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Authors: Cathy Spencer

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BOOK: The Marriage Market
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Dr. Schmidt worked on his patient for almost an hour.  When he had finished, he and Antonio carried James to the guest room and put him to bed.  Antonio left to confer with his wife just as Jemma arrived, Antonio patting her shoulder as they passed.  The doctor turned away from the bed as she hurried up to him.

“You are Mr. Wovington’s fiancée, Mrs. Greene?”

“No, Doctor Schmidt, I am just a good friend from England.”

“Hmm.  Mr. Rossi had led me to believe otherwise.  Well, Mr. Wovington is not too bad, considering.  The bullet glanced off a rib, broke it, and exited through his side.  I have stitched up the wound and taped his chest to protect the rib.  He fainted during the procedure, which is to be expected, but he is sleeping now.  His breathing is good.  His pulse is a little fast, but not dangerously so.  When he wakes up, he will be in pain.  I will leave laudanum with instructions on its administration.  Do not let him get up tomorrow or the day after that.  Give him some broth and a little watered wine when he can take it.  I will come back tomorrow afternoon to examine him again.  If he becomes feverish, send for me at once.  Take heart, Mrs. Greene.  He is young and fit and I do not anticipate any problems.”

“Thank you so much, Doctor Schmidt, for taking such good care of him.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Greene.”  He bowed and turned to Antonio, who had returned and was waiting in the doorway.  The doctor drew him into the hallway and shut the door behind them. 

“See here, Mr. Benelli, a man has been shot.  I will have to report this to the police.  I will describe it as an accident, however.  Your nephew was intoxicated and overwrought when he arrived at my door.  I understand that there was a quarrel and that they were duelling, but best not to share that with the police.  Tomorrow your nephew must make his statement.  Hopefully, it will all go well and he will not be arrested.  But when the police are finished with him, I would advise you to get him away from here.  He is an emotional and impulsive young man.  Why not send him back to his parents?”

Antonio nodded his head.  “You are right, Dr. Schmidt.  We will do as you say.  Thank you for what you are doing for Stephano.”

“Good, it is settled.  Now, it is late and you should all get some sleep.  I imagine that Mrs. Greene will want to keep watch with her patient tonight, but see that she gets some rest, too.”

“Yes.  Thank you, Doctor.”  Antonio led the doctor to the front door, where the family watched him descend the stairs to his waiting carriage.  Nodding his head at them, Schmidt clucked to his horse and drove away into the night.

Stephano emerged from the shadows and climbed up the stairs.  He had been crying and his face was dirty, like a child’s.  He held out his arms to Clara, who drew him into a fierce hug.  Rocking him for a moment in her arms, Clara suddenly reached up and tugged sharply on his hair.  Stephano rubbed his head with one hand and stared sadly down into her face.  She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.  Antonio put an arm around Stephano’s shoulders and drew him into the house.  Cecilia followed behind them and shut the door.

 

Chapter Twenty-Three – A Reckoning

 

Jemma would not leave James that night, so Clara set up a cot for her.  James slept fitfully, and when he woke in the middle of the night, Jemma gave him some of the laudanum.  Returning in the morning, Clara discovered Jemma asleep on the chair beside his bed.  James was awake and turned his head toward Clara.  His eyes were glazed, and his face was grey with pain.

“Would you like a sip of water, Mr. Wovington?” Clara whispered.

James nodded.  Jemma stirred at the sound of Clara’s voice and woke.  “How is James?” she asked, sitting up slowly.

“I was just about to give him some water, Jemma.”

Jemma rubbed her eyes and rose to assist her.  Gently, the two women grasped James beneath the shoulders and lifted him, propping a pillow behind his head.  James stiffened in pain before relaxing back upon the bed.  Jemma supported his head while Clara held the glass to his lips. 

“Thank you,” he murmured hoarsely after taking a sip.

They tidied up the bedclothes, and then Clara took Jemma’s hand and pulled her away from the bed.  “Jemma, I have had my breakfast and will sit here with Mr. Wovington for a while.  Why don’t you have something to eat and then go to your own bed?”

