Once again, William found himself standing by the window in the hall, staring out at a seemingly endless span of night and sea, the full moon glistening down onto the black water, creating a moving mimicry of the starry sky above. Closing his eyes, he listened to the rhythmic push and pull of the waves; as a child, it had lulled him to sleep faster than his mother's voice; as a sailor, the effect had served to calm him in much the same manner, but now it did nothing to ease his restlessness. He couldn't understand himself. Ever since he'd met that confounding girl, he'd been... different. Felt different. He looked at her, and the usual loathing he felt for those of her class didn't enter into his mind. She spoke, and he found himself unable to ignore her. She moved, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was a beggar! She was nothing! Had nothing! So, why did he care so much? With a savage yell, he sent the small table standing before the window sliding across the hall with a brutal kick, toppling it and the vase of flowers that had been sitting on top of it to the ground.
Three days, she'd been with fever! How could a woman known for her own abilities to heal be so damned sickly! Did she not drink her own brew? Did she not think herself susceptible to such illnesses? And to walk about in clothes that were soaked to the bone, even in early autumn! He wanted to strangle her for her own stupidity. When he'd taken her from the carriage, she had been so cold and wet that her lips had begun to turn blue. Immediately, he'd ordered a fire set to every hearth in the Manor and a kettle to be set on every fire to get a hot bath started for her. Then, he'd taken her directly to his chamber and started stripping her of her wet garments. Only to be thrown out by his housekeeper and her daughter when they'd seen what he was doing.
By the time the Doctor arrived an hour later, Nan had been thoroughly bathed, dried, wrapped, and warmed by his housekeeper and her daughter's skilled hands. And only after they had gotten her tucked into his bed, had they allowed him back into his chamber. Looking only slightly better than she had, though she was still pale and cold to the touch, he'd placed himself on the foot of the bed. Where he'd intended to stay even when Lafferty had bid him leave and give the girl some privacy while he administered to her.
William knew what privacy Lafferty wanted, and he'd not have it in his house. Not with Nan. There was a reason Carrie never let Max Lafferty into her house to care for her girls, and it had little to do with the fee he would charge for his services. It had taken his housekeeper's stern words and her continued assurances that she'd let nothing happen to the girl while he waited outside, just to get him to leave.
After what seemed like an eternity, Lafferty emerged, shaking his head, saying there was naught he could do. That all he would have done for the lass had been done; now her fever just needed to break. It had taken nearly everything William had not to throttle the man, especially when he made mention of payment for a job, he'd had no hand in. With an angry bellow, he'd called his Butler and stomped back into his chamber, reclaiming his seat at the foot of his bed.
For three agonizing days and nights, he'd watched over her. Watched her toss and turn in her sleep. Cry out for some bugger named Jamie. Listened to her ask the same questions, for those small moments when she was aware, tried to get her to drink the broth his housekeeper had brought when she was. He'd thought tonight would continue in the same fashion as the previous three until he heard an audible thud from his chamber.
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When Nan opened her eyes, the world was different. Gone was the thatch roof of her little house, the straw mattress of her bed, and the loud snores of her little bedmate. The world was rich, warm, and comfortable. It reminded her of another place in another life, a dream of a past she knew was no more. But none of the items in the room looked familiar. She was in a large four-poster bed with a dark canopy, its matching curtains tied back to their corresponding posts. Blankets tucked in just below her chin and a fire burned happily in the fireplace. It was hard to tell the size of the room with only the fireplace for light, but she was certain it was far larger than her little house.
Lifting the covers, she slowly slid from the bed. She didn't know where she was, but she couldn't stay here. She had to get back. She had to take care of Jamie. She couldn't leave him alone. Setting her bandaged feet to the ground, she took one step and crumpled to the floor, inadvertently taking a small tray table down with her.
When the door opened to the chamber, she heard someone enter but was too light-headed and weak to look up and see who. She just felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her, lifting her from the floor and placing her back in bed, pulling the blankets back up, stopping only when she placed her hand on theirs.
"Jam –" she started and stopped, finding her mouth and throat uncomfortably dry. "Water?" She rasped, feeling more than seeing her aid rise from her bedside and return a moment later with a glass, helping her as a hand cradled the back of her head and they held the cup to her lips. Tipping it slowly so she could drink. "Thank you." She breathed a moment later, as they set the glass aside when she'd finished. "Jamie?" she asked.
"He's not here."
"I have to go. He's waiting for me." She replied, trying to pull herself from the bed only to have her aid press her back down the mattress.
"Who is Jamie, Nan?"
"He's my...everything." She breathed, fighting to keep her eyes open.
"Where is he? Where is Jamie?"
"In the little house by the sea." She whispered, too tired to keep her eyes open.
