The Only Gold (27 page)

If anything happened, they would handle it. His faith in Reid was equal to his faith in his own ability to look after the bank. Two months ago, he could not have imagined it. He wondered now how he could have been so stubborn about giving Reid a chance. He knew the answer—he’d been hurt—but it was a situation that had never been Reid’s fault. If they had learned to work together only by virtue of a mutual attraction, at least they had. That the bank benefitted was for once the lesser reason for the pleasure keeping him wakeful.

When he slept at last, it was too deeply, and he struggled to wake at the first light. The room seemed to have submerged back into the darkest part of winter, so cold was it. Bracing himself, he threw off the blankets and sat up, only to wish he hadn’t. The effort drained what strength he had, and his head spun, forcing him back to the pillow. He was shivering in earnest and grabbed desperately at the blankets. He would rest just a few minutes more. Then he would feel well enough to stand and dress.

When he woke again, it was to the touch of a soft, cool hand on his cheek. He dragged his gaze to Liliane’s worried face, but he couldn’t find the energy to speak. Apparently it wasn’t needed.

“Go down for a doctor.”

To whom
the words were directed, he had no idea. But the worry in her quiet voice was unmistakable. He wanted to tell her he was fine, but he felt none too confident it was the truth. She left, and he lay pondering the daylight seeping through the drawn shades. It was surely nine o’clock. Perhaps even ten. Meaning to get up, he drifted off—to wake again to a commotion in the hall. He burrowed further, cold and aching, under the blankets and wished the indecipherable mix of voices would go away. When the bed creaked under additional weight, he reluctantly opened his eyes. Beside him sat Reid, red-cheeked and buttoned against the cold. At the door hovered Liliane, anxious, and Edith, altogether unhappy.

Confused, Jonah looked at Reid. “Not a social call, I take it.”

The concern in the hazel eyes eased. “Everyone at the bank assumes you’re at death’s door. I just came by so I could reassure them you aren’t.” Reid brushed a hand over Jonah’s brow in a seemingly affectionate gesture, and the concern came back. Lansy appeared, a pitcher in her arms, and Reid took it from her. “Thank you. Put the basin here, will you?”

Lansy set the basin on the bedside stand, and Reid poured water into it, along with what appeared generous handfuls of snow. Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he soaked it, wrung it out, and clamped it against Jonah’s neck. Jonah gasped. “If I am at death’s door, you’ll boot me over the threshold.” He tried to peel the kerchief away, but Reid took it and soaked it again, returning it to the same spot despite Jonah’s protest.

“Let it sit. It will cool your blood.” Reid turned back to Lansy, who had retreated to Edith’s side. “Do you have any beer?”

Lansy looked at Edith, and Edith fixed a suspicious gaze on Reid. “Mr. Hylliard, we’ve called for a doctor—”

“It’s a busy season for doctors, Miss Muncy. Jonah may have pulled through scarlet fever, but let’s not chance it again—”

“He hasn’t scarlet fever,” Liliane said in dismay.

“Nothing so serious,” Reid said. “Just a case of too many hours spent running around in the cold.” From the hollow of the pillow, Jonah gave him a scathing look, and Reid grinned. “I’ve just the prescription for that.”

“Mr. Paige brought in some beer last night,” Lansy said.

“Good. You’ll want raisins, ginger, pepper, and cinnamon. Crush and boil it all together and mix it into the beer. Throw in a spoonful of honey and bring it up right away.”

Jonah grimaced. “I’m not drinking that.”

“No fever can withstand it.”

“I daresay no patient can, either.”

“Are you always this much trouble when you’re ill?” Reid laid the kerchief on Jonah’s brow, a tolerable application that eased his aching head. He closed his eyes, listening as Edith bid Lansy follow Reid’s instructions. He didn’t realize they’d left the room, Liliane with them, until Reid bent closer and said in an amused tone, “Miss Muncy thought I’d come to berate you for missing work. And she’s not happy I’ve been ordering around her girl.”

“Your notions of doctoring inspire some of her alarm, I think.”

“You inspired plenty of alarm, yourself.”

Struck by the disquiet in Reid’s voice, Jonah opened his eyes. “I didn’t mean to alarm anyone.”

Reid plucked away the kerchief to splash it in the basin. “Just don’t do it again. All right?”

Jonah tried to subdue a smile. “I’ll do my best. Was the photograph taken?”

“Postponed until our assistant cashier returns.”

“Perhaps I’ll come in this afternoon.” Jonah glanced toward the window, still confused as to the time. “Is it very late?”

“Half past one.”

“You’ve missed your dinner.”

“Only delayed it.”

