Chapter 95
A sound wakes her and scares her out of her wits. Someone is in her room! She can hear heavy breathing, and there is a presence right next to her, she can feel the heat and a metallic, masculine smell coming off it. It's pitch dark and she cannot see anything.
'It's me, Miss, come to check on you, you seemed almost paralysed for a few moments in the carriage. Did I scare you?'
Nick, damn him! She almost died of fright!
'I was asleep, you scared the life out of me!'
She tries to move her arms and legs, fortunately they do what she wants them to. Her eyes are starting to get used to the dark, and she can make out a sturdy shape in a weird dress-like garment, a ghost she would say if she didn't recognise the face now so very close to hers that she can feel his breath on her skin.
'I can move all right. Thank you for caring, I guess.' She's a bit disgruntled to have been scared so badly.
'I'm sorry Miss, I shouldn't have come. Fact is, I was feeling rather in need of a little comforting and I hoped you might be willing to indulge me.'
'It's done now, so you may as well stay.'
Her body is awake now, suddenly she discerns his scent quite clearly, and her hands take hold of both manly cheeks. A gasp of pain? A sticky feeling? Something is not right.
'What is going on, Nick, why does my touch hurt you?'
'You told me I needed visible evidence of being abused. I have it now. And witnesses, four girls, two of them maids, two of them the young misses. He was waiting for me when I got to the servants' quarter, and all four of them came in when he was beating the stuffing out of me.
He ran off, unmarked, I don't know where, I was in no state to watch. I told the girls I was fine, and to go to bed and tell the master in the morning. I wasn't, of course, but they're just girls, what can they do? So I went to bed, too, but I can't sleep, I hurt, badly, and I'm bleeding somewhere. Several somewheres, actually.'
Can anyone understand men? To play games in the dark while they may be dying of trauma?
Anne jumps from under the covers, it's cold, and she takes the time to put on her dressing-gown before she picks up an ember from the hearth to light the candle. Poking up the fire will help to get some light in here. She takes the candle to the table by the hearth, throws a few blocks on the ashes and stirs it up to a blaze. Now she can see.
'Can you come to the fire? I want to see how badly you are hurt.'
Nick is no whiner, if he can't sleep because of the pain something is damaged. This time, it's her turn to help him up, and she takes him to the chair by the fire. He sits down with a grunt. His face is a mess, he meant it literally when he said he didn't see the butler leave, his eyes are both swollen shut. One cheek is black and blue, and he has a cut on the cheekbone on the other side, and several on the back of his head.
Quickly grabbing a towel and all the washcloths she has in her room, as well as her ewer with clean water, she carefully cleans all the gashes, and the rest of his face, he has been bleeding a lot. It's very painful to have those wounds cleaned, but Anne does it nonetheless, she knows it is important to do that soon, and who knows what the bastard used to hit Nick with.
When she is done with his face, she asks, 'Where else were you hit? Was he all by himself? How long did you let him lay into you for?'
'Please don't be angry, Miss,' he says in a small voice. And then dryly, 'Yes, he was by himself, and I didn't want to damage him, I didn't know those girls had heard the noise and were determined to help me git rid of the piece of shit. I thought he'd tire of it eventually, but he wouldn't stop, I think he had lost it and would have killed me eventually. He kicked me where he could, I may have broken a few ribs, breathing hurts, and I think he hit me with a piece of wood, it hurt too much for bare fists. I curled up to protect my belly, but it didn't help much, he got to it anyway. My man's parts feel like mush, only my legs seem to have come off pretty well. I just want to lie down and die in your arms, Miss. May I, please?'
Since working is better than crying, and the fire is pretty hot by now, she briskly relieves him of his strange garment, a nightshirt, and carefully checks every inch of him to not overlook something that may really kill him without a doctor's help. He was right, his legs are relatively unscathed, his back is covered in large bruises, and his belly is a mess. She has never seen a man's private parts, but these look awful, like a bag of soggy vegetables but in an unhealthy shade of blue. She cleans out a few more cuts, but doesn't know what to do about the bruising.
