“Isobel, darling? If you can hear me, open your eyes.” He hated to acknowledge the fact, but he had witnessed a complexion like hers many times on the battlefields. Soldiers mortally injured had become pale and unresponsive moments before succumbing to the great Lord. Frantically grabbing her shoulders, he sought to awaken her as quickly as possible and shook her gently. He desperately needed to see her beautiful blue gaze once more.
“Isobel!” Shaking her shoulders far harder than he ought, he watched as her head fell back helplessly against the soft mound of pillow behind her. “Isobel, please?” His knew his voice was pleading. Carefully lying her back down on the damp sheets, he placed his hand in the hollow between her breasts. It took several moments before his blind panic eased enough for him to feel her faint heartbeat. “Thank God!” It was weak, but still there.
Seconds later, a soft knock upon the door heralded the arrival of a dishevelled Manvers. “My Lord?” he queried, his face stark.
“Go and fetch Mrs Holcombe. Isobel’s taken a turn for the worse!” Dominic’s voice was brusque. “Quickly man!” he snapped, carefully tugging the blankets around Isobel and sitting beside her on the bed. He didn’t quite know what he expected Mrs Holcombe to do, but she was wise and had readily helped tend to Isobel since her arrival with a calm matter of fact manner that had instantly eased Dominic’s fears.
Whenever anyone was ill in the house, family or staff, Mrs Holcombe always had a remedy that would set them on to the road to recovery. She would know what to do about Isobel now. Certainly, they would not be able to send someone to fetch the doctor until the snow eased. If the sound of the increasing winds rattling the window panes were any indication, that wouldn’t be any time soon.
Moments later, a dishevelled Mrs Holcombe appeared beside him.
“Please Mrs Holcombe, what do we do?” He hated sounding so helpless, but was at a loss to know how to help her. Sitting beside a mortally wounded soldier on the battlefields as he met his maker was different to sitting beside someone you loved, and helplessly watching them fight for their lives.
“Sir, we shall bathe her and change her clothes. We need to warm the room up.” She failed to add that she didn’t like the sound of the faint breaths coming from the unfortunate young girl who had clearly got a huge claim on the Master’s heart.
Dominic nodded and stood back, desperately running a hand through his hair as he watched and waited.
Over the past few days, Mrs Holcombe had become used to the Master’s unconventional manner towards the young Miss, and had given up arguing and trying to get him to leave to preserve the young lady’s modesty. Whatever happened, the young lady was well and truly ruined the first night she appeared in the house. But all of that paled to insignificance with the realisation that after such a prolonged and severe illness, it would be a blessing if she were still with them at the end of the ordeal.
Isobel was quickly changed into a warm, dry nightgown, and the sheets around her swapped for clean dry ones. The fire was stoked almost constantly until Dominic felt sweat break out on his brow as the temperature rose to unbearable heights. Isobel convulsed into wracking coughs, the like of which he had never heard before. On and on they went, until Dominic thought he would go quietly mad. Unable to bear sitting next to her doing nothing, he perched upon the bed and carefully pulled her into his embrace.
“Please darling, you need to try to relax,” he pleaded softly, kissing the damp tendrils of hair on her forehead. He nodded his thanks to Mrs Holcombe as he poured the tincture left by the doctor several days ago. “If you can hear me my love, you need to drink this.” He waited until the coughs eased enough to slip the spoon into her mouth, wincing as she coughed and spluttered against the liquid intrusion. He wondered briefly if she would throw up again, but after several moments she subsided once again into a fitful slumber.
“We need to send for the doctor Sir,” Mrs Holcombe stated calmly, not liking the green tinge of the lady’s complexion.
“We can’t send anyone out in this, it would be suicide to do so,” Dominic declared matter-of-factly. “Even if we could get someone to make the trip, the doctor wouldn’t risk a journey here no matter what I offered him.”
He cursed the atrocious weather, but knew he was going to go anyway. To sit and wait out the storm with Isobel in such a poor condition was simply unthinkable.
“I’ll go and get some different medication. If I describe her condition, he may be able to give us something to assist her.”
“But Sir -,” Mrs Holcombe was aghast at his proposition.
“I have to,” Dominic’s tone brooked no argument. He would go quietly mad if he had to sit around and wait for her to die. He had to do everything he could to help her.
Within moments, despite the vociferous protests of his most loyal serving staff, he had left the house.
The skies were brightening with the first glimpse of dawn when Dominic, shivering, exhausted and covered in snow, appeared at the kitchen doors of Havistock Hall. With growing dread he entered the house, praying silently that he wouldn’t be greeted by the news that Isobel had passed away while he was gone.
“Mrs Holcombe?” he raised a brow at Cook as he stalked through the kitchens.
“They are upstairs Sir, with the young Miss,” Cook replied, “I’ll bring some more broth -” She never got the chance to finish, the Master had already gone.
Dominic ignored the clumps of snow that fell from his cloak as he stalked through the house. His heart thumped heavily in his chest. He eased open the door and found himself assailed by a wall of heat. He quickly removed his cloak and boots on his way toward the bed.
He was disappointed to see no improvement in her condition. She still carried that same waxy completion, and the awful rattling in her chest was still alarmingly harsh in the silence of the room. He didn’t need to ask Mrs Holcombe if Isobel had woken while he was away.
Removing the new bottle of tincture from his cloak, within moments Isobel had her first spoon of the greenish liquid that smelled vile. Dominic shuddered as the stench assaulted his nostrils and he looked warily at the murky concoction, but he had been assured by the doctor it was what she needed.
He wasn’t surprised when Isobel coughed and spluttered. Merely smelling the stuff made his stomach churn. Still, if it helped to make her better, she would have to drink it. Dominic placed the bottle beside the bed with a shudder of revulsion.
Exhaustion swamped him as the ravages of the night began to catch up with him.
“I’ll get you some breakfast, Sir,” Mrs Holcombe stated quietly, weariness lacing her own voice as she moved to the door.
“Not for me Mrs Holcombe,” Dominic said, certain he would not be able to manage anything. “Get yourself some rest now, and thank you.” He shot the woman a grateful smile as she left and carefully took his place beside Isobel on the bed. Gathering her into his arms, he sighed a deep sigh of contentment, he settled into a sporadic sleep.
Whatever the day held in store for them, he would not be parted from her again.