Felicity: An American Girl Romance Part 1, CH 10: Ben's Plea
Disclaimer thingie: I own nothing. I know nothing. I can prove both.
Outside Felicity's bedchamber door, Mrs. Merriman was crying softly upon Rose's shoulder and Rose was patting her with the care and affection of a sister. Ben swallowed his own throat-lump of emotion and asked boldly, "Mrs. Merriman, may I please see Felicity? Please, you have to let me-"
"Yes, Ben, yes," Mrs. Merriman sniffed miserably. "For a few minutes."
Ben wasn't about to waste any time. Without another word he stepped past the two women and into Felicity's bedchamber, gently closed the door nearly completely together. Tight-chested panic swelled inside him as he looked at her lying there helplessly in her bed, unmoving except for the slow, slight rise and fall of her chest. The only solid proof that she yet lived. The room's frightful silence was taunting.
He moved to the side of her bed nearest her window and stared down at her, with nervousness and fear etched upon his face and plain in his young brown eyes. "Lissie," he whispered urgently, and his fingers nudged her soft, limp hand laying at her side. "Lissie, it's me, Ben. You have to hear me-I need you to hear me. Please..." His lips were dry. He moistened them quickly. "Please hear me."
She did not move. There was no inclination that she could hear him at all. Almost concealed by the damp cloth on her forehead, her eyelids were still.
He had heard of people being unconscious and still able to hear things and people around them. For whatever reason, they just were not able to respond. Like being asleep and yet awake. Ben could not imagine what it must be like to be in such a state of existence, but he had to hope that she could hear him. He had to. Nothing else mattered.
"Don't die, Lissie," he told her desperately, feeling that forlorn lump of emotion clog up his throat. "Don't-don't leave me! I know-I know 'tis not fair to ask that of you when I'm about to leave you and your family for the war, but I will come back to you, Lissie. I swear it! But I need you to be here. I need you! You-you're my very best friend, my-my-" Tears had sprung to his eyes. He couldn't control it.
He clasped her hand in both of his. It was so limp, so soft and warm, and like it contained no bones at all and was made of velvet. He squeezed it with urgency. "Hear me, Lissie! You can't die! You have to be brave and fight the fever-you have to fight like a patriot soldier and not give up! You're a fighter-you know how you tell me you wish you could go with me and fight the British? Well, use that fight in you to get better, Lissie! Because so many people love you and need you!" He gulped. "I need you! I love you!"
There, it was out! And it felt good to say it, too. He fully expected her to react, to respond, to give an indication of some sort to acknowledge she'd heard his declaration. But there was no response at all. Not so much as even a twitch.
"Did you hear me? I said I love you, Felicity Merriman! I need to know you understand that. I need you to wake up and tell me that you love me. Please? I need to hear you say it! Now fight this, Lissie. Fight for me!"
Minutes passed.
With no response forthcoming, he leaned down over her and kissed her white cheek. He let his warm lips linger as long as he dared before straighening. At that moment, her bedchamber door opened and Rose beckoned to him urgently. He looked down at Felicity with sad, pleading eyes, then slowly moved away, lowering her small hand back to its place at her side.
Rose beckoned again, and Ben went to her. "Ben, that dreadful Forsythe fellow has sent his momma's doctor to our door and Mr. Merriman is down there trying to tell him he aint needed, and lil' William just wont stop cryin'!"
Ben hadn't heard anyone knock on the door, but then he'd been very busy concentrating on Felicity. He did, however, hear William yowling quite clearly now.
"Mrs. Merriman just had to lay down awhile, and I got my hands full with watchin' after Miss Polly and Miss Lissie, so could you please-"
"Yes! Yes, of course, say no more," Ben interjected willingly. He looked over his shoulder once more at the silent, still Felicity, then quickly followed Rose out of the room. Damn that Forsythe! he thought angrily. I ought to teach him the meaning of the word NO in a way he cannot misunderstand...
In the eerie stillness of Felicity Merriman's bedchamber, a soft groan sounded from the motionless young girl lying in the middle of the bed. And then, in barely an audible whisper, " Ben?"
-The next morning brought no change, for the better or the worse. Ben had dressed quickly and gone into the house, only to find it nearly empty: Mrs. Merriman was tending to Felicity, Rose had Polly, William, and Nan out in the big kitchen, and according to Rose, Mr. Merriman had gone to see Dr. Sutton early because he couldn't sleep or stay still. Ben understood completely.
He brushed, fed and led the horses out to graze in the Merriman's adjoining little meadow, and was about to clean the stables when he met Elizabeth at the gate. She was carrying a covered silver pot with two handles. She looked almost afraid to speak.
