Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton
Chapter 20
Franklin did not want Miss Jamison to leave. He wanted to continue to stare at her. To verify she was truly unharmed. Her physical appearance showed no outward signs of injury. Her riding habit needed only a good cleaning. Franklin recalled how her colorful hair had fallen from its pins, tumbling around her shoulders as her horse sprinted in fright. It was now tidied, though in a much simpler style. A blush had graced Miss Jamison’s cheeks several times over the course of her visit, and Franklin had wanted to reach forward to touch the soft freckles on her face. Unfortunately, her brother had remained at her side, and Franklin had remained in his sickbed.
He closed his eyes, and when he woke, the curtains had been drawn and candles lit the room. He blinked the fuzziness away and saw Abraham sitting in a chair near the low-burning fire, with a book in hand.
Franklin’s throat was raw. A croak was all he could manage.
Abraham looked up from his reading. “There you are, Everly.” He motioned to someone Franklin did not see. “Please have Mrs. Adler send some refreshment.” The door clicked open and closed, and Abraham stood and walked to Franklin’s side. He picked up the nearby glass and held it forward. After Franklin swallowed a bit of water, Abraham retook the glass. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been trampled by a horse.” Franklin assessed his surroundings, and when he turned his head, he realized how thoroughly he ached.
Abraham chuckled wryly. “I imagine so.”
The door opened, and Miss Jamison walked in holding a tray. “Abraham, would you move the table near?” She motioned with her chin to the table she wanted, and Abraham did as she asked. She set the tray down, then clasped her hands and smiled at Franklin. “I’ve made you some soup.”
“You made it?” Abraham walked to her side and stared down at the bowl.
Miss Jamison frowned at her brother. “With instruction from Cook. I wanted to show Mr. Everly how grateful I am for his rescue. Now, help him sit upright.”
The pain in Franklin’s back coiled outward to the rest of his body. The bones in his left arm throbbed, along with his head, and he wanted to move as much as he wanted to stick a fork in his eye. Beyond the pain, Franklin was loathe to be seen in his current state of undress. He wore only a loose dressing gown with a blanket spread over him.
“Come,” Miss Jamison encouraged with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get some food in you.”
Abraham moved near. Franklin met his eyes and silently begged him to interfere. Franklin did not wish to advertise his lack of clothing, nor did he have an appetite. But Abraham simply stood over him and did not move.
“Abraham?” Miss Jamison took a step closer, and her brother looked over his shoulder at her. “What are you doing?” She planted her hands on her hips.
“I don’t know that he should be moved.” Abraham blinked.
“How can he eat if he can’t sit up?” Miss Jamison skewered her brother with a look of challenge.
Abraham looked as stuck as Franklin felt. Thankfully, Mrs. Adler appeared. “Good morning, Mr. Everly.”
“Morning?” Franklin said. He hadn’t noticed that Miss Jamison wore a lovely blue patterned dress. He’d only noticed her delightful freckles and the fact that she was determined Franklin should eat something.
Mrs. Adler smiled. “Be grateful the laudanum worked its magic. I don’t imagine you’ll be sleeping without it for some time.” She spooned a bit of the soup Miss Jamison had brought into a mug, raised the mug to her nose, and jerked back. Franklin watched the housekeeper form a faux smile and turn to Miss Jamison. “I’ll make sure Mr. Everly eats. You can get some rest now.”
Miss Jamison’s face fell, and Franklin then noticed the darkened circles around her eyes.
“You too, Mr. Abraham,” Mrs. Adler said. “Mr. Jamison and Mr. Peter are just finishing up their meal, and then they will keep watch. I’ll remain until they arrive.”
Miss Jamison looked first at the mug in Mrs. Adler’s hands and then at Franklin. “I’ll remain until you’ve tasted the soup. I want to know if you like it.”
Mrs. Adler sighed but agreed. “Very well.” She bent over Franklin and whispered softly, “I’m afraid you may have to perjure yourself, sir.” She touched the mug to Franklin’s mouth. The contents of the mug smelled like white roots of grass blades mixed with mud from the bog near Franklin’s childhood home. Mrs. Adler tilted the cup only enough that the liquid brushed Franklin’s lips before she pulled it away.
Franklin slid his tongue across his lips and immediately regretted it. He sputtered, then coughed. Convulsions shot through his spine, and it took every exertion Franklin could manage to calm himself and not scream out in pain.
