[Previously: Lavinia and Jacques have begun treating Cedric, and Lavinia has learned some very scary stuff about Lucius' past.]
*
Lavinia finished her repast in a very sober frame of mind. This latest news about the Earl was extremely disquieting. What if Cedric had not healed before his uncle's return? Would the previous episodes of his nephew's "illnesses" be enough to deflect any suspicions Lucius might have? Would the news of the Masked Avenger's death, and the fact that Cedric was certainly not dead, be enough to keep Lucius from looking too closely at him? She devoutly hoped so. She wasn't entirely sure that Jacques, passionately devoted to Cedric though he was, would be any match for someone as cruel and ruthless as Lucius was reported to be.
She stood up from the table and went to Cedric's bedside once more. His forehead felt warm still, but he had ceased his restless movements and appeared to be sleeping more deeply. She looked up to see Jacques facing her across the bed, a worried question in his eyes.
"He is improving, Jacques. The medicines are working, and helping him to sleep. The more restful his sleep, the more quickly he will heal."
A genuine smile lit up Jacques' face. "Merci, mademoiselle! The relief, c'est énorme!"
Lavinia returned his smile, glad to have relieved his mind. But she, with her experience, knew Cedric was not yet out of danger and would need careful nursing for several more hours.
"He will need care throughout the day and into the night. How might we manage? I must attend to mon père, and Madame Clark may also require me. How shall we divide the watching?"
"I have a camp bed still, from the days when Cedric was a child and needed someone with him. I plan to set that up in here where I will hear him if he grows restless again."
"But you have been awake for hours and need sleep yourself," she protested! In fact, Jacques looked as if he was nearly asleep on his feet. She turned and moved towards the office; and the clock on the wall there. "It is but mid-morning, Jacques," she continued when she faced him once more. "I can watch Cedric until Papa takes his luncheon--he will not miss me until then."
Jacques was clearly torn by her offer: longing for sleep and yet loath to leave Cedric. They argued the rival merits of the plan but in the end commonsense, and Lavinia, won out. Sleep in his own bed instead of the camp bed--even if for just a couple of hours--would be deeper and more profitable because he would know that Cedric was being well cared for.
He pointed out the two bell-pulls hanging near Cedric's bed which Lavinia had been too preoccupied to have noticed before. "This one," he said quietly, touching the one closest to the bed," connects directly to my room, next door. The old Earl caused it to be placed here when Cedric was ten years old. After our return from France these apartments," his gesture indicated the office and Cedric's bedchamber, "were his Nursery and Schoolroom, and the Nurse's room. As he grew the Nurse was no longer needed, so this became Cedric's bedchamber and what is now the office was the Schoolroom only. When Cedric outgrew his tutors, the Schoolroom became his study. But after Lucius made Cedric his steward, his study then became the estate's office."
Lavinia's eyes had followed his gestures and she nodded her understanding.
It seemed an odd arrangement based on what she had seen of other English houses. Jacques explained that the old Earl had not wanted Cedric installed in the usual Nursery which was on the top floor, and where his own sons had been cared for when they were small. Rather, he had wanted his grandson closer to him and so had chosen these rooms as the most suited to the purpose, and because they were directly above his own suite. Rather than knock down, or through a wall, he'd had the extra bell put in and had supplied Jacques with the camp bed for those times when Cedric's nightmares were bad. Odd though it might have been it had worked.
"Mon chambre does not connect to this room, but Cedric could always call me by pulling this bell. We believe, Cedric and I that the old Earl did not know that an entrance to the secret passages was here in this bedroom. He showed Cedric two other entrances, but not this one. It's possible, we think, that he'd never fully explored them all. We did not know of it until we found it from the other side. They are very well hidden."
