Sea of Fire (20 page)

Christian knocked on the door for the third and final time. If Elizabeth failed to answer he’d go around to the back to seek entry. Where the hell was she? She was expecting him this morning. For a fleeting moment, he grew concerned. Nay. When he’d left her last eve, they were in agreement. She had been planning to stay home all night.

Next moment, the door swung open, and relieved all doubts until he saw Elizabeth. She clutched the door for support, squinted up at him and held her forehead as if it pained her. Her hair was in tangles about her shoulders. It was obvious she had slept in her clothes.

“Blast! Quick. Come inside. The daylight is tormenting me.”

He did so, and she shut the door after him.

“What the hell happened to you?” He flung his hat onto the carved ball of the banister post.

“A catastrophe is about to transpire unless we can come up with a plan.” She breezed past him to take a seat several steps upwards on the staircase.

The faintest smell of whiskey assailed his nostrils. He eyed her inquisitively and asked, “Are you ill?”

She said quite seriously, “I didn’t think a few gulps of whiskey could kill you.”

“How many gulps?”

“I’m sure it was more than two but not as many as ten.”

“Ten?”

“I don’t know. I lost count. I was feeling quite good. I must have dozed off. Next thing I knew it was morning. I think I’m dying.”

“You’ll live.”

She stood, swayed a bit and sat back down on the step. “Nay. I’m dying. On my oath.” She hung her head between her legs.

He smiled at her. It had been years since he had overindulged and experienced the effects the next day. He sympathized with her.

“What happened?

“My father always took a few drams to calm himself. I decided it was high time I did the same. Never again.”

“I didn’t mean why the whiskey. I meant what happened that you felt compelled to drink in the first place especially after all this time and all that has taken place?” He seated himself beside her on the steps.

She tried to raise her head, but apparently the gesture intensified her condition. She remained with her head lowered and spoke to the floor. “That’s the catastrophe. Two of my father’s fellow magistrates—friends he has known for years—called late last eve.” She stopped and shakily stood. “Can we discuss this while I’m in a prone position?”

“Nay. Wait here. Let me tell the driver to park farther down the street.” He raced out the door.

A few minutes later he returned. “Come,” he said. He held her by the waist to steady her. “Let’s walk through the house as you tell me. It will make you feel better. Next, we’ll get you something to eat.”

She groaned. “The mere mention of food sends my stomach into convulsions, but I’ll try to walk.” They started down the few steps, and she continued to tell him what had happened. “The two couples who came over wanted to see my father. I told them he was still ill. One of the men insisted he let his doctor examine my father. I argued against it, but he persisted. There was no changing his mind. The doctor will be here some time this morn.”

“We better get you prepared then.”

“Me? What are we going to say when they find out my father isn’t here? I tried to think of a solution last night. Unfortunately, I fell asleep.”

They circled the first floor once and returned to the kitchen. “Sit,” he said.

She happily obliged and propped her elbows on the table in order to hold her head. “You didn’t answer me. Do you have any ideas?”

“Aye. We need to get you feeling better and more presentable first.”

“If I look as bad as I feel, the doctor will think I’m already dead.”

He laughed. “Even at your worst, you’re an attractive woman.”

She glanced at him, apparently to check if he had been sincere. When she realized he meant it as a compliment, she said, “Thank you. It’s nice of you to try and cheer me.”

“Cheer has nothing to do with it, but we won’t go into an explanation. Here,” he handed her a plain biscuit he found in one of the canisters on the counter. “Eat this.”

“I couldn’t.” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to indicate she might vomit if she ate it.

“You’ll feel better with something in your stomach. Take small bites, and eat it slow. You can wash it down with a few sips of water. Do not take more than a few sips.”

Reluctantly, she chomped into the biscuit, chewed and swallowed the bite she took. “What are we to do? Tell me as I force this food down.”

He sat down opposite her at the table. “Don’t worry about it. All I want is for you to be ready when the doctor comes. Show him to your father’s room. I’ll take care of the rest.”

To his astonishment, she said, “Whatever you say. I feel too poorly to think on it.”

“I would have preferred it was because you’re beginning to trust me.”

She mumbled something through the biscuit in her mouth.

