“Who knows how long that will last?” His shoulders slumped. “When I have another fit, back to the sickroom I’ll go.”
Thea hesitated, torn between conflicting desires. On the one hand, she knew it wasn’t wise to broach the subject of a potential cure for Freddy’s seizures before talking to Gabriel… but she couldn’t sit by and say nothing whilst Freddy suffered, losing hope by the minute—not when she knew of a way to help. Dr. Abernathy’s description of the new treatment ran through her mind.
It may sound unconventional, Miss Kent, he’d said in his Scottish burr,but I assure you that the fasting cure has been around since antiquity. A colleague of mine in Edinburgh has recently refined the technique, and he’s reported astonishing success. My observations suggest that Master Frederick would benefit. His appetite has naturally been down since the attack on his father, and interestingly this has coincided with a reduction in his spells. If you could convince Lord Tremont to consider the treatment, I think it might benefit the young lad greatly.
Treading carefully, Thea said, “Your papa mentioned that you have tried a great many remedies for your condition. If there was yet another, one that showed some promise but had no guarantee of success, would you want to try it?”
“Does the treatment hurt?”
“No, but it isn’t easy,” she said honestly. “It involves following a strict diet—even fasting at times.”
“You mean I don’t get to eat?” His brow furrowed. “I don’t think I’d like that.”
“At the beginning, you’d only be given water, beef tea, and the like. If that helps your symptoms, different foods would gradually be introduced to your diet. You’d have to work with the physician to decide what worsens your spells or makes them better.”
Freddy’s lashes moved rapidly. “Does Papa think I should try this?”
I hope so.Knowing how Gabriel felt about medical treatments, she prayed that he would come around—and not be upset with her for suggesting it.
“First and foremost, he’s concerned about protecting you,” she said with care. “You’ve been through a lot already, dearest, and he doesn’t want you to undergo any unnecessary hardship or disappointment. As I’ve said, the treatment might not work.”
Freddy’s shoulders straightened. “I think I would like to give it a go anyhow.” His smile was wistful. “What have I to lose, after all?”
Pride swelled in her.He’s such a brave boy, and he doesn’t even realize it.
Smiling, she squeezed his hand. “Then we’ll talk to your father together.”
A knock sounded on the door. Jarvis entered and announced the arrival of visitors. Thea had almost forgotten that she’d sent a note to Marianne, asking her to call—and to bring Edward, if she could. Marianne glided in, a vision in a lilac promenade dress trimmed in blond lace. At her heels was her gangly, dark-haired son, who had a wooden box tucked under one arm.
“Good morning to the both of you. Thank you for coming.” Thea rose to receive Marianne’s kiss on the cheek, and Freddy stumbled to his feet as well.
“With all that is going on today, we could all use some distraction. Edward and I happened to be at loose ends.” Removing her bonnet and gloves, Marianne gave her son a little nudge. “Go ahead and introduce yourself, dear.”
Edward shuffled forward. He took after Ambrose with his unruly locks, tall, loose-limbed build, and earnest demeanor. His precociousness he’d inherited from his mother, however, and he had her vivid green eyes as well. Her fashion sense clearly had a hand in his smart outfit, which included a checkered waistcoat and trousers tucked into gleaming, boy-sized boots.
“How d’you do? Edward Kent at your service,” he said with a grave little bow.
“I’m Frederick Ridgley, Viscount Waverly. But you can call me Freddy, if you like.” The boy’s face reddened, and after an awkward pause, he blurted, “I’m eight years old.”
“You don’tlookeight. I’m eight, and I’m much taller than you,” Edward observed.
“Manners, Edward,” Marianne admonished.
“But it’s true. Why is it impolite to speak the truth, Mama?” Edward directed a puzzled glance at her.
“Because some truths are best kept to oneself. You must consider how your words will affect others before speaking them.”
A notch formed between Edward’s brows. “You mean I should think things but sometimes not say them?”
“That’s the general idea, yes,” Marianne said wryly.
After a moment, Edward gave a brisk nod. “My apologies,” he said to Freddy, “I didn’t mean to be rude. That is, Iamtaller than you, but that doesn’t signify anything. My uncle Harry is a scientist, and he and I once performed an experiment with beans.”
“Beans?” Freddy said uncertainly.
“We grew them using the exact same amount of soil and water, yet all of the plants sprouted at different rates. Uncle Harry said the nature of the seed is just as important as the conditions in which it is grown. All the beans themselves turned out equally fine, however,”—Edward shrugged—“so in the end it doesn’t really matter which plant grows the fastest or tallest, does it?”
Freddy blinked owlishly. “Um, I suppose not.”
