Chapter 17 #2
The doctor did not touch her. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and studied her with a practiced, assessing eye. “Can you focus on my face? Right here.” He angled his head slightly. “Very good. And do you find the light troubles you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “My head aches.”
“As expected when one swoons.” The doctor nodded once, clearly unsurprised. “Do you feel any chill, my lady? Any trembling in the limbs?”
Ordering her thoughts was not precisely easy with so many people staring at her and waiting for an answer.
Emily hesitated. “I…do not think so. Only a great heaviness. And this dryness in my mouth.” Her own mind tried to put the pieces together.
Though not a doctor, she had prided herself on herbal remedies for various illnesses over the years.
Small things that every household had to manage.
And her symptoms tumbled over one another in her head without making much sense.
Jack made a tight sound from behind her, but the doctor continued unruffled. “Tell me, have you been ill recently? Any fevers? Faintness before this evening?”
“No,” she said. “I was somewhat anxious during the ball. Only a small discomfort, I thought.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then turned slightly toward the brothers standing nearer the doorway.
“I am given to understand,” he said in a voice easily heard by everyone present, “that the young lady drank from a cup handed to Lord Hartwell by an unknown servant. And that she soon after exhibited flushing, confusion, weakness in the limbs, and disordered vision.”
A sharp exhale escaped Jack. Juniper squeezed Emily’s hand.
“That is what happened, yes,” Baron Hartwell stated, standing with something more like his usual poise. Lyness stood among the others but slightly apart, shoulders rigid, eyes on the floor. Every line of him was taut with something she could not decipher.
The physician returned his attention to Emily. “My lady, do you recall the taste of the drink?”
Emily swallowed again and closed her eyes to think. Did she remember? Vaguely, perhaps. As she opened her eyes to focus on the physician again, she said, “I think it was odd. Overly sweet. Medicinal. Not quite right.”
Doctor Garrett nodded once, decisively. “These symptoms, combined with your present condition, strongly suggest that an opiate tincture—laudanum, most likely—was mixed into the lemonade. Which would be an efficient way to hide it if one was not already familiar with the distinct scent and taste of that particular narcotic.”
“I have never had reason to take laudanum.” And that suddenly seemed like a failing of some sort. Emily looked up as Juniper leaned closer, ready to apologize for all the trouble again, but the doctor continued calmly.
“The dose does not appear to have been sufficient to endanger your life, Lady Emily. But it was unquestionably strong enough to befog your senses and overcome you in short order.” He raised his brows slightly, speaking to the room now. “She will recover. The worst has passed.”
At last, some good news. Emily’s shoulders loosened a fraction.
The physician went on, brisk but kind. “She must be kept warm, quiet, and under watch until the remaining effects fade. Small sips of cool tea as she is able. No excitements, no bright lights, and no further exertion.” His gaze swept briefly over Jack’s tense form.
“And absolutely no distressing conversation.”
Jack folded his arms and did not appear the least chastened.
Emily at last managed to ask one of the questions that troubled her. “Will I…should I remember more of what happened?”
“Perhaps,” the doctor replied. “Perhaps not. The mind shields itself during such incidents. You are not to trouble yourself if the recollection remains unclear. You have had a bad time of it, my lady, but you seem healthy in all other respects.”
“Thank you, Doctor Garrett,” Juniper said, rising from the floor at last to curtsy.
“I will need to write her parents about the situation at once, and I am glad I can offer them the comfort of your diagnosis. She has said her head aches, and given that my sister-in-law is slow to complain of such things, it must be rather severe. If you might leave us something for that?”
Though Emily was tempted to protest, Juniper was right. So she kept her lips pressed together this time.
He inclined his head. “I will leave a draught for the headache, though it will subside on its own before tomorrow afternoon. If she becomes nauseated, let her expel whatever is in her stomach. Some of the drug may remain. But if her breathing grows shallow, send for me immediately. Otherwise, she will mend.” He bowed and went to speak with the baron.
Juniper turned all her attention to Emily.
Then the baroness came into the room, a servant with a tray keeping pace behind her, but Lyness appeared from the shadowed corner of the room.
