Berkshire, England, November 1814

Autumn had finally come. The leaves covered the grounds at Amelia’s father’s estate in Berkshire, imitating a colorful carpet. The sky was shrouded by thick grey clouds that made it seem to her that the sun would never again break through that barrier. The mass of vapor looked swollen and ready to disgorge itself of the heavy cargo of water it certainly carried.

“Ye must remember to eat, Amelia. Ye have hardly touched yer food in weeks. If ye don’t eat, you’ll be joining Jonathan in the sickbed,” said Anna.

“Oh, hush up, Anna. I need time to think. His fever dropped last night. The doctor confirmed that this was a good sign. It all depends on the next few days. If he awakes and does not succumb to the fever again, he might recover.” It was the first time since the accident that she felt hopeful.

“That already happened a week ago, but it flared up again,” said Anna. She looked almost as drained as her friend.

Anna relied on the information Jake provided her. Before the doctor had diagnosed anything, he had been the one to say that the wound would turn septic. He had based his analysis on the fact that he had seen so much of the same thing on board ship during his time as a sailor. Sir Thomas’s musket ball had penetrated Jonathan’s body and glanced off the ribs, missing any vital organs, which had been fortunate. But it had come to rest in his flesh.

However, the projectile was not so much the problem; it had been removed easily enough. The regent’s physician had done proficient work of it. And thanks to his ministrations, the following morning, Jonathan had looked much better. He had even been fit enough to travel a few days later.

Under pressure from Amelia, he had taken up Sir Thomas’s offer to convalesce at his Berkshire manor. Amelia’s father had changed a great deal since the duel. He hardly left his study, inundating himself with more work than usual. Amelia assumed that he felt guiltier than he could ever have imagined.

During the trip to the country, Jonathan had succumbed to fever. Amelia could still hear his teeth chattering when she thought about it. His body went through twists of such agony as it alternated between blistering heat and icy cold spells that had battered his body as if it had been possessed by another being. There had been moments when she thought that she would lose him.

Upon arrival, he had fallen into a deathly sleep after the fever had dropped. The Carlyle family doctor had conducted another examination only to find a bit of cloth from his clothing lodged in the wound. The prince regent’s physician had overlooked this. In many cases, parts of clothing in the body could be more lethal than the actual musket ball due to the bacteria that lingered there.

After its removal, the fever resurfaced a few days later. Due to Jonathan’s weakened state, it was a lot worse than the first spell. And again, it subsided after a few days only to resurface again after its brief pause.

Jonathan had not woken since his coming to Berkshire and that had been over a week ago. He alternated between spells of perceived lucidity when it appeared that he would look you in the eye, and deathly stillness when the rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was still alive.

Even Amelia’s father showed genuine worry for the American. The whole atmosphere in the manor house was somber and depressing. Meals between father and daughter often took place without them sharing a single word. Mother had escaped this fate. She had decided to remain in London, but she was due to arrive this day.

“Come on, Amelia, let’s go back to the house. Mayhap there is some change in Jonathan’s state,” said Anna, wanting to get her friend out of the cold wind and inside before it rained. There was no use in them both getting ill. And Amelia did look worse for wear.

Amelia nodded wanly. She had not been herself in days. The day of the duel still hung in her mind like a malignant afterthought. It would not go away, it would not weaken, and it just stuck there like an ever-persistent shadow. She feared for the worst. Jake tried to put on a brave face, but she knew better – it was written right across his face. The situation was dire. Jonathan’s life hung on a thread.

Amelia and Anna walked toward the large manor house, each one of them lost in their own thoughts. The Carlyle residence sat proudly on a minor elevation overlooking the surrounding parkland. It was a building of Georgian heritage. It was very large, made wide and relatively shallow in dimension in an attempt to make it look even more impressive from a distance. It was highest in the center with Baroque emphasis on the corner pavilions.

Sir Thomas had the original sash windows enlarged and added balconies so he could step out of his bedroom in the mornings to enjoy the crisp country air.

Amelia and Anna walked in the direction of the internal courtyards that stood beside the stables, and the functional parts of the building. It was where the servants entered. But members of the family also came this way when they returned home from the hunt or after walks on muddy tracks like the two women.

“I will arrange for some refreshments to be sent to the library, Milady,” said Anna, reverting to her role as the lady’s maid. “I assume ye will want to do a little reading to take yer mind off of things?”

“No, send it to Jonathan’s room. I want to be with him,” said Amelia, removing her boots.

Anna nodded. She admired her friend’s loyalty. However, she did not think it healthy to always sit in a room with a sick man. She tried her utmost to reduce her visits, but Amelia would not be deterred.

Without another word, they ascended the steps from the lower ground floor to the main residence where Amelia’s family resided.

 There was a large entrance hall that led to steps up to a mezzanine floor where the main reception rooms were located. Inside the manor house, the ornamentation was generous. The chimneypiece was generally the main focus in all of the rooms. They had been given a classical treatment, topped by paintings or mirrors, depending on the chamber it was in.

