Silent Revenge Page 11

  Jessica erased any hint of regret that threatened to surface and breathed in a healthy measure of resolve. She’d learned long ago not to expect anything more from life.

  The carriage stopped in front of her new home, and Jessica gathered her packages, then ran beneath the umbrella Hodgekiss held for her until they reached the front door.

  She removed her wet cloak and handed it to the servant, then stopped when Hodgekiss held out his arm.

  Jessica turned her head toward him in confusion, then followed the wide-open, gaping alarm in his gaze as he looked upward toward the balcony.

  Her husband glowered down on them, the ferocious glare in his eyes black and frightening. His face was pale, made even more ghostly by the faint glow of the candles in the chandelier. And a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, making him appear even more dangerous. It was obvious he had just left his bed, and from his drawn features, he looked as if he needed to return there as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it was obvious he had other things on his mind.

  She feared from the anger she saw in his eyes it would not take much incentive for him to storm down on them in a blaze of disapproving wrath.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Jessica knew he’d bellowed his question. His face turned a violent crimson, and the heavy sheen of perspiration covering his forehead was noticeable even from this far away.

  “Where?” he demanded again.

  “Out,” she answered, irritated at his display of outrage.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  Jessica stared at him, the blood in her veins nearing the boiling point. The man had ignored her since he’d taken her as his wife, and now he interrogated her as if he had a right to care what she did. “Yes, my lord. It’s a little past midnight.”

  “Who did you go to meet?”

  Jessica thought quickly what she should say. She couldn’t tell him the truth. He could never know of her meetings with Madame Lamont.

  “Who was he?”

  Jessica watched his white-knuckled grip tighten around the wooden railing. She could not believe he had asked her such a question. “He? I only wanted to go for a ride.”

  “At this hour?”

  He swayed again and caught himself just before Jessica thought he might stumble over the railing.

  “Yes. I do not go out during the day.”

  “Good God, woman. Are you insane, too?”

  Jessica swallowed hard and fought the urge to rush up the stairs and slap him. “Perhaps, my lord. But your rough-hewn attitude and demanding inquisition allows little assurance concerning your own sanity, should I wish to question it.”

  She could see the tightening of the muscles in his jaw, and was thankful he was so far away from her.

  “Don’t you realize what could have happened to you? You are not safe out alone at this time of night.”

  Jessica stopped short. How dare he try to tell her what she could and could not do. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have done so for years.”

  “Bloody hell, wife. You are a fool.” He took a deep breath, then swayed again. “You will not leave this house again without my permission. I forbid it. Is that clear?”

  Jessica glared at him, unable to believe he had just made such a demand. She would not allow it. She could not. No one, not even her husband, was going to refuse to let her leave her home. She braced her shoulders and spoke her words with distinction and clarity. “Perfectly, my lord. Unfortunately, such a demand is not acceptable.”

  He slammed his fist against the wooden railing, and Jessica noticed Hodgekiss jump beside her.

  “Hodgekiss, show your mistress to her room, and make sure she does not leave the house again tonight.”

  Jessica turned her face toward her butler just in time to see his lips form a very obedient, “Yes, my lord.”

  She looked back toward the balcony. He was not finished with his demands.

  “Sanjay. Sanjay!”

  The small, dark-skinned man, who had seen to her every need for the last two days, ran from the shadows and bowed twice, then waited for his instructions.

  “I don’t care if you have to lock her in her room. My wife is not to leave the house again without my permission. See to it.”

  “Yes, master,” he answered.

  Before Jessica had time to voice her objections, her husband dismissed her with a turn of his back. He walked across the open balcony, keeping his hand braced on the railing for support, then disappeared up the stairway that led to the third floor. Sanjay followed, reaching for his master once when he hesitated against the railing and again when Northcote’s footsteps faltered on the first step, but he did not touch him.

  Jessica noticed a look of concern on Sanjay’s face, but he pulled back his hands when Northcote swayed and let him go the rest of the way unaided.

  A few minutes later, Sanjay hurried down the stairs and rushed to one side of her. Hodgekiss stood on the other. Damn him!

  Jessica stomped her foot on the floor and turned first to Simon’s servant. “He will not lock me away,” she fumed. “No one will tell me whether or not I can leave my own home. No one.”

  “The master does not want to lock you away, missy. He is only concerned for your safety.”

  “No, he isn’t. He doesn’t trust me.”

  “The master does not want anything to happen to you. That is all.”

  Sanjay backed toward the stairs, making sure she could see his face.

  “Let me show you to your room, missy. Everything will be better in the morning.”

  Jessica grabbed the package of material samples from Sanjay’s hands and stormed past him. She would go to bed. Not because she was following his orders, but because she was so angry and frustrated and tired that she was on the verge of saying something she would wish she could take back in the morning—like shouting out loud how much she regretted marrying the earl in front of his servant.

  When she reached her bedroom, she slammed the door behind her as hard as she could. Even though she could not hear the loud noise when it closed, at least her husband could. He would know he’d made her angry.

  Jessica readied herself for bed and crawled between the covers. She slammed her fist against the pillow, wishing his face was there.