“Mother,” he said, tone firm and quiet. “Lady Emily’s troubled by a s-severe headache. I think it best the men leave the room to let her recover. Her sister-in-law will stay, of course. And she will want the tea.” He looked at Juniper for her nod of approval, but his gaze did not seek out Emily.
It was terribly disappointing to be near him, in distress, and not even have the opportunity to smile at him, let alone speak with him.
Had she done something shameful while under the influence of the laudanum?
Why did he seem reluctant to even look at her?
It made her chest ache in a manner completely different from the pounding in her head.
“Oh, of course,” the baroness agreed readily. “Doubtless, the gentlemen will wish for something stronger. But I will have tea sent to the study for you.”
“I must take my leave,” the physician said as he left the room with the Eastwood brothers.
Before Jack followed them, he looked down at Emily and offered her a tight smile.
“I must join the others. But I leave you in good hands.” As he walked by Juniper, he brushed her arm with his hand, and Emily found that the ache in her chest increased.
“Ladies.” He bowed and exited the room, closing the door behind him without a sound.
The baroness settled in a chair across the rug from Emily, serving the tea.
She spoke in a soft tone as she poured out.
“I know precisely how you feel, Lady Emily. Poor girl. I have nervous complaints of my own, and my personal physician suggested a laudanum tincture a year past. Trying that odious concoction once was enough for me. It is all very well and good to have it for something serious, and to sleep away grievous injuries, but it caused more discomfort than it cured in my circumstance.”
“Thank you, my lady. Your kindness is of great comfort to me,” Emily said with as much gratitude as she could manage.
“Here, darling. Let me help you sit up enough to try the tea.” Juniper took her by the hand and together they managed to put Emily in an upright position, though she leaned back against the furniture.
Her posture rather terrible. And it made her stays pull uncomfortably at her ribs in a way they normally did not.
Women’s undergarments made for balls were not as suitable for lounging.
For a moment, she thought she saw Juniper and Lady Hartwell exchanging a troubled glance. But when she focused on them, the baroness gave a shake of her head to Juniper and turned a calm smile to Emily.
“All will be right, my dear.” Lady Hartwell passed a cup to Juniper, who handed it carefully to Emily.
“Roman and your brother will see to it, I am certain. The miscreant who harmed you will be brought to justice. You must try not to worry, and put all your efforts into recovery. You have been through enough tonight.”
That made Emily’s brows come down in a way that pulled unpleasantly at the pain inside her head.
How as that even possible? She did not know.
And she did not want to know what the baroness thought worried her.
All she wanted was a sip of tea to clear the horrid taste from her mouth.
And perhaps the tincture the doctor had mentioned for her headache.
Everything else could wait. Including her concern for Lyness Eastwood, and the way it hurt when he completely ignored her, even though everyone else clustered around trying to be helpful.
Juniper’s attentiveness was compassionate. Lady Hartwell’s voice was soothing. Jack had hovered like a sentry. She was surrounded by people who cared, protected and safe.
And yet… The one person she had hoped might care for her, truly comfort her, had not met her eyes once.
A fresh sting warmed the back of her throat.
She had hoped their friendship meant something more to him.
Even now, even helpless, she could not banish one quiet, pitiful thought: that in her most vulnerable moment, Lyness Eastwood had not spared her even a single look.
After Lyness and Jack entered the study, Roman shut the door with more force than necessary, the latch clicking sharply into place.
He strode to the sideboard without a word and poured three measures of brandy, his movements spare and precise as the crystal decanter clinked softly against each glass.
Jack stood a few feet from the door, jaw tight, hands balled at his sides.
Lyness crossed the room to the hearth, caught between wanting to fade into the corner and needing to hear every word.
The dogs both picked up their heads, watching Roman move across the room but unmoving unless he commanded them. They had been commanded to the study when Lyness carried Lady Emily into the house.
The room felt too close. Too warm. Too still for the agitation growing inside Lyness’s mind. He tried to take in a slow breath, the scent of beeswax polish and books doing nothing to settle him.
Before speaking, Roman took a glass to Jack. “Sterling.”