Betsy stomped from the kitchen, seething angry words beneath her breath. Claire could have told her that the gentry rarely took notice of the staff and that regardless of Gabriel’s inclinations toward his housekeeper, it was unlikely that he would rise to the defense of a mere housemaid.
Men of his station tended toward a distinct blindness toward the staff. Even if he agreed with Betsy, he’d not condone her causing a ruckus and disrupting the even keel of his household. But Betsy was young and would have to learn these things in her own way. Better she take the lesson now and accept her dismissal with good grace and the reference that Claire had offered than to find herself in a worse position for her insolence.
As she separated out the gingerbread dough into pans and prepared to slip them into the oven, the patter of small feet caught her attention. From the hallway she heard an anxious call.
“Master Matthew, youmustreturn to your lessons!”
Matthew shot into view through the doorway, and he skittered across the kitchen floor, flying in all haste toward the terrace. “Bet you can’t catch me!” he threw off over his shoulder to the governess, who scrambled after him.
“No,” Claire choked out as he reached for the doorknob. “Matthew, wait—”
He caught sight of her and scrunched up his face in open defiance. Then in one smooth motion he cast open the door and darted out onto the terrace—where he swiftly encountered Alice, who had been assigned the task of beating the downstairs rugs free of dust. A great plume of it crested into the air on the wings of one massive whack, and Matthew ran straight into the thick of it.
A moment later Claire heard a wheeze, and then a hack, and then a succession of deep, wracking coughs. Her heart in her throat, she dashed for the door, snatching a cloth off the counter.
“Call the doctor,” she shouted to Sukey, who gave a vicious start, mid-sweep with the broom. “Call for his lordship—for God’s sake, Sukey, gonow!”
∞∞∞
A rap on the doorjamb startled Gabriel out of the daze he’d been in for last half hour or so, ever since one of the downstairs maids had intruded upon his solitude for the express purpose of complaining of Claire. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why a housemaid had thought he would have countered Claire’s dismissal, but the girl had been most put out by that fact. Still, it had sat ill with him that the servants felt so free to belittle their superior, no matterwhatthe provocation.
Betsy had not minced her words, and he had surprised himself with the roiling fury they had aroused in him. It was his fault, after all, that their opinions of Claire had dropped so drastically.
He lifted his head. “Yes, what is it—” He paused, searching for the correct name that surely had to be buried somewhere in his memory. “Sukey?” he ventured at last, and was gratified when the girl dropped a brief curtsey.
She pressed her lips together. “Mrs. Hotchkiss said to send for you,” she said at last. “There’s been an incident. Your—your son needs the doctor.”
Matthew. “Show me,” he said, shoving himself out of his chair. “And then send for Bradshaw. He’ll know the doctor’s direction.”
She led him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Claire knelt before Matthew, who was seated in the kitchen chair. Each of his breaths came in a painful-sounding wheeze, and Claire was murmuring soothing nonsense as she patted his face with a cloth, wiping away a fine layer of dust that coated him.
Her fingers shook, and her brows knitted over eyes that were darker even than usual, full of pain and fear.
“He ran onto the terrace,” she said in a thin, frightened voice as his shadow loomed over her. “Alice was beating the rugs. The dust—the dust—” Her voice broke off, and she resumed those gentle strokes over Matthew’s face, though he twisted in his chair.
Without even considering the wisdom of such an action, he crouched beside her, one hand on her shoulder. “Claire,” he said. “It’s all right. We’ll get him upstairs, use the blend Dr. Barnes gave us. He’s going to be fine.” As an afterthought he added, “I’ve sent for Dr. Barnes, just to be safe.”
With a ragged sob, her head tucked up against his shoulder. But when she stirred herself to take Matthew into her arms, he wrenched himself away from her.
“No!” he said fiercely, his voice raspy and his breathing labored. “I want Papa!”
As if he’d struck out at her, Claire flinched. Her hands fell listlessly to her sides. “Of course,” she said at last in a dull, wounded tone. Scuttling backward, she created enough space with her absence for Gabriel to sweep in and lift Matthew into his arms. The boy wrapped his thin arms about Gabriel’s neck, his head settling onto Gabriel’s shoulder with a weak cough. The catch and scrape of his breaths through his throat were worrisome.
Claire hung behind them like an abused puppy, trailing at some distance as if she expected to be rebuffed yet again. She twisted her fingers, which had turned white with the strain, and her face was pinched with worry. She hovered outside the nursery as Gabriel settled Matthew into bed and collected the implements needed, the small bottle of powdered belladonna and strammonium held in his hand.
“I—I’ll go wait for the doctor,” she said at last, and teetered away, as fragile as if her legs had been spun from glass.
Doubtless she felt she no longer belonged within her own family. The thought send a stray prick of guilt to his conscience. After all, she’d made him feel part of hers.
But she hadn’t lethimbepart of it.
∞∞∞
Claire hovered outside the nursery door, well aware that she was not wanted within and yet helpless not to eavesdrop.
Dr. Barnes had arrived promptly. Surprisingly, he had not quailed when Gabriel had this time proclaimed Matthew to be his son. He had only greeted Matthew in as friendly a manner as he had on the previous occasion he had been summoned and withdrawn his stethoscope from its small case to listen to Matthew’s lungs through his raspy breaths.
“A mild attack,” he pronounced at last. “There is even, I feel, some improvement in the lungs since last time. There’s no reason to expect any lasting complications—though I would advise you not to go playing in dust clouds, young man,” he said severely to Matthew.
