Page 35 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
“We must think now of the future,” Neil heard himself say, but his voice sounded hollow, almost as if he were hearing it from a distance. “I have some plans which may provide us with some security if this blight reappears. I… they…” he swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. The room was spinning, but he still noticed the way some of the farmers exchanged glances. If only he could sit down!
Harry began to elbow his way through the crowd towards him. Neil bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper and forced himself to continue speaking.
“We shall look at the way we… we rotate the crops,” he slurred, and knew without a doubt that he was swaying now, like a drunken man. “Isolation fail-safe procedures must be… I… Harry, I feel sick.”
Harry was at his side at once, his hands firm on Neil’s elbow.
“Move aside, please! Give him some air. For Heaven’s sake, give him some air!”
Neil was vaguely aware of Harry’s voice ringing in his ear. He kept his eyes shut until the fresh, cool air hit him in the face, signalling that they were outside. He wasn’t entirely sure how he had remained upon his feet, besides Harry supporting him.
He sat down with a thump, somewhat surprised to find a bench at his back. Flinching, Neil opened his eyes.
Harry crouched down in front of him, face pinched with worry. Behind him, the farmers peered out of the doorway, their faces pressed to the windows on either side of the door.
“Neil?” he murmured. “Neil, say something.”
“I am quite all right, Harry.”
Harry snorted. “You are not.”
“I had a fit.”
“Indeed. A small one. You never properly lost consciousness; I believe. How do you feel? As weak as usual?”
“Not quite as bad,” Neil swallowed, glancing over at the farmers. “Reassurance, eh?”
Harry looked away. “I had better go back in there and talk to them.”
“I know, I know. I will just…” Neil trailed off, not sure if he could walk back to the house himself.
Harry snapped his fingers, attracting the attention of a couple of labourers loitering nearby.
“Wait here with the Marquess, until he’s feeling strong enough to walk back to the house,” Harry instructed. “Then walkwith him. See him safe into the house, won’t you? If he seems ill or acts strangely, come and fetch me, do you understand?”
The men eyed each other uneasily but nodded obediently. Harry glanced back at his cousin.
“You don’t mind, do you? It’s just… well, it’s just that this meeting is an important one.”
Neil squeezed his eyes closed, the humiliation washing over him. “I am aware. And I’m sorry.”
Harry laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault, Neil.”
And then he was gone, hurrying back inside the meeting room. The door closed behind him, and Neil was left to wallow his own self-pity.
I can’t believe I thought I was getting better.
***
The exhaustion was so intense that Neil could barely put one foot in front of the other. Usually, after a fit, Harry would always see him safely home, ideally to a comfortable couch or even into bed, but the farmers had to be soothed and reassured, and that had to take priority.
What a fool I was,Neil thought dully.Thinking that I was getting better.
As he moved past the little corridor that led up into the music room, strains of pianoforte music drifted out. Neil stopped, frowning. It didn’t sound like Cynthia’s playing. Cynthia was good at music, but whoever was playing now had talent in abundance.
Almost without knowing what he was doing, he slipped along the passageway until he came to the door at the end, half-open.
He saw Patrina at once. She had her back to him, bent over the pianoforte, playing a song he’d never heard of before. Heclosed his eyes, resting his head against the door frame, and let the music wash over him.
