Caroline coughed into her handkerchief and blew her nose for what felt like the thousandth time that day. The sleet had settled and hardened into dirty grey ice that made the streets treacherous, and it had started to snow again. She peered at her calculations and reluctantly decided that she would have to light the lantern even though it was still afternoon.
She’d seen no sign of Captain Grafton for almost two days, which suited her perfectly well. He hadn’t spoken to her on the journey back to Millcastle and had ridden off without a word after she’d dismounted at the dressmakers. He hadn’t visited her bed either, which was perfectly fine with her. The quietness of his office was most peculiar. He left her notes on her desk, but other than that left her alone.
She felt her hot forehead. If there was nothing else required of her, she might go to bed early. She didn’t feel well at all, and that wasn’t helping her nagging worry that Captain Grafton might not only have lost interest in bedding her, but in employing her. Could she go back to working for Madame? She’d miss the challenges of her work for Captain Grafton, and if she were honest with herself, she’d miss him too.
He was the first man who had ever challenged her, and in his own particular way, appreciated her strengths and intelligence. He didn’t treat her like a fragile object to be placed gently on a shelf. He enraged her, he made her reveal and revel in parts of her own physicality she had never experienced before. She didn’t like him, but he was a worthy foe.
Caroline closed the accounts book and locked it in her desk before walking across to Captain Grafton’s office where his desk was still bare. Had he left for London without telling her? She’d heard that the main roads south were impassable, but that wouldn’t stop her employer. He’d stayed in Millcastle for almost two months now, which was not his usual pattern.
She went down the stairs to speak to her sister, as her mother was already sick and in bed, only to discover that the shop was about to close early. Madame Louise called out to her.
“Ah, there you are, Mrs. Harding. I was just about to come upstairs and get you. There is no point staying open in this weather. Half my staff is sick, and no one with any sense is out and about in this wind. Please lock the front door and turn off the lights before you return upstairs.”
“Yes, Madame.” Caroline stifled a cough as she let Madame out and locked the door behind her. She went out to the workrooms to make sure that everyone, including Ivy had left, and then returned to the front of the store to set the sign on the door to Closed.
Even as she approached the glass-fronted door, there was a disturbance outside as a carriage drew up, and a woman tumbled out.
“Mrs. Harding!” Miss Emily Marsham knocked on the glass. “Please let me in!”
Concealing a sigh, Caroline unlocked the door, and let her unexpected visitor come inside.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Miss Marsham gasped. “There has been a terrible calamity with my ball gown for this evening.”
“What exactly has happened to it?” Caroline inquired.
“One of my little dogs caught hold of the hem and ripped out the stitching and unraveled everything.”
“So the gown just needs to be re-hemmed.” Caroline hesitated. “Forgive me, but is there not someone within your household who could manage such a task?”
“Almost everyone is sick, and no one can sew a seam as well as you and your mother can.”
“Did you bring the gown with you?”
Miss Marsham’s face fell. “Oh no, that never occurred to me. I was praying your mother might come out and fix it for me.”
“My mother is too ill to leave the house.”
“Then—could you do it?” Miss Marsham raised her hopeful gaze to meet Caroline’s. “I am more than willing to pay for your time, and I would be so grateful to you.” She hesitated. “My father will be so angry if I am not suitably turned out for this ball at Grovedale House, and he will make my mother cry, and feel inadequate, and—”
“I will come with you.” Caroline put her hand on Miss Marsham’s arm. She’d noticed the fear in Mrs. Marsham’s eyes, and the faint bruises on her body during her dress fittings. “I’ll just get my cloak.”
Three hours later, Caroline sat back and surveyed her work. The hem was now repaired, as were the small rents in the fabric from the pug dog’s teeth. She doubted anyone would notice that the gown was less than half an inch shorter all around. She stood, and immediately had to grab onto one of the chairs to steady herself against a desire to faint.
Blinking hard she surveyed Emily Marsham’s bedroom, and the anxious face of the girl herself, and forced a smile.
“Perhaps you might turn around for me so that I can see if there is anything I have missed.”
