Chapter 89 - Eighty Nine
The carriage rolled to a stop in the dark courtyard. Immediately, before Mr. Rye could even get down from his seat, Eric opened the door himself and gently carried Delia’s limp form out into the cold night air.
He turned to his trusted driver. "Mr. Rye," he said, his voice urgent and strained. "Could you please go and call for Mrs. Agnes? She lives just down the lane. Tell her it’s an emergency. I need an extra hand in taking care of Lady Delia tonight."
"Right away, Your Grace," Rye said with a worried nod. He bowed and left at once, disappearing into the darkness.
Eric carried Delia into the grand, silent house. He didn’t take her to the drawing room or her own bed. He carried her straight up the stairs, into her room, and through to her private bathing area. He gently sat down on the cold floor, cuddling her close to his chest as if to shield her from the world with his own body. He held her there, in the quiet darkness, just waiting.
A few moments later, a short , kind-faced woman in her late fifties hurried into the room, her expression full of concern. It was Mrs. Agnes, a retired head housekeeper from the Carson estate who now lived a quiet life nearby and comes to clean Eric’s residence from time to time.
"Your Grace?" she called out, her voice a soft, respectful query.
"In here, Mrs. Agnes," Eric replied, his voice heavy.
Mrs. Agnes followed the sound and entered the bathing area, her hand flying to her mouth. "Good heavens," she exclaimed, seeing the Duke on the floor, cradling the lifeless-looking young woman in his arms. "Whatever is the matter?"
"I’m sorry for calling you out so late at night," Eric said, his voice full of a weary gratitude.
"It is not a problem at all, Your Grace," Mrs. Agnes replied, her work side taking over. "Anytime His Grace needs my services, I will always be there." Her kind, experienced eyes took in Delia’s pale face and soaked, muddy dress.
"Can you draw a warm bath for her?" Eric asked. "And... and bathe her for me, of course?" The request was a delicate one, but necessary.
"Of course, Your Grace," Agnes bowed, immediately turning to the task.
Eric watched as the capable older woman prepared the bath, the sound of running water filling the quiet room. She added fragrant bath salts, and soon the air was filled with the calming scent of lavender.