Cecilia looked up at James where he stood behind the sofa and nodded at his words. She looked back at Dr. Worcham. “Iimmediately took to my bed and didn’t rise again for ten long days—I still cough and wheeze a little bit,” she admitted.
“A lot,” corrected James, looking down at her.
Cecilia shrugged in wry agreement. “To my mind, worse than the cough and breathy voice is my fatigue. I can’t seem to shake this awful fatigue. It’s like a weight upon my chest. It is all I can do to get dressed in the morning.”
“My wife is someone who always wants to be doing things. As she is now, doing anything fatigues her. It was suggested to me I take her to a sanatorium for complete rest. So long as she is in our home, she wants to be up and doing, and that just makes it worse,” he said, looking down at her severely.
Cecilia smiled weakly. “I can be stubborn.”
“That does not even go far enough to describe your persistence to be up and doing.”
Dr. Worcham laughed. “I understand. So why are you here, at Camden House? You are far away from where you live and there are sanatoriums being opened all over England and Scotland.”
“Your Camden House Sanatorium was recommended to us by Mr. Stackpoole. He said his mother is happy here.”
Dr. Worcham leaned back. “Ah, you know young Mr. Stackpoole?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “He is an excellent son to his mother, very caring and concerned. It is a pity that she feels so strongly that it is not safe for her in her own home. I know the baron and do not get the impression he would do any harm to his wife; but, what goes on between husband and wife is often unknown. I’ve seen severely beaten women whose husbands were scions of society and appeared to be the mildest mannered of gentlemen.”
“We have not met the baron,” Sir James said. “I understand the baron is not in favor of Mr. Stackpoole’s chosen bride. Sincewe are friends of the fiancée’s family, that colors our impression of the baron.”
“While my wife is here for her health, I am here for another reason as well,” James told him, “which brings me to the second reason I am here. Mr. Stackpoole’s fiancée’s mother requested me to come here.”
Dr. Worcham looked at him curiously. “His fiancée’s mother?”
“Yes, Mrs. Lilias Montgomery,” James said.
“Montgomery?” questioned Dr. Worcham.
“She said her husband was a resident patient here and had died. She asked me to come here to discover more.”
“I don’t understand,” Dr. Worcham said. “You said fiancée’s mother and that implies children.”
James nodded.
“I was aware Mr. Montgomery had been married, though he requested that knowledge be kept secret here, but nothing was ever said to me about children by Mr. Montgomery or his cousin,” Dr. Worcham said.
“Boyd Ratcliffe?”
“Yes.”
Cecilia kept her eyes down. She and James had agreed she was not to appear to know much. Hiding her surprise at Dr. Worcham’s lack of knowledge was difficult.
“Might we not get my wife settled into a room before we continue this conversation? She needs to rest,” James said.
“Yes, of course. We have a room available just down the hall from Lady Stackpoole. It is not as large as you might prefer Ladies who have stayed there in the past have found it quite comfortable. I’ll send for Matron,” Dr. Worcham said, pulling on the bell rope.
Cecilia nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You will not be able to accompany your wife upstairs, Sir James,” Dr. Worcham told him. “Guests are not allowed in the patients’ living areas to preserve respect for others staying on the same floor.”
A woman in a starched white cap and a starched white full apron worn over an ash gray dress entered the room. “You rang for me, Dr. Worcham?”
“Yes, Mildred. This is Lady Branstoke come to stay with us for a bit. Please make her comfortable in Room 5, if you will. She is recovering from an illness, and she is expecting her first child. She is quite worn out.”
“Of course, Doctor. If you will accompany me, my lady,” the austere woman said.
