Chapter 6
It wasn’t true.
Surely.
Stephen Blake, Frederick’s cousin and dearest friend, wasn’t a spy.
Was he?
Grace walked toward the morning room to meet Dr. Ross for his visit, her fingers busily fidgeting with the sleeves of her gown as she went.
She’d rather concentrate on the thief and Blake’s possible spy life than contemplate whether she was possibly dying.
Although she wasn’t necessarily afraid of dying. Heaven sounded like such a lovely place, and she’d daydreamed about it enough to feel a real connection to it, but the idea of leaving her darling Frederick without the chance to say goodbye was the real trouble.
Plus, who would be a mother for Lily and Zahra?
And who would run the hospital or help encourage the glassworks to keep growing?
She sighed. Well, Mr. Cox, the manager of the glassworks, knew how to manage the business without her, of course. And Nurse Wilson was perfectly capable of running the hospital.
But there really was no other answer for the first two questions.
And Blake had only wanted to ensure she was well after all the stress of managing the hospital.
Which was perfectly sensible advice.
She narrowed her eyes. Unless he was a spy. And she couldn’t really trust him to say what he meant, could she?
But he’d had a look about him that suggested more.
Yet she didn’t feel ill. Certainly not deathly ill.
She had just turned the corridor to the morning room when the soft sound of sniffling sent her feet into a faster pace.
At the end of the hall, Jane, one of the housemaids who’d been with the household since before Grace had married Frederick, stood with her dustcloth, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron.
“Jane?” Grace closed in. “Whatever is the matter?”
The young woman, likely not much older than Grace, spun toward her, blinking. Fresh tears glistened on her cheeks. The sight pinched Grace’s heart completely.
“I’m so sorry, my lady.” She attempted to wipe at her eyes, but even more tears sprang forward. “I shouldn’t be carrying on like this while I’m working. It’s just—” Her voice broke.
“Oh dear.” Grace took Jane by the arm and gently guided her into the morning room to one of the chairs. Thankfully, Dr. Ross had not arrived just yet.
“Now”—she sat next to the girl and leaned forward—”what’s happened? Is your father still ill?”
Jane nodded, her chin trembling as she clutched the dustcloth in her lap.
“He’s gotten worse, my lady. Much worse.
The doctor in Astlynn Commons says he needs to see a specialist in Matlock, but we haven’t the money for the journey, let alone for lodging while he’s being treated.
” She pressed the cloth to her eyes, heedless of any dust. “I’ve been trying to save to help my mum, since Dad can’t work, but it’s just not … ”
Her voice broke into a little sob.
Poor girl. She’d worked so faithfully and hard, never complaining despite the long hours and the additional strain the hospital had brought, all the while sending most of her wages home to help support her family.
But things had gotten increasingly difficult since her father could no longer work due to his health.
Someone needed to help her.
Grace nodded to herself. And Frederick had left her in charge of these people in their home, their dear servants. So … it was her job to do so.
“How much do you need?” Grace asked quietly.
Jane’s eyes widened, and she gave her head a tiny shake. “Oh, my lady, I wasn’t asking for—”
“I know you weren’t.” Grace smiled gently. “How much, Jane?”
The girl’s eyes were so round and watery, Grace wondered if she might burst into a full-on wail if Grace pressed further.
After hesitating, the girl answered. “The doctor thinks perhaps fifteen pounds would cover the specialist’s fees and a week’s lodging nearby.” Jane’s voice was barely a whisper. “But that’s so much money, my lady. I couldn’t possibly—”
“You can, and you will.” Grace stood and moved to the small desk in the corner where she kept household accounts.
After rifling through her set of keys, which felt endless but really was nothing as monstrous as Mrs. Powell’s key ring, she opened the drawer and counted out twenty pounds—more than Jane had mentioned, but the girl would need funds for food and any unexpected expenses.
“My lady—” Jane’s voice broke as Grace pressed the notes into her hand. “This is too much—”
“It’s exactly enough.” Grace squeezed the girl’s hands.
Giving gifts was such a wonderful thing.
She knew she had to be careful with their funds, but Frederick would approve this choice.
“Your father needs care, and you need to be able to focus on his recovery without worrying about finances. Consider it an advance on your wages if it makes you feel better.”
“My … my lady.” Jane dissolved into a fresh wave of tears, even more violent than the previous.
Goodness gracious, Grace had hoped to quell some of her tears, not encourage them.