  She would not be a prisoner in her own home. He would not stop her from going where she wanted and meeting with whomever she wished.

  She would not let him.

  Jessica tossed and turned in her bed, trying to forget the scene earlier with Northcote. Who did he think he was, ordering her to stay in the house? She’d be damned if she’d allow him to make such demands. That wasn’t the reason she’d married him. She only wanted his name, not his dominating hand controlling her.

  She closed her eyes again, but knew it would do no good. With an exasperated sigh, she threw back the covers and gave up trying to sleep. Grabbing her robe, she crossed the room and walked out into the hall. Perhaps a glass of warm milk might help calm her nerves.

  She could not dispel the uncomfortable realization that her marriage was not turning out at all the way she’d planned. Being confined in this house by her husband would not be much different than having her stepbrother lock her away in an asylum. She could not allow either to happen.

  She lifted her taper high and stepped out into the open hallway that overlooked the large foyer below. An ornately sculptured chandelier, larger than any Jessica had ever seen, hung high above her from the center of the domed ceiling. Narrow slits of lead-paned glass, reminding her of lightning bolts, allowed the sun to brighten the room in the daytime and the stars to twinkle above her at night. The view tonight was magnificent.

  Two matching staircases curved upward to the second floor, the stairway on the left continuing to a third floor, unused as far as she knew, except for her husband’s rooms, since the staff stayed on the first floor behind the kitchen.

  She looked up, then took several steps down the st
airs, keeping a tight hold of her candle with one hand and a steadying grip on the sturdy oak banister with the other.

  Before she reached the foyer below, a flickering candle outlined a moving shadow, and she stopped. She braced her shoulders and prepared for another round of heated words. Her husband needed to know she would not allow him to order her around like one of his servants. He needed to know from the start that she would live her life as she pleased.

  Jessica stood her ground midstairs with unwavering determination, watching as the light grew brighter. The air left her chest in a rush when Sanjay walked into the open carrying a tray laden with several steaming mugs of hot liquid and a pitcher of water. Unaware that she was there, he muttered something as he climbed the stairs and Jessica stared at him, trying to make out some of the words. The few words she understood caused the breath to catch in her throat.

  “Fever. Demon fever.”

  A part of her wanted to run. She knew what a fever could do. How it could destroy a person’s life. The knot in the pit of her stomach slammed against her ribs, and she remembered the fevered flesh she’d touched when her fingers had brushed against her husband’s hands. She closed her eyes and let the murky darkness pound against her ears. It was Simon’s voice she heard. She shook her head, wishing away his silent cry for help.

  Sanjay looked up as he climbed the stairs and came to an abrupt halt. The tray wobbled in his arms.

  “Oh, missy,” he said, clearly startled. “I did not know you were there. I was thinking of many other things.”

  Jessica couldn’t hide the frown on her face. “Is that for your master?”

  “Yes, missy.”

  “What is in the mugs, Sanjay?”

  Sanjay’s eyes darted from side to side as he searched for words. “The master needs something to warm him, missy. He is chilled.”

  She took one look at the mugs and basin of cool water. “He’s sick, isn’t he?”

  “Nothing for you to worry, missy. Sanjay will take care of everything.”

  Jessica stared at Northcote’s faithful servant as he shifted the tray in his hands. The worry was evident on his face.

  “I must go now, missy. You go back to bed now. Sanjay will take care of the master.”

  Jessica watched Sanjay rush past her and go up the stairs that led to the third floor. A picture of Northcote’s pale face, his trembling hands, his fevered flesh flashed before her, and another silent cry for help echoed in her head. It was his voice. His pain. She could hear it deep inside her. She didn’t want to, but she wouldn’t sleep until she knew what was wrong.

  She cautiously made her way up the stairs, then down the hall until she came to a room with a faint glow beneath the door. Slowly, carefully, she lifted the latch and looked in. Sanjay sat on a small stool beside a bed, rinsing a cloth in the cool water he’d just brought up. Jessica knew without looking that the man tossing fitfully on the bed was her husband.

  For a moment she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe. As if Sanjay felt her presence, he turned around to face her.

  “Oh, missy. You should not have come here. The master would not want you to see him like this.”

  Jessica stepped inside the room and shut the door. She closed the distance to where Sanjay sat and stared down at the man lying on the bed.

  Every inch of his body was drenched in sweat, the streams of water running like raging rivers down his face and neck and soaking through the light sheet he kept pulling from his naked chest. A lock of thick hair lay plastered to his forehead while the dark hair on his arms and torso stuck to his flesh.

  Back and forth he thrashed on the bed, failing his arms, fighting the invisible demons Jessica remembered from her own fever. She took the cloth from Sanjay’s hands and rinsed it in the cool water, then placed it on Northcote’s burning forehead. She touched her hand against his cheek, then reached for his hand. “How long has he been like this?”

  “He has been getting worse since he returned home yesterday.”

  “We should send for a doctor,” she said, wondering why he hadn’t said anything. “He’s burning up.”

  “No, missy. The doctor can do no more than we can.”

  “How do you know? Has a doctor been to see the master?”

  “Yes, missy. Many times.”