For several moments, there was silence, then the weight of a hand on her forehead. Telling her she'd had or still had a fever, she was too weak and tired to really determine which. Then the hand was gone and the sound of a door opening and closing was the last thing she heard before sleep reclaimed her.
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Jamie sat in the chair by the fire, a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, ready and warm for when Nan returned. And she would return. She had to. She had promised him she'd never leave him. And he'd never known Nan to break her word. She'd come back. She'd walk through the door and smile at him as she always did. She'd tell him all about her day as she unloaded whatever it was she had brought back for him or the house. She'd tell him what she'd done, where she'd gone, who she'd talked to.
What Nan told him was all he knew of the world beyond their house, and that was as much as he wanted to know. He didn't remember much from before Nan had found him, but he remembered he had cried often; he remembered the pain in his stomach; he remembered darkness and yelling and cold and pain. He remembered that the world beyond this house was mean and nasty. That it had hurt him and left him alone. Then Nan had found him and brought him here. She had taken care of him, been kind to him, never yelled at him or hurt him. She'd been patient and understanding through his fits and moods. And every time, she'd gone, she'd always returned.
This wasn't the first time she had been gone for days. Sometimes, when someone was in need of looking after, or the weather had been too bad, she'd stay in town a day or two. And the route to their little house was not the safest or easiest to travel. After the first night of the storm and she'd come home with cuts and bruises all over her legs, she had probably thought it better to wait out the storm before trying the trail again. Yes, that had to be what she'd done. She'd be back. She always came back.
When the door opened, Jamie turned to the person with a big, happy grin on his dirty little face. Once he saw Nan's smile, he wouldn't be worried anymore; everything would be all right. Only it wasn't Nan who had entered their house.
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Hoss dragged the ill-mannered little brat down the hall by the scruff of his filthy little neck, limping slightly as he did. As frail as the child looked, almost like a half-starved puppy, he had a mean streak that put even Hoss on the defensive. Grinding his teeth, he did his best not to throttle the child. Still, with the string of curses the foul mouth whelp was throwing at him, it was getting damned hard not to want to smack the little blighter. Or better yet, return him to the rundown shack he had miraculously found him in.
Which had been a miracle as the 'little house by the sea' had been shit to go on when he'd received his order from Sir William to find some lout named Jamie. And while the squirming brat in his hand had not bothered to give his name, Hoss was fair certain he had the right person.
It was only when they entered his Master's study, tossing the brat to the floor by the desk, that the child had stayed silent long enough to take in Sir William, but sadly, even that had not lasted. Like some suicidal fool, the whelp started in on his Master. And for a moment, Hoss had to wonder at the bravery or stupidity of the child. Had he been cooped up in that hovel for so long that he honestly had no idea who he was insulting, or did he simply not care?
"Whatever it is ye devils want with me, ye can shove it up your arse. And that includes you lord ugly." The boy sneered at his Master.
"Is this all you found?" Sir William waved to the boy as he addressed Hoss.
"Aye. There was no one else about that we could see." Hoss nodded.
"What is your name, child?" Sir William looked back to him.
"Who I is, ain't none of your business. Now, let me go, or I'll wallop ye good I will." the boy threatened taking a step forward, thrusting his little fist into the air as he did. "I ain't got no time to be wasting with you bunch of tosspots."
"Well, you're a foul-mouthed, little blighter." Sir William remarked, stepping out from behind his desk. "However, I couldn't give a rat's flea-ridden arse about what you want. In this house, I am Lord and Master, and when I ask a question, I expect an answer. If you do not give me an answer in a manner that is satisfactory to me, I will take it from you. And I shall not be lenient simply because you are a child." Sir William explained slowly, pacing out his words with his movements as he made his way around his desk, placing himself in front of the boy, fisting a hand in his shirt, and pulling him to within inches of Sir William's scarred face to get his point across. "Now, your name, boy?" He asked once more.
Grinding his teeth, the boy swallowed hard, clearly not wanting to give in to Sir William's demand as he glared at the man before him.
"Jamie," He said finally, stepping back and jerking at his shirt when Sir William released with him a slow nod.
"What's your mother's name?"
"Don't know." Jamie admitted grumpily, staring at the floor.
"Your sister then?"
"Ain't got no sister."
"Is there any other person who lives with you?"
"No! There ain't anyone but me!" he snapped.
It was the boy's sudden defensiveness that brought Sir William's focus back to him. He had been tame for his other questions, but the last one seemed to bring the fight back into him.
"Do not lie to me, boy. I know a woman shares that house with you."
"Ye leave Nan alone!" he barked, charging at Sir William, only to be yanked back by Hoss and held away as he struggled to get free of him. "She ain't done anything to no one. Ye leave her alone!" the boy shouted over and over.
"If I leave her alone, she'll die." Sir William spoke, instantly stopping the boy's struggles as his eyes met and locked with Sir William's.