P. N. Elrod - Barrett 03, page 7
"It's not as bad as before."
"Do you wish me to convey that news to her?"
God, but I wanted to stay in bed. "No, I'll talk to her, perhaps take the air."
He seemed about to ask another question, for he was plainly worried, but I got up and requested my coat. That was all that was required to change the subject. In the next few minutes I was summarily stripped, dressed again, combed out, brushed off, and otherwise made ready for presentation to any polite company, though how he was able to accomplish so much in the tiny space we had was a mystery to me.
My hat in place, my stick in hand, I was bowed out into the passage.
"You're trying to get rid of me so you can tidy things, is that it?" I demanded.
His smile was one of perfect innocence. It was also his only reply as he shut the door.
There being little point in additional contest with him, I made my way topside. Long habit dictated I check the sky, which was clear, but I was surprised at the lateness of the hour. How could I have overslept for so long?
"I thought you'd never show yourself," Elizabeth called from a place she'd taken on the port rail. There was a good color in her cheeks and her mood seemed very light. Perhaps it had to do with the three young ship's officers who were standing about her. Apparently she was not in want of company or amusement.
"Must be the sea air," I said, coming over.
"You're feeling better?"
That subject again. "I wish you hadn't reminded me." I clutched the rail hastily, nearly losing my stick. Should have left it in the cabin as I'd done last night. Though an elegant affectation for walking in the city or country, it was quite the impediment on a shifting deck.
"Still seasick?"
"Oh, please don't say it. I'd forgotten until now."
"Sorry. You looked well enough a moment ago."
"It's rapidly reasserting itself, unfortunately."
One of the officers, anxious to make a good impression on Elizabeth, suggested that I consult Mr. Quinton. "He brought several cases of medicines with him. I'm sure he'd be only too happy to provide something to ease your difficulty," said the fellow with some eagerness.
"Thank you, Lieutenant George. I shall give that some consideration." About two seconds' worth, I thought.
"I can have him fetched for you," he offered helpfully.
"Not necessary, sir. I've no wish to disturb him just yet."
"But he's not at all occupied—"
"That's quite all right, sir," I said firmly, hoping he would accept the hint. Happily, Elizabeth smiled at him and told him not to worry so. He bowed and declared himself to be her most faithful servant, which inspired the other two to gainsay him by assuring her that they were better qualified to such a post by reason of their superior rank. One of them informed Elizabeth about the dates of their respective commissions in order to prove his case for being the senior officer. After that, I lost the thread of the discussion until she touched my arm, giving me a start.
"Are you bored?"
"Not at all. Where'd your suitors go?" I was mildly confused to note that they had quite vanished.
"Back to their duties. The captain caught their eye, raised his chin, and they suddenly remembered things they had to see to. It was very funny, didn't you notice?"
I shrugged, indifferent to her obvious concern.
She put a hand to my forehead. "A bit warm. Is the chill yet with you?"
"Not really, just the misery in my stomach and a spinning head. I was all right when I woke up, but it's returned. Maybe that's why I slept an hour later than usual."
"You look as though you could use even more rest."
"No need for concern, I shall seek it out," I promised, working to rouse myself, lest she continue on the matter. The topic of my well-being had worn rather thin with me. "I found Father's surprise," I said and explained how I'd come across Roily.
She brightened. "Oh, I wished I'd been there to see. I'd promised to let him know everything."
"You can tell him that I was extremely happy. I plan to as well if I can bring myself to write in a steady hand on this vessel. I thought that a large ship like this would make for a smoother passage. The sea's not that rough."
"It's better than when we first set out. The other passengers are coming 'round from its effect. I hope you're next, little brother."
"As do I. Was I much missed from the table today?"
"Since you were never there to start with you could hardly be missed, though the captain and Mr. Quinton both asked after you. Even when you do recover, you won't want to look too healthy or people will wonder why you're not eating with them."
"Excellent point. I suppose I could be busy with some occupation or other. Tell them I'm involved with my law studies and will take meals in my cabin. Jericho can find some way of disposing of . . . the extra food."
