Page 63 of His Godsent Duchess
"Smith," Christina called out as soon as they arrived, "Amelia is missing. We need to find her at once."
Smith's expression darkened with concern, and he immediately called for several footmen to begin the search. Christina, unwilling to sit idly by, made the decision to follow them. But before she could leave, Miss Peversly stepped forward, her voice sharp.
"It was your encouragement, Your Grace, that led Amelia astray. She has been talking of exploration for days, and now she's gone off into the wilderness. The Duke never wanted his children in these woods. Imagine his disappointment when he returns and finds one missing."
Christina's patience snapped. "You, Miss Peversly, have forced yourself to remain in their lives as their governess. If you were as competent as you claim, you would have kept a closer eye on Amelia."
Miss Peversly's face flushed with anger, but before she could retort, Christina raised a hand, silencing her. "I don't care what you have to say. I have a daughter to find."
With that, Christina rushed out into the rain, following the trail the footmen had taken. The downpour had become heavier, soaking through her clothes, but she pressed on, her mind racing with worry. She couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to Amelia.
After what felt like an eternity, one of the footmen called out. "Over here!"
Christina hurried to his side and found Amelia, soaked and muddy, clutching a ruined fan in her hands. The little girl's face was streaked with tears, but her expression softened the moment she saw Christina.
Without hesitation, Christina pulled her into a tight embrace, relief flooding her entire body. "Amelia, thank goodness you're safe."
Amelia trembled in her arms. "Mother, I got lost… I didn't mean to…"
"Shh, it's all right," Christina whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You're safe now."
They hurried back to the castle, and as soon as they arrived, Christina called for Mrs. Brimsey. "Fetch blankets and hot bricks, quickly!"
Amelia was shivering as Christina helped her out of her wet clothes and into dry ones. Mrs. Brimsey returned with blankets, and they wrapped her up, placing hot bricks in her bed to chase away the chill.
But soon after, Amelia's body began to tremble with fever. Christina's heart clenched with worry. "Send for the physician," she ordered, sitting by her Amelia's bedside, watching over her as the fever took hold.
"The young lady will need the tonic three times a day," the physician said, his voice measured as he closed his bag and glanced over at Amelia, who lay still and pale beneath the layers of blankets.
Christina nodded, her throat tight. "Thank you, Doctor. We will adhere to your instructions."
The physician gave her a kind look before nodding to Mrs. Brimsey, who escorted him out of the room. Christina stood beside Amelia's bed, watching her daughter's shallow breathing with a heavy heart. More than a day had passed, and the fever had refused to subside. Despite the constant care, the cold compresses, and the medicine, Amelia's temperature remained dangerously high, and with every passing hour, Christina's worry deepened.
Her chest felt tight, as if her very breath was trapped beneath the weight of her fears. She had not slept since Amelia fell ill, and though exhaustion gnawed at her, she could not bring herself to leave her daughter's side. Every time she reached for Amelia's hand and felt the heat radiating from her small body, a fresh wave of dread coursed through her.
A soft rustle of movement caught her attention, and she glanced up to see Kitty, Annie, Cassidy, and Agnes standing by the doorway, their wide eyes filled with concern as they looked at their sister.
Agnes stepped forward, her voice barely a whisper. "Will Amelia be all right?"
Christina's heart clenched, but she forced herself to smile, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "Yes, darling. She will be. The physician has given her medicine, and we must give it time."
Agnes nodded, though her little face remained clouded with worry. Christina caught Kitty's eye and gave her a slight nod. Kitty, ever the protective eldest, understood immediately. She took Agnes' hand, while Annie gently tugged Cassidy by the arm. The girls hesitated but allowed themselves to be led out of the room, though their worried glances lingered on Amelia.
The door closed softly behind them, and Christina let out a long, shaky breath. She moved back to the bed and sat beside Amelia, her fingers brushing gently over the child's damp forehead. Her skin was hot to the touch, and it made Christina's heart ache to see her so fragile.
"I'm so sorry, Amelia," Christina whispered, her voice breaking. "I should have kept a better watch over you. I should have never let you out of my sight."
The room was quiet except for the soft crackle of the fireplace and Amelia's shallow breaths. Christina felt a deep sense of helplessness, a weight she could not shake. She had always prided herself on her independence, on her ability to handle whatever life threw her way. But sitting here, watching Amelia suffer, she felt powerless.
She couldn't help but think of Victor. He should have been here, at Amelia's side, offering some strength when hers faltered. But he was gone, miles away in London, unreachable. And now, as she sat here, holding the hand of their child, it felt as though she were carrying the burden alone.
Mrs. Brimsey entered the room quietly, her steps soft but sure. "Your Grace," she said gently, her hands folded before her. "You've been here for hours. Perhaps it would be best if you rested. I can sit with her."
Christina shook her head, though the exhaustion weighed heavy in her bones. "No… I cannot leave her."
Mrs. Brimsey stepped closer, her tone firm but kind. "You will do her no good if you fall ill yourself. I'll stay with her. She'll be well looked after."
Christina hesitated, torn between the desire to remain by Amelia's side and the nagging awareness of her own weariness. She knew Mrs. Brimsey was right—her strength was waning. But the thought of leaving Amelia, even for a moment, felt unbearable.