The clock in the office chimed the quarter hour, reminding them that Jacques' precious rest time was dwindling while they talked. Lavinia promised to summon Jacques to her side if necessary and he promised to get some sleep as soon as he'd moved the Avenger's drying garments into his own bedchamber. It was entirely possible that Jeanne might come in search of her mistress; she had been in the servants' hall when Jacques had told the others about Cedric. If she did decide to check on Lavinia anything related to the Avenger must be hidden away.
Once Jacques had retired to his room Lavinia set about doing some tidying of her own. Jeanne was not as well-versed in herb-lore as her mistress but she was fully capable of recognizing the makings of a poultice. If Cedric was supposed to be suffering from the influenza only, a poultice would not be part of his treatment.
Her precautions were rewarded because she had just settled back into her chair with the idea of bathing Cedric's face and hands with lavender water when she heard a knock on the office door, followed by the lifting of the latch and Jeanne's voice softly calling her name.
"Lavinia Marie, your Papa is asking for you," Jeanne said, as soon as she'd stepped into the bedchamber. There was a faint note of censure in her voice which Lavinia chose to ignore.
"Merci, Jeanne," she responded quietly. "Please tell Papa that I will join him for luncheon. I cannot leave just now." She spared a brief glance, and a smile, in Jeanne's direction and then returned to bathing Cedric's forehead and wrists.
Forestalled but not for long, Jeanne made a quick recover. "Lavinia Marie, you are a guest here. This is not fitting for you!"
Lavinia held Jeanne in considerable affection, but she would allow her just so much license and no more. She straightened up from her task and regarded the other woman steadily. Still speaking in a hushed tone, she made her intentions very clear.
"Jeanne, I am needed here. Jacques was caring for his master all night and needs some rest. No one else here is as capable of tending to the sick as am I." Lavinia let this sink in for a moment, then added, "I will be downstairs later to share luncheon with mon père and then I will assist him in the Library. Please tell him that for me."
Lavinia turned back to Cedric and her interrupted task. "I would also appreciate it if you could bring my knitting here. It grows colder each day and I have not yet finished the muffler I am making for Papa. I would like to work on that while I wait for Jacques to return."
Jeanne curtsied but did not leave. Her eyes were still red-rimmed from the tears she'd shed over the news of the Avenger's murder. It had been a very upsetting day already and she was genuinely concerned for her young mistress.
"But, Lav-- Mademoiselle! The other servants, they know you are here ..." Her voice lowered to a whisper, "in his room!"
Closing her eyes briefly, and taking a steadying breath, Lavinia dried her hands and faced her maid once more. "Then," she said kindly, but firmly, "I will rely upon you to give me a good character. Perhaps you should tell them how many sickbeds, and yes, even deathbeds I have attended over the years? In neither cottages nor châteaux have I ever deserted a patient. Master Cedric has been very kind to both mon père and myself. He needs nursing. Jacques needs rest. Here I shall stay until Jacques returns."
Jeanne could see that Lavinia's mind was made up, and curtsied once more. "I will take the message to your Papa, Mademoiselle. And I will bring your knitting to you."
"Thank you, dear Jeanne." Lavinia could see that Jeanne still wasn't completely convinced. "Perhaps," she added just as Jeanne was about to pass into Cedric's office, "you should tell the servants the story of how Papa lost part of his right eyebrow. They may be so entertained that they will forget all about me."
Jeanne turned away, but Lavinia had seen the smile. That story had never yet failed to amuse. She knew that while the older woman might fuss over her she would also always support her, just as she had done so many times before.
* * *
"Oui, Papa. He is improving a little, I think. I am making le thé aux herbes for him. Jacques does not possess the herb knowledge."
Lavinia and her father were in the smaller dining room having a light luncheon of soup, breads, chicken, and fruit. The professor had been genuinely concerned when he'd heard through his manservant that Cedric was still unwell.
"It is fortunate that you are able to assist, daughter," he smiled at her as he spoke. "Your grand-mère was also a wonder with the herbs and the tisanes."
