Page 17 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“There is no need to alarm my mother,” Henrietta replied, returning her gaze. “Why do you look at me in such a way?”
“I will send for your mother after I return you to your chambers,” Molly told her. “Would you like to take my arm, Miss?”
“No,” Henrietta snapped, suddenly understanding. “I am capable of walking without aid.”
“As you wish.”
She thinks I am pretending to be sick.
Molly led the way back to her bedchambers and turned down the covers before moving to stoke the fire burning behind the hearth with another log.
“I will send for your parents,” Molly assured her, turning to leave, Henrietta’s protests falling on deaf ears.
When will I learn that I have no voice in this house? Even the servants feel they have more power than me. Will that change once I am a Marchioness?
She did not have high hopes for what the title meant, but Henrietta would be happy if she was not reprimanded by servant or ignored by an abigail. She heard the key in the lock again and sighed, sitting up in her bed.
“Darling, should I send for Dr. Slater?” Tabitha’s eyes widened with concern. “Have you a temperature?”
“Mama, I am fine. I only need rest.”
Yet it seemed that with each word she spoke, her tongue grew heavier, her words more slurred.
“Have you been imbibing, Henny?” Tabitha demanded with shock. Henrietta’s lids became blocks of lead and she could no longer keep them from closing.
“Henny? Henny, are you all right?”
“I must sleep, Mama…”
She was unsure if the words left her lips, but it was the last thing she recalled before falling into a deep, dark slumber.
* * *
She could not be certain what had woken her, but when Henrietta’s lids parted, she was enshrouded in darkness. Her head was aching, and her eyes felt gritty, and as she struggled to sit up, her body felt beaten. A touch to her forehead told her she was plagued with fever.
“Mama?” she called out, but her voice was raspy. “Molly?”
There was no one in the room but her and the dying fire. She realized she must have been asleep for hours. Slowly, she slid her legs off the side of the mattress, her muscles protesting the movement with every poppy seed she moved. She was parched, her throat filled with spools of cotton and she laboriously made her way to the water basin to pour a cup with shaking hands. Taking a long sip, her stomach lurched in protest, and for a terrifying moment, she thought she might vomit. Before she could fully entertain the notion, a sound at the window caused her to whirl and she gasped, dropping the cup from her hands in a loud crash.
There was a man in the window.
Without pausing to think, Henrietta threw her head back and screamed with the little bit of energy she possessed, but just as quickly as the face appeared, it was gone. She stumbled toward the panes, her head swimming with waves of dizziness, and pressed her face against the glass. She watched in horror as the shape of a man disappeared across the yard toward the neighboring property.
“Good Lord, Henrietta! What is the meaning of this?” Aaron roared, stalking into her chambers with anger. His face was creased with sleep, even in the shadowy light.
“There is a man! A man outside!” she choked, her breaths nearly wheezes. “At the window!”
“I see no one,” her father growled. “Are you certain?”
“Yes!” Henrietta cried. “Yes, I—”
She swooned again, only to be caught by her father’s strong arms.
“Oh dear, Aaron,” Tabitha muttered, joining them at the window. “I should have sent for Dr. Slater earlier. She is delirious with fever.”
“No!” Henrietta denied, shaking her blonde hair passionately. “I saw him! Father, please!”
“How did he look, Henrietta?” Aaron asked gruffly but he was gentle as he placed her back into the bed. “Molly, fetch her some tea and a compress for her fever, then send for Dr. Slater at once.”
