Virginia Henley - Unmasked by Virginia Henley

  Velvet felt invisible threads drawing her to Greysteel". She tried to resist their pull and told herself that she should not disturb his sleep. When she got to her own door, however, she could not go through it. She gave in to her instincts and went down the hall to the master chamber.

  She turned the knob quietly and held her breath, hoping the door wouldn't creak. She slipped inside and moved toward the bed. There was no sound, no movement, and she assumed he was asleep. Then she saw him. The moonlight showed that he lay naked and his eyes were open.

  She reached out and placed her hand over his. Its burning heat alarmed her. "Greysteel!" She felt his forehead and knew he had a raging fever.

  Velvet lit all the candles in the room and came back to the bed. His pewter eyes glittered feverishly; his face and neck were flushed a dull red. His lips were dry and cracked.

  "Water," he murmured indistinctly.

  She rushed to the washstand and poured some water from the jug into a cup. She lifted his head and tipped the water toward his dry lips. She watched him drink avidly and when he would take no more, she eased his head back down onto the pillow.

  Velvet poured the rest of the water from the jug into a bowl. She took it to the bed with a sponge and a towel, and then she bathed his face, neck, chest and arms. She did it over and over in an effort to cool him down. Fear gripped her, but she knew that so long as her hands were busy, it would help to keep her devas­tating thoughts at bay.

  She drew in a swift breath when she heard a knock at the door. She crossed the room and asked who was there.

  "It's Mr. Burke, my lady I read your note......I hope you are wrong about Lord Montgomery catching the contagion."

  "I am afraid I'm not wrong, Mr. Burke. He has a rag­ing fever. For safety's sake, I want you to move to the servants' wing. I've exposed myself to Greysteel and I wish to remain the only one at Roehampton who is ex­posed. I'll do the nursing, but there will be lots of other things you can do."

  "I'm so sorry, Lady Montgomery. I'll do whatever you ask."

  "As soon as it stops snowing, you can retrieve my luggage from the carriage. It got stuck at the end of the drive. You and Ned, my coach driver, can help Mr. Clegg to keep us supplied with wood for all the fires. I'll need water to bathe my husband and something for him to drink ... water and whatever else you think best. I know how staunch you are, Mr. Burke. Your presence is a great comfort to me."

  "Thank you, my lady."

  "Don't come to the door again. Leave the stuff I need at the top of the stairs, and you can leave me a note too, if there is something you want to tell me."

  "Is there anything you need right away?"

  "Yes, you can fetch an empty bucket and some fresh drinking water, thank you."

  Velvet pulled a chair to the bed and sat down. She had no idea if her husband could understand her, but she knew she must talk to him, mostly for her own sake. "I know how ill you feel, Greysteel, yet you re­fuse to moan. Let it out—I'm sure it will make you feel better, my love."

  He moved his head on the pillow so that he could see her, but he uttered no sound.

  "It's almost dawn. The wind has dropped and the snow is not falling as thickly. Once it stops and the sun comes up to sparkle on the soft blanket of white, I'm sure that Roehampton will look more beautiful than it ever has before. I love this old manor. It is the loveliest present I've ever had, or could ever have, and I thank you for it with all my heart, Greysteel."

  "Water," he mumbled.

  Velvet went into the hall. She found an empty wooden bucket and a fresh jug of drinking water. She carried a cup to the bed and again raised his head. He was burning hot to the touch and when he drank ea­gerly, she prayed it would lessen his fever.

  A short time later she heard a noise in the hall and, when she went to investigate, found a bucket of warm water and a note. Mr. Burke told her that he had put borage leaves in the wash water that would turn it red. He also said that he was boiling some borage leaves and seeds, a common drink for fever.

  When Velvet sponged her husband with the red-tinted, piquant-smelling water, she saw old scars on his torso that she'd never noticed before, and it re­minded her that Greysteel had been a soldier most of his life, fighting to put Charles on the throne. "This is one battle you must win," she told him firmly.