“I would be glad of something to eat, Clara, and a change of clothes, but I will come back here to nap upon the cot.  I will be perfectly comfortable, and you mustn't concern yourself about me.  I do not want to leave him until he is out of danger.”  Clara nodded.  “But Clara, I have been worrying about Stephano.  What will happen to him?”

“Antonio has taken him into town to talk to the police.  Antonio thought that it would be better to go to them rather than waiting for the police to come
here.  Hopefully, the police will be satisfied and Stephano will be free to go.  Then we will send him back to Florence so his parents can deal with him.  He said to tell you that he is sorry for shooting Mr. Wovington.  He didn't mean to hurt him ‒ only to frighten him away.”

Jemma lowered her eyes and shook her head.

“I hope that when Mr. Wovington is better, you will find it in your heart to forgive Stephano, cara.  He had this stupid idea in his big head that you might marry him if he could make Mr. Wovington leave.  Now he will pay a big price for his stupidity.”

“I do not want him to pay too high a price, Clara, but even if he intended to miss James, he still might have killed him.”

“I know, Jemma.  He is not very smart, especially when he has had too much to drink.  And maybe his heart is not so much broken as his pride is hurt.  But there is something else I want to say.  I hope that what has happened to Mr. Wovington will not change the way you feel about us.  We love you and we want you to stay with us for as long as you want.  Mr. Wovington, too.”

“Oh, Clara, of course my feelings for you have not changed.  I do not blame you for Stephano’s actions.  You did everything that you could to help James last night, and I thank you most heartily for that.  I am sure that your swiftness in getting him into the house and sending for the doctor saved James’ life.” 

The women had been speaking in hushed tones.  Glancing back at the bed, Jemma saw that James was asleep again.

“I'll slip out while you stay with him, Clara.  I am glad that he is resting now.  He was in pain last night and did not sleep well.  If he can just stay strong and avoid infection, all will be well.”  She kissed Clara on the cheek and quietly left the room.

James spent most of the day sleeping.  When Dr. Schmidt returned to inspect James in the afternoon, he declared himself satisfied. 

“There is no sign of fever or infection,” he told Jemma.  “He is not out of danger yet, but he is progressing well.  No doubt it is because of the excellent care he is receiving.”  James overheard the remark and managed a smile.

The patient’s convalescence progressed apace.  Two days later, James was allowed to sit up on the side of his bed.  He attempted to shave himself while Cecilia held up a mirror and Jemma held a basin of water.  When Clara tried to comb his hair, too, however, he nearly toppled over, and Jemma shooed the other women from the room.  James grinned, and Jemma caught his expression.

“No doubt you are enjoying having your own little harem, James.”

“I cannot remember having three beautiful women assist me with my toilette before, but I will not really enjoy it until I am a little more fit.”

“Until that happens, sir, you will have only one nurse to help you – me.”

“That sounds hopeful,” James said.  He encircled her waist with one arm, but the movement caused a spasm of pain.  Jemma gently disengaged him.

“Now, James, you are growing tired.  You have been up long enough.  Let me help you back to bed.” 

James allowed Jemma to help him, pulling the covers up to his chin and closing the curtains to block out the morning light.  He grumbled something to himself. 

“What was that, James?” she asked.

“I said that I feel as weak as a babe, and that is just how you are treating me.  But one day soon I will regain my strength, Mrs. Greene, and when I do, you and I shall have a reckoning.”

Jemma smiled.  “I am rather enjoying having the upper hand with you for a change, James.  You are much less trouble to me in this condition.  But do not worry.  I am also looking forward to the day when you are yourself again.” 

He scowled and was about to fold his arms over his chest when he remembered his injury and laid them down on the bed instead. 

She kissed his forehead.  “Get some rest for now, Sultan, and I will look in on you later with some lunch.”  She left the room in high spirits and he snorted as he watched her flounce away.