When he settled himself, he took three calculated breaths before meeting Miss Jamison’s eyes. Both of her hands covered her mouth, and absolute despair filled her face. Franklin would gladly perjure himself; he would walk through the throes of a fiery furnace to bring Miss Jamison a bit of solace. He cleared his throat. “It burned my tongue,” he said. Not an exact lie, as he only wanted to douse his tongue with water.
Miss Jamison’s eyebrows pulled together, and she dropped her hands. “Shall I spoon-feed you, then? It would cool quicker.”
“No,” Franklin said quickly. “I think my bandages need attention. It should be cool by the time Mrs. Adler tends to me.”
Miss Jamison’s posture relaxed, and Franklin’s earlier regret for trying her concoction disappeared entirely. He only hoped he would not need to consume any more of it.
“Off with you now, Miss Jamison.” Mrs. Adler shooed Miss Jamison toward the door. “I’ll take care of Mr. Everly, and you go get yourself some rest. You too, Mr. Abraham. Both of you, trying to do my duties.” She shook her head.
“Phoebe insisted on remaining through the night. It made sense that I remain with her. There was no need for you to miss your bed as well,” Abraham said to the housekeeper.
“You’ve always been a sensitive lad.” Mrs. Adler reached up and pinched Abraham’s cheek. He cracked a small smile before leading Miss Jamison from the room.
Mrs. Adler made quick work of changing Franklin’s bandages, and while a footman assisted him with more private matters, Mrs. Adler replaced the soup Miss Jamison had prepared with something edible. By the time she spooned the last drops into his mouth, Franklin was ready to return to sleep. Mrs. Adler told him Doctor Daniels would arrive to check on him before dinner.
Franklin awoke to Jamison’s stern voice, followed by Peter’s laugh. “I warned you. Checkmate,” Peter said.
Franklin shifted and couldn’t help the moan that escaped as pain shot up his back. The two brothers walked over. Peter grimaced and shook his head. “You’re in a bad state.”
Jamison tilted his head, and his eyes narrowed. “Why did you do it?” he asked.
Franklin pressed his eyes closed and opened them again. He hurt. All over. But he wouldn’t change a thing. Miss Jamison was safe, and that was all that mattered. “She was in danger. I worried she would lose her seat or her horse would buck her off.”
“You tried to warn me.” Jamison’s words were laced with sorrow. “I should have listened.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
Peter clasped his shoulder. “She’s safe, Geoffrey. Everly saved her,” Peter said.
“I know. If I’d only waited a minute more to start the race . . .” Jamison scrubbed his face again, then took a deep breath, and rested his hands on his hips. “Thank you, Everly. You’ve proven your intentions are sincere.”
“When I find the right woman, I should hope I would find a less painful way to declare my affection,” Peter said.
Franklin would have chuckled at Peter’s comment if everything did not hurt so much.
“I imagine the doctor will arrive shortly,” Jamison said. “And I’ve sent an express to Everly Manor, informing your brother of your accident.”
Franklin leaned his head back and sighed. “I wish you would not have done that.”
Jamison shrugged. “I cannot apologize for it. We did not know the extent of your injuries, and I felt your family would want to know.”
“My issue is not with you telling my brother. Barton has a level head. However, I received a letter that he has removed himself from Everly Manor and is tending to some business at his wife’s estate, Downey Place. My mother remained at Everly Manor, and I’ve no doubt she will read your letter, particularly if you’ve sent it express.” A queasy uneasiness began to fill Franklin’s stomach.
A knock sounded, and Jamison welcomed the doctor into the room. Doctor Daniels set his bag aside and began asking Franklin questions. He checked the stitched wound in Franklin’s back and adjusted the splint on his arm, retying the rigid wood with fresh strips of linen. “Your arm must remain still if you wish the bones to heal correctly,” Doctor Daniels told Franklin. He stepped back. “Your sutures are looking well, but we must keep them free from infection.”
“When may I return to Ravencrest?” Franklin asked.
“You should not travel for another week, at least,” Doctor Daniels said. He looked to Jamison. “I shall return in two days, unless you require my services sooner. Mrs. Adler is doing a fine job, but notify me at once if there is any sign of fever.”
Jamison nodded. “Send all expenses to our steward.”
“That’s hardly necessary,” Franklin said.
