Chapter Twenty
The morning sun streamed in through the windows of the breakfast room, casting an awkward cheerfulness over the gathered family.
Helena and the dowager duchess talked pleasantly as always as they ate their meal.
However, the atmosphere felt strange to Adelaide as if the brightness in the room was forced, or it only existed on the surface of something more unpleasant.
Adelaide tried to control the tremble in her fingers as she held her teacup. She could not be sure if she was correct in her assessment of the energy in the room or if she merely felt exposed, as though everyone knew what she and Marcus had done the previous evening.
“Are you all, right?” Helena asked her suddenly, startling her.
She looked at her aunt, realizing too late that her eyes were a little too wide and her mouth was pinched into a thin line. She quickly corrected her expression, blinking to relax her eyes and giving a wide smile.
“Yes, of course,” she said, trying to pace her words and tone. “I was just admiring the beauty of the weather.”
Helena nodded, raising an eyebrow at her niece curiously.
Adelaide forced her smile to relax a bit more, nodding silently to try to reassure her aunt.
Helena eventually nodded, returning her smile.
But Adelaide’s concern returned when Helena glanced toward their host with inquisitive eyes.
Adelaide was relieved that he was holding the newspaper and did not look in Helena’s direction.
But when she sneaked a glance at him, his eyes met hers instantly with the same desire which had led to their encounter the previous night.
She tried to keep her gaze off her lover, wishing to avoid evoking any suspicion if there were not already questions in the minds of everyone else at the table.
But she found it difficult to avoid stealing quick glances at him to admire the strength which seemed to be returning to his jaw and posture and the vibrant life his eyes now radiated.
“Adelaide,” Edith said, giving Adelaide a tentative smile. “I was thinking of painting in the gardens for a little while this morning. Would you like to join me?”
Adelaide struggled to keep her expression from changing. It was a strange request which had never before been made, and her thoughts were insisting that Edith must know her secret. But she simply blinked, praying the gesture was as innocent as she intended, nodding eagerly.
“That sounds lovely,” she said. “I would be happy to join you.”
Edith beamed at her, and suddenly her face looked as normal as ever to Adelaide. She scolded herself for being foolish and believing that their family members could know what had transpired between them.
She looked at Marcus, who appeared to be struggling as much as she was to remain calm and maintain proper decorum in front of their loved ones. She gave him the politest smile she could muster as she looked pointedly at the basket of toast that sat near his left hand.
“Would you kindly pass the toast, Your Grace?” she asked.
Marcus looked surprised, blinking rapidly and correcting his expression to one of indifference as he fetched the basket.
“Of course, Miss Barrett,” he said. Only Adelaide noticed the drop in his timbre, just as the previous night.
Yet when his hand brushed hers as he passed the basket to her, his breath caught in tandem with hers as her thoughts flooded her with memories of the passionate caresses from the night before.
The peaceful morning vanished, however, only a moment later.
As her lover replaced the basket in its place, all the color drained from his face.
He reached for his glass, but his hand was trembling so badly that he only succeeded in spilling it all over himself and the table.
The dowager duchess’s attention was on her grandson in a breath, the bite of food she was about to take abandoned in her hand.
“Darling, what is it?” she asked, sounding concerned.
Marcus opened his mouth, Adelaide assumed to respond.
However, before he could speak, he groaned, shaking violently in his chair.
His movements became more erratic and physically consuming, and before long, his entire powerful frame was wracked with tremors, worse than Adelaide had ever seen before.
Adelaide thought back to his last terrible episode and how it seemed to have occurred around the same time as Mr. Fletcher’s last treatment.
Was it before or after? She thought, trying desperately to remember. She could not, however. All she knew was that Marcus was terribly ill again, and that he needed help.
The teacup slipped from his grip, dark liquid staining the pristine tablecloth.
Adelaide shook her head, trying to rid herself of the shock of the sudden relapse.
She glimpsed Miss Potter hovering nearby, much as she had when Marcus received treatment from Mr. Fletcher.
Adelaide could not make sense of the odd things she was beginning to notice, or of the maid’s obsessive behavior.
However, the way her hands shook as she cleaned up the spilled tea spoke of more than a servant’s anxiety, and everyone else at the table seemed to notice.
Everyone, that is, except her lover, who seemed to be slipping toward unconsciousness, despite the continuing tremors in his body.
“Miss Potter,” the dowager duchess snapped, causing the maid to start. “Fetch the butler and a footman. Get Marcus to his chambers at once. Then, send for Mr. Fletcher. Go, now.”
The dowager duchess’s tone never brooked for any argument. Right then, however, her orders were rough and allowed for no dallying. The maid rushed off, returning a moment later with the men her mistress requested. They hoisted Marcus out of his seat and together carried him out of the room.
Overwhelmed with fear and confusion, Adelaide fled the room without a word. She ran straight to the library, seeking comfort in the memories the room now held for her. All she found, however, was her worry in a silence that was as complete as the urgency in the breakfast room had been.
She did not bother pretending to have an interest in reading.
Instead, she paced by the fireplace which had been the only known witness to the passionate night between Marcus and her.
She prayed her lover would recover from this illness, hoping that she had not lost him just as soon as he had given himself completely to her.
She recalled every touch and kiss exchanged the previous night and every affirming and loving word spoken.
She thought about how they were now only Miss Barrett and His Grace to one another when they were among other people.
She thought about the future they might have if he were to recover from his illness.
However, most of all, she worried about what was to come if he did not survive his fit.
She admitted, only to herself, that she was falling in love with Marcus.
To lose the man she loved so soon after finding him would be devastating.
She did not know if she could cope with such a terrible loss.
She also thought about Miss Potter and her strange behavior near Marcus.