“Finish your biscuit so we can prepare. You’ll need to tidy yourself.”

She took several sips of the water and with finality said, “I’m done.”

“That you are. You’ll soon be feeling better.” He stood. “Come along. You can change after you show me to your father’s bedchamber.”

Elizabeth led him to the room. “I guess I better move more quickly. I fear the doctor will be here any moment.”

“Aye,” he answered, and she left.

One half hour later, the two sat sipping coffee, hers weak, while they waited in the parlor for their visitors.

“I wouldn’t be disappointed if they didn’t come,” Elizabeth said.

“If not today, perhaps another. At least we’re prepared.” He set his cup down on a small tea table between them and winked at her.

“My curiosity is getting the better of me. What ever are you up to?”

“Just play along with me,” he said. “Tell me, though. This man who insisted Edward see his doctor, does he have a name? Did your father call him by a special name?”

“His surname is Clark, but father affectionately called him Clarkie.”

“Perfect,” Christian said and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Not like my old self,” she said, “but definitely like I’ve returned to the living.”

He laughed and a few seconds later the door knocker sounded.

“Give me about five minutes.” He jumped to his feet.

Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll clear these dishes and answer the door.

Moments later, she held the door open to Mr. Clark.

“You’ve kept your word. Come in.”

“Of course I have, my dear. This is Dr. Thomas.”

She smiled at the grey-haired man and told Mr. Clark, “I don’t have to let your doctor see my father. I’ll do so only because I know you’re concerned.”

“Thank you. I will feel better afterwards,” the magistrate answered.

“Where is the gentleman?” Dr. Thomas asked Elizabeth.

“Upstairs, but please have a seat in the parlor first. Let me see if he is awake.”

The two men cooperated, enabling her to check upstairs on Christian first. “ ‘Tis me, Elizabeth,” she said and entered the room. Christian lay on the bed with the covers pulled up over his head.

“I don’t know how you’re going to convince the doctor that you’re my father,” she said skeptically, “but I hope you’re ready. I’ll return shortly with Dr. Thomas.”

“Don’t worry,” Christian encouraged from under the covers.

Don’t worry. For sure, she thought.

She returned to the parlor. “You may see my father now.”

At once, both men jumped to their feet.

“Not you, Mr. Clark,” she ordered. “Just the doctor. I agreed to the doctor only.”

“Very well,” he said. “At least tell Edward I’m here.”

“I have already expressed your concern to him,” she said. “He was quite pleased. He, too, is anxious to visit with you. When he may do so is, of course, dependent upon the doctor.”

Her words seemed to appease the man for he sat back more relaxed in the wing chair. “I’ll be here if requested.”

She led the doctor upstairs. Once in the room, he set down his medical bag on the bed and gave her a questioning look.

“I can’t explain why he has the covers over his head. Sometimes he does that. Father, Dr. Thomas is here.”

A grunt muffled its way through the bed linens.

“If you would be so cooperative as to expose your upper torso to me, I will examine you,” Dr. Thomas said and pulled out his stethoscope.

“I have my own doctor,” the badly muffled voice said.

Christian didn’t sound like her father, but he didn’t sound like the robust man he was either. She never would have thought of something so simple as what he was doing to dissuade the doctor.

“Father, Dr. Thomas wants to confirm what our doctor has already told you. Please behave yourself.”

An arm clothed in one of her father’s nightshirts swung out from beneath the covers. “Take my pulse. If I’m alive, confirm it and take your leave.”

Dr. Thomas glanced from her to the arm. “That will not be enough to give a proper diagnosis.”

“What do you mean?” Christian’s muffled voice croaked from under the bed linens. “All you need to know is if I’m alive or not. Tell that to Clarkie. Then tell him I’ll be up in no time to whoop his worrisome arse at darts.”

Dr. Thomas was clearly surprised at her father’s—Christian’s—behavior. He said to him, “You don’t sound as ill as your friend suggested.”

“I’m following doctor’s orders. You tell that to Clarkie and nothing more. You hear? I expect confidentiality. I don’t want him knowing anything that went on in here. ‘Tis my business and mine alone. You tell him I’m fine. You hear me?”

