“Your lungs are weak and need no restriction. You shouldn’t wear a corset for at least a month, so that your lungs might strengthen again.”
Faith gave her an incredulous look.
“Have you lost your senses? I can’t go about without a corset on.”
“You absolutely can and will. You may wear dresses that tie in the back.”
“And what of this one?”
Grace looked at it.
“We’ll wrap you in a shawl.”
Faith shook her head and got out of bed, only to look down at her chemise. Though she had been changed daily, she hadn’t washed herself in some time and urgently desired to do so.
“Perhaps a bath first?”
Grace paused, then nodded.
“Yes, I think so.”
It took over an hour to scrub, clean, and dress herself. The maid who had attended her when Faith first arrived, a girl known as Kassandra, helped to brush out and wrap her curls as Faith sat at the table.
A knock at the door caused her to panic slightly. But when Arabella’s head popped through the crack of the door, Faith smiled.
“I heard you were up and about,” she said, though her eyes went to Grace. “May I come in?”
“Yes,” Grace said. “The maids took all the sheets and clothing and the windows have been open all morning. I don’t see why not.”
Arabella came in, carrying a flat, square wooden box. She beamed at the both of them.
“I brought you a chess board, to see if you were up to playing it?”
Faith smiled. She and Grace had become fans of the game during their time abroad.
“Yes. That would be lovely. Although, I must admit, I’m not very good. But I do enjoy it.”
“Papa will be glad to hear it. He’s been so worried that you might play just as well as your sister,” she said, nodding toward Grace.
“Have you been playing Mr. Harris?” Faith asked.
“Yes. He’s quite good.”
“Not a good as you, though,” Arabella said, causing the barest of pinks to color Grace’s cheeks.
Faith smirked, enjoying her sister’s discomfort. Grace wasn’t often praised by people outside the family for her intellect. It had always been more of a hinderance to her to be so clever, and it was nice to see others take notice.
“Your father is a worthy opponent.”
“I will tell him you said so. He will be very pleased to hear you think so.”
“If he will listen to you, might I suggest trying to get him to see Dr. Barkley?” Grace said. “He’s in need of a physical. I’m not particularly pleased with his gait when he walks, northe inflammation around his neck. I’ve tried to diagnosis him several times during our evening chess matches, but he refuses to hear it.”
“I hope you do not hold it against him. Papa is stubborn. Logan and I have tried to convince him to visit Dr. Hall for ages, but he refuses.”
“Dr. Hall?” Grace said, her full attention to Arabella. “Aren’t his practices a bit…contemporary for someone like your father? I should think you’d have more luck with Dr. Barkley, considering his age.”
“Age isn’t the issue. It wouldn’t matter if Dr. Hall was older than Dr. Barkley. Papa refuses to see anyone, which is why I hope you were not offended by his dismissal when you tried to help him, although I’m sure he was baffled to learn about your studies. A female doctor is a rarity. He says you’re by far the strictest practitioner he’s ever encountered.”