  By the time morning arrived, she saw that he had closed his eyes and he seemed to have fallen into a fitful sleep. An hour later she found her two bags and the wooden crate at the top of the stairs. "Thank heaven they left my portrait crated up!" She dragged it into the bedchamber, and went back for her bags.

  The day went by in a blur. She changed her clothes and put on a peach-colored gown. It was an impracti­cal shade for nursing duty, but she chose it for her beloved. She remembered eating food that had been brought upstairs, but later could not recall what it was. As twilight neared and Greysteel's fever had not bro­ken, terror of the coming night gripped her.

  She lifted his head so he could sip the borage drink, but he turned his face away, and muttered incoher­ently.

  She fought her fear, feeling contempt for her cowardice. She turned his face back to her and stared intently into his fever-bright eyes. "Robert Greysteel Montgomery, you are going to have to give your con­trol over to me. I am in command tonight and you must obey my orders. Do you hear me, Captain?"

  "Cold," he murmured.

  She pulled up his blankets and tucked them about his neck and when her hands came in contact with his skin, it scalded her. She tried to mask her alarm and went to the fire to put on coal and wood to make it blaze hotter. "Are you warmer now, love?"

  He shivered and his teeth chattered. "So cold."

  Velvet began to panic. He's cold because he's going to die! She brought an extra blanket from the chest and threw it over her husband, yet still he shivered. In­stinct took over and told her what to do. She threw off her clothes, slid beneath the covers and enfolded him in her arms. Though he shivered, his naked flesh against hers felt hot as fire. "The heat from my body will seep into yours.... Feel it, Greysteel, feel the heat!"

  Gradually, his shivering stopped and he lay still as death. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. Her throat choked with tears. If you die, this is the last time we will ever be able to sleep together. She swallowed the lump and whispered, "I love you more than life......Feel my love seep into you."

  Chapter 27

  When Velvet woke, dawn was lighting the sky. She was immediately aware that she lay against Greysteel's back. She could feel wetness be­tween their bodies and her heart lifted in hopes that his fever had broken. When she slid down the covers and peeled her body away from his, she saw to her horror that his back had a dozen large blisters filled with water and she had broken some of them.

  She scrambled from the bed, hurried around to the other side and found him awake. "Can you under­stand what I say, love?" He closed his eyes once, and she took it to mean that he could. She saw his tongue come out to lick cracked lips, but his mouth had no moisture in it. She poured him a drink of bitter borage and water and held it to his lips. Miraculously, he drank it and she knew he had given his control over to her.

  When she cupped his unshaven cheek, she found him still warm, but not raging hot. She sent up a swift prayer of thanks and then quickly donned her petti­coat. She emptied the old wash water into the wooden bucket and filled the bowl with fresh. Before she began the sponge bath, she examined him all over to see how many smallpox vesicles had erupted. As well as the dozen on his back, he had at least another dozen scat­tered over his arms, legs and belly. Velvet decided to fudge the number. "Greysteel, you have maybe twenty pox on your body, but miraculously, you have none on your face."

  When his mouth curved slightly, she knew he had understood. She sponged his front first, moving slowly so that she would not break any more blisters, and then she washed his back, which was the worst. She put a clean linen case on the pillow and urged him to lie on his stomach. Again she emptied the dirty wate
r into the bucket and carried it to the fireplace.

  She scooped up all the ashes from the hearth and put them in the bucket too and carried it to the top of the stairs. Along with fresh water, Mr. Burke had left her another note.

  I've seen outbreaks of smallpox. At first the blisters are filled with a watery fluid, and the fever subsides. Very shortly, though, they fill up with pus and the fever re­turns along with delirium. Prepare yourself for this dan­gerous stage.

  She heard someone at the bottom of the stairs and shouted, "Lord Montgomery has about twenty-six pox at the watery stage."

  Mr. Burke called back, "Once they turn into pus­tules, they take at least five days before they start to dry up, if—"

  He didn't finish the sentence, but Velvet knew he had been about to say, "If he lives that long."

  "Thank you. Is anyone else showing symptoms?"

  "No, my lady, but if you start with a headache, I want you to promise me that you won't hide it from me."

