Shaking her head, she went to search for Dr. Barkley to inquire about what sort of food would be best for Graham to eat as he recovered.
That week’s activities had certainly distracted her, but now that Graham was well on the mend, Hope had never been happier. Graham certainly seemed to feel the same way.
Hope searched the parlor, and then the library, only to find both empty. Deciding that Dr. Barkley was probably in her aunt’s office, she headed there. She was just about to round the corner when she heard the disgruntled voice of Belle whispering so harshly that it caused Hope to stop in her tracks.
“And furthermore, I will not have you or anyone else tell me how to live my life,” she spoke as the soft ‘thud’ of her cane tapped the floor with finality.
“Lady Belle, I must insist you reconsider.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ve seen this in several other patients. Peritonitis is not an easy disease. It will only get worse. Now, there are beliefs that a warmer climate could help—”
“For the last time, I will not remove myself from this home,” she continued. “Now, are there no other treatments?”
“Besides the morphine, no. Dr. Hall and I have discussed your condition at length and I must reiterate—”
“I’ve heard quite enough. After you attend MacKinnon, you are dismissed.”
Hope’s hand covered her mouth.
“Dismissing me won’t change your diagnosis,” he said evenly.
“I believe you said it would be a good idea to get a second opinion.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t I the third doctor you’ve seen for this? See a dozen doctors, see a hundred if you like. Perhaps you’ll find one or two who disagree with the prognosis, but it won’t change the fact that unless you leave Scotland for a considerable amount of time, your decline will be rapid and irreversible.”
Hope’s brow furrowed.
“You may leave, Dr. Barkley,” Belle said stiffly.
The doctor sighed. “Very well.”
Footsteps sounded from the room. Suddenly aware of how incriminating it would appear for Hope to be caught eavesdropping, she stood up and walked directly into the room, slamming into the doctor.
“Oaf!” the older man said, dropping his bag.
“Oh! Dr. Barkley! I didn’t see you there,” she said, bending to help him gather his things. “I came rushing down the hallway without thinking.
“Not at all,” the doctor said stiffly. He stood up and straightened his coat. “Good day, Miss Sharpe.”
“Of course. Good day,” Hope said, swiveling sideways to let him pass.
She turned back to face the office door. Hope entered the room fully and saw Belle sitting in a winged back chair, one hand clenched around her cane tightly. She smiled at Hope, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and she tried to stand. Hope instantly came towards her, kneeling before her to prevent her from rising.
“Oh, there’s no need for you to get up, Aunt Belle.”
“Nonsense,” she said swatting at her hand as she stood, forcing Hope to stand as well. “How does MacKinnon fare?”
“Very well,” Hope said, watching her aunt carefully. “The wound is clean and the edges seem to be healing.”
“That’s good.”
“And how are you feeling? Surely the doctor wasn’t pleased to see you in your office so early.”
“Bah, Barkley simply isn’t used to seeing such a healthy woman.”
Hope nodded slowly, though she kept a close eye on her aunt.