"Elizabeth?" Ben asked uncertainly, for the girl's eyes had smears of purple underneath-an obvious sign of sleeplessness that Ben was getting to know well. 'Twas present on Mr. and Mrs. Merriman, Felicity while she'd been getting sicker, and this morning upon Ben Davidson himself, for he'd been reading Felicity's diary all night.
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, blinked nervously, and said in a near-whisper, "Is-is she-?"
"No," Ben said softly. "'Tis like she's just...lingering. She gets weaker, but...she's still holding on." The amount of emotional strain in his voice made Elizabeth's eyes fill with tears. Ben looked down at her silver pot.
She seemed to have forgotten it, that she was holding on to it tightly. "Oh! I-I brought Felicity some bread pudding. I made it myself-with Mama's help, of course. But...she likes bread pudding..."
Ben nodded.
"I heard it's a fever," Elizabeth continued awkwardly. "A-a virus-fever."
"Aye." They stood there, neither one of them wanting to delve into the prospect of losing their best friend. The thought taunted them wretchedly. Ben cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You can take that to the kitchen around back and give it to Rose if you like. I know Felicity would-" He choked back the lump of emotion rising in his windpipe. "She would appreciate it very much, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth nodded and started past him. Ben was ready to go to the barn, but something he'd been meaning to find out about popped into his head, and he turned around to ask, "Elizabeth, may I ask you something?"
"Aye," she replied, looking back at hm worriedly.
"A few days ago, before Felicity collapsed...there was an argument in the store between your sister and Lissie. What happened?"
Elizabeth sighed drearily. "Lissie simply had all of Annabelle she could take. I agree that Annabelle needs to be put in her place, but I didn't want it to happen like that, in public, you know...and for a moment I was angry at Felicity for telling her off like that. But I could see Lissie was in such a horrible state-oh Ben, she looked like a spirit! I couldn't be mad at her then, I just couldn't! I should have stopped her from leaving the store. I'm sorry!"
"'Tis not your fault, Elizabeth," Ben told her somberly. "She was, is, very sick. She would have collapsed right there in the store I believe. She probably wasn't even aware of her own actions."
"Aye," Elizabeth agreed sadly. "Mayhaps not, Ben."
They went seperate ways then, each engaged in their own troubled beliefs about what they couldv'e done to have helped Felicity. In the end there was only frustration and fear. Though they were young, Ben and Elizabeth were both familiar with the devestations of sickness that could not be helped or avoided, nor understood. With Ben Davidson haunted by the passing of his mother and Elizabeth Cole recalling the startling horror of how fast one of her mother's sisters helplessly succombed to 'the fevers' not long before the Coles left England, it was little consolation to think that maybe this time would be different. If it was God's will, there was nothing either one of them could do to keep from losing this girl they both loved so very much.
With her mother's permission, Elizabeth stayed to sit with Felicity, change her forehead cloths and attempt to rouse her. This in turn gave Mrs. Merriman a much-needed break. Ben was here and there, fetching well-water, chopping wood, weeding the garden-whatever he could think of to keep busy since the store was not open today.
With word of Felicity's illness having spread like a wildfire all over Williamsburg, the concerned well-wishers came, one right after the other, mostly women bearing pots of soup or cakes thick with icing. Mr. Merriman's most loyal customers, men from the Committee of Safety, Mr. Haverty and Mr. Bagwell were included, with their wives bringing pots. It was all a bit overwhelming, and at the same time endearing to know so many people cared about Felicity.
Around three in the afternoon there was yet another knock on the Merriman's front door. Mr. Merriman looked at the exasperated Rose and muttered outright, "If that's another pot of chicken soup I swear I'll-"
"I'll see to it, sir!" Ben jumped up from the table in the mini-kitchen where he, Rose, and Mr. Merriman were gathered, with Rose watching over Polly sleeping in her cradle, Mr. Merriman downing more coffee, and Ben trying to eat a plate of green beans without much success, since it seemed even food had lost its allure with Felicity so sick. Elizabeth, Nan and Mrs. Merriman were upstairs with her now, and Ben couldn't help but wonder if Felicity had heard any of the things he'd said to her yesterday afternoon.
It would be wonderful if she had.
"Hello...Arthur Pratt," Ben said when he opened the front door and saw the beaming, twinkly-eyed young man standing there. Arthur had a handful of purple flowers tied together with a blue ribbon in one hand, and the other hand held tightly to his side (what else?) a white pot.
"Greetings, young Benjamin!" Arthur exclaimed. "Elizabeth had enlightened me as to the severe condition of our friend Felicity, so I have come armed to the hilt with a pot of my Mama's very finest-"
"Chicken soup," finished Ben, with a sigh and a thin smile.