  Jessica rinsed the cloth again and laid it back on his forehead, then took another cool cloth and wiped the wetness from his exposed skin. “And there’s nothing he can do?” She looked up, making sure she could see Sanjay’s face when he answered.

  Sanjay shook his head. “He has the malaria. Most all the time he is strong and can keep the fever away, but sometimes the demon spirits are too powerful and he cannot fight them.”

  “How long does the sickness last?”

  “Three days. Maybe four. This time very bad.”

  Jessica touched her fingers to his cheek. He was so hot. So very hot. “What can we do for him?”

  “We must make him drink plenty water, missy. Plenty, plenty. And the special liquid in this cup. He must drink it all.”

  “What is it?”

  “The English doctor calls it quinine. He says it will make the master much better.”

  Jessica picked up the cup. “Help me.”

  Sanjay ran to the other side of the bed and raised Northcote’s head. “The master would not want you to do this, missy.”

  “The master will never know. Besides, he’s too sick to stop me.”

  “I think he will not like it.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just help me.”

  Sanjay held Simon’s head, and when Jessica pushed on Northcote’s chin, he opened his mouth and drank a little of the liquid. It took four more tries before the cup was empty. As soon as they lowered his head to the pillow, he reached for the cover and ripped it away. Sanjay caught it before it exposed the lower half of his body, but what Jessica saw was enough to take away her breath.

  A large, ugly scar crossed his chest, from under his arm on one side to below his waist on the other. Sanjay tried to pull the cover back up to hide it from her, but Jessica put out her hand and stopped him.

  “How did this happen?” she whispered, looking into Sanjay’s face.

  “It happened in India, missy. Long time ago. The master almost died from it. That is when he got his fever.”

  “But…how? Who did this to him?”

  Sanjay pulled the cover back over the Earl of Northcote’s chest and then looked at her. The expression on his face was unreadable. “I will let the master tell you when he is ready.”

  Jessica took another look, then turned to rinse another cloth.

  She had just wiped the drops of sweat from his face when the chills began. Wild, violent shivers that wracked his body, causing the whole bed to tremble.

  Jessica threw one after another of the heavy blankets Sanjay handed her over Northcote, tucking the edges as tightly as possible around his broad shoulders and long torso, beneath his narrow waist and hips and then down his muscled legs. She barely had one spot tucked in before he’d thrash about, ripping the covers from his body and pushing them to the floor.

  Jessica sat at his side for what seemed an eternity, the endless hours running into each other.

  The sun rose, then sank behind a wall of clouds. For all of one day and through the night of the next, she bathed him in cool, wet cloths when the fever drenched his body, then covered him with as many warm blankets as Sanjay handed her when the chills overtook him. While she battled to cool Northcote’s fever and warm his chills, Sanjay struggled to keep his failing arms from doing either of them any harm. Northcote repeatedly mumbled thoughts and fragmented sentences that, except for an isolated word here and there, Jessica could not begin to make out.

  Not until the sun was high in the sky on the second day did Simon breathe a heavy sigh and fall into a peaceful sleep.

  Jessica put her hand to his forehead and felt his cool flesh, then brought her fisted hand to her mouth to stop the cry of re
lief that wanted to soar from somewhere deep within her.

  She stood at his bedside and wiped the lone tear that spilled down her cheek. Every inch of her body hurt, and she rolled her shoulders to ease the burning muscles across her back, then looked into Sanjay’s emotion-filled eyes. “The fever has broken, Sanjay. I think the master will sleep now.”

  “The fever very bad this time, missy. I was much worried.”

  Jessica straightened the covers that lay across Northcote’s chest, then looked up into the deep worry lines that covered Sanjay’s face. “You need to rest, Sanjay. I’ll sit with him while you get some sleep.”

  “I cannot let you, missy. The master would not like knowing that you have come to take care of him.”

  “The master will never find out. Besides, I would like to stay with him for a while. It is my place. If he shows any signs of waking, I will send for you immediately.”

  A slight smile covered Sanjay’s face. “Very well, missy. You can sit with the master while I rest. I will not be long.”

  “And have Mrs. Graves prepare you something to eat.”

  “Yes, missy. Thank you, missy.”

  Sanjay made several low bows and then walked behind her. Jessica turned in her chair to follow him. “Who is Sarah, Sanjay?”

  Jessica waited a long time for him to answer. “It is Sarai, missy.”

  “Was she someone the master knew in India?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was the master fond of her?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “Yes, missy. The master was very fond of her.”

  “I see,” Jessica whispered and then looked at the man sleeping peacefully on the bed. When Jessica turned back, she was alone in the room. Alone with the man she’d taken as her husband just three days ago. The man who, even weak as a kitten, caused her heart to pound in her chest and her flesh to tingle. The man who had loved and lost someone in India by the name of Sarai.

  Jessica lowered her weary body to the chair beside his bed and studied his chiseled features. With trembling fingers she reached out and lifted the errant lock of hair that fell to his forehead. Then, with hesitant moves, she worked her way downward, across his high, angled cheekbones, over the thick, coarse stubble that prickled the soft pads of her fingers, then against the strong, rigid contours of his jaw.