Eventually, Dr. Halifax arrived. John placed a chair for him next to the sofa, told him what had happened, and waited anxiously for his diagnosis.
“How long has Her Grace been like this?”
John tried to gauge the time. “I believe it’s been close to two hours by now. I don’t think she has any broken bones, and she doesn’t have a fever.” He knew he was trying to reassure himself.
“When it first happened, did she regain consciousness at all?”
“No, Doctor.”
Halifax raised her eyelids with his thumb. “There is blood in her eyes. She has a bad concussion.”
John’s heart lurched. “She will regain consciousness?”
“That is difficult to predict, Your Grace. The longer she remains in this state, the less likely it will be. If she doesn’t come to within the next hour or two, I believe it is safe to say she has slipped into a coma.”
John stiffened. He dreaded the word coma. Elizabeth had slipped into a coma and she never recovered.
“Your wife may have done irreparable damage to her brain, Your Grace. I don’t want to give you false hope.”
“Perhaps she would be better in bed?” John suggested.
“I wouldn’t move her, if I were you.”
“Is there anything you can do for her, Halifax?”
The doctor nodded. “I shall do my best, Your Grace.” He opened his leather bag and took out a cup and a surgical knife. Then he took Georgina’s arm and rolled up her sleeve.
“What are you doing?” John asked curtly.
VI’m going to bleed her. It might help.”
“Bleed her? Are you serious, Halifax?V
“It might prove efficacious—one never knows.”
“Efficacious, my arse! Get the hell away from her.”
Halifax was highly offended. “Your brother waited too long before he allowed us to proceed. It brought on his death.”
“His doctors botched the job!” John shouted. “I forbid you to bleed my wife. She will need all her strength to recover.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.” He put his paraphernalia back in his bag and closed it with a snap. Then he turned to leave.
“How long can a coma last?” John demanded.
“Hours, months, even years. We don’t know these things.”
“Then what bloody good are you?” John knew he was taking out his anger and frustration on Halifax, but he couldn’t help it. It helped to keep his fear at bay.
“If you wish it, I can return this evening to check on Her Grace of Bedford,” Halifax said stiffly.
“Yes, thank you. I would appreciate it, Doctor.”
John paced about the sitting room. His eyes were drawn to the portrait above the mantel, and he shuddered. He lifted an armchair over to the fireplace, then climbed up on it. He took down the painting of Elizabeth and set it in the next room facing the wall. I put it there for the boys, but it must have caused Georgina a great deal of pain. How could I have been so bloody thoughtless and insensitive?
He returned to his wife, bent down, and shook her gently. When nothing happened, he lifted her high against his heart and carried her upstairs to their bedchamber. John removed Georgina’s dress and her stockings, but left her in her petticoat. He was glad she wasn’t wearing a corset; she’d been mauled about enough.
He poured a glass of water, knowing she must be thirsty. But when he put it to her lips and tipped it up, she didn’t swallow. He didn’t try again, fearing that she might choke.
He gazed down at her, hoping and praying that when the contusion on her head went down, she would awaken. He knew it was his only hope.
Johnny knocked and opened the door a crack. “Is she awake?”
“Not yet. Would you like to come in for a while?”
“I brought a book. If I read to her, do you think she will be able to hear me, Father?”
“That’s very thoughtful.” Dear God, neither one of us could survive without her. “She may be able to hear you, Johnny.”
He sat down on the window seat and opened his book. “This is one of our favorite speeches from Henry the Fifth:
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favor’d rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon, let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English!
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheath’d their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call’d fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ’God for Harry, England, and Saint George!”
John was stunned at the passage Johnny had chosen. It was so militant. Then he understood. “Those are very bracing words, Johnny. We need to stiffen the sinews and summon up the blood to get us through this ordeal.”
“Georgy too . . . I hope she heard me. I don’t want her to die like Mother and Uncle Francis.” He closed the book and hung his head as if he were praying.
“I won’t let her die, Johnny.” God help me, I shouldn’t make promises I may have to break.
When his son left, John thought about King Henry’s speech. “I do that: Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage, then lend the eye a terrible aspect. I’ve done that to you, Georgy.” Then he marveled, “It didn’t intimidate you in the least.”
That evening Halifax returned and Mr. Burke took him upstairs. When he saw that the duchess had not regained consciousness, he shook his head. “Against my advice, you have moved her. You were lucky. Her Grace could have a blood clot in her brain. If it shifts, it could kill her.” He felt for a pulse. “Didn’t your first wife die under mysterious circumstances?”
John was incensed. “How dare you?” He took a threatening step toward Halifax. “Leave my house. Now!”
