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“Nothing.”
“Then I trust you shall have a refreshing rest this afternoon.”
“Resting is about all I’m good for these days,” he grumbled.
“You might wish to converse with the captain,” she suggested. “I am sure he would enjoy seeing a different face than mine and Mr. Siddons.”
“Siddons I don’t doubt, but your face I am sure he does not mind.”
“’Tis kind of you to say so.”
He eyed her. “You be careful, young lady, what you’re about. He’ll be headed back to war soon.”
“Yes. And we shall wish him well. When heiswell, I should say.”
“You have no interest there?”
“How could I?” she said as blithely as she could. “Not when I have you and Mama to keep me company, and when he is heading off to battle.”
His stern gaze quite unsettled her, so after enquiring a final time about his well-being, she escaped, closing the door and leaning against it with a sigh. She could not afford to care, that was true. So it would behoove her to ignore the other pain-ridden soldier resting in the room directly above.
The doctor arrived later the next afternoon. Mr. Siddons conducted him straight to Grandfather, where the doctor pronounced himself satisfied—albeit warning him, not for the first time, to avoid wine—then headed upstairs to the captain’s room. Not half an hour after his arrival saw that of the Bellinghams, whom Theo conducted straight into the drawing room, before wheeling her grandfather out to meet them.
“Ah, Giles, Elvira. Good to see you.” He nodded, his brow lowering as he glanced at Frederick, who wore his own frown whenever he looked at Theo.
“It is lovely to be at Stapleton Court once again,” Lady Bellingham trilled. “I have quite missed my comfortable chats with Letitia and dear Theodosia.”
“It is a shame this weather has proved so disagreeable,” Mama said.
Conversation centered on the rising levels of the Till and the scandalous price of sheep. As such conversation required little input from the youngest members of the party, Theo was unsurprised when Frederick turned to her, looking for all intents and purposes as if he wished to conduct a private conversation of his own.
“I trust you are well, Miss Bellingham.”
“Thank you, yes. I rarely get sick.”
“I know.” He gazed at her with a soft look that filled her with misgiving. Would he return to his declarations of several weeks before? She hastened her attention back to the others.
“I hope no other members of your household are unwell.”
Her gaze snapped back to him. “I beg your pardon?”
“The servants. I trust they are not suffering from a disease of a communicable nature.”
“Thank you, but they are well, and you really need not concern yourself with the state of our servants’ health.”
He gestured to where the doctor’s gig could still be seen. “Dr. Linton is here.”
“Yes. He has been visiting somewhat regularly to check on Grandfather’s health.”
“I see.” His brow creased. “And yet the general is here with us, and the doctor does not appear to be leaving. So if he’s not visiting him now, or any of the servants, then what keeps him here?”
Perhaps she had underestimated Frederick’s wits. For a long moment, she struggled with what to say. Utter a lie she would not, but admit to the real identity of their mystery guest she was loath to do. She battled for a moment longer before saying slowly, “That is a good question.”
She glanced at Becky, who immediately pushed to her feet, as if glad for the excuse, and drew near. “Was there something I could help you with, Miss Stapleton?”
“I wondered if you might be a dear and discover what keeps the good doctor here. I believe he has already seen Grandfather.”
“Oh, yes. He’s probably here to see—”