'I think you need a doctor, Nick. You may be bleeding inside, you may be concussed, and your manly parts look like something ate them then spit them up again.'
He laughs weakly, then quickly checks down there with some difficulty, and laughs even more, though still weakly.
'Actually, they're supposed to look like that, except not blue but flesh-coloured. They hurt worst of all. My belly hurts but just on the surface, I can't see much but I'm not dizzy or nauseous, and I really, really want a cuddle right now. May I please lie in your bed and hold you until I feel a little better?'
He is not going to feel better for quite some time, but Anne banks the fire as best she can, then helps him into the bed, without the strange garment. She knows what she is doing is terribly sinful, but she is going to do it anyway. Besides, he is in no shape to ravage her, even if he wants to.
She removes her dressing gown, and on impulse removes her nightgown as well, then crawls in beside him, snuffing out the candle. He snuggles against her, and she can feel his lips on hers, he wants to kiss again, and by now his scent and the feel of naked skin on naked skin have set her on fire, so she returns it eagerly.
Too eagerly, for instead of his tongue, she tastes blood. Not a lot, but it reminds her he is hurt and needs to be treated gently. The taste of blood fades away, and now the kiss tastes as it did this morning, very warm and very good. There is no way to know whether his moans are ardour or pain, and Anne can only curb her heat and stay gentle, and follow his lead. She supposes he'll stop when it hurts.
A moan escapes her when he touches her bare breasts, they have never been touched by a man before now, and this is not even really a man's touch. For Nick is in too much pain to feel true heat, he is mostly seeking comfort in her soft body, and he finally finds it with his body pressed close to hers, and his face on her chest, between her breasts. She can feel his body relax and hears his breathing slow down, which alarms her at first until she remembers the girls sound the same when they fall into a deep sleep. She dares not go to sleep herself, he must be taken to his own room before the household awakens or the results will be catastrophic.
But there is plenty to think about and more to feel, the body against hers is bigger than her own, but he's not fat, it's muscle. Still, it's nice and soft, and there are hairs growing on it in a lot of places. They tickle. She strokes his hair very gently, somehow she understands that he really needs his sleep to recover, but her own feelings do need an outlet or she'll burst.
This is the worst thing that can happen, a man she likes but can never love getting injured. It's a recipe for disaster, the chances that she will not fall in love with him are negligible. He's so helpless, and so dependent on her. But he's also a self-proclaimed ladies' man, he does not wish to be claimed, and she merely wishes to explore the new world he showed her. Not for some time now, not with him, in this state. Still she will see him back to health, it takes great courage to not hit back when assaulted, he wanted to be blameless so badly, and it nearly killed him.
Her shaken feelings of the last days slowly take over from her common sense, and she vents them by crying softly, inhaling the fragrance of his hair, feeling his arms and legs clamped around her own, his face between her breasts, his hand on one of them. Of course she has no chance of staying awake all night, she manages for half an hour, but then she can feel the world slipping away into sleep.
It is still dark when she wakes, the warm body beside her stirring just a little. Soon, the stirring becomes more pronounced, the hands clutch at her, and he starts groaning. He's in pain. Anne has no idea what time it is, she has a clock but it's too dark to see. But she is rather certain that Nick needs something, painkillers, or even more care, she cannot handle this by herself. Even if she manages to get him back to sleep, it has to be in his own bed, where he can remain until they send for a doctor. Well, that means there is work to do, and Anne slowly removes herself from Nick's side and from the bed, where she lights the candle and stirs up the fire yet again, adding the last blocks of fuel. He mumbles a protest at her absence, but he must be in great pain and unable to realise the danger they're in. The clock shows four in the morning, and Anne is wide awake and feeling strong. Good, she'll need it.
First she dresses in her oldest dress, it may get bloody when she tries to get Nick downstairs and into his own bed. Then she retrieves his nightshirt and opens the buttons, she'll never get it over his head. The room is getting warmer as she sits by his side and gently removes the blankets.
'No, it's cold, and dark, it's way too early to get up,' he protests, then, 'and I don't feel so well. I don't think I can go walking with you today, Miss. I hurt, everything hurts.
