Rags-to-Riches Bride. Mary Nichols
He stopped suddenly and buckled between them, and taken by surprise, neither could hold him. He sank to the ground at their feet.
‘Papa!’ Diana cried, bending over him. ‘Do get up, please.’
Richard gently pushed her to one side and crouched beside the unconscious man, bending his head to listen to his chest and then leaning back to look at his contorted face. Diana stood looking down at him with her hand to her mouth while the dog whined round them in agitation.
‘Stay with him, while I fetch the tilbury,’ Richard said, straightening up. ‘He is not drunk, he has had a seizure. We must take him to hospital.’ They had attracted a small crowd. He turned to them. ‘There is nothing to see, my friends. The gentleman is ill. Give him air, if you please.’ He ushered them away and then sprinted up the street, leaving Diana to kneel beside her father and lift his head on to her lap. She was angry with herself for the unkind thoughts she had been having about him and wished he could hear her apologising.
Richard returned with the gig very quickly and, hardly appearing to exert himself, lifted the unconscious man into it and propped him in the corner, then helped Diana up beside him. There was now no room for a driver, and so he led the horse, breaking into a run as they reached the end of the street. Diana, cradling her father, called out to him. ‘Where are you taking us?’
He called back over his shoulder. ‘St Thomas’s. It is the nearest. We must not waste time.’
He did not want to take them there, but he could see no alternative. Hospitals catered for the poor whose purses and living conditions precluded them from being treated at home. People who could afford to pay for their treatment expected nurses and doctors to visit them, not the other way about. If that were not possible, there were private nursing homes. He would have had no hesitation in paying for the captain’s treatment, but realised that would not be appropriate, and in any case speed was important.
He turned back to look at Miss Bywater. She was very pale, but appeared calm. He was full of admiration for her courage. To live as she did, looking after a difficult parent in conditions only one step above squalor, and yet put in a day’s work at Harecroft’s showed a strength of character that was at odds with her femininity. He wondered how much Stephen had told her about himself. Or how much Stephen really knew about her. He had a feeling the party at Borstead Hall would bring everything to a head. Would she come? She had declined the invitation even before this had happened. But Great-Grandmama was a strong character and if she wanted the young lady there, she would find a way of bringing it about.
He pulled up outside the hospital and lifted the older man down and carried him into the building, leaving Diana to follow. In no time, because the Harecroft name was known and they had given generous donations to the hospital in the past and because Richard promised more, Mr Bywater was put into a small room on his own and a nurse was delegated to his care.
The next few hours were a nightmare to Diana. She moved like an automaton, sitting when told to, drinking endless cups of tea that Richard sent out for, unaware of anything except her concern for her father and her own feelings of guilt. She had misjudged Papa and if Richard had not been there, she might have been slower to realise that his condition was caused by illness and not drink. Telling herself that on past performance she could be forgiven for it did not make her feel any better, nor the fact that it was Mr Richard Harecroft, of all people, who was on hand to help her.
At dawn she was still sitting on a bench outside the room where her father lay fighting for his life. Richard had left to take Toby back to Mrs Beales and then he was going home himself. ‘I will tell my father what has happened,’ he had said before leaving. ‘You will not be expected to go to work today.’ She wondered what else he would tell his father and the rest of the family. She was thankful that it was Saturday and there was all the next day before she need worry about her job.
If her father lived, she would devote herself to him and try even harder to help him overcome his problem and she would put all ideas of marrying Stephen out of her mind. In any case, as soon as he knew her circumstances, Stephen would make excuses not to take her out again and the subject of marriage between them would be tacitly dropped. It was not that she minded about that. She was not in love with him and had only been considering it because her father had told her not to dismiss the idea out of hand. But Stephen’s strange way of proposing had made her wonder if he too might be having pressure put to bear on him. Though why? She was no catch. She had no dowry, no fortune and no more than average good looks.
Thinking about that set her thinking about Lady Harecroft’s party. In normal circumstances she might have been thrilled to be asked, would have anticipated it with pleasure, but the circumstances were far from normal. What was going on in that old lady’s head? She did not appear demented, but perhaps she was, perhaps she was mistaking her for someone else, someone far more suitable as a bride for her great-grandson. And from those thoughts it was a simple step to thinking about the other great-grandson.
Mr Richard Harecroft had shown himself to be masterful and completely in charge of the situation. He had not turned a hair at having to go into that low tavern, nor shown any kind of disgust, either at their dismal lodgings or the state of her father. And he had known at once that Papa was ill. He had saved both her life and her father’s in the space of a couple of hours, and he had paid for the private room. She owed him more than she could ever repay.
She looked up and jumped to her feet as a nurse approached her. ‘How is he?’
‘He is a fighter, I will give you that. We think he will pull through.’
Diana let out a long breath of relief and scrubbed at her eyes with an already sodden handkerchief. ‘Thank God. Can I see him?’
‘Yes, you can go in and see him for a few minutes, then I suggest you go home and rest. The worst is over and now only time will tell how far he will recover.’
‘What do you mean, how far?’
‘He will need careful nursing and a great deal of help and patience. He will have to learn to manage his disability…’
‘You mean the loss of his arm. He manages that very well.’
‘No, I mean the paralysis of his left side and not being able to speak properly. We do not know how permanent that is. He might recover some speech and movement in time. It is in God’s hands. We have done all we can.’ She pushed open the door of the sickroom. ‘Captain Bywater, here is your daughter, but she must not stay too long and tire you.’ She turned to Diana, who had followed her. ‘Take his hand and squeeze it now and again,’ she murmured. ‘You never know, you may arouse a response.’
Diana moved towards the bed. Her father’s normally weatherbeaten face looked grey and still had that contorted look, which had so frightened her. She sat in a chair beside the bed and took his hand. ‘Papa, it’s me, Diana.’ He turned to stare at her, but she was not sure if he had taken in what she said.
His lips moved slightly, trying to frame a word, but he gave up and she realised he could not speak and that made her want to cry again. ‘Do not try to talk,’ she said, determined not to let him see her tears. ‘Just squeeze my hand.’ But he did not; his own hand lay limply in hers.
‘Mr Harecroft took Toby home,’ she said, making herself sound cheerful. ‘He said he would make sure Mrs Beales looked after him. You remember Mr Harecroft? He came home with me last night. I do not know what I would have done without him. I will go home when I leave here and see how he is.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Toby, I mean, not Mr Hare-croft. I expect Mr Harecroft has gone back to Harecroft House and I did not have a chance to thank him properly.’ She prattled on. He neither moved nor spoke and only his eyes seemed to have any life as they searched her face.
The nurse came in. ‘Time to go, Miss Bywater. Your father needs to rest and so do you.’
Diana bent over to kiss her father’s forehead. ‘I must go now, Papa, but I will come back soon.’
He moved his lips and she heard him utter the word, ‘Kate’. It was her mother’s name and she turned away blinded by tears.
In