A week passed.  Stephano and Antonio managed to satisfy the police that James had been shot as the result of too much drink and tomfoolery.  Stephano was made to pay Dr. Schmidt’s bill, but Antonio lent him the money.  Stephano begged Jemma for her forgiveness, and when she granted it, he kissed her fingertips in gratitude.  Still assured of his superiority, Stephano had not given up hope of winning Jemma’s hand, but decided to wait for developments while biding his time in Florence.

James entered the kitchen fully dressed and looking more like his usual self on the Monday morning a fortnight after the duel.  Jemma looked up from drinking coffee at the table and smiled.

“Good morning, Jemma,” James said.  “The house is unusually quiet today.  Where is everyone?”

“Antonio has driven Clara and Cecilia to town to see about the wedding clothes.  They are going to visit with Alberto’s family afterward, so I expect them to be gone all day.  Clara left some breakfast for you.  Would you like some potatoes and sausage?”

“Yes, thank you.  I have an appetite this morning,” James said, taking a seat.  Jemma made up a plate of food for him and served it with a cup of coffee.  She added more coffee to her own cup and reseated herself at the table.  She fiddled with the cream and sugar while James ate his food.

“I wonder, James,” she said after a pause.  “Since we have the house to ourselves and you are feeling better, might it not be a good time to discuss our situation?  Do you feel up to it today?”

James laid his fork on his plate and took a swallow of coffee.  “I am more than ready to talk if you are, Jemma.”

“Well then, I will start, if you do not mind.”

“Please.”

“I hope that you will not be offended if I treat your marriage proposal like a business proposition, James.  Since we are accustomed to discussing business together, I would feel more comfortable addressing our relationship without letting too much emotion intrude.  Is this agreeable to you?”

James pushed his plate away and folded his arms across his chest.  “I agree with you, Jemma.  By all means, let us sweep romance under the carpet and deal with our problem in a business-like, judicial fashion.”  Jemma studied him suspiciously, but could not detect any irony in his face.

“Very well.  You have proposed marriage to me, James.  Does your offer still hold?”

“With all my heart, Jemma.”

“Good.  I am inclined to accept you.  No, please wait a minute,” she interjected as he rose from his chair and started around the table.  “I will accept your offer if we can agree upon the terms first.”

James froze, and sank back into his chair.  “And what are these terms, my love?” he asked warily.

“They have to do with my autonomy, James, and with the business.  I would marry you, but not at the cost of my freedom.  This is what I propose:  should we marry, I will perform my wifely duties, including supervising the household and entertaining your clients and friends, and I will do them gladly, but in return, I wish to continue working.  I will manage the business on your behalf, including a visit of approximately eight weeks’ duration to the continent each year.  There, those are my conditions.  What do you say, James?” 

“Only, will you let me come to the continent with you, Jemma?”

Relief flooded her face and she beamed at him.  She rushed to his side, sat upon his lap, and threw her arms around his neck.  He clasped her to his chest as if he would never let her go.  “I would welcome your company with all my heart,” she said.  He hugged her for a moment before drawing back.

“Am I hurting you, James?” she asked, stiffening.

“Not at all, but there is something in my room that I wish to show you, if you will excuse me for a moment.”  He left her waiting in the kitchen while he headed down the hallway to his room.  Overcome with curiosity, she followed him and watched from the doorway.  He was removing some papers from his case when he heard her step behind him and looked up in surprise.

“What is it?” she asked.  He shrugged and said, “Why don’t you sit here at the writing table while I show you the papers?”

She yanked out the chair and sank into it.  When he didn't move, she looked up to see him grinning down at her.

“Really, James, what is it?”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I knew that there were advantages to marrying an experienced woman over a blushing, innocent girl.”  He nodded toward the bed.

Jemma rolled her eyes.  “I was alone with you many times when you were ill, James.  You realize that you will not be getting a blushing innocent without a mind of her own when you marry me, don't you, James?  Or is that what you want?”

BOOK: The Marriage Market
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