  "I promise, Mr. Burke."

  Velvet returned to the bedchamber, dispirited at the thought of Greysteel's fever returning. She knelt at the hearth and lit a new fire with paper and kindling. How provindent that I learned how to light afire when I lived in Saint-Germain. She smiled sadly as she remembered the difficult times in exile, but realized that she was a better person because of the lessons hardship had taught her. She thought back to her childhood and laughed. Oh, Lizzy, you were so spoiled!

  She washed her hands and face, quickly ran the brush over her hair and donned the peach-colored gown. Then she returned to the chair beside the bed.

  "Thank you," Greysteel murmured.

  She smiled into his eyes. "You may not talk—only listen. You have to save your strength."

  "I love you, Velvet."

  Tears sprang to her eyes. He had never told her that before. Perhaps he mistakes love for gratitude. "I love you, Greysteel. I'm sorry, but by tonight you will have your fever back. You have always been a warrior and I want you to fight the coming battle with all your might. You are not alone. I am here with you and if we join our forces, we will be victorious!"

  "You are my shield, my buckler," he murmured. His eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

  Velvet used this time to break her fast. She ate the food that had been left at the top of the stairs. She set down the empty platter and took the wine back to the bedchamber.

  By nightfall, the vesicles on Greysteel's body had filled with pus, and his temperature soared. She sponged him over and over with cooling water, but in spite of her efforts he became delirious. He threw off his covers and began to rave. It was all about death and dying and Velvet realized he was speaking of the young soldiers who had served under him. He ranted about surrendering them to General Monck.

  The revelations tore at her heart. "You surrendered control to save their lives!"

  He sat up and grabbed her arms. "He never loved

  her! She died for me I'll see her at last."

  Velvet did not pull away. She guessed he was speaking of his mother. "No, Greysteel! I need you here. Our child needs his father. You must fight Death; it is our enemy!"

  His grip tightened. "You'll leave me."

  "No, no, I won't. I'll stay here with you," she vowed.

  "You love Charles.... You'll go to Charles."

  "I promise on my soul I will not go to Charles. I will stay with you forever. I love you, Greysteel.... I need you!"

  "Velvet?"

  "Yes, it's Velvet," she assured him.

  Gradually, his desperate hold on her slackened and he fell back to the bed. His raving stopped and though he did not close his eyes, his restless movements qui­eted.

  Is he leaving me? The thought terrified her so much she poured herself some wine to give her courage for what might come. She drained the glass and then she lay down beside him and took his hand. She put her other hand on her belly and gained a little comfort from knowing that all three of them were together and touching. "I'm here, love. I won't leave you."

  The next thing she knew, it was morning, and Vel­vet realized that she had slept. She jumped up in alarm and rushed to the other side of the bed to see if her husband was still alive. As she bent close, his eyes opened and she heaved a sigh that the crazy light had gone out of them. His fever was coming down, his senses were returning to him, and she dared to hope that the crisis had passed.

  I shouldn't have had that damned wine. My head is throbbing!

  "You are going to live, Greysteel! The danger is over. You are going to recover from smallpox!" She didn't know if it was true, but she wanted him to hear it and believe it.

  At St. James's Palace, King Charles knelt in prayer at his sister's bedside, while a priest administered the last rites.

  "She's gone, Sire." Dr. Fraser placed his hand on Charles's shoulder. "Her suffering is over."

  Charles got wearily to his feet. Disease and Death play no favorites. A princess has no more sway than a page. "Thank you, Dr. Fraser, I know you did all that was humanly possible. Her husband died from smallpox, you know, and how ironic that I survived it when I was a boy, yet within weeks it has taken my brother and my sister."

  "You had a mild dose of smallpox, as did I. All my nurses have survived the pox. It is no wonder that ser­vants who are pockmarked are in high demand."

  "How is Lady Beatrice?"

  "I have hopes she will survive, but one of the Royal Guards who accompanied Princess Mary from Dover has come down with it. I hope Lord Montgomery wasn't infected."

