A Bouquet of Thorns by Tania Crosse Page B

yet, but I reckon you can rip some old sheets into bandages for me and roll them up. That should keep the governor happy, anyway.’
    And he saw Collingwood nod his gratitude and sigh deeply as he began to hobble up the ward.

Seven
    R ose’s heavy eyelids lifted and drooped several times before they remained open, her dulled eyes wandering uncontrolled until they finally began to focus. It was some moments before her disorientated mind placed itself back into reality, her gaze settling on the familiar room. The June sunshine entered through the large open window in a slanting shaft of silvery light, filling Rose’s head with peace and tranquillity. Over by the table, a figure she recognized but somehow could not place was busy with some task, but she knew it was someone who was close to her, and inspired her with trust. She sighed softly, too weak to move, but content to float on some buoyant wave of comfort. Tugging at her memory was a horrific, half-remembered dream, but it was far, far away and mingled with a tender sweetness that had once soothed her troubled soul.
    â€˜Florrie?’
    The name seemed to speak itself, and the figure turned, slow and unbelieving, before stepping on dumbfounded legs to the bed. The older woman’s face was pale with shocked delight, but then the colour flooded back into her cheeks as she grinned with joy.
    â€˜Rose? Oh, my dearest! You’m back with us!’
    A frown flickered over Rose’s forehead. ‘Florrie, I . . . I don’t remember,’ she croaked. ‘What . . . what’s happened?’
    Florrie’s face visibly dissolved and two fat tears trickled down her glowing cheeks. ‘’Tis proper poorly you’ve been, cheel. A fever of some sort.’
    â€˜A fever?’ Rose’s frown deepened, and then panic shot through her as she suddenly remembered. She tried to sit up but it was as if she was pinned to the bed and she fell back with a groan. She had no need to speak, as Florrie had guessed at once the reason for her agitation.
    â€˜You’m not to worry none. Little Alice is soldiering on upstairs in the nursery,’ she said with a proud smile. ‘Pretty as a picture, and putting on weight. Which is what you must do. Thin as a stick, you be.’
    The corners of Rose’s mouth twitched upwards as relief swamped her lifeless limbs. ‘How . . . how long has it been?’
    Florrie lowered her eyes. ‘Nearly two weeks since you slipped away from us. Oh, little maid! You’ve no idea how worried we’ve been. But here’s me wittering on, when you must be gasping for a drink. I’ve some nice cool water here. I bring it fresh twice a day and somehow you’ve managed to take a little.’
    She didn’t add that in Dr Seaton’s opinion it was what had just about kept her alive. Florrie flustered about her charge, helping to prop her up on extra pillows so that she could sip at the refreshing liquid. Rose felt so strange, unreal, as weak as a kitten and yet relaxed and serene. Something deep and troublesome was taunting the secret depths of her mind, but for now she was happy to ignore it.
    â€˜Will you bring Alice to me, please, Florrie?’ she asked eagerly.
    But Florrie closed her lips firmly. ‘When the doctor says ’tis safe. He’ll be here after lunch, as he is every day.’
    â€˜Oh, dear, poor man. ’Tis such a long way. And . . . and what about Charles?’
    The shadow flitted across Florrie’s face so quickly that Rose was not aware of it. ‘Been at your side constantly. Just taking a well-deserved rest right now,’ she added. For how could she tell Rose that since her tortured mind had called out Seth’s name, Charles had not set foot in the room?
    Charles finally put in an appearance later that afternoon. Florrie had bathed Rose’s skeletal body, as she had done each day since the baby was born. She had then taken the most