staying here with you. I do not want to be separated again.”

“I am glad, Fan. I have missed you so.”

Fanny began to work briskly, talking all the time about Elise and her husband and children, while she changed the sheets and helped Sophie into a clean nightgown.

“Do you think you could eat something?”

“Maybe some bread and butter.”

“I’ll get it. Do you think you will be all right while I am below stairs?

“Please, just a candle.” Her voice sounded rusty from disuse.

“I will not be gone above five minutes, my dear. Oh! I am so happy you are awake!”

When she returned, however, Sophie had fallen back to sleep. But it was a natural sleep, and her breaths were easy and not raspy. There was a daybed along the other wall. Exhausted by her long vigil, Fanny lay down and pulled a quilt over her. In an instant she, too, was asleep.

* * *

“My dear, you have a visitor,” Anna told Fanny, who was holding up Sophie’s head so that she could drink. She still could not quite believe that her sister had come through her fever.

Fanny was still wearing the same dress as yesterday, and her hair was wild. The visitor must finally be Buck. The news brought her no joy.

“Did you hear me, Fanny? It is the Duke of Beverley, and he has ridden through the night. I do not think that you should keep him waiting.”

The Duke of Beverley? What on earth is he doing here, and why does he wish to see me?

Fanny’s hands went to her hair. It was falling down and fuzzy from sleeping on it. Her dress was wrinkled and smelled of the sickroom.

“Sophie dear, a friend has ridden all the way from Cornwall to see me for some reason. I must go.” She hugged her sister’s frail form.

“I will sit with her, Fanny,” Anna said. “Elise is down with her husband and the guest.”

“I must change and do my hair! I am not fit to be seen by a beggar.”

Going to her room, she rang for Becky, who hurriedly unbuttoned her gown and brushed out her hair. Wracking her mind for reasons for the Duke’s visit, she could not come up with anything that would cause him to drive through the night. And they were five days from Cornwall! Pulling on a fresh gown and trying to sit still while Becky did her hair, she looked at her face in the mirror. It was pale and drawn. She looked sadly pulled. When she stood suddenly, she noted that she was dizzy.

“Becky, could I have your arm to walk me down to the drawing room? I fear I feel a bit unwell.”

“Oh, miss!” her maid said, “I am certain it is no surprise. For the past three days, you have hardly slept.”

Fanny took the stairs carefully and at the door to the drawing room, she thanked Becky, certain that she could continue on by herself.

The duke, who had asked her in Cornwall to call him simply Ned, turned around at her entrance.

“Fanny! I am so glad to hear that Sophie is improving, but you, my dear girl, look as though you might be sickening for something yourself!”

“Ned, do not keep me in suspense. Why have you come at such a pace?”

“I think you must sit down, my dear.”

She felt the blood leave her face. Suddenly, she knew he was going to tell her that Buck was dead. For the first time in her life, Fanny swooned.

When she came back to herself, she was lying on the sofa and her sister was holding
sal vitale
under her nose.

Ned came to her and took her hand. “You must be strong, Fanny. Deal needs you. He was set upon in an inn in the New Forest on his way to us.” He squeezed her hand. “I am afraid he is lying wounded and fevered in that inn, with my wife and a neighbor nursing him. When I left, I am sorry to say that his breathing was very shallow and his infection was quite bad. If it had not been for an exceptional naval surgeon and the chance that the Viscountess Aylsworth was staying there to provide nursing, I do not think he would have survived this long.”

Fanny lay stunned, trying to take in the words and make meaning out of them. “Do you think he will live?” she asked finally.

“I think your presence might pull him through if he is still alive when we get there. I have come to take you to him.”

“How terribly, terribly kind,” she said, her voice a mere thread of sound.

“Fan, you must rest.” Elise said. “You are in no condition to nurse another fevered patient.”

“I shall sleep in the carriage. I must get to Buck. His life may depend upon it.”

Ruisdell said, “I will drive Fanny. We will bring her maid for decorum’s sake. You, Ned, are to stay here and rest before making the drive back. Elise must remain for Sophie’s care.”

Thus, all was ordered. With the decision, Fanny felt an infusion of strength. She climbed the stairs to her room and directed Becky to pack all of the most becoming gowns she had not elected to take with her to London. Refusing to admit that Buck could still die, she told herself that now that they would be together, all would be well. Though she was disturbed that he was so ill, at least her questions were now answered. She could reclaim all her memories. Even if those memories might be all she ever had.

The last thing she had to do was to say good-bye to Sophie. Kneeling at her bedside, she took her sister’s beautiful, long-fingered hands in hers.

“I know I said I would not leave you, but it is Buck, my fiancé! I must go bully him into staying alive so he can marry me. By the time I return, I want you to be practicing the Beethoven, so I can hear it. And so Buck can see what a clever sister I have. Mind you, you are not to steal him from me. It has been more difficult than you can imagine to find such a perfect man.”

“And so it follows that he must belong to you?” Sophie teased. Fanny was heartened at this evidence of her returning health.

“We will find you another such, I promise!” Fanny kissed Sophie’s forehead. “Now try to mind Elise. I never do, but then, I’ve never made a death-defying recovery.”

“It is good to see you so saucy, Fan.”

“I would not leave you for any other reason I can possibly think of. Elise will tell you her version of my story, but just remember, she does not know all of the best bits.”

* * *

As soon as the coach was underway, Fanny reclined on the velvet squabs of the bench, said goodnight to her brother-in-law (though it was still morning), and slept around the clock. When she woke the following morning, she prayed that Buck was still alive, that they would not be too late. She felt terribly guilty for not having realized something must be terribly wrong.

{ 33 }

B
UCK WAS BURNING.
His ship must have been torched.

“Abandon ship!” he croaked. “Abandon ship! We’re on fire!”