When the doctor left, John tenderly tucked the covers about his wife, then paced to the window and stared out with unseeing eyes as darkness descended. I freely admit that I am not blameless in Elizabeth’s death, but Georgina is different. I love her with all my heart and soul. I would gladly walk through fire to help her.
Fleetingly, he wondered if he was being punished. Having Georgina fall into a coma, as Elizabeth had, was totally devastating, and a pitiless punishment if the gods wished to be spitefully cruel. He banished the ridiculous thought at once.
When Mr. Burke brought him a supper tray, John thanked him. But he knew that he would not be able to swallow one mouthful past the lump in his throat. He sat down beside the bed, and took his wife’s small hand in his own. “Georgy, stay
with me.”
He watched her all night, never closing his eyes once. It was the longest, most agonizing night of his life. He willed her to awaken, stroking her hand, but he did not resort to shaking her.
When morning sunlight filled the room, he lifted a dark strand of hair from the pillow. It curled about his fingers, and his eyes filled with tears. I never told her I love her. Impatiently, he wiped away the tears, vowing not to give up hope.
Mr. Burke brought him a breakfast tray and removed the one he had left last night. John drank the tea but left the food untouched. Though he acknowledged a supreme being, John did not believe in a personal God. But he prayed now—prayed fervently that Georgina would awaken.
An urgent knock came upon the door. “What is it?”
“It’s Jenny, Your Grace. Johnny is upstairs sobbing his heart out. But he has locked himself in and refuses to answer.”
John opened the door. “I’ll tend to him, Jenny. Will you come and sit with my wife? I don’t want her to be alone.”
He went upstairs and rattled the knob. “Open the door, Johnny. What happened was an accident. It was not your fault!” John knew how destructive feelings of guilt could be.
Georgina slowly opened her eyes. She was completely disoriented. When she tried to sit up, a blinding pain in her forehead made her feel nauseated.
“Oh, Your Grace, you’re awake!” Jenny cried.
Georgina sat up slowly, holding her head. “Where am I?”
“You are at home . . . at Woburn, Your Grace.”
“At Woburn?” she puzzled. “Why do you call me Your Grace?”
“Because you are the Duchess of Bedford, ma’am.”
“No! That cannot be! I refused to marry him. I hate and detest the Duke of Bedford. I would never marry him.”
Jenny looked distraught. “I must go and tell the duke you are awake, Your Grace.”
“No! I forbid you to leave this room. Help me up. I must get away from here,” she said desperately.
“Oh dear, you mustn’t get out of bed, Your Grace.”
“Damn you. Stop calling me that. Where are my slippers?” She sat on the edge of the bed, and Jenny bent down and put her slippers on her feet. “You cannot leave, please, ma’am.”
Georgina stood up in a panic. “I must get away from here!” She rushed to the door and flung it open, then began to run.
“You cannot go out in your petticoat, Your Grace,” Jenny cried. She hurried to the door, but the Duchess of Bedford had already descended the stairs. The maid was in a dilemma. She hesitated, not knowing whether to follow the duchess or run upstairs and summon the duke. Finally, her trembling hands lifted her skirts, and with her heart hammering, she hurried up the staircase.
She knocked on Johnny’s door, and when the duke opened it she gasped breathlessly, “My lady is awake, Your Grace.”
“Thank God!” John rushed past her and down the stairs.
Jenny hurried after him. “She isn’t in her right mind, Your Grace. She doesn’t know who she is. Lady Georgina said she had to get away from here. Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but she said she hated and detested you!”
Chapter 32
“Georgina!” John shouted his wife’s name as he strode from room to room. Mr. Burke hurried from the kitchen when he heard John. “Did you see her, Burke? Did she leave the house?”
“I didn’t see her, Your Grace, but I thank heaven she has regained consciousness.”
John was out the front door like a shot. If Georgy’s leaving, she’ll go for her horse. He ran through the courtyard and headed toward the stables. He caught a glimpse of her white petticoat through the trees. “Georgina! Georgy!”
She turned and looked at the man who was running toward her. A look of pure relief transformed the fear on her face. “John!” She put her hand up to her head as he reached her. “You must help me, John. I must get away from him!”
His arms went about her. “Get away from whom, sweetheart?”
She clung to him desperately. “Francis!”
John felt his wife go limp in his arms. “Stay with me, Georgy. Don’t faint.” He slipped his other arm under her legs and lifted her high against his heart. With great care, he carried his wife back to the house and took her upstairs to their bedchamber.
He laid her on the bed and gently propped her up against the pillows. “You regained consciousness once, sweetheart, you can do it again. Open your eyes, Georgy.” He removed her slippers and massaged her feet. Then he took her hands and held them tightly.
As the minutes slowly ticked by, John held his breath. Finally, he saw her eyelashes flutter; then her tongue licked dry lips. She opened her eyes and blinked. “I’m so thirsty.”