Peter scoffed. He came to sit in the chair beside Franklin’s bed while Jamison walked the doctor out. “Geoffrey will not back down on this.” He crossed his right heel over his left knee. “Besides, Phoebe insists on helping prepare your food. She has Cook quite frazzled. You may very well be demanding Geoffrey compensate you for your stay.”
Miss Jamison walked in, followed by two footmen. She directed them to rearrange several pieces of furniture, until a hodgepodge assortment of chairs and tables were set beside Franklin’s makeshift bed.
“What are you up to Phoebe?” Peter asked.
She then explained her motive with a wide smile. “I’ve asked for dinner to be served in the library tonight.” She walked over to a chair and adjusted it. “I assumed you might like some company.” Her smile suddenly fell. “I should have asked you first.” She hurried to Franklin’s side. “Would you prefer us eat elsewhere?”
Franklin did not mind company, though he did not feel up to participating in conversation. He did, however, worry over the menu. Had Miss Jamison really prepared the food? Was the soup she concocted the day prior an indication of her culinary skills? He was famished but did not want to upset Miss Jamison if he did not enjoy her offering.
Peter answered before Franklin could reply. “Phoebe, if you would like to ensure the kitchen is ready to serve the meal, I will send someone for Abraham and Geoffrey.”
Miss Jamison looked at Franklin, her question hanging in her eyes. Franklin eased her concern. “I’ve a finicky appetite, I’m afraid. But company would be nice,” he said.
His answer elicited a twitch of Miss Jamison’s lips, and she eagerly skipped from the room. Peter clicked his tongue. “At least you have an excuse not to eat. The rest of us will have to suffer.”
“You don’t think it will be tolerable?” Franklin’s stomach rumbled, and Peter’s eyes widened.
“I tasted the same soup as you,” Peter said. “What do you think?”
“I suppose we shall endure together.” Franklin sighed. Jamison reentered the room.
Peter shook his head. “I thought Geoffrey was pulling my leg.” He looked at Franklin with new appreciation. “You really are fond of my sister.”
Franklin’s sudden discomfort was not due to his injury. “Well . . . yes.” He swallowed. “Though, I’m not sure she reciprocates the sentiment.”
Jamison stood behind Peter and crossed his arms. “Phoebe thinks she fancies Mason, but it’s only because he’s always around. She’s not had the opportunity to come to know other gentlemen. Mason would not make her happy.”
Peter’s eyes shot wide, and his mouth turned in comical confusion. He uncrossed his legs and slapped a hand on his thigh. “Why . . . I believe you’re right, Geoffrey. She harbored a fancy for Mason years ago, and I thought she’d outgrown such silliness. But now that you mention it, she does seem more docile when Mason’s around.”
“Phoebe is hardly docile,” Jamison said.
The brothers laughed, and Franklin’s thoughts turned to Miss Jamison’s untamed spirit. He adored the way she expressed herself, unafraid and unashamed.
She walked in then with Abraham, clapped her hands together, and smiled wide. “Dinner shall be served shortly.” She looked at her brothers. “Shall we sit?”
Peter stood from his chair near the bed and turned it to face the arranged tables. “Oh, Peter”—Miss Jamison pointed to Peter’s seat—“I will sit there so I can assist Mr. Everly. I want to know how he likes the meal.”
Peter looked at Franklin apologetically. “Sorry, chap,” he said under his breath.
He moved to the empty seat, and Miss Jamison sat near Franklin. He quite enjoyed her close proximity, but he hoped the meal would be edible. It wasn’t.
***
By the third day of Franklin’s confinement, the Jamison brothers had convinced their sister to relinquish her attempts in the kitchen and leave meal preparations to Cook. Franklin had not once complained, unlike Miss Jamison’s brothers. Mrs. Adler had regularly provided him a tray filled with tarts or scones or biscuits while Miss Jamison was otherwise occupied, and his injury allowed the excuse of a poor appetite.
This new agreement, that Miss Jamison would relinquish her duties, proved apropos as Franklin’s mother arrived at Primly Park that very morning, and it was best that Cook prepare the tea tray.
Mrs. Everly’s concern presented itself the moment Windly opened the door. “Where is my dear boy?” Her voice carried down the corridor.
Mrs. Adler led Franklin’s mother into the room, and the housekeeper asked the footman, who’d been standing nearby, to inform Mr. Jamison of his guest.
