Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I smiled, as she truly did not need to do this, and I was sure no one was forcing her either. She merely could not help herself, even though she complained. “Hathor, truly I am fine, worry not. Tomorrow we may go wherever your heart desires.”
“I shall hold you to it!” She nodded before going to the door. “Good evening.”
When she left, I rolled onto my back and covered my face with the pillows because…because…what in heavens name was I supposed to do now?
He was here!
Theodore
“He is barely breathing,” said the marquess from the foot of the bed as I examined Lord Hardinge. His face was dangerously pale, and his breath shallow, with a faint odor. On top of this, he was sweaty due to his fever. He was drenched, as though he’d fallen into a fountain and not the road. I had seen this before. “Is it a stroke?”
“I do not believe so, for these are not the signs of such. However, I will not be able to rule it out until he wakes up. Word should be sent to his wife that he cannot return home this evening in this condition,” I replied as I moved back from the bed to where the footman had brought my bag.
“His dear wife passed last summer,” said the marchioness from the door, as her husband would not allow her to enter the room, rightly so. Still, she insisted on staying close. “They have one son, but the boy is no older than twelve. He has no other relatives. You must save him, Dr. Darrington, or the child will become an orphan. It is Benjamin’s greatest fear.”
“He shall do everything he can, my dear.” The marquess turned back to him, still speaking to the marchioness. “You should allow him space to work. Go see the children. Hathor and Abena were there as well and must be worried.”
She sighed, nodding, then looked at me once more. “Dr. Darrington, this is our housekeeper, Mrs. Ingrid Collins. Should you need anything more, instruct her, and she shall see to it. I assume you shall be staying as well to tend to him?”
I nodded. “Forgive me for the imposition.”
“Not at all. We are grateful you are here.” She let out a deep sigh, her eyes shifting to Lord Hardinge once more before taking her leave.
“I shall need boiling water, a cup with no more than a tablespoon of ginger and sugar, and a spoon, as well as an empty basin and towels, if you can, Mrs. Collins.” I moved back to Lord Hardinge to check his teeth and gums. She nodded, leaving quietly and closing the door behind her.
“I doubt you need those items for tea. What is it?” questioned the marquess. “Now that the women are gone, you may speak freely.”
“I do not want to speculate and cause panic,” I replied, opening the man’s mouth wider to look down his throat.
“By not providing answers, you create exactly that. Fear and panic are the by-products of ignorance,” the marquess said, sounding like a professor. Even now, the fact that he stood at his friend’s bedside instead of shrinking away in fear himself said a great deal about his character.
“Are you not worried you shall catch whatever may be ailing him?” I questioned in return. “Most others would be speaking to me behind a door or, at the very least, with a handkerchief covering their nose and mouth.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I trust in your skills enough to know that if the situation were so dire, you would have asked me to refrain from entering and taken precautions to protect yourself. Plus, the relaxed nature of this conversation seems to imply you are not that worried.”
“You are, as they say, my lord, a man of reason,” I replied as I stood up straighter and looked at the patient before me.
“And one of curiosity. So, do tell me of my old friend here,” he pressed once more.
Usually, I never spoke of my patients to a person not of their family, but as Lord Hardinge had no one else, I had little choice.
“Has Lord Hardinge been in the care of Sir Grisham?” I asked, looking at the marquess, who frowned and shook his head.
“I am not sure. Why?”
“His case is presenting similarly to that of Lady Clementina Rowley,” I said.
“What? But did she not take a tonic of some sort? I could not imagine Benjamin desiring to become shorter.”
Neither could I. “Yes, and it was highly toxic, which is why I intend to have him expel the contents of his stomach, just in case, to clear it from his system.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” said the marquess.
Mrs. Collins arrived with a tray of all I had requested, two other maids beside her, one with the water and the other with an empty basin.