Page 70 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“Not at all.”

“Is there anything you do dwell upon?”

“For example?”

“You tell me.”

“If I knew what you were asking me, I would not have demanded you clarify,” Wrexham snapped as the last thread of his temper frayed. “For heaven’s sake, I’ve had enough of this incessant questioning. You seem to have run out of ideas yourself, or you would not be repeating the same questions over again.”

There was another soft chuckle, and the doctor sighed. “No, indeed, and I wondered how long it would take before you reached the end of your tether. You are a patient man, my lord, and I beg you will forgive me for having tried you so sorely.”

Wrexham sat up, frowning. “You mean to say you were baiting me?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What the devil for?” he demanded.

“Because your sanity was not the only thing I was asked to verify.”

Wrexham considered that. “Mr Knight,” he grumbled.

“Quite so. This property is far removed from his own, and I confess Mr Knight strikes me as a doting and protective father. He wished to be reassured that his daughter was in safe hands, and not with a man who was easily provoked.”

“I trust I passed?” Wrexham asked, though he could not fault her father for his concern. If he had to put Emmeline into another’s keeping, he’d give the bastard the third degree, too.

“Undoubtedly, my lord. Indeed, I was hard pressed to decide which of us would break first. I was becoming thoroughly tired of my own voice.”

“Hmph,” Wrexham replied, somewhat mollified. “And as to the question of my sanity?”

“That was little in question before we entered the room,” the doctor said, which meant the past two hours had been a colossal waste of time.

Yet, for all that, Wrexham felt a surge of relief, any irritation disappearing along with it.

“You are in fine fettle, my lord, and I should be happy to put that in writing should the need arise. I might also reassure you that Mr Knight has been very generous in becoming a benefactor to my little hospital and, more to the point, I despise bullies. You need not fear me being a man who would sell his principles for a bag of coin. I would rather die.”

Wrexham nodded, pleased to hear it, and grateful to Mr Knight once more for thinking ahead. “Thank you, doctor. That is reassuring. However, might I ask your opinion?”

“Of course.”

The doctor waited whilst Wrexham gathered his thoughts. Much as he needed to know, and as much as today’s interview had been successful, the future was something he viewed with trepidation. Yet, if he was to follow in his uncle’s footsteps, he must ensure that Emmeline was safe and cared for. “Did Mr Knight inform you of my uncle’s situation?”

“He did indeed. Mr Knight also employed his considerable resources to furnish me with as much family history as he could lay his hands on.”

“Did he, by God?” Wrexham was torn between indignation at the effrontery of the man and a deep-seated relief that the devil was on his side.

The doctor laughed. “Mr Knight does not strike me as a man accustomed to being told no,” he said wryly. “However, in this instance it is all to the good. I believe you have been concerned that your blindness is linked to lunacy and that it is an inherited condition?”

“Yes,” Wrexham replied, for there was no point in protesting the point.

“Well, your family tree is considerable and complex, to put it mildly, and with the time available to us, the information Mr Knight gathered was quite remarkable. From what I can tell, it seems that whilst there have been several cases of blindness within your bloodline, your uncle is the only one who displayed any signs of true lunatic behaviour.”

“But Father said there were more. He cited aunts and—”

“If I might stop you. Erratic behaviour in those who have lost their sight is often attributed to mental deficiencies, when it has been my observation that those patients are often disorientated for a multitude of reasons, not least the initial trauma of losing their sight. Especially if it was sudden. Also they have no way of distinguishing day and night. Perhaps you have experienced this yourself, waking in the night and thinking it is daytime, and getting up to discover the house is asleep. Now a man like you with an army of servants is less likely to make such a mistake, but a fellow who must see to himself might be observed to be up and dressed and eating breakfast in the middle of the night. Disabusing him of the notion he is in the wrong might cause him distress and confusion, and from these circumstances, assumptions of disturbed minds are easy to cling to.”

Heat crawled up the back of Wrexham’s neck as he remembered several such incidents in the first year after losing his sight. His father had been quick to tell him this was the first sign of him losing his mind, and he, already grieving the loss of the life he had known, had not questioned it.

Emmeline had.