“Shouldn’t you go? You’ve already been away too long.” Jonah closed his eyes at the soothing touch of the kerchief. Reid did not leave it at his brow, but brushed it over his face and neck, a most welcome distraction until Lansy appeared, cup in hand. Jonah sat up and took the cup, but couldn’t bring himself to taste it. The smell that assailed him was torment enough.

Reid looked reproachful. “Father Francis saved hundreds of orphans with this prescription.”

“Your priest gave beer to orphans?”

“Not all the time. Now drink it, or I’ll tell everyone you’re having an illicit affair—”

“You wouldn’t.”

“With Helen MacDonald.”

Jonah let out a breath and sank back on the pillow. “You know, sometimes you’re….” He left off, but Reid seemed to comprehend his meaning.

“Sometimes, yes. But other times—”

“For God’s sake. I’ll drink it.”

It tasted little better than it smelled, but Jonah got it down under Reid’s relentless supervision. He no longer felt chilled, only weak and tired. When he had emptied the cup, reward came in the form of a gentle hand cooling his skin until he fell asleep. He roused only once or twice after that, to Liliane or Edith bearing a cup of tea. Waking with the first light of Friday morning, he thought he’d merely dreamed being ill. He bathed and put on his best suit, then sat to breakfast with the watchful eyes of three women upon him. He assured them he was altogether well, but only the evidence of an empty plate would satisfy. On his way out, Edith stopped him at the door.

“Would you kindly inform Mr. Hylliard we do not permit guests after eleven? I do realize he came out of concern for your welfare, but—”

“He came by last night?”

“Twice. He wanted to know if your fever had broken. Fortunately, he did not ask to be allowed to come up. But please make it clear to him, if you would.”

“Yes, of course.”

Her frown eased and regret softened her austere features. “You’ve always been our most agreeable boarder, Jonah. And… well, I’m glad to see you’ve callers now and then. Winnie and I have always thought you were too much alone.”

He knew Winnie had thought as much; he was touched to find Edith had, as well. “Shall I send Mr. Hylliard your best regards?”

Edith sniffed at that, but did not admonish him. Reid had won her over, too, and not only because he appreciated her cooking. She might even entertain the idea of giving Bertie and Liliane’s room over to him, if Reid asked. But as much as the thought appealed to him, Jonah knew he could not let it happen. All the way to William Street, he mused on the notion of taking a flat—or even buying a house, though the cost would be exorbitant. It was a foolish fancy, for Reid seemed content at the Astor House. Shared rooms might afford them the luxury of spending every night together, but there was the risk to consider, as well.

A measure of fatigue still weighing on him, he stopped at the bank steps and let his gaze travel past the ornamental stone finials to the polished granite letters reflecting the new designation. It was a sight he’d long anticipated, and as satisfying as he’d hoped. If he wasn’t cashier, still no one could deny he had played a significant role in bringing Grandborough to its current success.

“There’s a sight to gladden my heart.”

Jonah turned and took in Reid’s broad smile as he approached. “It is magnificent, isn’t it?”

Reid joined him on the bottom step, and doffing his hat, tilted his head back to survey the new lettering. “Yes, that’s all right too.”

Against his better judgment, Jonah laughed. “I’m sorry I missed your visits last night.”

“I have every confidence Miss Muncy gave you the details.”

“She did mention you restrained yourself from rushing upstairs.”

“She told me you were better. That was all I needed to know.”

Jonah met the gaze that now surveyed him. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Nor do you have to,” Jonah said quietly.

Reid’s smile took an incorrigible turn. “We aren’t, geographically speaking, in the bank.”

“I will have to amend that rule, for your sake as well as mine.”

“Do, and I’ll break it. For your sake as well as mine.”

“You wouldn’t vex a man just recovering from fever.”

Reid snorted. “Wouldn’t I?” But he went to the door and opened it. “Good morning, Mr. Woolner.”

“Nicely done. Keep at it and you’ll prove quite a capable porter.” Jonah proceeded in, amused by the promise of retribution in Reid’s gaze.

In the cloakroom, a number of clerks were occupied with preparing themselves for the photograph—when they should have been preparing the exchanges. Overlooking it, Jonah put away his coat and hat, and wondered if he shouldn’t run a comb through his own hair. Reid came in, pushed his hat onto the shelf, and began to unbutton his coat. “As you’re just recovering from fever, I’ll spare you a shock and tell you straight out that I’m not wearing a morning coat.”

Cringing at the thought of an unseemly sack coat, Jonah glanced around to find Reid turned out in a double-breasted frock, black silk tie ornamented with a pearl-studded pin. He was every inch the banker, yet regret warred with pride as Jonah looked him over.

A knowing light shone in Reid’s gaze. “You miss the tie.”

“I don’t….” God, he did. And how he wanted to drag Reid into his arms and kiss him. “Mr. Grandborough ordered this.”

“You think so?”