She at last reached the study door, the gap between it and the floor glowing warmly, invitingly.
And then it went dark.
She dropped her case with a heavy thud and pressed both hands to the door. “Augustine,” she said, voice catching. “Are you there?”
What if it wasn’t him?
Jane shuddered. This was ridiculous. She was still overwrought from the carriage crash, and she was cold, and if only Augustine would open the door, it would all be made right. It would all—
The door opened a half inch.
The light from the hall spilled in across him, revealing wide eyes, pale skin. His hair was wild, and his posture was of a man hunted. His fingers held tight to the doorframe in terror.
And then she blinked, and he was himself again.
“Jane?”
“The road washed out,” she stammered, brushing at her sodden gown, self-conscious. “You didn’t answer the door. Why didn’t you answer the door?”
He said nothing. His mouth worked, and his face flushed with shame, but he made no sound.
A heavy shiver wracked her body.
“You’ll catch your death,” he said reflexively. “A hot bath. I’ll go draw one.” Mechanically, he walked past her. He trembled, though he clenched his fists tightly in an attempt to disguise it. What had happened? Where had her husband gone, the man who could leap into action when the worst horrors were brought through his surgery doors?
“What if I had been Mr. Lowell, come to fetch you to a patient?” she asked.
He stopped, silent, then at last turned back to her. “Is the driver all right?” he asked, and as she watched, Augustine covered the last of his weakness by drawing his doctor’s duty around him like a mantle. “Is anybody injured?”
“No, not that I know of.”
“Are you all right?” He searched her face, as if seeing her for the first time.
“Yes,” she said. “Just cold, and tired, and scared. Augustine—”
“Good. A hot bath,” Augustine said, more firmly this time. “And some tea and brandy, then…” He glanced at the window. “Then bed, if you really are to remain here.”
He sounded so disturbed by the idea that she fell back a step. “You wouldn’t really send me back to Larrenton in this storm, would you?” she asked. “It’s only one night. I—”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” he said. But he kept a distance between them that felt different from his unease that first night at the Cunninghams’， and different from their calculated dance after their kiss. “I’m sorry, Jane. I’m not myself just now. Lindridge Hall is not the best for my nerves. A howling storm isn’t wonderful for them, either, when you’re not sure if all the windows will hold through the night. But my room is safe, regardless; you’ll stay here, and in the morning if my regular carriage doesn’t come, I’ll see if I can’t borrow Mr. Purl’s horse and ride out and see how bad the damage is.”
“I called for you,” she said. “You didn’t answer.”
He ducked his head. “I thought—I thought I was dreaming,” he said.
Dreaming. She’d caught him half awake, confused. Of course. That made all the sense in the world. Relief loosened the tight knots of her shoulders a fraction of an inch. “You’re not dreaming,” she said. She reached out to touch him, but he evaded her smoothly. “Perhaps—perhaps my presence will make you feel a little safer tonight?”
He laughed, though it was weaker than he usually sounded. “Lindridge Hall cannot be fixed by company and good cheer alone, I’m afraid.”
She stooped to grab her case, her fingers stiff and sluggish. She followed him down the hallway to his bedroom, and then, inside, to the small washroom. It housed a deep porcelain tub. He stepped around her to turn the taps and after a few rattling pops in the walls, water splashed down into the basin. A push of a button on the wall-mounted geyser set it steaming.
It looked like bliss.
She turned to him, unsure what to expect next.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked at last.
“In my study, I suppose. My bed is too small for the both of us.”
“Is there no other? Your parents’， perhaps?”
“Trust me, my room will be more comfortable, and warmer. I’ll leave you to your bath.”
She had half a thought to ask for his aid, but he wanted to flee every second he remained with her. Embarrassed. Of the house, and of his ill response to her appearance. “Of course,” she said, giving him quarter. “I’m freezing.”