CHAPTER 17

‘Mr. Rochester, you are awake.  Thank the good lord.’

‘Who the blazes are you?’ Chadwick quickly lifted the sheet over his unclothed body.  ‘Where the hell am I?’ he looked around the unfamiliar room.

‘My name is Buttons, sir.  You are in the home of Baron Sanford.’

‘What am I doing here? ‘Chadwick lifted the covers to get out.  He wanted answers.

Buttons quickly tugged on the bell.  ‘Sir, you are very ill.  Please stay in the bed.  You collapsed at the Jousting Tournament.’

Yes he remembered the tournament.  He had been in the finals.  He was to face the Swine. 

Chadwick searched his body for any injury.  He flexed his arms and legs experimentally and found none.  His head throbbed.  He touched his head - no bandages.  He ran his fingers tentatively over his ribs, nothing seemed to be broken.   He racked his brain trying to remember the last race, but it was all a blur.  Damn it.  He could not stay here all day.  Angrily he got out of  bed and put one foot on the cold floor and tried to get out of the bed, but darkness engulfed him. 

‘Buttons you rang---why is he out of bed?’  Stanton ran and managed to hold onto Chadwick just before he collapsed to the floor.  Together with Button’s help, Chadwick was helped into bed again.

Stanton held smelling salts at Chadwick’s nose.  He stirred, then slowly opened his eyes again to find the groom and Sanford glaring at him. 

!

‘Baron Sanford,’ Chadwick spoke in a croaky voice.  ‘What on earth happened?’

‘Ah, glad to see you awake Rochester.  The doctor thinks it’s food poisoning.  Pretty bad case of it,’ Stanton smiled sympathetically.   ‘You’ve been knocked out since yesterday afternoon.’

‘Food poisoning?  I was not injured when Swain knocked me down?’

‘Knocked down?’ Stanton laughed.  ‘No, he never got a chance.  You struck first blood.  won!’ 

Chadwick winced as Stanton slapped his shoulder.

Chadwick allowed himself a self appreciating smile. 

Chadwick wiped the smile off his face when he saw Sanford glaring at him questioningly.

‘I won,’ Chadwick spoke aloud.   ‘So how the hell did I get food poisoning?  I have not eaten anything that is different from my normal diet.’

‘The doctor was baffled,’ Stanton stated thoughtfully.   ‘For a man your size, it knocked you out cold.  Did anybody offer you anything to eat or drink before your race?’

Chadwick cocked his head, his mind tried to recall if he had consumed any suspicious food or drink, but he came up with nothing.

‘I do not remember having anything at the tournament,’ Chadwick answered thoughtfully.  ‘Anyway, thank you for your hospitality,’ Chadwick threw the covers off again.  ‘I think, I’ll head home,’ Chadwick nodded gratefully at Stanton and attempted to get up, but his knees collapsed and he would have fallen again, if it was not for the speedy action of Stanton and Buttons who quickly rushed forward to stop him falling to the cold floor.

‘You should stay put Rochester,’ Stanton admonished.  ‘The doctor ordered you to be in bed for forty eight hours.  Your system had had a nasty shock.  It has not recovered yet.’

Chadwick resistingly, slid under the sheets again.  Damn it, he was not an invalid.  He did not want Sanford and his household fussing over him.  He was a grown man for heaven’s sake.  He can take care of himself, especially when he has no injuries to keep him in bed. !

Madison paced up and down outside Chadwick’s chamber. 

She twisted her hands in a knot, biting on her lower lip until she tasted her own blood.  Madison brushed her hand across her mouth at the foul taste.  She poured a glass of water from the jug on the table and drank it all in one gulp. 

u

Anxious beyond reason, she knocked on the door, opened it and rushed in before her father could tell her not to enter. 

‘Papa is everything---.’ 

His head swung up, his eyes locked with hers as she sashayed in like a breath of fresh morning air on a beautiful spring morning.

‘You are awake?’  She swallowed gazing at his arresting face.  He had not been shaven yet.  A day’s growth of stubble had mushroomed on his face.

‘Good morning my lady,’ Chadwick acknowledged her.  ‘You will forgive me if I do not stand.’

Madison went crimson.  She knew he was as naked as the day he was born beneath the sheets.  They had stripped him of all his clothing, to bring down his temperature.  She remembered the feel of the sturdy, muscular chest.  Her fingers tingled, just remembering.

‘Um---good morning Mr. Rochester.  How do you feel this morning?’

his eyes held hers.  She blushed profusely as if she could read his mind.

‘I am much better thank you,’ he dragged his eyes away, aware of their audience.  ‘I was just trying to convince Baron Sanford that I must go home.’

‘But you are not well yet,’ Madison exclaimed.

‘I wish to send word to my home,’ Chadwick controlled his annoyance with difficulty.  ‘Can you write a letter, Lady Madison, if I dictate it to you---please?’

‘Yes that is good,’ Stanton stood up.  ‘You do that.  I’ll send word to Doctor Harper that your fever has broken,’ Stanton announced as he departed.

Chadwick’s dark eyes did not leave her face, as he awaited her response.

‘Er---sure,’ she wrung her fingers nervously.  ‘What should I write?’ she stayed at the door too nervous to go closer.

‘Come here,’ he commanded.  ‘I do not bite.’

Madison cautiously stepped closer. ‘Yes’.  She picked up the pen to begin writing.  They were both acutely aware of Buttons, still present in the room.  The only reason her father had permitted her to stay was because Buttons could act as chaperone.  Not that he expected his good, respectful daughter to embarrass him.

         Rankin wrapped his knuckles impatiently on the filthy table as he awaited his partner in crime.  He had ordered a glass of whiskey but he did not drink from his glass.  He glanced around the smoke filled room of the Blue Oyster.  It was filled with commoners, who could afford the cheap tasteless whisky and bland draught beer.  He wrinkled his face distastefully at the group of unkempt men at the bar.  It did not seem like their bodies had encountered water and soap in a month of Sundays.