“Franklin!” Mrs. Everly bustled to where Franklin lay. “I am in shock. First Harrison and now you.” She leaned close and pressed a hand to Franklin’s forehead as she looked him over. “Are you quite hurt?”
In truth, Franklin had improved every day. His arm still ached deep beneath the skin, but that was to be expected as the bones grew and stitched themselves back together. The wound in his back only hurt when he moved at a certain angle. When Doctor Daniels had called the day before, he was pleased with how well Franklin’s sutures were healing. Franklin pulled his mother’s hand from his head and held it in his own as he explained his prognosis. “The doctor is pleased with my recovery. I hope to return to Ravencrest soon.”
A sharp knock sounded on the door, and Jamison entered with his sister. “Mr. Geoffrey Jamison, at your service, ma’am.” He bowed to Mrs. Everly. “And my sister, Miss Phoebe Jamison.”
“How do you do?” Miss Jamison dipped into a curtsy.
Mrs. Everly pulled her hand free. She stood tall and clasped her fingers in front of her.
“I hope our care meets your approval,” Jamison said. When Mrs. Everly said nothing, Jamison shifted his stance and added, “And I insist on covering all expenses.”
Mrs. Everly settled herself in the seat near Franklin’s sickbed. “Your express was quite vague, Mr. Jamison.” Her upward palm motioned to a nearby seat.
Jamison quickly sat down, and Miss Jamison, too, took a seat, though she sat on only the very edge of the chair. “I must apologize, as I consider myself to blame for his misfortune. If I had been more cautious, Phoebe’s horse would not have spooked.”
Mrs. Everly looked at her son, and her lips wiggled into a condemning frown. “My sons seem to think they are indestructible. Your letter said he fell from a horse.”
“His actions were nothing short of heroic,” Miss Jamison said.
Mrs. Everly’s right brow peaked upward, and she eyed Miss Jamison.
Miss Jamison’s skin pinked, but she did not turn away. She sat rigid and square and met Mrs. Everly’s gaze. “It was wrong of me to insist on riding with the gentlemen,” she said. “My father does not encourage it, and in his absence, I’m ashamed to admit I’ve ignored his wishes.”
The air grew thick, like a cloud of steam.
“For goodness’ sake,” Franklin said. He laughed lightly, hoping to dissipate the tension. “There is no fault to be had. It was an accident. No ill harm was intended. I shall recover, and Miss Jamison is unharmed. Mother, please.” Franklin reached over and touched her hand. “Let it be.”
The lines around Mrs. Everly’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “Very well,” she said.
Franklin squeezed his mother’s fingers and then placed his hand back near his side. He smiled at the group. “The doctor said if I felt well enough today, I may get up and walk around.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Everly dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand.
“Mother.” Franklin sternly cut in before she could say anything further. “I have been laid up on this couch for four days. I am determined to move about today and return home by the end of the week.” Franklin used his right arm to push himself into a sitting position. He gritted his teeth against the effort, and at Mrs. Everly’s cry of despair, Mrs. Adler scurried near to rearrange pillows around Franklin’s side.
Miss Jamison had been sitting with her chin high and her hands clasped. At Franklin’s statement, her shoulders fell and concern filled her features. “By week’s end?” she said softly.
Mrs. Everly straightened her spine. “Very well,” she said. “Then, I shall remain to assist in your care until you are fully recovered.” She turned to Jamison. “I must admit I do not understand the whole of it. How did Miss Jamison’s spooked horse result in stitches and broken bones for my son?” Franklin’s mother had always been one to speak in the defense of her children. She was protective of her family to a fault. “Perhaps you can explain the circumstance to me and provide me a room until Franklin is ready to return to Ravencrest.”
“Of course. Mrs. Adler, will you please prepare a room for Mrs. Everly?” Jamison asked the housekeeper. He turned back to Franklin’s mother. “I insist you both remain as long as you need.” Jamison filled his role as gentleman and host well. “Phoebe, will you please call for some refreshment, and we may tell Mrs. Everly of your rescue.”
Jamison’s words perked Mrs. Everly’s attention. “Your rescue?” She turned and evaluated Miss Jamison from the tip of her orange hair to the tiny toes of her slippers. “Hmm,” Franklin’s mother mused. “I believe this may prove to be quite a diverting tale.”