  Charles remembered the look of fear on Velvet's face when she learned it was virulent smallpox. "Pox plays no favorites."

  Charles spoke to the priest. "Would you accompany me to my mother's apartments, Father? The queen will be inconsolable."

  An hour later, the king returned to his own cham­bers at Whitehall. He had many difficult letters to write. The first and foremost would have to be to his late sister's son, William. Is there a kind way to tell a boy who is not yet eleven that his mother has died? Charles knew that there was not.

  Though the king did not wish to become embroiled in a diplomatic squabble, he knew he would do his best to fulfill Mary's last request. He would write in support that William be made captain general of the Dutch Republic.

  With a heavy sigh, he clipped his quill and wrote to his beloved sister Minette. It was the second time in as many months that he had had to inform her about a sibling's death. Charles sent up a silent prayer to keep his youngest sister safe from all things that might harm her, including her effeminate French husband, Philippe. I'd love to invite Minette to visit England, but if she caught smallpox, the guilt would kill me.

  Charles wrote hurried notes to his brother James, who had taken himself off to Hampton Court, and to Barbara, who was also absent from Whitehall. Both have excellent survival instincts! He summoned Will Chiffinch and asked him to deliver the notes.

  Before he forgot and other pressing matters took his time and attention, Charles wrote a letter to Velvet at Roehampton.

  My dearest Velvet:

  It is with great sadness that I tell you my sister Mary has gone to her eternal rest. She must have picked up the virulent smallpox infection from the ship on which she sailed to England. To my great sorrow, sailing vessels cannot be thoroughly cleansed of these dreaded conta­gions.

  I have written to Minette with the sad news and hope you will write her also. I know a letter from you will greatly cheer her. Dr. Fraser has every hope that Mary's maid of honor Lady Beatrice will survive, and we are praying for her recovery.

  I most sincerely hope with all my heart that Greysteel escapes this pestilence. 1 will never forget the look of fear on your face for your husband when you learned that he had been in close contact with a victim of smallpox. It told me how deeply you love him. You should never have gone to Roehampton to warn him, risking the infection to yourself, but I know nothing in this world could have prevented you from going to him. I envy Montgomery your devotion, b
ecause I know I will never have so great a love.

  Please let me know that all is well with you. After my coronation, when Catherine comes from Portugal to be my wife and queen, I know I could have no more worthy Lady of the Bedchamber to serve her than you, Velvet.

  Whitehall is not the same without the Earl and Countess ofEglinton.

  Your devoted servant,

  Charles Rex

  He sanded the letter, melted the wax and pressed his seal ring into it. Charles had never felt so alone in years. He went into the anteroom and spoke to Prodgers. "Would you see that a messenger takes this letter to Lady Montgomery at Roehampton?" He rubbed his hands together as if to rid them of some­thing that clung. "I shall bathe and change my clothes. Then would you be good enough to find Buckingham for me? I don't wish to dine alone tonight."

  Charles walked across to the window and looked out at London. The snow, which only days ago had made everything look pristine, had now turned to dirty slush. He knew and accepted that a pristine world was an illusion. Dirty slush was the reality.

  Greysteel pushed the covers from his body and sat up. He looked down at his chest with critical eyes, as­sessing the crusted scabs that decorated his flesh. His hands went to his cheeks and forehead and he realized that Velvet had been telling him the truth: His face had escaped the scarring vesicles.

  He swung his legs to the carpet beside her chair and reached out to gently touch his sleeping wife's hand. His fingers jerked back in alarm. She's on fire!

  "Velvet—sweetheart—wake up!" It was then that he realized she was not asleep. Her lids were only half closed and beneath them her eyes were glazed with fever. "Christ's blood, I've given you the smallpox!"

  He left the bedchamber, went to the head of the stairs and called down. "Mr. Burke!"

  In a moment he heard Burke's joyous voice carry up the staircase. "My lord, you are going to recover!"

  "Don't come up. Velvet is burning with fever. I'm going to get fresh sheets, then put her to bed. I'm weak as a bloody kitten, Burke—can you get me something to put in my stomach?"