"Why, how did you know?" Arthur's blond eyebrows went up in mild surprise.
"I, uh, could, uh, smell it." Ben didn't want to offend the happy young man and his generosity. He stepped back. "Come in, Arthur."
When Arthur stepped in, he inhaled fully. "My goodness-gosh! My soup smells stronger inside than out!"
Ben was trying to figure out how to reply to this when Elizabeth appeared at the top of the stairs. "Arthur!" she yelped, her worried face turning softly happy. "I thought I heard your voice!"
"Aye, 'tis I!" His lively blue eyes lit up as she came down the stairs. Without breaking his gaze at her, he unthinkingly (and quite comically) thrust the pot at Ben's gut and held his bunch of purple flowers out to her. "These are for you!"
"Oh, Arthur, how dear of you!" She accepted them gratefully. "Hyacinths, too. Thank you."
Arthur was beyond pleased. "Dear Elizabeth, do give us a report on the condition of our friend!"
Ben, too, looked at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth looked forlorn again. "She won't open her eyes, Arthur, and her fever will not break." She glanced at Ben, then addded, "Sometimes it seems like she's on the verge of waking up or saying something, but then she doesn't. We...we must not give up."
"Nay, we will not!" Arthur affirmed. "For I have a simply delicious idea for a joke that the three of us must put our heads together on, and it would require all of us to be well!"
Elizabeth chuckled. "Felicity would be delighted."
For a moment, Ben Davidson felt a pang of regret for his wanting to join the army. Here was Elizabeth, Arthur, and Felicity becoming such a close-knit trio of comedians right before his very eyes, and he felt unincluded, left out. But he had no one to blame but himself, for 'twas of his own free will that he was opting to leave. Still, he envied their closeness.
He swallowed with effort. "Elizabeth, we have a vase if you would like to put your flowers in water, and Arthur, if you would like to have some cake, we got more than enough..."
"Oh yes! A right-thinking fellow never turns down cake!" He offered his arm to Elizabeth and they followed Ben, who, as he lead them back into the mini-kitchen, couldn't help but smile despite the depression upon him. Damned if that Arthur Pratt wasn't the most likeable fellow he'd ever met!
When Ben brought them into the room, Arthur's jaw dropped open when he saw all of the pots amassed from well-wishers sitting on tables. On top of the pots were more pots. Arthur cleared his throat. "'Twould seem you are well stocked with soup already!"
"The cakes are out in the big kitchen," Ben told him. "I will fetch you some."
"I'll go with you," Rose sighed, making sure Polly was still asleep before she went out. "William has already put his face into two of 'em."
"At least he's occupied," Mr. Merriman mumbled.
"Shall I clean him up for you?" Elizabeth offered brightly. Never having had a little brother, Elizabeth found William a dear little imp.
Rose smiled gently. "If'n you want to, Miss Elizabeth, but Miss Nan's already offered to lick the icing off his chubby little cheeks if need be."
Rubbing his forehead, Mr. Merriman smiled the slightest bit.
Seeing the strained faces about him, and nearly being overwhelmed by fear of the worst hanging over the house, Arthur Pratt clasped his hands behind his back and stepped over to Mr. Merriman. "Mr. Merriman, sir, if I may be so bold as to ask, may I entertain your young Mr. William and Miss Nan? 'Tis roumored within my family that I am most excellent with the children, being not far from having been one myself..."
Mr. Merriman was up on his feet, pumping Arthur's hand heartily. "Aye, Arthur, you certainly may! That means a lot, lad, thank you!"
Arthur's smile couldn't possibly be any more broader. He looked at the girl beside him who was beaming proudly. "And would you accompany us as well, Miss Elizabeth? Unless, of course, you'd rather remain at Felicity's side, then I completely and wholeheartedly understand..."
Elizabeth looked at Mr. Merriman. "Sir, if I could be of any more use...?"
Mr. Merriman gave her the warmest smile he could muster under the family's circumstances. "Go along with Arthur, Elizabeth. I am going back upstairs to relieve my wife. I will send Nan down to you. Thank you."
Ben returned with a slab of vanilla cake for Arthur (who wasted no time in putting it away and had it gone by the time Nan sauntered downstairs), and Rose gave Elizabeth a pretty glass vase to put her purple flowers in. "I'll put them in Felicity's room," Nan told them all. "Maybe their beautiful scent will waken her." Arthur most happily agreed to that.
When they had gone strolling with William and Nan, a gloomy Ben decided to check on the horses, what with the summer heat being quite bothersome. They would probably be a lot cooler back in their stalls. On his way down the front porch steps, however, he was surprised to see yet another well-wisher arriving, this one in the form of Walter Wheaton.