"Jonathan?"
I shook my head. "Can't seem to wake up tonight. I don't remember the last time when I've felt so sleepy."
"Then pay mind to it and go to bed if it's rest you want."
"But so early? I mean, for me that's just not natural anymore."
"Perhaps the constant presence of being over water is especially tiring for you. You said as much last night before I left you in Mr. Quinton's company."
"I suppose I could lie down for a while. Jericho should be done by now."
"Done with what?"
"Oh—ah—doing whatever it is he does when I'm out of the room. The workings of one's valet are a mystery, and every good gentleman understands that they should remain so."
"It seems a one-sided thing."
"Such are the ways of the world when it comes to masters and servants. Believe me when I say that I'm very comfortable in my ignorance."
She fixed me with a most solemn look. "Get some sleep, Jonathan."
I gave a little bow mocking the recent efforts of the absent officers. "Your servant, Miss Barrett."
"Lots of sleep," she added, brows high.
That was enough to carry me back to the cabin. It was empty of Jericho's presence, but not of his influence. My recently discarded clothes were gone and the bed was tidy again. What a shame to have to destroy such order.
Before collapsing, I rooted in the traveling box for something to read, but only for a moment. My eyes were already closing. Giving up the struggle, I dropped into bed.
At some point I became aware of another's presence, but it was a dim and easily ignored incident.
Jericho, probably. Shaking my shoulder again.
I muttered an inarguable order to let me sleep and burrowed more deeply into the pillow.
The next disturbance was more annoying. Elizabeth was calling to me. Being absolutely insistent.
Couldn't seem to respond. Not even to her. It hardly mattered.
Now she was all but bellowing right in my ear. My head jerked and I snarled something or other. It must have been forceful enough to put her off further attempts, for no more were made. I was finally left alone, left to enjoy my sweet, restorative oblivion.
The seasickness was quite gone when I next woke. The combination of my home earth, the extra rest, and last night's fresh blood must have done it. Of course, it might not be a permanent thing, for had it not returned when I'd abandoned my bed for a turn around the deck?
I made a kind of grumbling sigh and stretched. God, but I was stiff. And slow. I'd not been this sluggish since that time I'd been forced to hide from the day buried under a snow bank. At least I wasn't cold now, just moving as though half frozen. I was . . . numb.
My hands. Yes, they were flexing as I wished, but I had no sense of them belonging to me. I made fists and opened them, rubbed them against the blankets. There, that was better, I could almost feel that. Must have slept wrong, had them under me or . . .
Arms were numb, too.
Legs . . . face . . .
But wearing off. Just had to wake up a bit more. No need for alarm.
"Jonathan?" Elizabeth's voice. Thin. Odd mixing of distress and hope.
The room was dark—or my eyes weren't working properly. Rubbed them. Hard to work my fingers.
She said my name again. Closer this time. More pressing.
Had some trouble clearing my throat. Coughed a few times before I could mumble anything like an answer. Blinked my eyes a lot, trying to see better. The room was foggy as well as dark.
Her face hovered over mine. "Do you hear me?"
"Mm."
"Do you know me?"
What was she on about? "Mm-mu . . . niz . . . beh."
"Oh, God!" She dropped her head on my chest and began loudly sobbing.
What in heaven's name was going on? Was the ship sinking? Why was she acting like this? I touched her with one hand. She rose up and seized it, holding it against her wet cheek.
"Miss Elizabeth, please have a care for him." Jericho this time.
But she kept weeping.
"Please, miss, you're not helping him this way."
I had not been frightened before. His tone and manner were all wrong. Jericho was ever and always playing the role of imperturbable servant, but now he was clearly afraid, and that pierced right through my heart. And as for Elizabeth's reaction—I reached out to him.
"Wha . . . ss . . ."
"It's all right, Mr. Jonathan." His assurance was so hasty and sincere that I knew that something awful must be happening. I tried to sit up, but my apathetic limbs were as much of a hindrance as Elizabeth's close presence. "Lie still, sir. Please."