He sits up with a groan, ever more lucid now, and hisses, 'What time is it? The cook starts at six! I need to leave, but it hurts so bad.'
His voice dies down to a whisper, and he clings to Anne.
'We're in for it now, I can't walk at all. I'll never get to my own room, I must have been mad to come here and drag you into it. I'm so sorry, Miss. But I felt so lonely and it hurt so much.'
'I was glad to have you with me, Nick. Someone hurt you on purpose, and I needed to make up for that. I'm sure I can get you downstairs, but I'm very afraid I'll fall in love with you. You look so helpless and so incredibly sweet.'
'And I cannot bring myself to be crabby to you, to make you dislike me, you have held me so well that I have slept almost through the night. My bed will be very cold without you. Well, it cannot be helped. I may hurt but I feel much better, there is no way Wellesley can talk himself out of this. I bet we will never see him again, he thinks he's killed me. One kiss before I try to move?'
They kiss, the taste of blood is gone, leaving a whiff of metal. He still smells so good, she wants to hold him forever, but he cannot be claimed.
After the kiss he does move, and she helps him into the nightshirt, then buttons it down.
'Let's do it right away, when we reach my room you can wake someone or find me a painkiller yourself. I hope I haven't bled all over your bed, it would give us away as surely as being caught.'
Step by painful step they reach the stairs, their only fortune that Nick's legs hold him pretty well. But everything else is stiffening and swelling, and Anne is in a state of constant anxiety, fearing he'll collapse or suffer some relapse. It takes half an hour to reach his room, via the privy since he will not be able to reach that by himself, and she tucks him in with another kiss. He tells her where to find the painkillers, and she fetches her candle to find them in the dark, in a room where she has never set foot before. If she ever owns her own house, she promises herself, she will know every single room in it, and will be able to find anything she needs by herself, in the dark, even in the servants' quarters and the stables.
Painkillers found, she cannot find water but only a small vat of beer, which will have to do. Drawing it is easier than it looks, and she takes both prizes to Nick's cubicle, which she manages to find when he calls out softly as she passes it by for the second time. Of course he is pleasantly surprised to take the powder with beer, which is safer as well as easier, since Anne doesn't know which water is meant for drinking.
As they wait for the painkillers to take effect, Nick begs her not to leave him all alone, which she isn't planning to anyway. She will stay until he is fast asleep, or until the household starts to stir. Or maybe she will stay anyway, professing she found him while investigating a noise. No-one will wonder what she is doing here when they see the extent of his wounds, and hear the witnesses' report on who did it to him.
She sits on his bed and holds him until his face shows some relief of the pain. Then he starts to nod, and soon he is fast asleep once more. Anne returns the cup to the kitchen and runs upstairs to clear up the mess in her room. She takes the bloody towel and washcloths down to his room, as if she has used them there. And she checks her sheet and blanket, finds the sheet indeed blood-stained, and changes it, washing out the blood with water from her ewer, then dropping it in her laundry basket. Hopefully Dora will not ask too many questions.
Nick is still asleep, and she watches him with some very tender feelings. Is she really unable to resist the temptation of a strong man rendered helpless? She should avoid him from now on, but she already knows she cannot. But he cannot be claimed, as soon as he is back to health he will turn her down, start seeing other ladies, and Anne will most likely flee to Darcy's house, where she will nurse her broken heart while listening to soft melodies played on the piano.
That picture satisfies her completely, it gives her permission to fuss over him as much as she likes, he will put an end to it, she will not try to hold on to him, she is too proud to make a fool of herself over a man twice. He will not wake for some hours, the cuts have stopped bleeding, he was lucid and very shrewd, she can go back to bed and catch a few hours of sleep until breakfast.
But of course she has forgotten the maids. They cannot lie in bed until breakfast, there is work to be done, and they are up and about around seven. Talking about what happened last night, they notice the signs of the fight, and neither the instigator, nor the victim are anywhere to be seen. Do they wait for the master, or should they inform the cook? They had expected Nick to be there, coolly explaining to the other staff-members what happened.
