“Yes, please,” Mr. Price said, wringing his hands together. The one thing a publican might worry about is a sick guest whocould pass on an illness to another at the inn—or worse spread rumors the establishment was one where guests took ill.
Miss Hammond nodded and stood up, gathering her knitting bag as she rose.
Cecilia looked at the woman beside her in surprise. Miss Hammond shrugged. “I learned a bit from Dr. Worcham and now help out in the village as I can.”
She followed Mr. Price upstairs to their parlor.
James came up beside his wife, shaking his head. “How do you do it?” he asked. “Mr. Price said there was a woman in the pub room who had some nursing skills who used to work at the sanatorium, and I returned to find you chatting with that very person.”
Cecilia took his arm and let him lead her to the stairs. She didn’t bother to pretend she didn’t know what he meant. Of all the people at the inn, she’d discovered a person who could provide them with information about the inner workings of the sanatorium.
“A gift?” she asked. “Seriously, she was the only woman in the room and though she sat apart from everyone, I could tell she listened to all that went on. I thought a listener might have the information we need. It was a surprise to discover she formerly worked at the sanatorium!”
“Did she know Mr. Montgomery?”
“I didn’t get a chance to ask her before Mr. Price and you came up to us. She does know Lady Stackpoole. She’d been the matron for the floor where Lady Stackpoole resides.”
“Why is she not yet working at the sanatorium?”
“According to her, she was part of the housekeeping staff and supposed to know her place. She became quite friendly with her ‘ladies’ as she called them, so she was let go as that was against the new superintendent’s rules.”
“Hmm,” James said thoughtfully.
At the top of the stairs, they stopped and looked in the direction of the parlor. The door stood partly ajar, and from within, they heard the muffled sounds of talking. They turned away from the parlor and returned to their room.
A trimmed lantern sat on a bedside table casting a glow across the bed where Sarah had laid out Cecilia’s night rail. The fire in the hearth burned steadily, pushing warm air into the room.
“I saw Sarah when I went looking for Mr. Price. I told her you wouldn’t need her anymore this evening,” James said. He pulled pins out of her hair.
Cecilia turned her head to look at him. “That was forward of you.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s the second time you’ve used that response. What is going on in that magnificent brain of yours?” she asked, turning into his arms.
He smiled down at her. “Thoughts of my amazing wife.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think it is time we rediscover just how amazing we are together.”
His lips hovered over her lips. “Beyond time,” he whispered before his lips touched hers and mutual sighs stirred the air.
CHAPTER 7
THE GAOL
“How is Mr. Stackpoole this morning?” James asked Mr. Price the next morning when he descended the stairs. He and Cecilia had agreed that she would break her fast in their room to perpetuate her impression of delicate health.
“Still sickly. Miss Hammond says it looks like stomach influenza. She said she would be back later this morning to check on him. He’s not to eat. He’s to rest his stomach, she said. We’re to give him plenty to drink. Mrs. Price has made up a big pot of her special tisane as he is partial to it.”
“That is a trifle worrisome as we spent all day yesterday in a closed carriage with him,” James said. “My wife has a delicate constitution,” he explained, unabashedly lying.
Typically, Cecilia was quite hardy, for all her dissimulation of illness. However, she had been frighteningly ill with influenza, and he did not know if she had yet regained all her strength. He would not take chances with her health. While he did not like Cecilia’s idea of becoming a patient at Camden House, if she were to come down with Mr. Stackpoole’s illness, it would be the best place for her to be.
“How far is it to Stamford?” he asked.
“Five miles.”
“And to the gaol?”