Miss Emily obligingly spun in a slow circle, her hands clasped at her waist. “I think it’s perfect. Thank you so much!”
“You’re very welcome, Miss Marsham.”
A tap on the door revealed one of the maids. “Mrs. Marsham requests your presence in the drawing room. Your guests are here.”
Miss Emily gasped and twirled around again while her maid attempted to hand her her gloves and fan and make sure her hair pins were secured amongst a riot of ringlets.
She turned to Caroline and pressed a bank note in her hand. “Thank you again.”
A moment later she was gone in a trail of perfume leaving her maid and Caroline to deal with the mess. It took Caroline a while to gather her supplies and put everything away because she frequently had to stop to cough and sneeze in a most annoying manner. She was hungry, her head hurt, and she had a fever. The only thing she wanted was to go home and rest in her bed.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Prudence, Miss Emily’s maid who had provided invaluable assistance to Caroline, curtsied to her. “I’ll take you down to the kitchen to collect your things.”
Caroline picked up her sewing basket and followed the maid out onto the landing that overlooked the hall below. She paused for a second to look down and received the most unwelcome jolt in her stomach as Captain Grafton looked right back at her. The Marsham family surrounded him as he tenderly placed Miss Emily’s cloak around her shoulders.
He looked perfectly at home in his immaculate evening clothes and nothing like the man who sometimes visited her bed.
“This way, Mrs. Harding.”
Prudence held the door to the servants’ stairs open. Caroline stepped back, and meekly followed the maid down to the kitchen. She’d known Captain Grafton was escorting Miss Emily Marsham to the ball, but seeing him there in such company, dressed impeccably and fitting in so easily made her chest hurt. Was it because he was accepted in both worlds and she was not? Was she jealous?
In the kitchen, Prudence introduced her to the cook who offered her a cup of tea, and a large slice of fruitcake, which Caroline gratefully accepted. When she’d finished eating, she put on her cloak and old boots, and made her way to the stables. To her surprise the place was quiet, and it took her a while to find even one of the stable lads.
“I need to get home,” Caroline smiled at the boy. “Miss Emily Marsham told me to ask the coachman to take me.”
“Can’t do that, Miss.” The boy said. “Mr. Coachmen, the carriage and the horses have all gone out to Grovedale House.”
Caroline stared at him, her mind in a whirl. How could she have been so stupid? She glanced out into the darkness. At least it wasn’t snowing. “Then I suppose I will have to walk.”
The boy nodded and offered her a cheery good night before disappearing into the warmth of the stable block. Caroline wrapped her shawl over her head, tied the ends around her waist, and buttoned her coat up. She was so overheated that the thought of walking through the snow was almost appealing. She reckoned it was less than two miles back to the center of Millcastle, and that she would be safely home by midnight.
She placed her sewing basket in the crook of her elbow and turned toward the drive ignoring the slice of wind battering her face. The sooner she started, the sooner she would get home.
“And my pug was playing, and pulled a thread on my new dress, and the whole hem came down!” Miss Emily Marsham gestured at the bottom of her pink satin gown. “If it hadn’t been for the kindness of Mrs. Harding, I would’ve had to appear at the ball in rags!”
“I thought I saw Mrs. Harding in your house,” Francis said as he expertly located a table for his dance partner and held out her chair. It was suppertime at the ball and seating was already scarce. “I did wonder what she was doing there.”
“She was being a saint and fixing my gown for me. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank her enough.”
“I thought Mrs. Delisle was the dressmaker in the family, and that Mrs. Harding worked for me.”
“I understand that Mrs. Delisle was unwell.” Miss Marsham looked conscience-stricken. “Mrs. Harding was coughing and trying to pretend that she wasn’t. I do hope she returned home safely.”
Francis pictured that brief surprised moment when he’d seen Mrs. Harding above the gathering in the hall. She’d looked exhausted. If she were sick, what had possessed her to rush out to the Marshams simply to fix a hem? He would never understand her—not that he particularly wanted to—seeing as she obviously considered him a fool.
Her scathing comments about his disregard for his inherited privilege had hit him harder than he anticipated, and he’d reacted accordingly. But that was Caroline Harding all over. She made him behave in ways that were unacceptable to him. He smiled automatically as Emily Marsham chatted away and nodded whenever she drew breath.