Almost reeling with relief, he brought a glass of water and held it while she drank.
“My head hurts.” Her hand massaged her forehead. “What happened? Oh, I remember . . . I fell out of the oak tree.”
Johnny came rushing into the room. “Is she awake?”
“Of course I’m awake. Are you all right, Johnny?”
“I am now.” He caught his breath on a sob of relief.
Georgina held out her arms and Johnny rushed into them.
“Hold on!” John cautioned. “She has to be kept quiet.”
“Why?” Georgina asked.
“You’ve been unconscious for twenty-four hours. You had a very bad fall, my love.” He took her hand and placed it on the back of her head. “You had a terrible concussion and slipped into a coma. When you awoke earlier, you didn’t know you were at Woburn. You were so horrified that you were the Duchess of Bedford, you tried to run away. When I found you by the stables, you implored me to get you away from Francis.”
Georgina sighed heavily and lowered her lashes to her cheeks.
“I think she needs to rest quietly, Johnny. Why don’t you go down and let everyone know Georgy is awake and that she’s going to be just fine?”
When they were alone, John sat down and took her hand. I won’t press her about Francis. She’ll tell me when she’s good and ready. “Georgy, the night before you fell from the tree, do you remember that we had a terrible row?”
“Yes, I remember. I was absolutely furious with you for being dominant and controlling.” She veiled her eyes. “And for other things.”
“You accused me of being a brute and wanting to beat you. I want you to know I would never hurt you, Georgina.”
“I defied you deliberately, wanting to goad you into unleashing the dark fury that sometimes lurks beneath the surface.”
“You managed to come pretty damn close. Not when you flung your diamonds at me or slapped my face. It was when you locked the door on me and rejected me that my demons took over.”
“When you smashed the door down, I knew I had pushed you too far,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, John.”
“No, I am the one who must apologize. When you lay unconscious and I feared losing you, I realized how petty my jealousy was. You are the center of my life, Georgy. If freedom makes you happy, I will never deny you again. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you. I deliberately provoked you.”
In a little while, Mr. Burke brought up some broth. “I took the liberty of lacing it with wine to give her nourishment.”
“Thank you, Mr. Burke, and thank Cook for me.” John took the bowl and lifted the spoon to her lips.
Georgina looked amused. “I can do it myself.”
“Let me feed you, little girl,” he said tenderly.
Each time John looked into her eyes, Georgina looked away. She knew she was going to have to explain herself about Francis, and she was trying to muster the courage.
John put the empty bowl down, and then he bathed and shaved and changed his clothes.
“I don’t want to stay in bed,” Georgina declared.
“You have to stay quiet,” John explained.
“I can stay quiet sitting on the window seat.” She pushed the covers aside, walked across the
chamber, and sat down so that she could see outside. She gazed out at the garden for a long time, and then her eyes sought John’s. “Come and sit down.”
He took a chair facing her and waited.
“I’ve been living a lie. You thought I loved your brother, Francis, and I let you believe it. It isn’t true—I hated him.”
John’s dark brows drew together. “Hated?”
“Oh, not at first. After my coming-out ball, when he began to pay attention to me, I was completely indifferent to him. When you and I met, sparks flew between us, and against my will I found myself irresistibly attracted to you. But you were married, and I knew it was wrong. When your wife died, I hoped there might be a chance that you would return my feelings. Then you rebuffed me, and I wanted to make you jealous. I deliberately set out to become engaged to your brother. It was wicked of me, because I had no intention of marrying Francis.V
“I know he proposed to you,” John said quietly.
“Many times, and though it would have pleased Mother above all things, I always said no and made it plain I didn’t love him. I wanted to get away from him and from London, and went to Kimbolton for my sister Susan’s birthday. Unbeknownst to me, my family had arranged a rendezvous for Francis and me.”
Georgina hesitated, and John kept a wise silence, hoping she would continue.
“I tried to be civil because I didn’t want to spoil Susan’s birthday. I was relieved when midnight arrived, and I knew I could retire. The next thing I knew, Francis came into my bedchamber. He said Manchester had given him the key.VShe paused and took a deep, steadying breath. “Francis tried to ravish me. I kneed him in the groin and kicked him in the belly. He rolled to the carpet in pain. It made him furious. When he got up and came after me, I hit him with a bottle and fled naked from Kimbolton.”
“The degenerate swine!” John, appalled at Francis, sat down beside her on the window seat and slipped his arm about her.
“My coachman took me to my sister Louisa, in Suffolk. A short time later, Mother arrived with the dreadful news that Francis was dead. I was covered with guilt because the injury I inflicted on him led to his death.”
“The injury that led to his death happened in the bed of his whore Molly Hill,VJohn said between clenched teeth.