The Bronze Heart (Kenelm Chronicles 03) by Felicia Rogers

Author:Felicia Rogers [Rogers, Felicia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine: Renewal

“Put the flowers over there and straighten the chairs.” Eleanor was as involved as any mother of the bride would be.

Rose was happy for the help; morning nausea had kept her in bed until noon. She wasn’t making a very good impression. She would have spent the time before she fell asleep talking to Kenelm about the situation but during the last two months of wedding preparations Eleanor had required they sleep in separate rooms. Two nights of being held in her husband’s arms and then it was just gone. She was beginning to think it had been a dream.

A warm hand fell to her waist. “You look green. Do you need to lie down?”

She shook her head—a big mistake. She clamped her hand over her mouth and ran toward the rose bushes. Hunkered behind their breadth the contents of her meager breakfast resurfaced.

She fell onto her backside. The earth was moist from dew and it seeped into her gown and made her shiver with cold. Then the tears came. She tried to staunch them, but it was of no use.

“Ah, my love.” Kenelm placed his arm beneath her knees and hoisted her against his chest. “Let’s go to your room and grab a cold cloth. Then we’ll summon the physician.”

She wasn’t arguing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head against his chest. It was the most relaxed she’d felt in days.

****

Kenelm buried his panic. Rose was as white as a sheet. She’d been ill for at least a week. Unable to keep down food. Unable to walk straight. She spent half the day abed. It wasn’t like her.

He’d wanted to mention a physician before but his mother had insisted it was merely the new environment and Rose would improve—Mother had been wrong.

Rose was light as if she’d lost weight in recent weeks. He knew she’d struggled to keep food down, but hadn’t realized how much she’d stopped eating.

He laid her on a pile of colorful pillows. She curled on her side and placed her hands beneath her cheeks. “I just need to rest for a moment.” Her eyelids were already drooping.

He slipped from the room. Downstairs, he penned a message to the local village physician. He snagged a servant and gave him instructions to retrieve the physician.

Mother still paced, pointing left and right and barking orders. The formal wedding ceremony was to take place in two days’ time, and Mother declared half the work was unfinished. He had no idea which half she meant, but he was afraid to question. His concern was whether Rose would be ready for a wedding in two days.

He lost track of how many times he ran upstairs to peek at Rose while he awaited the physician. The elderly gentleman arrived, his hair wildly out of place.

“This young fellow and your note imply that a young lady is ill.”

“Yes, this way.”

“What can you tell me?”

“My wife has been ill for about two weeks—”

“Wife?”

“Yes.” It still felt odd to say, but it was the word he’d longed to use for years.

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