“Is everything coming back to you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I—I try to remember, but...the only way I can begin to describe it is as a black cloud in my mind. I can’t see past it. Somehow, I know things like how to unfasten my gown or what everything is called—but I don’t have any memory of who I am or who you are. I don’t remember this place at all.”
“And you have no memory of last night?”
“None. I woke up in a cave as the tide came in. When you found me, I’d only just stumbled out. I think I hit my head. I have a knot the size of my fist, and my head is pounding.”
“Allow me?” At her nod, he rose on his knees and parted her hair. He blew out a breath. “You are fortunate that didn’t split your skull.”
“My mother always said I was hard-headed.” Marjorie put a hand to her mouth, and Mr. Burrows grabbed her shoulders.
“Your mother? You remember her?”
She closed her eyes, trying to conjure her mother’s face. An image floated before her for an instant, but it was vague and blurry. She sighed and opened her eyes. “I cannot remember her.”
“But you knew what she used to say to you. The knowledge is in there,” he said, tapping her forehead lightly. “You just can’t access it at present. I’m sure it’s a temporary effect of the blow to your head. In a few hours, everything will come back.”
Marjorie wanted to believe him. In fact, she prayed he was correct. But something he’d said struck her as odd. “Blow to my head? You think I was struck?”
“I didn’t say that. You said you hit your head.”
“I meant I was probably exploring the cave and hit my head on a low overhang. But a blow to the head is something else. A blow to the head is a deliberate act.”
He gave her a long look. “You might not remember who you are, but you haven’t changed much. You were always good with details.”
“So you think I was struck by someone?”
“No. I think it’s exactly as you say. You were exploring the cave and knocked your head on a low-hanging rock.” He ran his hands up and down her arms, which was a reassuring feeling. She trusted this man. She could feel it in the way her body relaxed at his touch and the sound of his voice. But something about his eyes made her think he wasn’t being completely honest with her.
“Why was I exploring the cave alone?” she asked. “You said—before—I was out all night. How long was I lost?”
“We can talk about that later. Right now you should eat. The landlord sent soup and bread for supper last night. I’ll warm what’s left and make you another cup of tea—perhaps add a splash of brandy to it.”
She reached up to touch the raised, tender spot on her head. “Should we call for the doctor?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m sure with food and rest you will be yourself again in no time. I’ll ask the servant girl if the landlord has any feverfew. That’s good for an aching head.”
She nodded, though she didn’t agree she would recover so easily. Shouldn’t a doctor be consulted if one lost one’s memory? She might have argued if something inside her hadn’t rebelled at the idea of involving a doctor. She didn’t know why, but her belly tensed, and her chest tightened at the thought of the doctor.
Her husband retreated to a room in the front of the house, and she heard the clink of pots and pans and the opening and closing of cupboards. When he returned, she did her best to swallow some of the soup and bread, but her aching head made her feel slightly nauseous. She was able to sip her tea, and the brandy warmed her and made her drowsy. But she started awake at the sound of a door closing.
“Barbara?” her husband called. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Mr. Burrows. I’ve brought some provisions and will start on the washing,” a feminine voice said as it neared. Then a tall girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen peeked her head into the sitting room. She wore a dark blue dress with a white apron and a white cap over her pale blond hair.
As soon as she spotted Marjorie, her eyes crinkled in concern. “Is anything amiss, missus?”
“My wife fell and bumped her head while walking on the beach this morning,” Burrows said. “Could you heat water for her bath?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I’ll help you draw it.” He rose, and Marjorie heard him tell the servant quietly, “Do you mind assisting with her bath? She hit her head quite hard.”
“Of course, sir.”
A quarter-hour later, a large round tub had been placed near the stove in the kitchen, and Marjorie watched as Barbara poured the last bucket of hot water into it. The steam rose in the already warm kitchen, and for the first time since she’d awakened in the cave, Marjorie didn’t feel chilled. “Here we are then,” Barbara said. “Towels, washing cloths, soap. Can I help you into the bath, missus?”
“Thank you.” Marjorie dropped her blanket and took Barbara’s hand. She stepped into the tub, sank down, and drew her knees up. The water was blissfully warm, and she felt the headache that had plagued her since waking begin to ease.
