In Pursuit of Miriam (18 page)

“I am glad you have arrived,” the doctor said in a low voice. “I am gravely concerned about your husband's condition. He seems to show little improvement. I don't know how much longer he will be able to fight the fever.”

“Would you have a look at the wound with me, doctor?” Miriam lifted Vincent's nightshirt sleeve to uncover the wound. “I do not like the look or the smell of it.”

The doctor looked and prodded the angry wound on Vincent's arm and then went to his bag and took out a sharp knife. He cut into the scab that had formed over the wound and immediately a torrent of greenish, foul-smelling pus emerged. Miriam turned away, covering her face with her handkerchief. The countess, who had just arrived and was approaching the bed, let out a small cry and backed away.

“I think you may have found the problem, my lady.” The doctor continued to clean the wound as he spoke to Miriam. “See? The wound has healed up on the outside but appears to have remained infected on the inside. The infection has been travelling through his body.”

“What do we do now?” asked Miriam, who had regained her composure.

“You will need to keep the wound clean to give it a chance of healing properly. Continue with the care you've been providing—drinks and tepid sponging are the best treatment. Whether he can continue to fight the fever is in God's hands. If the fever does not break soon, I fear that he may not pull through—as you can see he is very weak. The next day or two will be critical.”

The countess gave a little sob and came forward to put her arms around Miriam. The two clung to each other in a shared understanding of the severity of the situation and their shared fear.

“If you and Mason can manage I think I shall go to bed for a rest now,” Miriam said to the countess after the doctor had left. She was beginning to feel light-headed from lack of sleep.

“We will manage. Get some rest.” The countess could see how tired Miriam looked.

Although filled with anxiety and in a strange bed, Miriam fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She slept soundly and when she awoke found she had slept well into the afternoon. She rose and dressed quickly, then hurried to Vincent's bedroom to see how he was. The countess and Mason were in attendance and assured Miriam that they had been taking turns to give him drinks and sponge baths throughout the day.

Miriam crossed to the bed and felt his forehead. He was still burning hot to the touch and she was worried that his condition appeared unchanged. She had been praying that she would see some improvement. Just then her stomach gave a low rumble, reminding her that she had eaten very little in the past few days. She knew she needed to keep up her strength and suggested to the countess that they leave Vincent in the care of Mason while they went for dinner.

The countess agreed and they went downstairs to the dining room. The cook prepared a simple yet satisfying meal, and in spite of their anxieties, they both ate well.

“I've had a good sleep and so I can sit with Vincent again tonight whilst you get some rest,” offered Miriam. The countess accepted her offer gratefully.

As night fell the countess retired to her bedroom. Miriam, after bathing Vincent and again changing his shirt and sheets with Mason's help, let Mason retire, and she settled in a chair to keep a nighttime vigil. By the early hours of the morning she was in despair. Vincent seemed to have stopped fighting the fever; his restlessness had ceased and he had become quite still, his breathing shallow and quiet. She considered waking the countess but felt that it was too soon to worry her. She would keep a close eye on him and see what the doctor said in the morning.

She gently touched his face with her hand and felt her heart breaking. How could she bear it if he did not recover? He would never know that she loved him. Suddenly it seemed important that she told him this and whispered to him as she stroked his face, “I love you. I love you so much…Please, please fight the fever…do not die. I could not bear it.” Over and over again she repeated her words. She bent and kissed him tenderly on his lips, letting her tears fall onto his face.

 

Vincent came into semi-consciousness from a nightmare so frightening his pulse had quickened. He vaguely recalled that he had begun feeling unwell following a cut he had received when the safety tip on his fencing partner's épée had fallen off during a practice session. The cut had become septic and he had fought the infection, keeping going until he had literally collapsed. He remembered being carried to his bed, and then all he could remember after that were the horrible dreams, as though the devil himself was after him. He had fought his fears until there was no reality left.

He gradually emerged from this nightmare to find himself in his bed but disorientated. For a time he could not tell reality from dreams. He had suffered horrible images where he was falling off a cliff or battling monsters, and at times, pleasant false realities such as riding with his father and being a child again playing with his brother.

Vincent did not have the strength to open his eyes. He could hear his mother's voice and knew by this that he must have been ill for some time. He swallowed when water was put in his mouth but could do little else. He wanted to let his mother know that he could hear her, but found he could not do so. He drifted back to sleep.

When he next awoke he realized that he had enjoyed a period of sleep without any of the nightmares that had been haunting him. He could not hear any sound and surmised that it must be nighttime and the household members were in bed. He could feel a hand resting on his and assumed that his mother was still sitting with him. He managed to summon up the strength to open his eyes and saw it was indeed nighttime; he also saw that it was Miriam, not his mother, who sat at the side of his bed holding his hand. She did not see him looking at her and he did not want to disturb her. He was glad she was with him and again he drifted back into a natural sleep.

Vincent was disturbed from his sleep by someone wiping his forehead with a cool cloth; he heard Miriam whispering to him to get well and telling him that she loved him. He lay for some time trying to determine if he was actually awake or if he was having another dream. When she had finished bathing his forehead, he felt her hands caress his face. He was comforted by her touch and he knew that he should let her know that he was awake, but to do so he would have to summon every ounce of strength he had. He did not want her to move away, so he lay quietly enjoying the experience.

After a time, sensing her distress, he knew that he must try again to let her know that he was awake. But his eyes seemed too heavy to open. He willed his hand to move, but succeeded in raising it no more than an inch off the bed before it fell back. For the first time since he had regained consciousness, he wondered if he was to die. He did not want to die—especially not when he heard Miriam saying that she loved him again and again. He vowed if he did survive he would let her know his feelings for her. Just as he was having these thoughts he felt Miriam gently kissing his lips and whispering endearments to encourage him to recover.

