Garden of May - Chapter 32
Chapter 32
“Don’t just stand there like a simpleton! Thank heavens we decided on your attire beforehand, or you would have most certainly been late for dinner.”
“My uncle? Is he still in the drawing-room with Lord Roden?”
“Yes. Fortunately, a fine aperitif has just arrived, so he’s unaware of your current state.”
Mary practically dragged Vanessa to her bathroom. The bathwater had gone cold, but her dress, fan, jewelry, and shoes were all laid out as planned. She sat obediently in front of the mirror as Mary untied the ribbon from her hair. Her braided golden locks cascaded down like a shimmering waterfall.
“There’s no time for a bath. You don’t look that dirty anyway.”
With that blunt statement, Mary scrubbed her face, neck, and arms with a cold, damp cloth. Vanessa shivered at the chilling touch against her already slightly feverish skin.
“The water would have been warm if you’d been on time.” Mary’s tone was unyielding as she continued with brisk, almost rough movements.
When Vanessa’s skin turned as pink as a newborn babe’s, she applied a light layer of cream and powder. A touch of color on her lips and cheeks brought a healthy glow to her face.
Vanessa calmly observed her reflection. The result was so different from her own haphazard attempts at makeup that she found it fascinating. Even River Ross wouldn’t tease her about her appearance this time.
“I’ll throw this away. It’s stained beyond repair.”
Mary held ‘it’ between her thumb and forefinger, dangling it in the air. It was the white ribbon River Ross had retied for her. Green and brown smudges now marred its surface.
Ordinarily, it would have been discarded without a second thought. While their finances weren’t extravagant, they could certainly afford a new ribbon. And yet…
“No, Mary.” Vanessa shook her head, her lips curving into a smile she hadn’t realized was there.
“Leave it.”
***
The promise to see each other again that night, exchanged as casually as any farewell, remained unfulfilled. The fault lay entirely with Vanessa. Her body had betrayed her once more.
The evening of the dinner party, she’d felt a chill, and by dawn, a fever had taken hold. She cursed her frail constitution, which confined her to bed for a week whenever illness struck.
The only consolation was that she could avoid Count Roman for a while. Her uncle had ensured no visitors were allowed, keeping her weakness a secret.
“I just finished writing a letter declining the boating party on the Dunster.”
Rosaline burst into the room without knocking, flinging herself onto the sofa beside the bed. Her arms were laden with newspapers and invitations; the weekly postman must have just left.
The Winchester twins were welcomed everywhere in Southern society. They were prominent nobles from the capital, boosting any host’s prestige, and possessed charming looks, a cool yet not cruel demeanor, and an easygoing nature.
Their circumstances were vastly different from Vanessa’s, who, lacking a dowry, had become Somerset’s pretty little burden. Vanessa closed her book and leaned back against the pillows.
“Don’t worry about me. Go and enjoy yourself. You were looking forward to the boating party.”
“Leave you while you’re sick? No way.” Rosaline scoffed, casually tearing open a few invitations.
Though she hadn’t been much help with nursing, she’d steadfastly adhered to the peculiar principle of not leaving a sick person’s side, a principle she’d been diligently following for days now.
