Chapter 2 #3
Lucy shook her head. “Perhaps he’s stubborn or truly fond of you. But this changes things. Our little scheme isn’t working as we hoped.”
Dorothy’s gaze dropped to the floor beneath her feet. “I don’t know what to do now. If the wedding goes ahead, then all this was for nothing. I was scared that our plan fell through; that’s why I sent for you. I thought we could come up with another plan together to stop the wedding. But now...”
Lucy exhaled sharply, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced toward the closed study door. “Now that your Papa is unwell… Are you rethinking all of this because of what happened to him?”
Dorothy’s gaze dropped to the floor beneath their feet, the hardwood planks seeming to echo the heaviness settling in her chest. The muffled sounds from within the study only made the moment feel more surreal. She felt a mixture of sadness and guilt pressing down on her heart.
“Yes,” she said slowly, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“I’m rethinking everything.” Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles paling with tension.
“If the rumor we started, the scandal I helped spread, was enough to worsen his health so suddenly… then I’m not sure I have the right to continue. ”
A nervous tremor shook her, and she pressed her fingers against the seam of her gown as if to hold herself together. The thought of causing her father more pain was unbearable, yet the stubborn part of her, the part that had once clung to defiance, still flickered beneath the surface.
“Maybe it’s better if I simply do what Papa wishes. Set aside my own hopes for his sake and for the sake of peace.”
She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing heavier. What once had seemed a simple escape now felt like a chain tightening around her spirit.
Lucy’s gaze softened, but her voice was gentle, probing. “What of you, Dorothy? What about your own peace and happiness in all this?”
The question struck a chord deep within her. Dorothy’s breath hitched as she fought the conflicting emotions swirling inside. She longed for freedom, for a life not dictated by others’ expectations. But the one thing that was holding her back was the image of her father, frail and exhausted.
For a long moment, she said nothing, eyes fixed on the floor as she gathered her courage. When she finally spoke, her voice was low but certain.
“I don’t know if I can have both, not without breaking something else. For now, my peace will have to come from making sure that his is kept.”
The quiet stretched between them, the distant ticking of a clock in the hall marking the slow, steady passage of time.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and the physician stepped out, his face grave but composed. He glanced briefly at Dorothy and Lucy before speaking in a measured tone.
“We must move the Viscount to his bedchamber immediately. He requires rest in a quieter, more comfortable setting.”
The butler immediately acknowledged and rushed to find the household staff.
The physician turned to her then and shook his head. “Miss Lockhart, your father is showing clear signs of extreme stress and exhaustion. His constitution has weakened considerably.”
Dorothy’s voice trembled slightly. “Is he in grave danger, sir?”
The physician shook his head gently. “Not at this moment, but without proper rest and nourishment, his condition may worsen. It is imperative he is moved to his bedchamber where he can recover in quiet and comfort.”
Dorothy bit her lip, trying to hold back her worry. “What else can be done, doctor? Is there anything more I should do for him?”
He offered a faint smile. “Ensure he takes proper meals, remains hydrated, and, above all, keep his environment free from distress. The mind and body are closely linked, Miss Lockhart. His recovery depends as much on peace of mind as on any medicine I can provide.”
Dorothy nodded, grateful for the guidance. “I will see to it. Thank you, sir.”
The physician inclined his head once. “Good. Now, I must return to his side. I still want to watch his condition for a few more hours.”
As the door began to close behind him, Dorothy called softly, “Doctor, do you think… the stress could be from rumors he may have heard? Could that maybe... cause this?”
He paused, glancing back briefly. “It is very possible. Emotional strain often affects the body in ways one does not immediately perceive.”
With that, the door shut, leaving Dorothy clutching her hands together.
Lucy’s hand found Dorothy’s, gentle but firm, grounding her in the storm of her thoughts. “Let your father rest for today, Dorothy,” she said softly.
Dorothy nodded. “You’re right,” she sniffed. “I probably should also just accept this.”
Lucy shook her head. “That I do not agree to. What if the wedding itself becomes a source of unhappiness? What if that weighs on your papa just as much as the rumors have? It would be the same outcome. He would blame himself for your unhappiness.”
“Then what must I do?”
Lucy’s gaze held hers steadily. “You must speak to him, calmly, clearly. Let him see where you stand. If your heart is not in this marriage, he deserves to know.”
A sigh escaped Dorothy’s lips, mingled with a fragile hope. “You think it will make a difference?”
Lucy smiled, though the warmth in her eyes was tempered by realism. “It may not change everything overnight, but honesty can ease the weight between you. It may help your father find peace in knowing you are true, not merely resigned.”
Dorothy squeezed Lucy’s hand in gratitude, feeling the first faint stirrings of courage in her chest. “Thank you, Lucy. I will try. What other choice do I have?”
Slowly, the tension in her chest loosened just a fraction. For now, she would watch over Howard and prepare herself for the conversation to come.