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She couldn’t have fallen asleep so quickly.
Henry glanced around Eleanor’s chambers, trying to think of what to do next when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in, come in,” Henry said, practically leaping from the bed to answer the door. It was Eleanor’s lady’s maid and she looked rather harried. Her bonnet was on sideways, and pieces of her hair were not tucked into place. It was clear she had not been prepared to see to Eleanor at this time of the evening, as it was even earlier than usual. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” Henry added as he stepped aside so she could come into the room.
The lady’s maid frowned when she saw Eleanor already fast asleep. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Grace, but Her Grace will make herself sick sleeping in such a fashion. She should not lie there with all her garments still on. The stays were quite tight this evening and…”
Henry nodded in agreement, understanding how sleeping in such a fashion might be painful for a lady.
“If I can rouse Her Grace, I should be able to change her into more comfortable clothing. Do you know… is she ill already?” The lady’s maid narrowed her eyes and looked at Eleanor closely. Henry followed her gaze.
“I cannot be sure,” Henry replied.
It could be that she is just upset about her mother, but that cat scratch….
“I’m going to call the physician,” Henry told the servant.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the lady nodded.
He strode from the room purposefully.
I must save Eleanor. She might not think the cat did her any harm. But I know… I know what a cat scratch can do to a person.
He thought of Wallace then. His brother had been the picture of perfect health one minute and then in the next, that all changed. He had become pale and dizzy, just as Eleanor had now. Henry searched his mind, trying to recall Wallace’s next symptom, but it was rather difficult. He knew there had been some swelling, but Henry couldn’t remember if the puffiness had been a result of the scratch or if that had come because of the treatment the physician had tried to administer. Henry thought of Eleanor’s lovely, perfect face, and he prayed that nothing would mar it.
* * *
Henry had just sent a messenger into town to fetch the family’s physician, Dr. Wexler when he heard an abrupt knock on the door to his study.
“Come in,” Henry shouted.
Please let Eleanor be okay. Please let this not be someone coming to bring bad news.
Henry’s mind had so quickly jumped to the worst-case scenario that he was mildly surprised when his door opened to reveal Lady Rosalin Clay.
“Lady Clay,” Henry said, inclining his head in her direction respectfully.
“Your Grace,” Rosalin returned, dropping into a deep curtsy. She was wearing a green satin gown that was covered by a navy-blue traveling cloak. She came into the room, leaving the door just slightly open behind her. “I thank you for allowing me into your home, Your Grace,” Lady Clay said, her voice just audible.
Henry nodded. “Of course, you are welcome here anytime, Lady Clay. You are my wife’s closest friend. You should always be…” But the words caught in Henry’s throat. Henry’s thoughts had become so entangled in first the conversation he overheard between Eleanor and her mother and then in the matter of taking care of his wife that he had completely forgotten about the issue with Lady Clay and Frederick.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace,” Rosalin said smoothly, as though she were choosing to ignore the fact that Henry just stopped talking in the middle of a sentence.
Henry cleared his throat but said nothing. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose in a supercilious manner at Lady Clay.
She took a deep breath and then lifted her chin defiantly. “I can see that Frederick has already spoken to you about our…situation.” She chose her words carefully.
“Yes,” Henry replied, “Lord Barrowdid mention something about an elopement.” Henry put a great deal of emphasis on Frederick’s title as he noted that Lady Clay did not. She had chosen to refer to Frederick in much more informal terms and Henry felt displeased by her careless manner.
“I rather thoughtLord Barrowwould,” Lady Clay responded darkly, also taking a moment now to linger over Frederick’s title.
“You know,” Henry began, “I do not think…” And then his words were cut off when there was a sharp knock on the door. “Come in!” He called out. At once, Henry’s valet entered the room. “Yes, Georges. What is it?”
“I’ve just received word from the messenger, Your Grace. Doctor Wexler will be here shortly.”
“Thank you, Georges,” Henry replied and then the servant exited the room at once.
“Doctor Wexler?” Rosalin asked, her gloved hand flying to her cheek. “Why is the physician coming here at this time of night? Has the Dowager Duchess taken ill?”
