Ernest struggled to raise himself from the pillows but grimaced in pain. He seemed to settle instead for pointing one finger at her accusingly. His face was florid and contorted, but there was no strength in his words.
“You. You are responsible for this!” He gasped. Rose did not drop her smile.
“If you mean that I called the doctor, then yes, you are quite right.”
“I didn’t need him!”
“You collapsed at my feet in the driveway,” she admonished.
“I bet you hoped I was dead.” He fell back against the pillow; the effort of raising his body forwards had obviously expended the little energy he had in reserve.
“If I had hoped that, I would have left you there,” she said, and he narrowed his eyes at her. Rose kept her eyes averted lest he see how close to the truth his words had been. “The doctor said he would call in this evening and explain the seriousness of your injury.”
“He needn’t bother,” Ernest snapped testily, “I have heard it all from that evil nurse. Not allowed to move for weeks, no alcohol, a strict diet, not even allowed to take care of my own toilette. I am in prison.”
“A very beautiful prison though,” she smiled, looking around the elegant room.
“And that is another thing. Why am I in the guests’ quarters?”
Rose covered well.
“It seemed a more peaceful sanitorium than the rooms over the center of the house. We feared you might be ill for some time.”
“Well, I am not staying here once I am well enough to move.”
We will cross that bridge when we come to it.
“Why do I have to have a nurse anyway? Why could you not take care of me?”
“We are not married, so it would be most unseemly for me to take care of your personal needs. Also, you are seriously unwell, and I have no medical training.”
“I will not allow my injury to deny me, you know,” he said then, and Rose looked at him quizzically.
“I will take you as my wife, however much you might be hoping this will change things.”
Lying bed in his nightshirt, with his hair wetted and combed flat and his portly middle hidden by the counterpane, he looked much younger than he normally did, despite his gray pallor. Rose imagined him as an angry child, stamping his feet in frustration when he didn’t get his way.
“The most important thing is you get better,” she said to him, but rather than anger him, this seemed to mollify him somewhat.
“Will you come to visit me again?” he asked.
“Of course,” she assured him. Bedridden Ernest was much easier to handle than his drunken alter ego.
Rose went back to her room and changed into one of her most comfortable dresses. The lemon-yellow dress was made of the softest, lightest fabric and perfectly complimented her almost white blond hair. She took a bonnet from her armoire as well. Rose had never been one for fancy hats, but this afternoon it would serve as her disguise as she made her way down to the clearing where Will would be waiting, and if anyone saw her leaving the castle, she could claim she was going to sit in the garden wearing it, to protect her from the sun.
It would have been wonderful to have been able to ask the cook to prepare a basket or take a bottle of wine from the well-stocked cellar, but she couldn’t explain it, so she didn’t. She wasn’t hungry anyway.
She crept out of a back door and found herself in the rose garden for the second time that day. Then she walked through the hedges and trees, down the hill, skirting around town, towards the place that was still completely theirs.
Will was already there. He'd spread a tartan blanket on the grass and was lounging on it near the stream. In the heat of the day, he had removed his vest and cravat and was only wearing his cream shirt. A small wicker basket sat behind his head, the top of which held a bottle of wine.
“Oh, you brought a picnic,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know how to smuggle one out.”
“Didn’t I offer?” He smiled. “It was easier for me. Come over here”.
Those three words made a nervous flutter begin in the pit of her stomach, but she dashed the feeling down.Friends.Just friends.
She removed her bonnet as he made room for her on the blanket and bunched up his jacket to make a pillow for her head. “That color is beautiful on you,” he said softly as he trailed his fingers in the water at his side.