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“I thought it was. She came to your father’s room, and we…disagreed a little. But if your father prefers to have his valet with him, that’s fine.”
“I doubt it.” Kenver was certain that Felch would find sickroom tasks distasteful. He’d often thought personal service was an odd choice of profession for such an overly fastidious man. Felch obviously preferred clothes to living people.
“Your father did say he liked my reading.”
“Of course he does. Who would not?”
“Your mother?” replied Sarah wryly.
“I will go and see Papa and find out what he wants.”
Kenver found Felch hovering uneasily by his father’s bedside, under the interested eye of the nurse. He lingered in the doorway to listen.
“You have not tended me through this illness,” his father was saying.
“I was given to understand that the doctor and nurse were far more skilled,” Felch replied.
“So why are you here now?”
“You are much better,” said the valet, as if it was something he’d learned by rote.
“Yet still bedridden,” Papa pointed out.
“Her ladyship wishes it.”
“I believe you are employed by me?”
“Her ladyship thinks I could be of help.” Felch didn’t sound enthusiastic.
Indeed, Kenver thought, there would be nothing for him to do here but straighten pillows and assist his father with personal hygiene matters, which was not Felch’s forte. “She’s also ordered Sarah to stay away,” he said.
His father turned his head and noticed him. “What? I like her reading. She has helped me a great deal.”
Meeting his father’s direct gaze, Kenver realized that he knew something about how much Sarah and her mother had helped. Whether Papa realized that they had saved his life, he wasn’t certain.
“Her ladyship gave orders,” said Felch.
That was a fiat at Poldene. No response was expected.
“I say otherwise,” declared his father.
Felch looked startled, briefly relieved, and then impassive.
Kenver imagined that the same thought was going through all three of their minds. Who was to tell her so? It was not a mission anyone would want. And yet it had to be done. “I’ll let her know,” he said.
His father stared. Felch bowed and went out. Kenver listened to his footsteps recede down the corridor. They did not turn into the dressing room next door, as he had been concerned they might.
“Good riddance to that sourpuss,” said the nurse.
Both he and his father started. Kenver had forgotten she was there. “Perhaps you would like to go downstairs and have a cup of tea,” Kenver said to her.
With a shrug, Mrs. Dillon gathered her knitting and departed.
“Thank you,” said his father.
Kenver knew he was referring to his earlier offer. He was surprised to find himself in an alliance with Papa, disputing his mother’s wishes.
“And you’ll tell Sarah to come back,” Papa added.