He should go back to London. Millcastle was a depressing place, and not one he wished to deal with for much longer. As soon as the weather cleared up, he would be off. He glanced at his bright-faced companion. If he weren’t careful, he’d be stirring up hopes in the Marsham family of a romance between him and this chit who was terribly nice, but half his age. Even a few hours spent in what constituted as polite society in this godforsaken mill town reminded him why he hated it.
“Captain Grafton?”
“Yes?”
Miss Emily sighed. “I apologize if I am boring you. Would you prefer to talk about your business interests? My father suggested they weren’t very savory, and that I should avoid the topic and focus instead on the more trivial aspects of life.”
“Your father is correct. My business interests are indeed not a fit topic of conversation for a lady.” Apart from with Mrs. Harding, but she was an anomaly in his life. “And, it is I who should be apologizing for boring you.” It was his turn to be honest. “In truth, I find such occasions rather insipid.”
“Oh,” she studied him, her mouth slightly open. “Whereas to me they are everything. You have a house and business interests in London as well, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“I have never been to London, but I can imagine that society here is indeed ‘insipid’ compared to there.” She smiled at him.
“It is even worse in London where everyone contrives to waste as much money as they can to impress others and indulge in everything that is forbidden or distasteful simply because they can. I wouldn’t wish to see you exposed to such hypocrisy and greed, Miss Marsham.”
“Well, I’d at least like to see it for myself. My father thinks that I need to be married first before I am allowed a visit.”
“Your father has a point. You are one of his heirs, I assume?”
“I suppose I am,” she said doubtfully. “It is not something that is discussed.”
“Then if you went to London you would be considered a ‘catch’, and all the disreputable men would be after you for your money.”
“That’s rather unappealing.” She paused. “Don’t you think that some of them might like me for myself?”
Francis tried to remember what it was like to be so young and naïve about the world. “Of course, they would like you—how could they not?”
Her smile was sweet. “Thank you for that, at least.” She glanced past him to the window. “It really is snowing quite hard now. I wonder if our host has noticed? Perhaps it might be better if we all started for home before he has to find beds for us all.”
Francis made sure that Miss Marsham was properly bundled up in her cloak and fur hat before handing her up into his carriage along with her brother who was acting as her chaperone for the short ride home. The snow was coming down faster now, and the winds were making it swirl around like a spinning top.
He paused to speak to his coachmen. “Take your time, Ned. I don’t want to harm the horses.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He got in, and closed the door, smiling at his companions. “Don’t worry, Miss Marsham. We’ll get you home safely.”
The carriage rocked back and forth as the driver turned the horses and set off toward the Marsham property which was less than two miles from Grovedale House. Francis turned his attention to the state of the roads rubbing the window glass free of condensation with his gloved fingers so that he could see out.
After a mile or so, a flash of blue caught his attention on the side of the road and he peered into the darkness. Was someone walking in this weather? Before he could decide the carriage took another turn, and he lost sight of the figure. When they arrived at the Marshams house, he helped the other occupants out and bowed over Miss Marsham’s hand.
“It has been a pleasure, Miss Emily.”
She gazed up at him. “Will you not come in and at least have a warm drink before you venture forth again?”
“That is very kind of you,” Francis said. “But I’d rather not keep the horses or my coachman standing around in this weather.”
“As you wish.” She summoned a bright smile and curtsied. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Captain Grafton, and I hope to see you again soon.”
He waited until she and her brother entered the house, and then walked around to the stables where he’d directed his coachman to meet him.
“I’ve checked the horses and they are in fine fettle, Captain.” Ned called out as he approached. “We can set off when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Francis beckoned to the stable lad who was loitering nearby. “Has Mrs. Harding left the house yet, or does she require a ride back to town?”
“Who’s Mrs. Harding?”
“The dressmaker who was here earlier?”
“Oh, she went.” The boy gestured out into the darkness. “She asked me to find someone to take her home, but there was nobody here so she decided to walk.”
“And you let her?” Francis took a threatening step closer to the boy. “Have you seen the weather?”