Plasterwork ceilings, carved wood, and bold schemes of wall paint formed a backdrop to increasingly rich collections of furniture, paintings, porcelain, mirrors, and artful objects of all kinds. There was hardly any wood paneling as it had fallen from favor around the turn of the century. Wallpaper, including very expensive imports from China, was de rigeur nowadays.

Amelia noticed none of it. Usually, she would spend a few moments to study the impressive art collection her father had amassed over the years. Presently, none of it interested her. Her mind was for the man she loved and for him alone.

When she reached Jonathan’s room, she found her mother sitting by the bed. “Mother, what are you doing here?” she asked, incredulous.

“I am here to apologize to the poor man,” she said, a look of sincerity playing on her features. “I never insulted him to his face, but I made enough remarks to you and your father, implicating his person.” She stroked his hand as she said this.

Amelia tried to gauge if her mother was up to her old tricks again. Her behavior was not like her. She had been a broken woman when they left London. The person before her exuded vitality and a new purpose in life. What had happened to change her mood so?

“He cannot hear you. He has been out of it for more than a week,” said Amelia, sitting down on one of the many chairs in the lavishly appointed guestroom.

“Don’t say that…I am sure some words will get through to him,” said Mother.

“What were you telling him besides apologizing?” asked Amelia, her curiosity piqued.

The expression on her mother’s face lit up. “I was telling him about the rumors going about London. First of all, he has been hailed the epitome of a fine gentleman for his conduct in the duel. Everyone knows that he could have taken the shot, but he didn’t. He overcame pain and the desire for revenge because he is a gentleman.”

“Anything else, Mother?” Amelia had never thought of it from that point of view. The people were right. Jonathan’s conduct had been exemplary and worthy of even royal blood.

“Also, the Prince Regent has reinstated Jonathan’s title as Laird Mackinnon of Mitchell in absentia. It is even rumored that he will receive his family’s lands back and an annual stipend from the prince,” she said, clapping her hands. “And there’s another thing…” Mother tittered like a woman far younger than her years. “The Duchess of Waverly apologized for treating me so harshly in Hyde Park. I don’t know what came over her, but she nearly begged my forgiveness – isn’t that grand?”

Amelia looked at her mother harshly. It would have been too good to be true for her to show a smidgen of compassion without having her own interests at heart. Now that Jonathan was confirmed a peer of the realm, he was suitable marriage material. “Mother, I want you to leave this room this very instant. How dare you come in here after you lambasted him with insults? Now, that he is recognized by the regent and all of London society, you deem him suitable?”

“I did not mean anything by it. Can’t a lady admit when she stands corrected by the facts? I can’t help it. I was wrong. He is a good man, and I would be delighted if you married him,” said Mother, allowing for a few crocodile tears to escape her eyes.

Amelia looked at her mother harshly. “I do not believe a word of it. All I can say is that you are too damn lucky. You do not deserve it.”

“How dare you resort to profanity in this house, young lady,” Mother protested.

Amelia got to her feet. “This is not the time for you to play the mother with me. Have you ever thought why the Duchess of Waverly begged your forgiveness?”

“Well, I…I assumed it was because of Jonathan’s relationship with the prince regent,” she answered.

“No, Mother. It was the Duke of Brandon who told the duchess off. You know that he is one of the most powerful men in England. He did not think it right that our family should suffer because of his son’s hurt pride.” Amelia pointed to the door. “Now, leave before I get really angry. I have had enough of your scheming.”

“Amelia…Amelia…do you really have to shout so much? My head hurts badly enough already.”

“Jonathan!” screamed Amelia, her hand covering her mouth. She stood frozen to the spot like a doe caught in a sudden light. He looked weak, pale, but alive and that was all that mattered. Tears of happiness promptly slid down her cheeks.

“Is that all a sick man gets nowadays? A shocked stare and some tears?” He managed to laugh, but instead, he sputtered and nearly choked.

This was enough to make Amelia dart forward. “My love, you are awake.”

Jonathan frowned. “How long was I gone for? What happened? I remember shooting and then blackness. There were many faces and lots of noises.”

“Shhh, shhh, you mustn’t tire yourself. Here…rest your head.” Amelia turned to her mother. “Mother, pass me the water,” she ordered. Jonathan drank greedily.

“You, my Laird, are the talk of London. Did you know that the Prince Regent reinstated your family into the peerage…”

“Mother, not now. I am sure there will be plenty of time for you to tell Jonathan about your good news,” chided Amelia.

“O, Lord above…he’s all right!” Anna said, nearly dropping the tray she was carrying.

“Yes, it appears the worst is behind us,” said Amelia. She turned to her mother. “Mother, go and fetch Jake and father. They will want to know of this new development.” Lady Felicity obeyed with alacrity and left.

Amelia looked back at Jonathan. “What?”

This time, he managed a small laugh. “I might have to rethink my marriage proposal. You have become quite the despot in my absence.”

The color on Amelia’s face reddened. “I, I didn’t mean to…”

Jonathan raised his hand weakly. “Say nothing…I like this side of you. There could be no more aptly suited woman for a ship’s captain than you,” he said, taking her hand and laying a kiss on the back of it.

“Commodore,” corrected Amelia.

“I stand corrected,” said Jonathan before Jake and Sir Thomas came barging through the door.