The Decadent Duke (48 page)

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:

 
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!”

“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.”