Something cool was on his forehead. What was this? Where the devil was he? With all his remaining strength, he threw himself over the side of the bed.

“Oh, Buck, darling. You are not on a ship. You are here with me, Rosalind. You are delirious with fever.”

He heard the words, but they meant nothing. The pain in his belly would not go away. Strong hands towed him to shore and laid him on the beach. Exhausted, he let sleep come.

* * *

Someone was putting him back into the sea. He struggled and splashed. “
Non, non
!
Lâchez
-
moi!
”

“Stop struggling, Buck. It’s Peter. We’re putting you in the bath to cool you off. You’ve got a fever. You’ve been shot.”

Peter. I know a Peter. The sea was deuced cold.

* * *

Buck opened his eyes. He did not recognize his surroundings. But the room was dark, and he was weak as a day-old kitten. There was a woman sitting in the chair by his bed. With movements that bespoke great weariness, she dipped a cloth into water and bathed his head.

“Oh, darling Buck, who will put up with me if you die?”

Joy sprang up inside him, and memory flooded in. “Rosalind? Are you in a scrape?”

“Buck? Buck? Are you awake?”

“Where are we?”

“At an inn in the New Forest. You were shot. No one thought you would pull through. Oh, darling Buck!”

She began raining kisses all over his face. It was like a swarm of butterflies.

{ 34 }

B
UCK’S CONVALESCENCE WAS LONG,
and Fanny felt guilty about keeping Caro away from her family in order to act as chaperone, but there was no question of moving him. He was still in pain.

“It is a bona fide miracle that this man survived that shot,” the doctor said. “I don’t credit my skill, I credit his strength.”

“And my nursing, of course,” added Fanny.

“I am puzzled by one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Why does the duchess call you Fanny and his lordship call you Rosalind? Is he still not quite right in the head?”

Buck answered, “I’ve never been quite right in the head since I met the girl. To me, she is Rosalind, and always will be.”

“Shakespeare,” Fanny tried to explain. “
As You Like It.
”

Caro said, “The name on the marriage license will be Fanny Edwards, however.”

“I have a special license in my coat,” Buck said. “Shall we have the vicar in? Then the poor duchess could go home, where I am sure she is missed.”

Caro protested, “Fanny must be married from Ruisdell Palace with all the trimmings. You can hardly stand, Deal.”

But Fanny was grinning. “We have never done anything in the way other people expected. I think it might be quite lovely to be married in this little room where such a miracle occurred. Would you mind standing as witness, Doctor?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Buck grinned. “I’m feeling stronger by the minute, Rosalind, so don’t go thinking you’re going to have the upper hand in this union.”

Fanny ignored him. “Caro, would you be my matron of honor?”

“If you are sure this is what you want, my dear.”

“I have given Elise enough headaches. I am sure she is still having to tend to Sophie. It will be a relief to present her with a
fait accompli
. You have no idea the trouble I have been to my poor sister.”

“I am fully aware that my troubles are just beginning,” Buck said.

“But what fun we will have!” Fanny said.

* * *

In the event, the doctor was able find a crutch for his lordship, so Buck was able to stand for his own wedding. The vicar was a young man who, if he found such a marriage strange, was not officious enough to say so.

Fanny wore a gown of primrose muslin, and Buck, having sent for his valet, once he was conscious, and wearing Fanny’s favorite jacket of bottle green. They stood together in front of the small hearth, the duchess on one side, the doctor on the other.

To her surprise, Buck had had a beautifully unusual ring made for her—a turquoise opal, set in a wide gold band. As he placed it on her finger, his eyes were adoring and she felt her knees begin to melt.

Buck seemed to gather strength during the ceremony, for when it came time to kiss the bride, he handed his crutch to the doctor, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her with a hunger that stirred deep desires within her.

At last! Her captain of the topiary garden was hers to love, honor, and cherish. And what meant even more was that she was his. Oh, he must recover quickly!

{ Epilogue }

I
T WAS ANOTHER TWO WEEKS
after the wedding ceremony before Buck was strong enough to venture to Cornwall for their wedding breakfast at Beverley Hall. Elise, Sophie, Peter, and the children traveled south for the occasion.

Fanny had a fetching new gown as a gift from Elise. It was ivory organdy over an ivory silk underslip and trimmed in sky blue ribbons. The same ribbons were also woven through her fashionable chignon. She had wanted to cut her hair, but Buck had put his foot down and insisted she keep it long. He had dreamt of those tresses for too long to be deprived of them now, he told her.

“Rosalind, my love, you look like a bride today. I cannot wait to make you mine tonight. That beast of a doctor has finally given his permission,” he said. “Thank you for listening to me about your hair. I still remember when it tumbled out of Ganymede’s stocking hat. You do not know how many times I recreated that vision while on board my ship.”

“Thank you, your lordship. This is one of those rare cases where I intend to keep my vows and obey.”

He chuckled.

“And may I say how pleased I am that you decided upon your green coat again. It was your eloquent green eyes that first captured my heart. You say far more with your eyes than you think.”

“Is that so? Can you give me a particular instance?”

“Whenever you tried to be stern with me, your eyes were gentle, sometimes twinkling, even.”

“To you, I would appear to be an open book.”

“Of course. I would not marry just anyone, you know. They could so easily tire of my starts. You must tell me if they ever become wearisome, and I will try to change, if I can. But to tell you the truth, I think I am incorrigible.”

“An incorrigible delight. And I have a delight for you up my sleeve.”

“What is that?”

“After your performance this afternoon, we leave for Plymouth. As soon as may be, we sail away. We will start our travels in Italy, and from there go wherever you desire.”

“Oh! Glorious! But are you certain you feel well enough?”

“I am always my best at sea.”

“I pity the captain of this vessel. Promise me you will not tell him how to go on.”