The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(48)
“Let me do that, ma’am,” Caroline said quietly, and Marjorie smiled gratefully, sinking back down into her chair while Caroline went down to the kitchen.
Two maids were easily pried away from washing up to help make up beds, and Williams went to fetch wood and coal for the fires.
When she finally returned to the drawing room, it was to find the gentleman had rejoined them, and Miss Benedict was about to pour tea. Quietly, Caroline took the cups and saucers from Marjorie and took them to the ladies and gentlemen.
“Efficient as ever,” Javan murmured, when she served him last. “I suppose all our guests now have warm, clean beds to go to?”
“Well, the warming pans are still to go in,” Caroline said apologetically, “but yes, they should be ready by the time everyone retires.”
His lips quirked. “Thank you.”
She searched his eyes quickly. “I hope you do not mind. It seemed the best solution”
“It is. Quite right.” He rested his hip on the arm of an empty chair. Caroline was conscious of an urge to stay with him, to sit in that chair and feel the brush of his coat, his elbow whenever he moved, to simply soak up his nearness. Instead, she walked to the other side of the room and sat by Miss Benedict, where it was safe.
*
With all the girls staying in Rosa’s chamber, her father could not sit with her as he usually did. From bewilderment at her unprecedented company, she went to panic and ran to her father in the drawing room as though to prove to herself he was still there. After that, since Caroline was in and out organizing the girls, the fun of this novelty began to sink in.
By popular demand, Caroline read to them all in bed, and when she stood up to go, the Braithwaite girls all embraced her, declaring how much they missed her and how lucky Rosa was. Touched, Caroline hugged them back, ending with Rosa.
“Shall I stay until you’re all asleep?” she asked, with a quelling look at her old pupils to prevent them ridiculing the idea.
Rosa hesitated, then shook her head and released Caroline to prod Helen in the back and make her squeal.
Without giving a reason, Caroline announced that the night light would remain lit, then left them alone. She read until they quieted down, and then undressed for bed. Despite the noise of the storm, she fell asleep almost immediately.
She woke in darkness to the shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the passage door. Her first thought was that it was the girls up to mischief. She shot out of bed, blundering toward the door and throwing it open before she realized she couldn’t see who was in the passage without a light. Whoever was out there didn’t carry one, but she could still hear the slow, shuffle of feet.
Her fingers were infuriatingly clumsy and slow with the flint, but at last the candle was lit. Seizing it, she hurried out the door just in time to see a male figure vanish around the corner of the passage toward the stairs.
Javan? Was he sleepwalking again? It had been stormy the last time he had done this… What if he went outside again? What if he fell downstairs? Even if he merely embarrassed himself in front of his guests, he would be mortified.
Caroline flung her wrapper around herself, and hastened along the passage, her candle light bobbing and flickering in front of her.
Javan stood with his back to the stairs, quite still, gazing straight ahead. She was afraid to speak to him or to touch him, in case he jerked backward and fell, for he was quite clearly sleepwalking again. Then, without warning, he moved away from her—or perhaps from the light, for he lifted one hand as though shading his eyes. He walked swiftly across the landing, Caroline at his heels.
Her candlelight flickered over the library door, and with relief, she recognized a safe place to wake him. If she could make him go in.
However, as soon as she opened the door, he turned toward the faint noise, as if his dreaming urge to escape was attuned to the sound. He walked straight past her into the room.
Hastily, she followed and closed the door, then set the candle down on the table.
“Sir,” she said quietly, standing directly in front of him. “Sir, you must wake up.”
At the first sound of her voice, he took a decisive step away from her, and yet he paused, looking back toward her, frowning in the dim light, his mouth twisted with some strange mixture of despair and hope.
“I told them,” he said, in peculiar agony. “I told them.”
“Sir, Javan, please wake up!”
He blinked several times and swayed. She caught his elbows and his arms swung around her as though holding himself up.
“Caroline,” he whispered. “Caroline, are you real?”
She took his face between his hands. “Yes, yes, I’m here. You were sleepwalking again.”
His arms tightened as though he’d never let her go.
*
Rosa rarely woke in the night. When she did, there was always the faint, comforting glow of the nightlight allowing her to fall asleep again before the fears took hold. Tonight, too, the nightlight was there, along with the unfamiliar feeling of other people in the bed with her. Helen and Alice. And across the room was Maria. She liked all the girls. She was glad they were there, only…she wished her father was here, too.
At least Miss Grey was on the other side of the door she could just make out in the dim light. For she was sure she could hear distant footsteps. Not him. They couldn’t be him, here at Haven Hall… Still, she needed Miss Grey to tell her so, or even just to see her would show how silly her old fears were. She stood up in the bed, stepped over Helen, and slithered on to the floor before padding across to the governess’s door.