Sharon Sobel (7 page)

“He must not sacrifice himself for nought,” she sighed melodramatically.

“You are too modest, my lady. I would not consider winning your hand in marriage to be of little consequence. The rewards would be very great.”

“So is my pain! Please leave me, Mr. Queensman, for I fear there is nothing you can do, for all your reputed skills!”

So rarely had a patient dismissed him, he felt unprepared for the flicker of anger it produced. The lady would not have Raeborn, but she would not have him either. And so it cut at his pride.

“But I did not say I could do nothing, my lady. I could find nothing wrong, but physicians rarely concede their own powerlessness.” Still holding her, he unbuttoned her nightdress at the wrist with his free hand, and pushed up her sleeve. “It
is an age-old cure I propose, one guaranteed to release the fever. It would be a pity to scar your flesh, but you give me no alternative.”

She sat up at once, and pulled her arm away with a strength unusual in a woman, let alone one on her deathbed. Ben had the grace to look surprised, though he had managed to get the very response he desired.

“I will not be bled!” Lady Larkspur hissed at him. “I remember what the butchers who called themselves physicians did to my grandmother, and I will not be so violated! You call yourself a doctor, sir, but if you do what you propose, your services would be better employed at the charnel house!”

“Lark! Dear girl, you are returned to us!” Lady Leicester cried from her chair, and rushed to the bed. “Mr. Queensman, we are forever indebted to you for the restoration of our daughter, for she seems entirely back in spirit. Whatever did you do to enact a cure so quickly?”

I threatened her with real physical pain, Ben thought ruefully, knowing how unworthy it was of him to have done it. Instead, he said nothing, merely watching his artful patient being gathered into her mother’s arms. Over Lady Leicester’s soft shoulder, Lady Larkspur scowled at him.

“It is an experimental treatment, rarely used, madam. It jolts the patient into an excited state and rids her body of ill humors.”

“Dare we hope its effects are permanent? Is my daughter’s progress assured? I am eager to give the family the good news, sir. Her father will be forever grateful.”

As the lady spoke, her recalcitrant daughter started to slip from her arms like sand through a sieve. Her eyes closed, and she made little gasping noises, as if she were deprived of air to breathe. Lady Leicester set her down gently on the pillows and turned to Ben, her expression distraught.

If the damned girl does not die of her own willfulness, someone ought to hasten her progress, he thought angrily. To subject her caring family to such torture seemed unforgivable.

“What has happened, sir? We cannot lose her, for we love her so.” Lady Leicester lifted a paint-stained hand to her forehead. “What shall we tell Lord Raeborn?”

On the other hand, to force a young girl to marry an aged man who cared for her only as an investment for the future was unforgivable in its own way.

“My lady,” he began slowly, “we must tell Lord Raeborn and your family that she is not yet recovered.”

From the pillow, the bright eyes flickered.

But Lady Leicester demanded his attention. “Is there any hope for it? What must we do? Please understand, Mr. Queensman, our family will spare no expense for her recovery. And your generous cousin made a similar offer, though there is no reason. We are quite able to manage, of course.”

“I am sure Raeborn did not doubt your ability but only meant to ensure your willingness. Perhaps he also intended to confirm his own interests in the case, which he tells me are considerable,” Ben said diplomatically. Indeed, if Raeborn made such an offer, it appeared his interests were greater than even Ben imagined. The old man had never been known for his open hand.

“Of course. He assures us he has admired Larkspur from afar for many years and is prepared to treat her kindly.” The good mother’s voice faltered over the last few words.

“I am sure of it. And yet …” Ben hesitated, wondering how to phrase his question without sounding like a medieval herbalist. “Is there any talk of love?”

“Love?” Lady Leicester was justifiably amused. “Why, Mr. Queensman, you are more of a romantic than I would credit you! How can there be such a thing, when Lark and Raeborn have scarcely met? And remember, she only recently gave her heart to another.”

“That is precisely the problem. My lady, your daughter is lovesick, for she has been dealt a blow to her heart by one who disappointed her most severely. Raeborn’s current declaration eases nothing, but may only add to her burden.”