"Merci, Papa!" She returned his smile and then encouraged him to eat a little more chicken. When he was in the throes of his research he had been known to forget to eat, or sleep. "Monsieur Cedric has been so kind to us, I'm happy to do what I can for him. I am sorry that I could not be with you in the Library this morning."
"It is no matter, chérie," he was smiling at her still, pride evident on his face. "To tend to the sick is a work of mercy, c'est important!"
"Oui, Papa. I think so, also." She gave him the pear she had sliced for him. "I have left some of the tea with Jacques so that I can help you in the Library this afternoon. But I will need to mix more in two hours."
"C'est bien! We will accomplish what we may, chérie. I will pray to Le Bon Dieu for our young friend, that he makes the full recovery."
They finished their meal and rose from the table, Portman holding Lavinia's chair for her. As was their habit they thanked the servants before leaving the room.
As she walked with her father towards the Library, listening with half an ear to the conversation he was having with himself, Lavinia's thoughts were for a different person, in a room two floors above. How was he doing? Had there been any change? Jacques would have come to find her if he needed her she knew, but it was not easy for her to put Cedric entirely out of her mind. She felt her father take her hand and put it into the crook of his arm. Giving herself a mental shake, she resolutely returned her focus to him and, smiling, prepared to give him her full attention.
* *
The remainder of Lavinia's day was divided between her duties downstairs and her heart, which was lying wounded and sick in his bed upstairs. At regular intervals she would be back in his bedchamber to check on him and mix a new batch of herbal tea for him. As she had predicted a second poultice was needed about mid-way through the afternoon, but it was evident that they had succeeded in stemming the infection. The wound was less inflamed than it had been and there was not as much heat in the area surrounding it.
Jacques had also taken advantage of Lavinia being with their patient to check on Cedric's horse. Fortunately, it seemed to be doing well. Neither one of them would have wanted to greet Cedric with the news that the noble animal, while not the favourite from his grandfather, was ill or crippled.
Lavinia was downstairs to greet Mrs. Clark when she returned from visiting her friend. Over the tea tray the good lady related latest rumours she'd heard about the attack on the Masked Avenger. The neighbourhood was abuzz with excitement, concern and outrage. As a precaution Lady Eliza had sent an extra groom, armed with a pistol, with the carriage that carried Mrs. Clark home. Everyone, it seemed, was worried.
When Lavinia visited Cedric after teatime, she noted that Jacques had had time to set up his camp bed, ready for the night ahead. She helped him give Cedric another dose of the medicine and then promised to stop in again before retiring for the night.
As Jeanne helped her dress for dinner, she told Lavinia that the villagers had searched in vain that day for the Avenger's body. Everyone was wondering: where could he be?
"How far could he have gone, Mademoiselle, wounded as he was?"
Her grief was evident and it was very hard for Lavinia not to say something to ease Jeanne's anxiety. She owed the older woman so much for all her years of care and attention; Jeanne had often been more like a mother to her than a handmaiden. But Lavinia could not risk even a hint getting out that the Avenger might not be dead. Cedric's life surely depended upon her keeping her silence, and she knew that she would sacrifice a great deal to keep him safe.
"I don't know, dear Jeanne," Lavinia replied sympathetically, looking at the other woman's face in the mirror as Jeanne finished arranging her hair. "Poor man! Perhaps they will find him tomorrow."
"I hope so, Mademoiselle." Jeanne's voice trembled. She placed a shawl around Lavinia's shoulders with fingers that were not quite steady.
Seeing her distress in the mirror, Lavinia reached up to place her hands on the older ones that rested on her shoulders. She tried to smile encouragingly, and she must have succeeded because Jeanne patted her hands briskly but kindly, which was much more in her usual manner, before withdrawing her own. Lavinia rose from the dressing table bench.