As she fled the breakfast room, she saw Mr. Fletcher enter the mansion, rather quickly to have been summoned such a short time before.
Following right behind him had been Lucy Potter, watching closely as the physician dug through his medical bag and began retrieving items.
Adelaide knew she would be hovering when the physician administered another treatment to Marcus.
What Adelaide could not understand was why the physician allowed her in the room.
Were they not supposed to send away everyone else when examining or treating a patient to preserve his or her modesty?
Adelaide could make no sense of it, but she was sure the maid’s behavior was something more than a servant merely being anxious about her master’s well-being.
“Miss Barrett?” said a baritone voice from the doorway.
Adelaide yelped, so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard anyone approach.
“Lord Thomas,” she breathed with a nervous, dry giggle. “How is he?”
Lord Thomas shook his head with dark circles shadowing his eyes.
“I am uncertain,” he said. “The physician is still with him. He was unconscious when we got him to his chambers, though.”
Adelaide nodded, biting her lip.
“It is so strange how much better he felt yesterday,” she said. She was unsure how to broach her suspicions, especially since they pointed to nothing definitive. However, she was desperate for answers, and she needed to hope that his closest friend might be able to offer a few.
Lord Thomas nodded; his concern evident in the furrow of his brow.
“It is,” he said. “I am concerned about this Mr. Fletcher and his so-called treatments.”
Adelaide’s heart stopped, thinking of her own perceived correlation between Marcus’s worst episodes and the treatments he received from his new physician.
“I thought I was going mad,” she muttered softly.
Lord Thomas raised an eyebrow.
“Why?” he asked.
Adelaide sighed, shaking her head.
“It seems to me that he gets sicker after Mr. Fletcher administers one of these treatments,” she said. “He was better when he remained in his chambers for a few days. Now, he is more ill than he has been thus far.”
Lord Thomas nodded, his brow returning to its wrinkled furrow.
“I cannot say for sure, but I believe that Mr. Fletcher was here to give him a treatment early this morning,” he said.
Adelaide’s blood ran cold. She recalled how Marcus had slipped out of the library before she did. Had he gone to meet the physician for treatment?
“Mr. Fletcher was here rather quickly this morning,” she said.
Thomas nodded, opening his mouth to speak again. However, before he could, there was a noise outside the doorway. They turned to find Miss Potter watching them with an expression resembling fear and guilt.
Lord Thomas and Adelaide stopped speaking, watching the maid carefully.
She dropped her gaze, hurrying away with poorly concealed urgency.
Lord Thomas looked at Adelaide, his troubled expression suggesting what he seemed now justifiably unwilling to say.
He shared Adelaide’s growing suspicions about the coincidental timing of the incidents surrounding Marcus and his declining health.
From the way he stared after the maid with pursed lips, Adelaide suspected he was growing wary of her, as well.
Once Lord Thomas departed, Adelaide stepped into the gardens.
She was so distraught that all she could think to do was pick a handful of lavender flowers.
It was hardly enough to help her lover in his terrible state.
However, it made her feel less anxious, and the scent of the gardens gave her great comfort.
Perhaps, if she could do nothing else, she could offer the same comfort to Marcus, as well, even if she had to deliver them through a servant.
When she returned inside the manor later that afternoon, she went to Marcus’s room, only to find it empty.
Her hopes rose and a faint smile touched her lips.
If his bed was vacant, perhaps that meant that Marcus was feeling better and moving about the mansion.
She abandoned the flowers on a table in his chambers, racing down the stairs and going first to Marcus’s study and then the parlor, both of which were empty.
She paused to catch her breath, deciding to return to the library.
The door was open when she reached it, so she rushed inside.
The smell of fresh spice greeted her, so she looked around the room, eagerly expecting to see her lover standing, or sitting, somewhere in the room.
When she found him, however, her heart was far from joyful.
He lay in a crumpled heap on the floor in the far corner of the room.
“Marcus,” she screamed, shaking him firmly.
He did not respond, his hand falling limply with a loud thud when she lifted it to her cheek.
The sight of the imposing, fierce man she knew and loved now so vulnerable and reduced to utter helplessness shattered Adelaide’s world.
She sobbed quietly, listening for signs of a heartbeat or breathing rhythm.
“Miss Barrett, allow me,” Mr. Fletcher said, suddenly appearing in the room.
Adelaide moved back numbly, vaguely aware of the oddness of the physician’s timing. How had he known about Marcus’s collapse when she had not yet had time to call for help? Had he heard her scream his name? That was unlikely, as she would have seen him if he was near the library when she entered.
Before she could think more on the matter, Lord Edwin entered as if answering some silent summons.
Adelaide stared in shock as he and the physician took control of the situation.
They spoke little, only in one-word communication back and forth which set her nerves on edge.
By this time, servants had noticed the commotion and began shouting orders through the house.
Soon after, the dowager duchess rushed into the room, her hysterical cries of anguish echoing through the room.
Helena offered what little comfort she could, looking at Adelaide helplessly.
Edith soon appeared, collapsing into sobs. Adelaide hurried over to her, embracing her friend and patting her back gently, while her thoughts raced unbridled.
“Send the servants away until they are summoned,” Lord Edwin ordered, his calm, smooth demeanor unsettling Adelaide more than ever.
“The footmen will help us get Marcus to his chambers. Everyone else settle in with some tea and calm yourselves. We must be strong for Marcus. Mr. Fletcher and I will handle Marcus’s care personally. ”
Adelaide shuddered. She should have found solace in Lord Edwin’s confidence.
Yet something about his manner was disingenuous to her, like the way his concern never reached his eyes.
All his commands afforded her a growing sense of dread.
Did he truly care about his cousin, or was there something sinister happening that she could not yet see?