“Nothing to do with me, sir.” The boy held up his hands. “It wasn’t like this when she left, which was hours ago. She was probably safely home before it even started to snow.”
Francis gave the boy a scathing look and walked around to Ned who was mounted on his box.
“Keep an eye out for Mrs. Harding on our way back to town, won’t you?”
“Mrs. Harding?” Ned frowned. “Yes, Captain.”
The return journey felt even slower. They passed the Marsham carriage turning into the drive but saw no one else. As time ticked by, Francis drew down the window, ignoring the freezing slap of the air so that he could see more clearly. They reached a crossroads where the major road went directly into Millcastle and turned right onto it.
“Wait!” Francis shouted and wrenched open the carriage door, almost falling as his feet slipped on the ice. He wasn’t wearing boots, and his leather shoes were instantly soaked through to his stockings.
He scrambled up a snowdrift gathered around the trunk of a tree where a square of blue stood out against the whiteness and dug through the shallow snow until he discovered the still figure of Mrs. Harding. Her eyes were closed, but the heat emanating from her skin meant she wasn’t yet dead.
He lifted her into his arms and turned back toward the carriage where Ned was approaching him with a blanket.
“Bloody hell, Captain! Not sure how you spotted her!”
“Neither am I,” Francis said grimly as he wrapped her in the blanket and stepped up awkwardly into the carriage. “Take me back to town, and if you can increase the pace without overturning us, then please do so.”
As he settled back against the seat, Mrs. Harding opened her eyes and stared blankly up at him.
“What on earth?” she whispered, her voice a thread.
“I found you buried in the snow, you stupid fool,” he snapped. “What maggot got into your head to make you attempt to walk home in this weather?”
She gave a convulsive shudder and turned her face away from him, her whole body suddenly a dead weight.
“Caroline?”
Francis checked that she was still breathing and then sat and held her until his own heart settled down and he stopped thinking about how he might have missed her altogether.
On arrival at the inn, Ned helped him bring her inside. Nancy looked up as he came through the busy kitchen.
“What have you got there, luv? Not a bloody corpse I hope.”
“Quite close to one.” Francis headed for the stairs. “Bring up some hot water and some of my best brandy will you?”
He climbed the steep stairs grumbling aloud about Mrs. Harding’s unexpected weight and laid her carefully on his bed. By the time Nancy arrived, he had already started taking her out of her wet clothes.
“Where did you find her?” Nancy set the sodden boots by the fire.
“In a snow drift.”
“Why was she out in this weather?”
“Because the fool went to the Marshams to fix Miss Marsham’s bloody dress and apparently decided to walk home afterward.” Francis glared down at his bookkeeper’s oblivious face. “I don’t suppose it occurred to her to wait until the carriage returned to take her home?”
Nancy placed her hand on Mrs. Harding’s forehead. “She’s burning up. Do you want me to fetch a doctor?”
“Let’s see how she is in a little while.” Francis threw her damp shift on top of the growing pile on the floor. “Can you lend her a nightgown and let her family know that she is safe and being taken care of?”
Nancy gathered up the clothes. “Do you want one of her sisters to come and tend to her?”
“No, I’ll do it.”
Nancy raised her eyebrows. “You?”
“How difficult can it be?” He shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d tended to the sick and the dying. “I’ve got some work to do. I can sit here by the fire and keep an eye on her.”
“As you wish, but you know where I am if you get bored.” She nodded. “I’ll get this lot washed before tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Francis shut the door, stripped off his best coat and embroidered waistcoat and hung them in the cupboard. He didn’t bother with a valet. Nancy kept his clothes laundered and fresh for him when he was in Millcastle. After setting his ruined shoes outside the door to be attended to, he padded across the floor to look down on Caroline.
Her breathing sounded like the rasp of a saw, her nose was red, and her cheeks chapped. He felt her hands, which were cold, and her forehead, which was boiling hot. He remembered Miss Emily suggesting that Mrs. Harding might have had a cough when she arrived at the house. After exposing herself to the elements, she would be lucky if it didn’t develop into something far more serious.
