night.”
“I. . . could we talk of this another time, Cranford? I feel awful.” Her head was spinning and the small amount of water she had been able to sip only made her feel nauseated.
“Are you going to be sick again?” When her face crumpled and she began to gag, he dashed for the basin and held it for her just in time to prevent yet a worse disaster. Patiently he held her and stroked the hair back from her pale face until she no longer needed the basin, but she remained dizzy and he lowered her gently into a chair. “Poor child. You’ll feel better if I can get you to bed. I daren’t call for your maid, Trelenny, or this whole mess will be common knowledge. Is your room unlocked?”
“Yes.”
“Then with your permission I will slip in and bring you your night clothes. You can change into them while I wait in the hall. Will that do?”
She attempted a smile, but it went awry. “Yes.”
There was a light tap at the door, which caused him a moment’s alarm until the visitor identified himself as Laytham. Cranford opened the door a crack and asked, “Is everything well?”
“Yes, thanks to you and your friend. Miss Moreby was exhausted and I stayed until she slept, but I’ll go now to the room you’ve spoken for me at the Bull and Royal. I have no idea how to express my gratitude, Mr. Ashwicke. Only know that I will return your money as soon as possible and repay my debt to you whenever you may call on me to do so. I am yours to command.”
“Just take care of the young lady. I cannot condone an elopement in the ordinary course of events, but I wish you well.” The two men shook hands and Cranford watched until Laytham had descended the stairs. Without a glance at Trelenny he proceeded to her room and, feeling every kind of fool, opened the door and let himself in. What would poor Mrs. Storwood think if she woke to find him there? Not desiring to find out, Cranford quickly scooped up the nightdress and dressing gown set out on her bed.
On regaining his own room, he closed the door softly behind him and said, “I have your night clothes, Trelenny.” Only then did he realize that the girl was asleep, and he found, on attempting to waken her, that it was no ordinary sleep, but one of intoxication and weakness from which he could not draw her. Although she mumbled occasionally at his persistence, there was no bringing her to consciousness.
“Oh, Lord.” Cranford regarded her with exasperation, and something akin to despair. “Now what?” There was only one solution, of course, but for some time he refused to accept it. He contemplated waking Mrs. Storwood or Miss Moreby, even calling for the Storwoods’ maid, but he knew very well that he would not. Mrs. Storwood would be horrified, Miss Moreby he could not bring himself to disturb after her traumatic day, and the maid—well, Cranford was not willing to trust to the discretion of her tongue. He rose at length and made one final, unsuccessful, attempt to awaken Trelenny.
Now it might be possible to accomplish some tasks with one’s eyes closed, but undressing and redressing an unresponsive body is not one of them. Feeling himself honor-bound to view as little of her nakedness as possible, Cranford kept his eyes averted when he could, but it only made the process take longer and finally, in desperation, he decided that, given a preference, which she wasn’t, Trelenny would prefer to have the business completed as quickly as possible. Consequently, he stripped her naked and swiftly pulled the nightdress over her head, patiently worked her arms through the sleeves, and at last covered the rest of her body from his sight. Despite his resolution, he was shaken.
Upbraiding himself for his failure to view his undertaking with the proper detachment, he peeked into the hall to make sure all was quiet and returned to lift her in his arms, tuck the clothes under his elbow and carry her to her room, where he settled her in a chair before releasing any
“I. . . could we talk of this another time, Cranford? I feel awful.” Her head was spinning and the small amount of water she had been able to sip only made her feel nauseated.
“Are you going to be sick again?” When her face crumpled and she began to gag, he dashed for the basin and held it for her just in time to prevent yet a worse disaster. Patiently he held her and stroked the hair back from her pale face until she no longer needed the basin, but she remained dizzy and he lowered her gently into a chair. “Poor child. You’ll feel better if I can get you to bed. I daren’t call for your maid, Trelenny, or this whole mess will be common knowledge. Is your room unlocked?”
“Yes.”
“Then with your permission I will slip in and bring you your night clothes. You can change into them while I wait in the hall. Will that do?”
She attempted a smile, but it went awry. “Yes.”
There was a light tap at the door, which caused him a moment’s alarm until the visitor identified himself as Laytham. Cranford opened the door a crack and asked, “Is everything well?”
“Yes, thanks to you and your friend. Miss Moreby was exhausted and I stayed until she slept, but I’ll go now to the room you’ve spoken for me at the Bull and Royal. I have no idea how to express my gratitude, Mr. Ashwicke. Only know that I will return your money as soon as possible and repay my debt to you whenever you may call on me to do so. I am yours to command.”
“Just take care of the young lady. I cannot condone an elopement in the ordinary course of events, but I wish you well.” The two men shook hands and Cranford watched until Laytham had descended the stairs. Without a glance at Trelenny he proceeded to her room and, feeling every kind of fool, opened the door and let himself in. What would poor Mrs. Storwood think if she woke to find him there? Not desiring to find out, Cranford quickly scooped up the nightdress and dressing gown set out on her bed.
On regaining his own room, he closed the door softly behind him and said, “I have your night clothes, Trelenny.” Only then did he realize that the girl was asleep, and he found, on attempting to waken her, that it was no ordinary sleep, but one of intoxication and weakness from which he could not draw her. Although she mumbled occasionally at his persistence, there was no bringing her to consciousness.
“Oh, Lord.” Cranford regarded her with exasperation, and something akin to despair. “Now what?” There was only one solution, of course, but for some time he refused to accept it. He contemplated waking Mrs. Storwood or Miss Moreby, even calling for the Storwoods’ maid, but he knew very well that he would not. Mrs. Storwood would be horrified, Miss Moreby he could not bring himself to disturb after her traumatic day, and the maid—well, Cranford was not willing to trust to the discretion of her tongue. He rose at length and made one final, unsuccessful, attempt to awaken Trelenny.
Now it might be possible to accomplish some tasks with one’s eyes closed, but undressing and redressing an unresponsive body is not one of them. Feeling himself honor-bound to view as little of her nakedness as possible, Cranford kept his eyes averted when he could, but it only made the process take longer and finally, in desperation, he decided that, given a preference, which she wasn’t, Trelenny would prefer to have the business completed as quickly as possible. Consequently, he stripped her naked and swiftly pulled the nightdress over her head, patiently worked her arms through the sleeves, and at last covered the rest of her body from his sight. Despite his resolution, he was shaken.
Upbraiding himself for his failure to view his undertaking with the proper detachment, he peeked into the hall to make sure all was quiet and returned to lift her in his arms, tuck the clothes under his elbow and carry her to her room, where he settled her in a chair before releasing any
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