Page 35 of A Momentary Marriage

“I can help.” Unexpectedly Walter spoke up. “I know where the tonic is. I picked it up at the apothecary.”

“Why don’t you rest for a bit first?” Laura suggested. “Have some of the broth.”

James shook his head. “I’ll wait on the treatment. But I must clean up and dress. Mother will be here soon.”

“He’s right,” Walter agreed, turning and rummaging through the dresser. “Word will be all around the servants’ hall. If Simpson doesn’t tell her, her maid certainly will. Here’s a fresh shirt.”

“But she won’t care that you’re rumpled, surely,” Laura protested.

Walter snorted. “James? Rumpled? She’ll be certain he’s at de—” He stopped abruptly, turning brick red.

“Death’s door,” James finished for him.

“I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean—of course you aren’t . . .”

“Stop yammering, Walter, and give me the blasted shirt.” James began working on his buttons.

“Yes, of course.”

Laura watched the two men in amazement as Walter helped James replace his shirt. There was the sound of agitated voices, then a rush of footsteps in the hallway. James let out a curse and stood up just as Tessa flew into the room.

“James!” She stopped in the doorway, her eyes huge in her face, her hands clutched to her heart.

“Mother.” James gave her the ghost of a smile.

“Darling! The maid said—oh, God! It’s true!” Tears welled in her eyes and she wailed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tessa started forward in a rush, arms extended, as if to throw herself against James, but Laura, with visions of Tessa knocking him over, nimbly stepped in front of the other woman and took her arm, pulling her to a halt. She leaned in, saying in a low voice, “Don’t. He’ll fall. He hasn’t the strength.”

Tessa rolled her eyes toward Laura. “No . . .” It was more a moan than a word. She looked over at her son. “James, no . . .”

“I’m sorry,” James said inadequately, and sat down on the bed.

Tessa burst into sobs and threw her arms around Laura. Laura had no doubt that Tessa’s distress was real; she saw the stark terror in the woman’s eyes. But she could understand why James found Tessa’s emotions exhausting. He shoved one hand back through his hair, looking helpless, his face bleak.

“I can’t. I can’t.” Tessa pulled back, her gaze pleading. “He must get well. I can’t bear to lose another son.” She turned to James, but apparently saw no help there, for she swiveled back to Laura. “What’s wrong with him? I thought . . . people get better from consumption.”

Laura linked her arm through Tessa’s, steering her toward the door. She cast a speaking look at James’s brother. “Walter . . .”

“What? Oh! Oh, yes.” He came up on the other side of Tessa. “Don’t cry, Mama.”

Tessa patted him on the arm, giving him a tearful smile. “Why didn’t he tell me? I’m his mother.”

“I’m sure he didn’t want to alarm you,” Laura told her as she led her into the corridor. “I know it’s hard, but you must be strong. For James. He hates to see you cry.”

“Yes, of course. For James. He tries to be so hard, you know, but he cares. He really does.” She turned toward her other son. “Doesn’t he, Walter?”

“Um . . . yes, yes, of course.”

“His father was the same. Poor Laurence. Vincent. And now James . . . oh, I cannot bear it. My sons!” She burst into sobs and threw herself against Walter’s chest.

Walter patted his mother’s back, and Laura abandoned him to the task, returning to the bedroom. James still sat on the edge of his bed. He offered a wry smile.

“I should have known you would handle Mother.” As she drew near, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Promise me you’ll keep the rest of them at bay.”

“Your family? James, they’ll want to see you.”

“To bid a fond farewell?”