Henry warily shook it.
“Aren’t you going to attend on your patient?”
“In a moment. You see, Mr. Fairfax wishes… how can I put this? He wishes that his daughter should not be bothered with the matter of his health. He only cares for her, you see, and doesn’t want her upset.”
“It’s a noble idea, and Mr. Fairfax is clearly a loving father, but I think that Miss Fairfax is more than capable of handling bad news.”
“She is very capable, indeed,” Jonathan murmured, glancing down at his feet. “But Mr. Fairfax is insistent, so if you wouldn’t mind…”
“Wouldn’t mind what?” Henry’s temper was fraying at the edges. “Wouldn’t mind agreeing to keep a secret from the young lady for no reason? I’m afraid not?”
“No, no, nothing like that. Simply don’t mention it to her. I never do, as I gave my word to Mr. Fairfax.”
“Well, you’re his doctor. You promise discretion. I don’t. Besides, I already sent a message to Miss Fairfax to tell her that her father has been taken ill and was brought here. It’s too late.”
Jonathan Ashby ran a hand through his hair, disarranging it. “If you were to send another note… or go yourself, and explain…”
“No,” Henry said firmly. “If you and Mr. Fairfax choose not to tell Eleanor something, that is your business, but I don’t intend to lie to her about something so serious, not unless you can give me a fair and logical reason as to why it should be kept from her. What child wouldn’t want to know about the health of their parent?”
Jonathan eyed him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
“I heard you had integrity,” he said after a while. “It’s impressive to see it in person.”
Henry flushed. “If this was some sort of ridiculous test….”
“It’s not, I’m afraid. I’m not at liberty to say more. However, if Eleanor is coming here, knowing her father is ill, I suspect this whole business will unravel soon enough.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jonathan shook his head. “It’s of no matter. Do you wish to come in wait? I don’t know how long the consultation will take.”
“I would like to know how he is doing. Wait a moment, though.”
Jonathan turned. He had one foot on the stone steps leading up to his home, ready to go inside, and lifted an eyebrow.
“You know what is wrong with Mr. Fairfax, then?” Henry managed.
Jonathan looked remarkably tired, dark purplish rings around his eyes and an unhealthily pale pallor.
“Yes, Lord Henry, I do.”
Just five words, but they were spoken with such heaviness and resignation that Henry took a step backwards. He swallowed hard, fighting an urge to leap back in the carriage and command it to take him to Eleanor, now, immediately, in all haste, wherever she was.
“It… it isn’t good, is it? What ails Mr. Fairfax, I mean.”
Jonathan shook his head. “No, Lord Henry, it is not. But I suspect you knew that already. Do excuse me, I must see to my patient.”
He went inside, leaving Henry alone on the pavement, swallowing down a nasty feeling of foreboding.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Thank you for coming to collect me,” Eleanor said flatly.
It felt like the least she could do.
The note had barely arrived, delivered by a breathless clerk – one of Mr. Spencer’s, if she wasn’t mistaken – when Henry arrived shortly afterward, grim-faced in her father’s carriage. She was grateful for the lift, at the very least.
He told her what the note had already said – that Charles had taken aturn, that it was serious, that he had gone to Jonathan’s and was being treated there.