“Stupid woman,” he muttered. “Too independent and proud for her own good.”
In truth, she was just like him. He wouldn’t have tamely waited for a ride either but would’ve struck out on his own. There was a knock on the door, and Nancy returned with a clean nightgown and some laudanum. After helping Caroline into the garment, they tucked her up in bed with a single sheet over her body.
“I had a reply from Ruby Delisle,” Nancy said. “Her mother is too sick to get out of bed, and so is Ivy. Ruby’s taking care of them and sends her thanks that we can look after Mrs. Harding.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll make sure Ruby’s all right tomorrow,” Nancy said as she plumped up the remaining pillows. “She’s a good girl that one.”
“She’s certainly as feisty as her sister,” Francis grumbled.
“Get along with you.” Nancy grinned at him. “You like the feisty ones.”
After Nancy left, Francis poured himself a large glass of brandy and settled down by the fire to read the proposal Mr. Fletcher from the locomotive company had sent him. The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven times, and Mrs. Harding moved restlessly around on the bed.
Francis got up and went to her side. Her eyes were still closed, but she was muttering frantically.
“I… have to get up and go to work… need the rent… need food, I can’t—”
“It’s all right, Caroline. You’re quite safe here.” Francis sat on the side of the bed and took her hand. “Just sleep. Everything can be sorted out tomorrow.”
“I can’t… let everyone down. They need me—”
He squeezed her fingers. “You aren’t letting anyone down. Your family is well, and all you have to do is go to sleep. That’s an order.”
She lapsed back into silence, and he returned to his task, his mind still too alert to imagine sleeping. To his disquiet, his patient’s breathing worsened, and she started to babble half sentences full of her fears and worries that broke his heart, and nothing would soothe her.
By two in the morning, he was sufficiently concerned to come down to the kitchen, wake one of the stable boys, and send him running for the doctor. Seeing as the man rented his premises from Francis, he knew he would come out.
Hearing voices and a door closing, Caroline managed to open her eyes, and slowly turned her head toward the sounds.
“So, you’re finally awake, are you?”
She blinked as Captain Grafton scowled back at her. He looked quite unkempt with his rolled up shirtsleeves and unshaven chin. He came over, and she shrank back against the pillows, but he did nothing more threatening than offer her a glass of water. She licked her dry lips and attempted to sit up.
“You’re as weak as a kitten.” He slid an arm around her waist and hoisted her up against the headboard. “I’ll hold the glass and you just sip slowly.”
She did as he suggested and sighed with pleasure as the water trickled down her parched throat.
“What happened?” she whispered.
He set the glass down and sat on the side of the bed. “Don’t you remember?”
She shook her head. It hurt to talk.
“You decided to walk home from the Marshams and ended up buried in a snow drift.”
“Oh.” Caroline frowned and tried to recall when everything had started to go wrong. “Yes.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you stay in the house until the Marshams returned and were able to give you a ride home?”
“I didn’t wish to put them out.”
“And why, for God’s sake did you even indulge that child by going out there in the first place? Can’t she sew her own damned hem?”
Caroline winced at his loudness. There was no point in defending herself. She was country born and knew better than to wander around in the snow. Her decision to leave the house had more to do with seeing Captain Grafton with Miss Emily together than in common sense. She had no recollection of most of the walk because she’d been so hot and dizzy. By the time she’d decided to turn back, she’d already lost her bearings.
“Please don’t shout,” she managed. “I know—”
“Were you too proud to ask for help?” he asked. “Did you think it beneath you?”
To her horror, she felt a tear slide down her cheek, swiftly followed by another one, and then another.
“Oh, dear God. Now you’re crying.” He handed her a large handkerchief and walked away from the bed. “Typical!”
Caroline pressed her lips together, but the tears continued to fall. With a curse, Captain Grafton walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. She wiped her tears with the handkerchief that smelled just like its owner, eased back the covers, and attempted to put her feet on the floor.
“Where the devil are you going now?” He came back in carrying a tray.
“I thought I should go home.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.” He set the tray down beside the bed with a crash. “Get back in before I do it for you.”
“You’re being a horrible bully.”