There was little else I could do as he got Elizabeth's attention at last and persuaded her to better compose herself. She soaked a handkerchief cleaning away her tears and blowing her nose. I looked to him for some clue to her behavior. He smiled at me, trying to make it an encouraging one, but creating a less positive response instead. His face was very drawn and hollow and . . . thinner? As though he'd not eaten well for some time. But he'd been perfectly fine last night. What in God's name . . . ?
With Elizabeth removed I was able to raise up on my elbows. We were not in the tiny cabin anymore. This room, while not palatial, was quite a bit larger. The walls were vertical, the ceiling higher. Why had I been moved?
"Forgive me, I just couldn't help myself," said Elizabeth. "It's been such an awful time."
"Whaz been?" I slurred. Coughed. Damned tongue was so thick. My voice was much deeper than normal, still clogged from sleep. "Whaz maa-er?"
"Nothing's the matter now, you idiot. You're all right. Everything's all right."
I made a sound to inform her that I knew damned well that everything was not all right.
"He doesn't understand, Miss Elizabeth. He's been asleep."
And it was past time to shake it off. With heroic effort, I pushed myself upright and tried to drag my legs from the bed.
It was a real bed, too, with fresh linen and thick dry blankets, not at all like the one in the old cabin. Had we taken over the captain's quarters?
I coughed and worked my jaw, rubbing my face. Yes. That was better. Feeling was returning once more, thank goodness. I could actually tell that my bare feet were touching the cold boards of the deck. Bare? Well, of course Jericho would have readied me for sleep. It was very remiss of me to have made extra work for him by falling into bed with all my clothes on.
Another stretch; this time things popped along my spine. God, but that felt good.
Jericho and Elizabeth watched me closely.
"Wha' iz the ma—matter?"
"You've been asleep, sir."
"S' you'f said. Wh'd 'f it?" Worked my jaw more. "What-of-it?" There, now I could understand myself.
"You remember nothing of the voyage?" asked Elizabeth.
"What do . . . you mean? What 'f the voyage? Something happened to Roily?"
"No, he's fine. He's safely stabled. You—"
Stretched my neck, rubbing it. "Not making much sense, Sister." I saw that like Jericho, she was also very drawn and tired-looking. Circles under the eyes, skin all faded and tight over the bones. "Are you well? What the devil is wrong here?"
"For God's sake, Jonathan, you've been asleep!"
Was that supposed to mean something? Apparently so. Something most dreadfully important to them both.
"More than asleep, sir," Jericho put in. "You know how you are during the day. It was like that."
"Will you please be more clear? You're saying I slept, yes. Is it that I slept the whole night through as well as the day?"
"More than a night, Jonathan."
I abruptly fathomed that I was not going to like hearing what Elizabeth was about to say. "More?" I squeaked.
"You slept through the whole crossing."
Oh, to laugh at that one. But I could not. Additional noises issued from me, unintelligible as speech, but nonetheless expressive.
"You went down to your cabin to get some rest on our second night out," she said, speaking carefully as though to prompt a poor memory.
"Yes, you told me to."
"You never woke up from it. You just wouldn't, and when you're that way, it's as if you're dead."
"Never woke up? Whatever do you mean?"
"You slept for the whole voyage! You were asleep for over two months!"
I was shaking my head. "Oh, no-oo . . . that's impossible."
Their expressions were sufficient to gainsay my weak denial.
"Impossible . . ." But I had only to look around to see that we were in a building, not on a ship. My own body had already confirmed as much. Gone were the raised hackles, the illness, the constant pressure inside and out. Nightshirt trailing, I boosted unsteadily from bed toward a small window.
The glass was cold and opaque with condensation. I fumbled with the catch and thrust the thing open. Cold wind slapped my face, bringing the scent of sleet, mud, coal smoke, the stable. I was on an upper story of a building taking in the view of its courtyard. An inn of some kind. Vaguely familiar.
