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Chapter 9
“What is the diagnosis, doctor?” Marcus asked, trying to move to the edge of the bed. He brushed his temples with both hands, trying his best to dislodge the headache, just by moving his fingers against the skin on his temple.
“Exhaustion, I think.” The doctor’s words hung heavily in the room. Marcus looked up, catching Walter’s gaze, whose eyes had widened in surprise.
“I beg your pardon?” Marcus said, turning back to the doctor. “I’m ill all the time because of exhaustion? Just that?”
“It is the body’s defence mechanism,” the doctor said, shrugging as he moved to the chair nearest to Marcus and sat down. “We all have different ways in which our bodies respond to such things. Some people have migraines, others sickness and headaches, some merely feel dizzy and faint.”
“You’re just tired then,” Walter said, cocking one eyebrow.
“It’s not that simple,” the doctor said, shaking his head at Walter. “I understand that you have been taxing yourself recently, my lord?” He addressed Marcus with these words.
“Not so much,” Marcus said hurriedly, though he returned his hand to his temple, desperate to abate the headache.
“That’s a lie,” Walter said, striding forward. “Since James’ funeral, you have barely stopped. You rise early, go to bed late, and every hour in between is spent working, trying to understand the estate and the accounts.”
“You have been working on it too!”
“Not as hard as you,” Walter said with feeling. “Quite frankly, I do not have the energy for it.” He huffed and sat down in another chair near the window of Marcus’ chamber. “After how hard you have been working, it’s hardly surprising you’ve driven yourself into illness.”
“Well, I can hardly stop now, can I?” Marcus said, dropping his hands and asking the question wildly. Since James’ funeral, he had thought of nothing else other than getting on top of business matters and the estate. What other choice did he have than to work himself into the ground?
“If you wish to avoid these headaches every day, then I suggest something else,” the doctor said, reaching forward. “Here, try this.” He proffered a small glass vial for Marcus to drink.
“What is this?”
“It is a tonic. Feverfew, meadowsweet, and red clover. Excellent for headaches.”
Marcus happily took the vial of discoloured liquid and downed it all, along with the small dried green and pink leaves before he gagged and nearly spat the thing back out again.
“Ergh, that was bitter,” Marcus said before passing the glass bottle back to the doctor.
“So it is, but highly effective,” the doctor said. “I will leave some of these bottles for you, and can arrange for more to be delivered, but my suggestion is that you take a break from whatever work you are doing that is overtaxing you so.”
Marcus was aware of Walter fidgeting in his chair at this news.
“I am afraid that is not possible,” Marcus said hurriedly. “My brother…my eldest brother has lately passed. It rests on my shoulders to ensure things are done now.”
“Well, they can’t be done any faster if you have a headache every day, can they?” the doctor said perceptively, looking at Marcus over his glasses.
“Marcus, maybe a break is a good idea,” Walter said, earning Marcus’ attention from across the room.
“You know it is not possible.”
“Why not?” Walter asked, leaning forward in his seat with more animation. “Take a week. Take two. Go to the club in London and have that break. Besides, after that when the Season starts, Father will parade you around every event there is. You’ll be even more exhausted then.”
“What of business matters?” Marcus asked nervously, rearranging the loose collar of the shirt around his neck. “I cannot abandon them.”
“You won’t be,” Walter said, holding his gaze. “The steward and I can keep an eye on things for a little while. We will be well, as I said, I can hardly bring myself to work for as long as you were doing regardless.” He shrugged with good humour, but Marcus couldn’t smile.
It felt rather like running away from his problems just to go up to town.
“Doctor, would you mind giving me a few minutes alone with my brother?” Marcus asked. The doctor nodded and moved to his feet, leaving the room. Once the door was closed, Walter walked toward Marcus across the room. “Walter, it is unfair of me to ask you to take on a task that is driving me into the ground.”
“You are not asking me to. I am offering it,” Walter said pointedly as he reached Marcus’ side. “God, you truly do look ill.”
“Thank you,” Marcus said sardonically, earning a small laugh from Walter.