“You are too kind. You are always so kind.” She shook her head again as she looked down at the money.
“I don’t deserve your kindness, my lady. ”
“Nonsense, we all could do with a bit of kindness with all the very difficult things going on in the world.” Grace helped the girl to her feet. “Now, go tell your mother the good news. You have my permission to leave this afternoon to make the arrangements.”
“Oh, Lady Astley.” Jane impulsively threw her arms around Grace in a brief, fierce hug before remembering herself and pulling back with a mortified expression. “I’m so sorry, my lady. That was terribly forward—”
Grace leaned near and lowered her voice. “I’m terribly fond of hugs, Jane, so I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Another burst of tears, and Jane rushed from the room.
The dear girl must be managing a lot to be a walking waterworks.
Grace sighed and dropped back onto her chair.
But she understood. Lately, tender moments had affected her more profoundly too. In fact, she’d nearly broken down in the garden two days ago when she’d stumbled into one of the flower beds and nearly destroyed Mr. Porter’s newest bulbs.
Grace wasn’t certain how long she sat in the stillness of the room after Jane left, mind spinning through a varied list of items, from thieves to weepy servants to possible reasons she might die, when the door opened to reveal Brandon.
“My lady, Dr. Ross and his nurse have arrived.”
His nurse? Well, of course he had a nurse. But why bring the nurse along when he hadn’t before? Her throat closed the tiniest bit. “Please show them in, Brandon.”
Within only a few moments, the young Dr. David Ross and a woman who looked to be near his age with dark hair and eyes entered. Grace stood—offering them a smile, she hoped—but her heart had suddenly taken flight.
“Good morning, my lady.” He dipped his head, his green eyes lighting with his smile, and then he turned to the woman. “This is my nurse, Miss Dougall.”
“Nice to meet you, Lady Astley.”
Grace’s ears perked at the woman’s greeting. “You’re American?”
The woman’s smile spread wide. “Yes, my lady. But my father’s family is from Ednesbury, and I’ve returned there to see how I may help with the war effort.”
“How good of you.” Grace gestured for them to sit. “And I imagine Dr. Ross is a wonderful doctor to work with.”
Miss Dougall smiled over at the doctor. “He certainly is, and he thought, since we both have convalescent hospitals, it would be good for me to see how you are running yours to get an idea of a larger place.”
A tiny splash of pride had Grace sitting a bit taller, though she immediately deflated. “I’m sorry to say it is rather large, Miss Dougall, because there are so many wounded.”
“But at least we can offer a place for them to find medical support, comfort, and camaraderie.” Dr. Ross waved toward the room. “Especially in such a fine establishment as Havensbrooke.”
“Thank you.” Grace glanced around the room, her smile growing. “I am so very glad to call it home.”
“And I know you are busy with it as we are.” His expression sobered. “So I would not wish to take up too much of your time. How may I be of assistance to you?”
Heat fled her cheeks. Now was the time of truth. “Well, a friend of mine suggested I see you since I’ve been feeling rather … off lately. Tired, mostly. And my appetite has been strange.”
“I see.” He leaned forward, braiding his fingers in front of him. “Tell me about these symptoms.”
Grace described the exhaustion that had plagued her for months, particularly severe in the early days after Frederick left. The way certain smells made her nauseous. The tightness of her dresses. The strange fluttering sensation in her middle that had become more pronounced lately.
Dr. Ross listened carefully, occasionally nodding or looking to Miss Dougall, his expression growing increasingly knowing. But not grave, so that was certainly encouraging.
In fact, he almost smiled.
“And when was your last monthly course, Lady Astley?”
Grace’s brows shot high. Monthly course?
She’d never been asked about that before.
The heat that had previously left her cheeks suddenly rushed back into her face, and she cleared her throat, trying to remember.
“I … I’m not certain. They’ve always been rather irregular, and with all the stress of the hospital, I didn’t think …
” She trailed off, the heat in her face trailing down her neck into her chest.
Oh.
Oh.
“If I might examine you?” Dr. Ross said gently. “Just a brief examination. I will have Miss Dougall assist.”
Could it be? Truly?
But wouldn’t she have known?
“Of course.” Grace’s voice sounded strange to her own ears.
The examination was quick. Dr. Ross asked her to stand, pressed gently on various parts of her abdomen, listened to her heart. Turned her away from the door and had her unbutton the bottom few buttons of her blouse and pressed again, placing the stethoscope to her abdomen too.