“I see,” Lady Leicester said, though clearly she did not. “Do you propose we marry them hastily, so she may come to love your cousin? Would that do?”

Ben was not prepared for the lady’s decisiveness.

“I believe such matters take some time.”

The lady’s smile broadened. “Mr. Queensman, if I may be a bit impertinent, have you ever been in love yourself?”

He had nothing to lose by telling her the truth, or at least most of it. For he could hardly reveal that her recalcitrant daughter was the only lady he had ever met who managed to ignite certain unbidden sparks in the solid timber of his sensibility.

“I have had little time in my life to engage in such sport, my lady. I have studied hard and have used my knowledge more energetically than most physicians. As you may know, I operate a small hospital for the poor in Brighton. It requires a good deal of me, and I have yet to meet a woman anxious for such a rival.”

Lady Leicester patted his hand with motherly comfort. “I am sure there is such a lady, Mr. Queensman. She will not be the sort of spoiled young chit you are likely to find in fashionable circles, but a woman of developed character. Perhaps someone who has been ill herself, and will think on your patients with compassion.”

“I will not give up hope, then.”

“But what do you propose to do?”

Ben felt at a loss to defend himself, for unlike Raeborn, he imagined no set path to finding a wife. And, no matter her kindness, he did not intend to explain such things to Lady Leicester.

When he did not answer, she added helpfully, “With my daughter, sir. If it is only love that can cure her, how may we hasten its arrival?”

“Ah, yes,” Ben said gratefully. “Love may very well do the trick, but it is not the only solution I propose. Lady Larkspur must be distracted from her extreme distress and would do well with a change of scenery. Remaining here in bed, receiving only family members and doing little to alleviate boredom cannot be beneficial to her health. I prescribe a change of scenery.”

He left the bedside to approach the shrouded window and drew the heavy velvet aside. It was a glorious day, the sort that would tempt him to leave his hospital and walk upon the beach if he were in Brighton. The window clasp moved easily between his fingers, making him suspect it had been used often, and recently. He opened the pane, welcoming in the sweet air of the garden below.

“Should we bring her outside? I thought it myself, sir! For I have ever been an advocate of a daily walk and out-door endeavor. I
believe my daughters have been healthier for it … until Lark took ill.”

Ben turned and smiled encouragingly. “I thought it myself, my lady, for it is unusual to see a family of five natural beauties. And so we shall return Lady Larkspur to her sisters’ excellent company. But I think a turn in the park insufficient to produce the sort of cure we desire in this case. I should like to remove your daughter from London and bring her to the seaside.”

Lady Leicester frowned. “We once summered in Margate, when the girls were very little. It is no longer fashionable, but I suppose we might rent a cottage near the beach.”

“It sounds perfectly delightful, but I rather thought she might do better in a sanatorium.”

“Goodness! That seems very severe! Are they not reserved for the very ill or the very old?”

“Indeed they are, my lady. But are we not talking about your daughter’s life? She will be in excellent company.”

“And are there such things in Margate?”

Ben took a deep breath. “There are not. But I am thinking of a very fine destination farther south, where the king’s own physician has established a respite. Mr. Knighton attracts only the finest patients.”

“In Dover? Or Eastbourne, perhaps?”

“Not quite. In Brighton, in the very shadow of the king’s new Pavilion,” Ben explained. “And there is yet another advantage, of course. It is very close to my own home, so I will be available to look in on Lady Larkspur from time to time.”

From beneath the cover on the bed, the lady Larkspur aroused herself sufficiently from her stupor to cry out a hearty protest.

“It is the worst of all possible occurrences,” Lark complained for the hundredth time, pulling at the flowers on her bonnet.

Miss Janet Tavish braced herself against the leather cushions of their small prison while the carriage took a sharp turn. The ride already exceeded the endurance of her patience, and she thought anything preferable to once again reiterating their awkward circumstances.

“I thought the worst circumstance was to be married to Lord Raeborn,” she murmured wearily. “Or that you would die.”

Lark loosened a silk flower and sent it flying against the window. “There was never any danger of it, as well you know! But who can say what vapors I shall breathe in this cursed sanatorium! I may well die from exposure to others!”