Walter didn't have a pot with him, but he did have an immense bushel of pink peonies with him. Ben's mouth came open as he abruptly stopped in front of his friend.
"Good day, Ben," Walter said nervously. "How is Felicity today?"
"No change," replied Ben, with an unexpected touch of irritation in his voice. If Walter noticed it, he didn't let on. Ben nodded at the bunch of peonies. "What are those for?"
As if he didn't know.
"Huh? Oh-these are for Lissie!" Walter grinned confidently. "Mother wanted me to bring chicken soup, but everyone brings chicken soup when a person gets ill!"
Ben rolled his eyes. "You don't say."
Walter shifted his weight nervously. "Um, Ben, could I ask you a question?"
Pressure that felt to Ben Davidson like a fist in his chest threatening to punch it's way out made him visibly uncomfortable. "I don't know, Walter, I have a lot to do..." Which was pure bull, of course. Ben's instincts told him he was not going to like being asked this something.
"Aw, c'mon, Ben," Walter pleaded anxiously. "I have to know-has Felicity begun courting anyone yet?"
Blast! Ben gritted his teeth.
"I know she's just eleven, but Mother says that's the perfect age for a young lady to begin contemplating her courtship possibilities." Walter's chest puffed out proudly. "And I want to be a possibility!"
It took effort, but Ben restrained himself. Walter was not Lord Forsythe. Walter was his friend...but what kind of 'friend' went after another guy's girl? He doesn't know Felicity loves ME, he thought sourly. And to tell him so would probably let him down cruely. He's a good fellow...'tis not my place to tell him!
"So...is she?"
Ben glared. "Walter, Lissie's very sick. Very. This is not the proper time to be asking such a thing."
Walter shifted again. "I know, Ben! But she's going to get well, isn't she? I mean, with everyone praying for her and the fact that she's a strong girl who doesn't give up easily-she'll be well in no time, Ben! I know she will! I want to be here for her when she does."
"Why?" Dumb question, but Ben was so angry right now he didn't care. He absently kicked the dirt.
Walter made an exasperated, impatient sound. "Because she's a terrific, beautiful girl! I would think you stupid to live here with her family and not see that for yourself, but I know she's like a sister to you-your master's daughter and all, and sure, you're protective of her. But to the rest of us, she's 'pretty Felicity Merriman-soon-to-be-old-enough-to-court', see?"
An extremely hot, consuming flame roared to life in Ben's chest. "'The rest of us'? What does that mean?"
Walter looked amused at his friend's dumbfoundedness. "Oh, you know. The guys! We've all noticed how she's getting prettier every day-even that Forsythe twit. Even young Dickie Darvish!
"Dickie Darvish is blind, Walter."
"So?" Walter shrugged indifferently, grinning. "He's still a male, isn't he? Felicity always talks to him at church, and I guess he's heard enough about her from the rest of us fellows to be interested in her himself!"
He leaned toward the stewing Ben, real secret-like. "And for a chap who can't see, he's quite a personable lad!"
Ben had had drew in his breath sharply. "GImmie those and I'll take them in." He snatched the peonies from Walter a bit too roughly as he brooded. Walter just grinned.
"When Felicity wakes up, tell her they're from me!" he called as Ben stormed back into the Merriman house and shut the door a little too firmly. Walter just chuckled and shook his head. What a character, that Ben! he thought. A person would think he was jelous or something!
Ben Davidson, his face a moody mask, strode right into the mini-kitchen, over to the rubbish box, and slapped the peonies right down on top of the discarded potato peelings. 'Twas a good thing Walter wasn't carrying a soup-pot! Ben imagined himself dumping the entire contents of it over the boy's head.
The horses, he reminded himself sternly. They would be cooler in the barn. Mayhaps I would be as well! As he strode towards the front door, he paused, halfway out of it. He looked back up the stairs, as if expecting to see someone, Felicity perhaps, standing there smiling at him, wearing her pretty blue dress. The beautiful gown she'd worn to her dancing lessons at the governor's palace.
Palace, he thought imaginatively. For a faerie princess to attend a dance lesson. Pretty Felicity Merriman...
But no one stood there at the top of the stairs, least of all Feicity. Why was he always expecting to see her there? Because he knew she hated to be abed when there were friends to see, Penny to ride, her garden to tend to? Because he believed she had heard his declaration of love and wanted to tell him so?
He rubbed his eyes. Felicity IS a strong girl, Walter is right. She will fight the fever. She WILL get better. And she will tell me she loves ME! He frowned. And I will leave to go fight in the war. Heaving a melancholy sigh, he closed the door behind him, quietly, as he stepped out.
CHAPTER 10 FINISHED! A shorter chappie, no doubt, but maybe that's for the better?