The Three Brewers. The inn I'd stayed at while waiting to meet Cousin Oliver for the first time four years ago.
"This just cannot be." But the proof remained before my eyes, mocking my denial.
"Jonathan . . ." My sister's tone had taken on patient reproach. She could tolerate confusion, but not willful stupidity.
I stared dumbfounded at the prosaic scene below. Beyond the inn, past the lower roof of its opposite wing, were trees, other roofs, and church steeples stretching miles away into a cloudy winter night.
True, true, and true. We were most definitely, most undeniably, yet most impossibly in London.
London, November 1777
"It was perfectly horrid, that's how it was," Elizabeth said, her voice a little high.
"I'm sorry, I truly am. If I'd any idea that—"
She waved her third sodden handkerchief at me and told me not to be foolish. "Of course you'd have said something. We both know that. But it's been such a wretched ordeal, and now that it's over I hardly know what to think or do."
"Tea," Jericho firmly stated.
"With lots of brandy," I added to his departing back. Would that I could have some for this shock. Two months? How could two months of my life have slipped away?
"You have no memory of any of it?" she asked.
"My last recollection was talking with you by the rail, going below, and dropping into bed. As far as I'm concerned, it happened last night."
She shook her head and kept shaking it.
"I don't disbelieve you, Elizabeth, it—it's just very hard to take in. Tell me all that happened, maybe that will help."
"Where to start . . . ?" She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, shut them a moment, then rested them on me. "First, I'll say that I am very glad that you are all right. You've no idea what we've been through."
"Then for God's sake enlighten me." I was sitting on the bed again, wrapped in my dressing gown now and wide-awake, if still considerably shaken. By now it had thoroughly penetrated my skull that my mysterious lapse had been a singularly unpleasant experience for Jericho and Elizabeth. Better to concentrate on them than myself. It was more comfortable.
She gave a long sigh, then took a deep breath. "On the third night out Jericho tried to wake you, but you just refused to do so. I'd told him that you'd been very tired, and he let you rest a few more hours, then tried again. Nothing, except for a few grumbles, and you kept on lying there, not moving at all."
"I'm sorry."
She fixed me with a look that told me to cease apologizing. "We decided to let you sleep and try again the next night. Again, nothing. Finally Jericho went down to the hold and drew off some blood from one of the cattle and wet your lips with it. Then he tried putting a few drops in your mouth. Not even that worked."
I spread my hands. Apologetically. Couldn't help it.
"We didn't know whether to leave you alone or try something sterner, then Mr. Quinton, the apothecary, came 'round. Lieutenant George sent him to look in on you, the blasted toady." The tone she used with his name indicated that George was the toady, not Quinton. "Jericho tried to put him off, but he got curious and went in when we weren't around. He promptly ran straight to Mr. George to say you were dead."
"Oh, dear lord."
"That brought the captain down to see, and I was flooded with so much sympathy that I could hardly make myself heard. When I finally got them to listen, they thought I was a madwoman."
"What did you say?"
"That Quinton had got it wrong and you were only deeply asleep. No one believed me, and I was getting more and more angry. Oh, but they were very kind, telling me I was distracted by my grief and they were more than willing to spare me from the sad responsibility of seeing you decently taken care of. By that I understood you were to be in for a sea burial."
"How did you stop them?"
"By grabbing you and shaking you like a butter churn and screaming myself hoarse—"
"Wait, I remember that!"
She paused. "You do?"
"Just vaguely. I don't think I was very polite."
"You weren't. You damned my eyes, shrugged me off, and dropped asleep again."
"I'm terribly sorry."
"Don't be, it saved your life. They stopped trying to remove me from the cabin and had Quinton make another examination. He was very surprised and upset by then and anxious to redeem himself, and though I know he couldn't possibly have found a heartbeat any more than before, he said you were indeed alive, but unconscious. What a relief that was to hear. The captain and Mr. George wanted a closer look for themselves, but I'd caught my breath by then and an idea came to me of how to deal with them."