Finally Dora has had it, and she tells the cook that the missing butler lashed out at the missing retainer last night, and that the latter went to bed, and the former ran away. It is the right thing to do, the cook delegates cooking breakfast to his underlings, checks the butler's room to find it empty, checks Nick's room to find him in his bed with two shiners and numerous cuts and bruises in his face.
He is breathing regularly and deeply, and the cook decides to let him sleep. He does notice the wounds have been cleaned, and there are washcloths and a towel from upstairs lying about, covered in blood. So someone found him and cleaned him up, then put him back to bed.
'Nick told us to go to bed, then tell the master in the morning. Do we wait until Nick wakes up?'
The maids are so young, but they take their task seriously.
'Better wait another hour, the master rises early. Whose towel is this?'
'It's from the guestroom, so that means Miss de Bourgh's.'
'Will you check on her as well? Wellesley is gone, and he had some disturbing ideas lately. He may have kidnapped or hurt the young lady.'
So Dora sneaks in to find her mistress fast asleep, but still more alive than she ever used to be, with blushing cheeks and mussed up hair. She used to sleep like the dead, lying still all night. This is much better.
Her ewer is nearly empty, and her stack of wood is almost gone. Not that her mistress would know how to make a fire, but a room should have a stack of wood, so she quietly builds it up and fills the ewer. Then she removes the laundry and lays out the mistress' clothes for the next day, removing an awful old dress with an old-fashioned low waist. It's crinkled because it hasn't been put away correctly, and there are some bloodstains on the sleeve. Dora hopes that this means she can throw it out, if the mistress wants to stay in London and live with the Darcy family she will need fashionable dresses like those she bought last week.
Slowly, her mind makes the connection between bloody towels and a bloodstained dress. The mistress must have woken up and found Fowler bleeding. She must have put on an old dress, and taken him to his room to clean his wounds with her own towel and water. Of course she doesn't know where anything is downstairs.
There will be a staggering story to be heard when she wakes up, and Fowler wakes up.
When Anne wakes the next time it is light outside. She instantly remembers last night, and looks around the room. The wood has been replaced, the ewer has been filled, her old dress is gone and the laundry basket as well. She rings for Dora, who comes in as if she has been waiting for the sound of the bell.
'Was it you, Miss, who saved Fowler from bleeding to death? He woke up an hour ago, in agony, poor man, and told us he'd walked through the house tonight in a kind of haze of pain, and had been rescued by a lady who tended to his wounds and put him back in bed with a painkiller. Miss, he is black and blue all over, and we were all called into the master's office and he asked us a million questions. Now he's sent people out to look for Wellesley, to have him charged with attempted murder. He says he means to see him hang. I've never seen anyone that angry, well, except the mistress at home, but I could always get away from her. Now I had to stay and tell everything to some man in a fancy coat.
The doctor came and drew sketches of Fowler's wounds, he really did, Miss, and now poor Fowler may not leave his bed for a whole week, except to, you know what. He's such a hero about it, and he really wants to thank you for saving him last night. The doctor said you cleaned those wounds like a trooper. I guess he used to be in the army. Are you all right after waking up in the middle of the night? Weren't you scared? I sure was scared seeing that horrid man laying in poor Fowler, he's been so nice to me, and to everybody else. The cook was very much ashamed of not telling the master before, but I understand, Fowler made light of it himself, and their master didn't seem to care much about his staff. Now they know he does.'
At least the little maid is very much relieved to be rid of the butler, and having dared to help bring him down.
'I'm fine, Dora, I was very tired but now I'm fine. But Fowler was rather heavy and I found him on the top floor, getting him down was quite a task. I'd like to see him before breakfast, he looked pretty bad. Let's get on with dressing, I'm hungry.'
He is waiting for her, and he doesn't look at all adverse to being claimed. In fact, he looks infatuated, though his eyes show a lot of pain as well. They are alone, and the door is closed, so she kneels beside the bed and enters his outstretched arms.
'My saviour,' he breathes into her ear, causing her a shiver and a desire to kiss him.
