A Wealthy Widow. Anne Herries

of him to love, to fill her life and keep her from feeling lonely, as she sometimes did, but that joy had been denied her.

      ‘You are so brave, Arabella.’ Tilda dabbed at her eyes. ‘I am sure you are a shining example for any young woman. To have suffered so much so young.’

      Arabella was able to ignore her remarks and the pity in her tone, for she saw they were approaching an inn. It had a low sloping thatched roof, white, limewashed walls and small windows. At first glance, it looked respectable for a small country inn, and she was pleased because they had reached it much sooner than she had expected.

      The next several minutes were taken up by securing rooms and overseeing the transfer of their patient to one of the host’s best chambers. A doctor was duly sent for, arriving within a short time. Arabella spoke to him a little later as he came downstairs after examining his patient.

      ‘How is he?’ she asked. ‘Please tell me that he is not going to die, sir.’

      ‘It is much too soon to be sure, ma’am,’ he replied gravely.

      ‘The wound to his head does not seem severe, but one can never tell with these causes. I believe much will depend upon his being nursed by a woman of sense. Your husband should recover in time, ma’am, but at the moment I cannot say it is certain.’

      It was on the tip of Arabella’s tongue to reply that his patient was not her husband, but something held her silent. Since it seemed that she must care for him herself it might be better to allow both him and the landlord to believe that she was Mr Hunter’s wife.

      ‘Thank you. What must I do to help him, sir?’

      ‘Just watch over him carefully in these first hours. He may be violent or startled when he comes to his senses and you may need to restrain him from harming himself or others. I have seen men fight those that have cared for them in a kind of madness that comes from brain fever—but these cases are all different and you must use your own good sense. If you need me, please do not hesitate to send word.’

      ‘You think he should remain here for the time being?’ Arabella frowned she knew that her aunt was expecting her in Hanover Square the following day.

      ‘Oh, yes, certainly. It would be most harmful to move him until he has recovered his senses. He needs rest and care, ma’am—rest and care.’

      ‘I see. Thank you,’ Arabella said. She was thoughtful as the doctor left the inn parlour, looking about her. It was a comfortable room; quite small, but clean and respectable. She could have fared worse in an unknown inn. If her stay here were to be extended for a few days, she would need to speak to the landlord’s wife—and to Tilda. Firstly, she would reserve the rooms she needed and then break the news to her companion.

      ‘You cannot mean it,’ Tilda said and looked at her in horror. ‘I do not understand, Arabella—why should you allow anyone to believe you are married to that man?’

      ‘I am determined to nurse him,’ Arabella told her. ‘I cannot abandon him to his fate, and it is better that others should believe him my husband.’

      ‘But why should you run such a risk for a stranger? You could leave your maid here to care for him if you must do something, and to my mind you have already done more than necessary. Iris is a sensible girl. She could nurse him and then join us in town. It is quite impossible for us to stay here, Arabella. There simply aren’t enough rooms for all of us. I have been told that I must either share a bedchamber with Iris or you, my dear.’

      ‘You will share my room for one night, of course,’ Arabella said. ‘That is why I propose that you should go on to London in the morning, Tilda. You may explain that I have been delayed—though you may not tell Aunt Hester why. Just say that I have been called to the bedside of a sick friend and will come to her in a few days.’

      ‘No! Certainly not! You cannot think that I would desert you? If you are determined to stay, I shall remain to assist you in whatever you intend.’ Tilda’s feathers were seriously ruffled and she looked indignant, though prepared to do her duty.

      ‘I knew that you would wish to help me,’ Arabella said and bestowed a warm smile on her. ‘But Iris will be here to keep me company. Aunt Hester will worry if I do not arrive on time. Please oblige me in this, Tilda, for I am quite determined on it.’ The expression in her eyes belied the smile and warned that she would not be thwarted.

      Tilda opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. She was well aware that she could not dictate to Arabella. She was dependent on her charity and did not wish to risk a breach with her.

      ‘But think of your reputation, my dear.’ The cry was plaintive, for she had little hope of being listened to. ‘If people should hear of you staying at an inn alone…and nursing a gentleman you do not know. And that you masqueraded as his wife!’

      Arabella smiled in amusement. ‘Remember that I am four and twenty, Tilda. I am not an innocent girl—I have been married. Besides, this inn is so quiet that it is not likely to be patronised by the ton. No one who knows me will visit—so no one need ever know. I suppose I may rely on your discretion?’

      ‘You must know I would never betray you! But why do you wish to do this for a stranger? Why take on this responsibility, Arabella?’

      Arabella was silent for a moment. She did not know why she was prepared to abandon her plans for a man she did not know—for, even if he truly was Charles Hunter, she could not claim to know him. Yet he had been one of Ben’s friends and perhaps she was doing this because she had been unable to nurse her husband as he lay dying in a foreign land. She had been haunted by the thought of his dying alone, in pain and calling for her, praying that a kind woman had stooped to comfort in him in his last hours. She could do at least as much for this man.

      ‘I am not sure that he is a stranger,’ Arabella said, still pensive. ‘I believe we may have met—at my wedding, if memory serves me right. I think he was a friend of Ben’s.’ She was certain of it in her own mind, even though he had not seemed to recognise her at the inn.

      ‘You did not say earlier.’ Tilda looked at her suspiciously.

      ‘No, for it was not important. We met only once—and I may be mistaken, but I am willing to take that chance. For Ben’s sake, I cannot abandon him.’ Tears stood in her eyes. ‘I have often prayed that there was someone to care for Ben…’ Her throat was tight and she shook her head. The thought that her husband might have died alone was too painful.

      ‘I see…’ Tilda did not understand such sentimentality. The expression on her face was plainly one of disbelief and disagreement, but there was really very little she could do to dissuade Arabella. ‘If you are set on this madness, I suppose you must do as you think fit.’

      ‘Oh, I do not think it so very foolish,’ Arabella reassured her. ‘It will only be for a day or so. Aunt Hester will be happy to see you, Tilda, and I shall join you both quite soon.’

      Tilda’s mouth pursed, but she gave up her efforts to change Arabella’s mind. However, when she reached the house in Hanover Square, she would consider whether it was right to confide in Lady Tate.

      Her silent disapproval became almost oppressive when Arabella left her three times during the evening to visit the patient’s bedchamber. Iris had taken it upon herself to sit with him at her mistress’s request, but to Tilda’s mind it seemed that nothing would do for Arabella but to sit with him herself while Iris ate her supper. Had Tilda known that Arabella crept out from the bedchamber they shared that night to relieve Iris from her vigil, she would have been most distressed. Fortunately, she was a heavy sleeper and remained in ignorance.

      However, Iris looked relieved when her mistress entered the sick room. It was now the early hours of the morning and Iris had been finding it hard to keep awake.

      ‘Has there been any change, Iris?’

      ‘No, my lady,’ the maid replied, yawning. She was a plump girl, plain faced but agreeable and devoted to her mistress. ‘He muttered