“Calm down, Father.” She walked over to the covers. When Dr. Thomas turned to place his stethoscope back inside his bag, she gently swatted Christian. “Don’t overdo it,” she whispered.

Dr. Thomas studied the form beneath the covers. “He’s the feistiest man I’ve ever seen for being in his sixties. Still, I won’t examine anyone who doesn’t want me to do so. I only came as a favor to Clark.”

The poor doctor sounded offended, but looked more perplexed.

“Don’t mind him. It’s nothing personal,” she said.

“Nay. Nothing personal, Doc. Take my goddamn pulse and get out of here.”

“Father,” she said, truly surprised by Christian’s actions.

Dr. Thomas reached for Christian’s arm, rolled up the nightshirt sleeve and took his pulse. “Quite normal.”

“Now go downstairs and tell Clarkie that I’m ‘quite normal’ as you put it. Remember, not another word will you say even if you are not my doctor. Elizabeth, are you still here?”

“Aye, Father, of course, I am.”

“Tell Clarkie I’ll send word when he can visit.”

“Aye, Father.”

“Both of you scat,” he mumbled grouchily. He rolled to his side and secured the covers over his head.

When she closed the door after them, the doctor said, “He’s an unusual man, and from his actions is far from ill. What did your doctor diagnose him as having?”

She paused. She never considered she’d be asked the question. “Some strange medical name,” she finally said. “I couldn’t repeat it when I heard it, much less remember it now.”

Fortunately, Mr. Clark approached as they came to the bottom of the staircase. Unfortunately, he eyed Christian’s hat on the banister. Both she and Christian had forgotten about it. She quickly absconded with it before he tried to do so.

She smiled coquettishly at him. “I had a gentleman caller last eve. He left his hat.”

The man frowned. “I don’t remember seeing the hat last night. I stood right beside the railing here.”

“He came after you left,” she told the magistrate.

“It’s none of my affair, but do you think it wise to have gentlemen courting you while Hannah is gone.”

“Really, Mr. Clark. You worry over my father and now me. I’m sure you’ve many more important matters that need your attention.” She placed her fist in the hat and twirled it. “Believe me when I say, I will not disappoint my father or create a scandal.” She walked to the parlor, leaving the two men to watch her, flung the hat on the sofa and returned to the entryway.

“Dr. Thomas. Tell him the results of your examination,” she coaxed.

“What say you, Doctor? How is Edward?” Mr. Clark asked.

The doctor glanced at her before he glared at Mr. Clark. “My time is valuable. Had I known the patient was going to be ...”

“Doctor?” she interrupted. “Are you forgetting what Father said?”

“All I can tell you is the patient is quite normal given the circumstances,” the doctor said.

“What are the circumstances?”

“I cannot divulge patient information, you know that,” the doctor replied in an irritated tone.

To change the subject, she said, “Father told me to tell you and I quote, ‘Tell Clarkie I’ll send word when he can visit.’ “

Though Mr. Clark smiled, this tactic failed to stop him from further quizzing the doctor. “Just tell me if Edward’s doctor can do any more for him.”

“He’s a better man than I if he can.”

This apparently relieved Mr. Clark. He said, “Very well. Let’s be on our way. Elizabeth, I look forward to hearing from your father soon.”

“Good day, gentlemen,” she said, opened the door for them and closed it after they departed.

Christian skipped down the steps in her father’s nightshirt. His breeches and boots stuck out from beneath, but he had removed his own shirt. When he reached the entryway and stood in front of her he said, “Are they gone?”

“Fine time to be asking, when you’re already here.”

He smiled and removed the nightshirt. “It was hot under those blankets.”

A thin film of perspiration glistened over his chest. The hair on his muscled chest between his nipples narrowed as it trailed down to his waist where it disappeared. She remembered his embrace and imagined her naked breasts pressed against him. Her stomach fluttered with pleasure so strongly, she placed a hand over that part of her gown.

“Has the inspector general finished?” Christian asked.

He had caught her studying him. “ ‘Tis not what you think,” she rushed to explain and grabbed the nightshirt from him. “You’re warm. I thought I’d wipe the moisture from your back and shoulders.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How considerate.” He turned so she could dry his back.