Well, they are in for it anyway, so she does, and he gives himself up to that kiss as if there is no tomorrow. He is not going to be the sensible one, that is obvious.
'Does it hurt very much?' she hears herself say, with a sense of the inevitable. See, they are both doomed.
'Yes, Miss, it does. I feel as if I have been racked, and I shouldn't say this to a lady, but my balls hurt like the devil. Sorry, Miss. But they do. Still, I'm glad I didn't put as much as a scratch on him, for the master has someone tracking him down, and when they find him they will see I didn't do anything to deserve this. You were right all along, Miss, the master does care, and he would have stood up for me much earlier. Those maids admitted Wellesley had been picking on me for a long time, and he asked me very seriously and a bit hurt why I hadn't trusted him. I confessed I thought the higher rank was always right, until you told me others were suffering, too.
Then he told me he liked me, and respected me for doing such a good job with his daughters, keeping them out of trouble, taking care their ridiculous outings were always safe and as secret as possible. Miss de Bourgh, he knew all the time! He just thought they had the right to make some fun before they settled. I have been torturing myself, and letting myself be tortured by damned Wellesley, on a mistaken premise. The master praised me for getting his girls to obey me when necessary, and for teaching them some boundaries. He thought they had improved immensely already. I'm incredibly relieved, but at the same time I cannot believe what I have suffered. It was all for nothing!'
It's time for breakfast, she has to leave him, and she has no good reason to visit by day, so he will have to do without her for quite some time.
'I so wished to go out walking with you, Miss, and tell me about my brothers and sisters, and my mum and dad. They're retired now, you see, we all pitch in to make them comfortable in their old age. But you need to eat, Miss, and I'm keeping you from your breakfast. May I come to you tonight? If I can manage the stairs?'
She wants it so badly, but it's such a terrible idea. Still, he's in pain, and shocked, that madman might have killed him. Once he's recovered he'll come to his senses, and she will, subsequently.
'If you cannot manage I'll come to you. It's more sensible anyway, if you bleed, your bedding cannot give you away. And if we oversleep, I can be back in my own room more quickly.'
'I can hear a cock crow from here. I never oversleep in this room. I'm so sorry, Miss, to drag you into this. Maybe you should go to Mr Darcy's home immediately, the problem here is solved. There never was one, Mr Blackwood doesn't care what his daughters do as long as they're safe.'
'It's too late Nick. I'm afraid I'll need someone to drag me away from here. I have high hopes for Mr Manners. But until then, I'll be there for you. See you tonight!'
Breakfast is a strange affair. They all sit in total silence, drink coffee and eat, until Mr Blackwood finds some words to start with.
'Miss de Bourgh, we owe you a great debt. Through my negligence, a servant I value for his work, but even more so as a fellow human being, was gravely hurt, under my roof. I never had a clue what was going on, I should have. Nick has been withdrawn for some time now, and I never asked why. Without you, he would have been wandering the house all night, delirious with pain in search for help, abandoned and forlorn. He could have fallen down the stairs, or spent the whole night in the cold, unattended, his wounds going bad.
Thank you so much for caring for him, for daring to investigate a noise in the hall in the first place. For convincing him I would save him from his tormentor. I assure you I will take better care of my household from now on. Work can wait, or I'll hire someone.
The girls told me you liked the pie from the old Rookery, so I took the liberty of having some delivered.'
Whatever happened to Anne that the very thought of that pie makes her mouth water? When she has already eaten quite a lot?
'That is so kind of you, Mr Blackwood. It was so good. Will you give some to Nick, too? He loved it, too, and he is in such pain.'
'Yes, of course! Right away.' And he gestures an attendant, who walks towards a box sitting on the table. But Anne cannot follow his movements, for Mr Blackwood speaks again, to all three of them.
'I know you are used to your amusements, but I will urge you not to repay Nick's faithful service by leaving him unattended when he is incapacitated. Will you all spend part of you day with him, or is that asking too much? Maybe you can read to him, or talk to him, show him we care? I'd do it myself but I'm certain he prefers the company of pretty young ladies. I'll tend to him when you are at your concert tonight.'