“If you do, you will at least be rewarded in your last moment by knowing it was all for the evasion of a hateful marriage. I have not anything near your excuse, Lark.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“As your companion, I will be exposed to the same illnesses. If I take ill and die, I will gain nothing.”

Lark pursed her lips, in the way she did when she tried to be coaxing. It was a look Janet knew too well. “Is not our friendship worth anything? I shall put up a monument to your memory and cherish you always.”

“It is a great consolation,” Janet grumbled.

“And does not this journey provide others?” Lark continued. “If not for the fact I am supposed to be dying, it might be a delightful holiday.”

“My dear girl, I think you fail to consider the severity of our purpose.”

Lark fell back against the cushions and looked unhappily out the window. She could already see the sea and sniff the salt in the cool air. Within an hour they should arrive at Mr. Knighton’s sanatorium.

“I do not,” she said sadly. “If only fortune had smiled on me and persuaded Lord Raeborn to look elsewhere for a wife. If only my father had relented and allowed me to recover myself in due course. If only that insufferable doctor had minded his own business—”

“Mr. Queensman? I do not think anyone else considers him offensive. In fact—”

“I do not wish to hear it, Janet! Why he is universally adored by my traitorous family is beyond my comprehension. And why they should trust him over anyone else is absurd. He does nothing to warrant it.”

“Perhaps not, though his attendance to Lord Southard in America must warrant some respect. And have you not considered his purpose in bringing you to Brighton?”

“His purpose? It can only be to torment me further.”

“Unless it is to grant you time during which Raeborn might reconsider his suit or offer his admiration elsewhere.”

“You forget he is aligned with that odious gentleman and seeks to further his cause.”

“But he has no reason to do so, since the success of Raeborn’s marriage might deprive him of an inheritance.”

Lark sighed, having worked herself into this corner before. And yet she could think of no other reason for Mr. Queensman’s insistence on bringing her to Brighton but to allow her an escape from a marriage to his cousin.

“I might manage to drown in the sea,” she mused aloud.

“You are so able a swimmer, no one would believe it,” Janet reminded her.

“But the sea is hardly the pond at Leicester Park! There are waves and currents and all sorts of beastly creatures lurking about.”

“I am sure there are, but we will have the protection of a bathing machine and a dipper if we venture out to swim. Lily told me Martha Gunn herself is employed at Knighton’s, having been recently persuaded to leave her position at Margate. She is reported to be very diligent.”

“And dips her customers only in the safest waves? I think I should resent her intrusion.”

“Most certainly, if you wish to drown. Mrs. Gunn will surely not allow it.”

Lark was preparing a suitable retort when a shaft of bright light broke through the glass of their window. She squinted at the view and promptly forgot her discontent.

“Oh, Janet, just look at it! And here we shall spend the next months? It is heaven compared to the city!”

Indeed, the grandeur of the sea stretched out before them. The day was so clear Lark imagined she could see the cliffs of a distant shore. The blue water, dotted with the occasional fishing boat, looked calm and peaceful, harboring none of the dangers of which Lark professed great concern. Gulls flew gracefully about, several showing the courage to come very close to their moving carriage.

“You look a little too healthy, my dear,” Janet reminded her.

“Have no fear, for I have sufficient time to compose myself
properly,” Lark said with confidence. After all, in recent weeks, she had become very expert at it.

“Perhaps not. Do you not think those turrets are the towers of the Royal Pavilion? I have read they resemble nothing so much as turnips, and yonder bulbs certainly match the description.”

Lark followed Janet’s gaze out the opposite window to what likely was the building popularly called the King’s Folly, built at great cost, and still not completed. There were many who considered it an architectural nightmare. Lark rather thought it looked a sultan’s dream.

“We are very close to our destination,” Lark whispered, the great burden of her role restored to her. The last several hours, in no one’s company but Janet’s, she had allowed herself to imagine them young girls on holiday, with no cares but to keep their faces out of the sun and dress warmly enough for the chill of the evening. But her life was not destined to be so simple and pleasurable, for she now faced a whole new audience who needed to be convinced of her failing health.