Page 31 of The Scarred Duchess
Bennet, reins in hand, walked his horse to Longbourn, his mount uncomplaining to the heavy burden it pulled. Bill woke not once.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pain. Such pain. Bill whimpered, the slight sound causing his throat to burn. A swallow only brought more pain. He panted slowly.
“How is he?” He perceived the feminine murmur but could not locate the source.
“He is still alive. There is that at least.”
“Do not wake him. Sleep is the best medicine for now.”
Sometime later—minutes, hours, days, he knew not—he opened his eyes again. A fair-haired girl sat at his bedside, holding his uninjured hand. “You are awake,” she said with a smile.
“Am I dead?” he managed to ask his voice sounding raspy and unfamiliar. He uttered a small moan afterwards; it hurt to speak.
“No. You are very much alive.” She pressed his hand. “Go back to sleep now. Mama says sleep will help you get better.”
Again, when he woke, he had no idea how long he had been asleep. Again, the blonde girl was at his bedside. “Welcome back,” she said. “Please do not speak, it may cause you more injury.”
“Are you an angel?” Bill managed to say.
That made her giggle. “No, I am not an angel. I am Jane Bennet and you are with us at Longbourn. We have no heavenly connexions.”
Bill nodded his understanding.
“Shall I read to you? Would you enjoy that?
He nodded again and she began to read to him from a book she had had, hitherto unseen, on her lap. She read until an older lady wearing an apron, a woman who reminded him of his mother, entered the room.
“Are you keeping our patient good company, Miss Jane?”
She smiled and inclined her head. Bill tightened his jaws as his eyes filled; he watched the lady who resembled his Ma leave. He was at a place called Longbourn with a girl called Miss Jane and…Miss Jane’s mother? And no sign of his own mother, his father, or little Susie. He wiped away the tears that arose from the fear that accompanied that understanding.
He returned his gaze to the girl at his bedside. “Was that your mother?” he managed to utter.
“No,” she said with another smile. “That was Mrs Hill. She is our housekeeper.”
Housekeeper? He had never been in a house that had a housekeeper. Jane was a lady, he realised. A great lady, like a duchess.
She bestowed one last smile upon him as she rose and quit the room, urging him to rest again, promising to return. As his door closed, Bill whispered. “Godbless you, Duchess.”
As months passed, the Bennets proved able caretakers. Mr Bennet installed him into the farthest room in the servants’ quarters. Mrs Bennet supervised his care. Miss Elizabeth enthusiastically recited fanciful if disconnected tales from a carefully placed chair. The housekeeper, the footmen, and all the household contributed to be sure he was kept clean, rested, and well-fed. But all agreed their young patient owed his recovery to Jane. And Bill himself would not deny it.
Mrs Bennet told him of the death of his family. The duchess squeezed his hand and shed tears, sharing in his grief. He hated that he had made her cry.
After two months in bed, Bill sat up. It hurt, but he did so, his friend Jane by his side. He did not cry out; he made no sound at all. He could not help release a slight grimace, but was pleased the duchess did not take notice. His burned throat hurt him when he tried to speak, so he chose silence.
Soon after, Bennet watched Bill come and go as he rambled about the estate. Elizabeth followed him and she spoke of all the paths, trees, streams, and stiles they traversed together. The pair would return tired and, in Bill’s case, quite hungry. So, Bennet made sure Cook fed him as much as he wanted. The kitchen sent trays of food to the stables, as Bill refused to join the family party.
“Lizzy, my dear, what does Bill tell you of his desire to eat alone?” asked Bennet.
“He says he is ugly,” she replied.
“Did someone say this to him?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Papa. But no one speaks with us when we walk out.” She sniffled. “Everyone turns and hurries away.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“You are a good friend to Bill. Maybe his best friend.” He wiped her face clean.