“I know.” He obviously decided she wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking and dumped her back in bed. “Sit up and have your soup.”
She opened her mouth to argue, and instead he fed her a spoonful of soup and continued to do so until the whole bowl was empty.
“Well that’s a vast improvement.” He dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “Up until today it’s been rather like feeding a slobbering baby.”
With all the liquids going down her throat her voice was slightly stronger. “You’ve been… taking care of me?”
“Who else?” He placed the spoon in the bowl and helped himself to a pork pie and a pile of roast potatoes. “Everyone else in this whole damn town is sick.”
“Is my mother all right? My sisters?”
“Mrs. Bridgewater has been keeping an eye on them, and everyone is on the mend.” He drank some ale. “That’s why I didn’t take you home.”
“You found me, didn’t you?” Caroline said slowly.
“You remember that?” He eyed her over his pint of ale. “I was damn lucky.”
“I remember walking and feeling more and more ill, and then the snow came, and I sat down beside a tree to get my bearings. I don’t remember much after that apart from you shouting at me in your carriage.”
“I shout at you a lot, don’t I?” His faint smile returned. “Not that you don’t deserve it. What a stupid thing to do.”
“It was not my finest moment,” she conceded. “But I felt so dreadful I just wanted to get home.”
“Understandable.” He sipped his ale, his gaze withdrawn. “When we were under siege at the fort with no food or bullets left, I thought I was going to die. In my fever all I could think about was Wesley Hall, and my mother and father smiling down at me. Stupid, eh?”
“Under siege?” Caroline asked.
“One of those minor uprisings against the British that never made the newspapers in England because it wouldn’t be good for morale. We were eventually relieved, and all six of us who were left standing marched out under our very tattered flag.” He grimaced. “That’s when the real trouble started. The relieving commanding officer decided he wanted to ‘make an example of the town’ and raze it to the ground. I objected and kept objecting until they arrested me and carted me off to Delhi to face a military court.”
He smiled at her. “I went from the hero of the hour to the villain, and so I have remained.”
Caroline held his gaze. “I think you did the right thing.”
He got up from the bed and picked up the tray. “I’ll just take this down to the kitchen. Mrs. Bridgewater will be delighted to see that you’ve eaten something.”
He was almost at the door before she managed to speak. “Captain Grafton?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“Hardly that, my dear. Just a lucky chance.”
He nodded and left her alone to her thoughts, which were far more complicated than she wanted them to be. If he was telling the truth about his past, and she had no reason to doubt that he was, he’d actually tried to stop an unnecessary massacre and had suffered the consequences.
He’d also saved her life, whether he laid claim to it or not, and looked after her when she was sick. Tears threatened again, but this time she held them back. She had no concerned father or husband to look for her. If he hadn’t found her, no one would have noticed she wasn’t safely home until it was too late…
She remembered how thick the snow had become, how quickly it had piled up around her when she sank down to rest beside the tree She could still be there now—a frozen corpse awaiting discovery in the thaw. But there had been peace there, too—a sense that death wouldn’t be cruel, but that life needed to be enjoyed to its fullest.
Whatever happened between her and the captain, she would never forget what he had done—especially when he was trying her patience.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of Nancy Bridgewater who smiled at Caroline as she came across the room.
“You’re looking much improved!” she chuckled. “There were a couple of nights when we weren’t sure you’d survive. Captain Grafton insisted that you were too stubborn to die, and that he’d bet on you all the way. It seems as if he was right.”
“Thank you for caring for me.” Caroline returned the smile.
“Oh, I did very little, dearie. His lordship got on his high horse and insisted he was going to do everything himself. He was the one who worked out that you weren’t at the Marshams and told my Ned to drive really slowly in case he saw you along the way back. And thank the good lord he did. The captain even got the doctor in and paid his bill without a whimper.”
“The doctor?” Caroline mentally calculated how much she owed Captain Grafton now. “Was I really that ill?”
“Indeed, you were.”
“What day is it?” Caroline asked.
“It’s Sunday.”
“So I’ve been here for over a week?”
“I believe so,” Nancy opened the curtains. “Now would you like something else to eat before I start my cooking?”