'I don't want to go to the concert if Nick's not there with us.'
That must be the first time Sophie has made up her mind ahead of her sister.
'I don't either. The other fellows ogle us when they think Nick's not watching.'
Anne is surprised they don't know, apparently Nick even organises the tickets.
'There is no concert tonight, Mr Blackwood, girls. Mr Fielding is playing at an exclusive meeting of musical scholars tonight. Invitation only, boredom guaranteed. One elderly chap with a fixation on music telling similar chaps about Renaissance music. You wouldn't even like it. I'm not invited either, though my uncle is.'
'Then we can stay with Nick all evening,' Sophie says happily.
Her father is watching her with tolerant fondness. He can't approve of his daughter's infatuation with a servant!
'Now Sophie, he needs to sleep a lot, too. Maybe you can find some other amusement tonight? And I think you should go to the other concerts without him until he is well again, Miss de Bourgh will be there, and we will find you an attendant you like and trust. Nick may need a few weeks to get back into shape, and the season will be over before you know it. I suppose Mr Fielding will go to Pemberley with your family?'
'Indeed he will. Maybe my cousin is still in town, if he is, he may be willing to take us to the concerts. He is a very kind, dependable man, a Colonel in the army, actually. You'll like him, maybe not as much as Nick, but we can see Nick every day, he will be pleased to have some company. I will see my cousin today, if you want me to, I'll ask him.'
'It's not Mr Darcy, is it? For he is not in the army,' Mr Blackwood wants to know.
'No, this is my other cousin, Earl Compton's second son. Though his Christian name is also Fitzwilliam, which makes for confusing conversations at family gatherings.'
'You walk in exalted circles, Miss de Bourgh, though your name may be the most respected of all.'
Well, right now Anne doesn't care two cents about the name, though she wants Rosings all right when her time has come.
The conversation has died down enough for Anne to start stuffing herself on that delectable pie, and this slice is even better. Too bad Nick has to suffer for it, but since he does anyway, she will enjoy every bite of this heavenly concoction.
And it looks like they'll get to be together most of the day, once the girls get bored and go out anyway, Anne can sit with him and he can tell her about his family. Or she can watch him sleep, and steal a kiss or two. Darcy will fetch her right after lunch, maybe she should cool down a lot before sitting down in a carriage with him. She still cannot control her feelings at all, they are always displayed on her face for the world to see.
After breakfast they go to the servants' quarters and sit with Nick, and as Anne expected, Sophie and Angelina start to get restless really quickly, then take their leave, probably to ask their father to send someone for the hired man. Who will ogle them, but nothing more.
Room empty, door closed, Anne first makes her man comfortable. No! Anne makes someone else's faithful servant comfortable. The man who likes noble ladies, any number of them, and who cannot be claimed. Who does his utmost not to claim her now.
'Is there anything you need, Nick?'
'No, Miss, I'm perfectly happy right now. I'm seeing things because of the painkillers, I think they are opium-based, for there is someone sitting beside my bed whom I didn't expect to see all day, and then only vaguely since it would be dark.'
She doesn't say anything, just being here is enough, and he is clearly half asleep and yes, maybe a touch delirious because of the painkillers. He will not be telling her about his family right now, but she will be there when he falls asleep, and hopefully when he awakens.
'I don't want to sleep, Miss, because when I wake up you will be gone. But I cannot stay awake any longer. I'm sorry, Miss, maybe I should have clobbered him. Will you hold me until I sleep?'
Yes, she will. And then she will fetch a book and sit here with him and read. No-one seems to care, and she wants to.
He wants a kiss, too, and they have a lovely ten minutes until he is well and truly out of it. She kisses his face where it isn't hurt or bound up, and takes in his scent to feel her blood rush to her face. And then she forces herself to go up to her room and fetch her book. The chair is simple and hard, so she sits on the bed with her back to the wall, and as she slowly lets herself be drawn into the action of the book, the shape beside her snuggles against her and buries his face in her skirts, showing no sign of waking.