"Thank you, Jeanne. The gown is lovely; you have done a marvellous job!" Lavinia turned from side to side, appreciating how the material complimented her complexion, eyes and hair. It's a pity, she thought, that Cedric could not see her in this gown! Suppressing a sigh of mingled worry and disappointment that she did not want to have to explain to Jeanne, Lavinia changed the subject. "I will be visiting Master Cedric after dinner, Jeanne, so I will ring for you when I have returned here."
"Very well, Mademoiselle. I trust that Monsieur Cedric is improved?"
"Oui, he grows better each time I go to make the medicine for him. He is still very weak and is sleeping very much, but there is improvement since this morning."
"C'est bon. That is good," was Jeanne's only response. If she was still troubled about her mistress helping to care for Cedric, Lavinia could not discern it from her expression or the tone of her voice. It seemed that for the moment Jeanne was more concerned over the loss of the Avenger, whom she'd never even met, than over the illness of one who had been personally kind to her. Her preoccupation with the Avenger had revealed to Lavinia a whole new side to Jeanne that she'd never seen before. Apparently Jeanne had long harboured an inclination to romance, and inclination that Lavinia had never suspected!
Dinner was eaten in a subdued atmosphere that evening. As usual the professor's brain was busy with his findings and his theories which left his companions to converse together without much help from him. Lavinia was a bit tired after such a strenuous day, filled with worries and concerns. Mrs. Clark had shared her more exciting news over the tea tray that afternoon and didn't seem to mind the quiet now. She did, however, ask after Cedric and was relieved to hear from Lavinia that he was improving.
All three of them repaired to the drawing room after dinner, the professor being not much interested in a solitary glass of port in the dining room. Mrs. Clark immediately took up her stitchery in her favourite seat by the fire and was soon nodding over her needle. Lavinia's father requested that she play something for him on the pianoforte before she left to attend Cedric's sickbed and she complied with his request, finding solace in familiar tunes from her homeland. As her fingers moved over the keys her mind wandered through the events of the day: hearing of the Avenger's death, finding Cedric ill and discovering that he was the Avenger, then fearing for his recovery, and lying by omission to Jeanne to keep his secret.
She had been taught to value the truth. It bothered her still that she hadn't been able to reassure Jeanne, but Cedric was her world now. Her pre-Cedric life, it seemed, did not mean as much to her as it had done a scant 24 hours before. The loss of her home, her friends, even her country meant less to her than she would have believed possible a few months earlier. Cedric completed her in a way that nothing in her life ever had before, and their lives hereafter would be intertwined to a degree that she could only begin to imagine. What a comforting thought!
She finished playing and rose from the bench. Her father had appeared to be dozing, but he looked up as he heard her approach and reached for her hand.
"Merci, chérie! You play beautifully; I shall sleep well tonight." He kissed her hand. "Bonne nuit, my daughter! I hope you find Monsieur Cedric much improved!"
"Goodnight to you, also, Papa!" She kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand before releasing it. A glance in Mrs. Clark's direction told her that she was awake again and plying her needle. She smiled and nodded to the younger woman.
"Goodnight, my dear. Sleep well. I will pour the tea for your father."
"Merci, Madame Clark. Goodnight."
* * *
Jacques was anxiously awaiting her. "There is a change, Mademoiselle, I think."
As they tended to Cedric's wound, putting on a clean bandage and reapplying the Basilicum Powder, Lavinia told Jacques that he was correct.
"C'est bon, Jacques. The wound, it is healing well. Also, this is a more natural sleep now."
Cedric was in fact sleeping so peacefully that Lavinia, knowing how beneficial a good sleep could be did not want to disturb his rest, so they did not wake him to give him any tea. Jacques would be perfectly capable of giving him the medicine if necessary, so there was no need to do it now. Before she left for the night she changed the recipe to include herbs known to invigorate the blood and fight infection. She yet feared he might contract an inflammation of the lungs because of the hours he'd been exposed to the elements.
After a few instructions, Lavinia whispered "Goodnight" to Jacques and sought her own bed.