When her lips touched his, he found that without the need for conscious effort on his part, his mouth responded to hers. He felt her pull away from him in shock and then replace her lips on his as if to check that she had not imagined his response. She had not. Again he found he was able to respond to her kiss and at the same time force open his eyes to look at her.

Miriam was staring down at him in astonishment; then he saw a smile appear on her face and she fell onto him, hugging him as though she would never let him go.

“Vincent, you know me. I can see in your eyes that you know I am here. You are going to get well.” Her words became fragmented with emotion. “You must…I will make sure of it…rest now…I will be here with you.”

The effort it had taken to open his eyes had exhausted him, and Vincent found himself drifting back into sleep.

When he next awoke he could no longer feel Miriam's hand on his, and so he opened his eyes to see if she was still with him. He saw that she was curled up in the chair beside his bed. She smiled when she saw him open his eyes.

“'Tis so good to see you sleeping naturally and not in the grip of fever,” she said happily. “Now that you are awake I am going to get you a drink. I will not be long.” Miriam smiled and left the room; she returned after a short time with a maid following her carrying a tea tray. Vincent felt helpless as Miriam arranged his pillows behind him and helped him to sit up. She did not make a fuss about this and talked to him throughout, telling him how, as soon as it was light, she would let his mother know that his fever had broken and he was now conscious. She spooned tea into his mouth and occasionally sipped a cup of tea that she had poured for herself. He smiled as he listened to her chatting away to him as though everything were perfectly normal.

Miriam told him how Mason had sent for them and how, since their arrival, his mother had sat with him in the daytime and she had stayed with him at night. They had taken turns to make sure that he was never left alone. She assured him that she was not tired because she had slept during the day. It seemed not to matter to Miriam that he was not answering her, so he rested back with his eyes closed, content to listen to her chatter between swallowing spoonfuls of tea.

When Miriam decided that he'd had enough to drink, she asked him if he wanted to lie flat again. Vincent managed to shake his head. He liked to sit up, and he could drift off to sleep against the pillows if he wanted to. He did drift in and out of sleep and was pleased that Miriam was always there when he awoke. She was either holding his hand or smoothing his hair from his face; if he managed to open his eyes he was always rewarded by her smile.

In the morning Miriam passed him over to the care of his mother. He listened as Miriam told his mother of his progress. His mother was overjoyed and promised her that she would take good care of him during the day. Miriam returned to the room when the doctor arrived, then stood patiently while he conducted his examination.

“You and his mother—” he gestured at the countess “—have nursed Lord Chantry well. His breathing is returning to normal and his fever has gone. He is very weak and still has a long way to go, but I am confident that he'll make a full recovery.”

Miriam sighed with relief. “What can we do to help him?” she asked.

“Now we need to build up his strength. It is several days since he has eaten anything or had anything other than sips of water to drink. You may start him with clear broths and camomile tea,” the doctor advised.

As soon as the doctor left, the countess suggested that Miriam go to get some sleep, then added, “I will go see the cook and ask her to prepare some broth and more tea. I will see that he drinks these.”

Miriam knew Vincent was in good hands and went to her bed feeling much more hopeful than she had the previous night.

Vincent was sad to see her leave him but realized that she needed to rest.

Vincent felt his strength returning little by little throughout the day. Mason washed him and gave him a bottle into which he could relieve himself. His mother fed him broth and drinks at regular intervals.

By the afternoon Vincent did feel strong enough to talk to his mother. She told him that he had been in bed with fever for seven days and that his condition when they arrived four days ago was very serious. Miriam had stayed with him that night, she said, and with the help of Mason had regularly bathed him and changed the sheets on his bed. She described how Miriam had alerted the doctor to the fact that the wound was still infected and that, even after this had been lanced, his recovery had not been certain. His mother told him that she was sure that had it not been for Miriam, he would not still be with them.

Vincent realized that he owed Miriam such a debt of gratitude he would never be able to repay her. He hoped that the words of love she had whispered when she had thought him unconscious were genuine. He would need to find this out. If they were it was better than he ever could have hoped. He had realized many weeks ago that his feelings for her were so strong that his biggest regret was his having asked her to marry him for convenience; had he known then how much he would come to love her, he would have handled the situation very differently.

 

Miriam slept well that day, happy in the knowledge that Vincent's condition had improved. When she awoke she washed and dressed and went straight to his bedroom to assure herself that he continued to make good progress. She was not overly worried because she knew the countess would have sent for her if his condition had worsened.

When she entered the room Vincent was still sitting, propped up by pillows. His eyes opened when he heard the door close behind her and he smiled at her. Miriam's heart leaped and she returned his smile as she approached him. She felt his forehead and it was still cool.

“You will need to rest and build up your strength,” she told him.

“He has taken drinks and broth all the day,” the countess told her, “and I told him what a great scare he gave us.”

Miriam was uncertain what to do. As he seemed so much better, she was not sure whether Vincent would need her to stay with him during the night. She decided she would ask the countess her opinion when they went down for dinner.

They left Vincent with his valet when they went to eat.

“Do you think Vincent needs me to stay with him again tonight?” Miriam asked the countess.

“I am not sure, but maybe you should ask him,” the older woman advised.

“What if he is alone and his condition deteriorates during the night?”

“We could put a bell next to him so he would be able to summon assistance should he need it,” the countess suggested.

In the event, while they had been at dinner, Vincent had fallen back to sleep, so they were unable to ask him.

“I will stay with him until he awakes and then decide whether to remain or go to my own room,” Miriam said, allowing the countess to leave for some much-needed rest. She settled into the chair next to Vincent's bed and as had become her custom, placed her hand in his as he lay sleeping.