L&A: 7

“We usually pay her about a pound a sennight, a bit more, perhaps, if there’s fresh meat included,” Seward said as he sat across from Archie in the large study. “Lucy keeps the records of what she brings to the kitchen.” Archie was examining the kitchen ledger, which noted the Manor’s fees paid to Mrs. Sowerby.

“Let’s make that two pounds, shall we? We can afford it, and Lucy does a good job running the kitchen. I notice our spending has dropped since she’s been acquired.” Seward nodded.

“She is a very thrifty cook. Quite a good addition. I will make the change immediately. Do you need anything else?” Archie shook his head and Seward stood.

“How is Miss Lily?” he asked before he left.

Archie put down his pen. “I hope she’s better. When I left her Dr. Craven had just given her the first dose of the new drugs.”

“I am sure she will improve.” Seward nodded to Archie and left him to the books.

But Archie couldn’t concentrate. He kept thinking of Lily in contrasting images—her hair blown about in the storm; the way she looked the first time he met her, dirt on her blue gown and her eyes bright; the way she lay so still upon the bed, and how she had cried out for him not to leave her.

She’s just a girl, he said, trying to train his thoughts on the Manor’s massive account books. He owed it to his father to keep the Manor running as smoothly as he had, all these years. “A wonderful landlord,” Mrs. Sowerby had called him.

She pushed the ever-present thoughts of Lily from his mind and focused on the next ledger, examining income in and expenses out for the next month. But the numbers blurred in front of him and he slammed the book shut.

* * *

“How is she?” Archie asked, stumbling into the room. Neville was taking Lily’s pulse and intently watching the sweeping hands of his pocket watch.

He turned toward his brother, his expression relieved. “Much better. The fever is down, and her pain has subsided.”

Archie let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“That’s a name I haven’t heard you mention in awhile,” Neville said, standing. “Did you eat?”

He nodded. “And did some of the books. Lucy’s got a wonderful soup in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”

“Excellent,” Neville said, indicating the table as he rolled his shirtsleeves and stood. “I’m going to eat. Now that you’ve been out of here for a bit, I suppose you can stay with her. If she wakes, call me.”

“Surely,” he said.

“Speaking of God,” Neville said, a bit cautiously, “I was planning on attending services tomorrow.”

Archie nodded absently.

“Do you wish to join me?”

Archie looked at his brother. “Have I ever wanted to join you at church, Neville?”

“No. But I thought it might be good for you.”

“I can decide what’s good for me. I am engaged tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice heavy with finality.

After Neville left, Archie resumed his seat on the bed and took up Lily’s hand, which was blessedly cool and soft. Her face was relaxed and she looked like she was sleeping peacefully for the first time. At least she wasn’t tossing about and crying out.

Her eyes opened suddenly and focused on him—clearly focused, not through a haze of fever as they had earlier. “Mr. Craven…” she said, licking her lips slowly. Her mouth felt parched. Archie stood to pour her a glass of water from a nearby basin.

“Thank you,” she said after he had helped her take a sip. “I’m so thirsty.”

“You’ve been running a high fever,” Archie said. “I’m not surprised. But I would imagine it’s best to go slowly while you drink that.” Lily was taking big gulps of water. “Dr. Craven has been giving you some medication that should help you get better.”

“I feel so small,” she said softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Like I’ve shrunk.”

“You haven’t eaten in days,” he said. “But you’ll be all right now.”

She coughed weakly and he braced himself for another paroxysm, but it didn’t come. “That hurt,” she said weakly.

“It will. Neville says you have pneumonia.”

She sighed. “Mother will be so worried…”

“Don’t think about that. We’ve seen messages to the house,” he said soothingly. “You will stay here until you are able to go home. We can take care of you very well.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble….” she murmured.

Archie waved his hand. “Trouble! No. You are a neighbor, it is our duty to help each other. We couldn’t have left you there, to freeze or worse, in that storm.”

Lily wanted to think it was more than duty that made Archibald so insistent that she stay. “Father will make me give up the garden, I know it.”

“No,” he said. “You’ll be back in no time. I’m sure Ben is taking care of it.”

“I hope so. I don’t want it to die…all of the work.” She coughed again, harder this time.

“Don’t talk anymore; you need to rest. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “Not really.” Archie didn’t force the subject, although he knew Neville would.

“Have you stayed with me all this time?” She asked, looking at him with a quiet intensity.

He nodded, almost shyly. “You asked me to. So I did.”

“Thank you, Archie,” she said, lapsing into familiarity. “I knew someone was here…”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone,” he said quietly. “I know what that’s like.”

Her look pierced him, and their gazes held for a few moments. “Yes,” she said softly. “I think you do.”

He smiled slightly and kissed her hand. “You had better rest. You’re tired.”

She nodded. “I am.” Another cough, but fainter, and she leaned back against the pillows. She closed her eyes, gathering strength, and looked at him again. “You are quite an unusual man, Archibald Craven,” she said as she closed her eyes.