If I’m to become a lady’s companion, I will be expected to welcome any number of strangers, and make them comfortable.
She stepped out to engage the fellow.
“Good day.”
The boy’s head snapped up, and a grin overtook his face.
“Have you come with the doctor?” she asked.
“Erm…I was permitted to come along. However, I was then directed to stay preciselyhere.” He laughed, pointing at the floor.
Told to stay downstairs? Ah, perhaps Aunt Rose thought Minnie would be overwhelmed at being examined at all, let alone bytwounfamiliar men.
Belinda smiled and introduced herself.
Taking the hand she offered, he bowed over it with remarkable chivalry. “Theodore Sliger, future doctor of Brittania, at your service.”
Lindy’s eyes raced over his face as she couldn’t help but compare every detail of him to those of another student, whose possible appearance had frazzled her so completely.
“Tell me, Mr Sliger, which subject is currently of greatest interest to you in your studies?”
“Would you think me brutish if I confessed it to be Dissection?” He grimaced, winning her with his easy manner.
“Of course not. As a doctor, you will need to know the scope of human anatomy, and how better to get at its heart?”
“Ah, clever!” He chuckled, then tilted his head in interest. “And you, Miss Everson, have you lived here on Hertford Street all of your life?”
“Oh no — hardly a week of it.” Then, feeling as if she were telling him about someone besides herself, she boldly added, “I’ve come to town to find employment as a lady’s companion.”
There! Now I have formally acknowledged it,she thought, then forged ahead in her attempts to continue their tête-à-tête in a proper lady’s-companion-fashion.
Scolding Sliger
HAVING COMPLETED his examination of Mr George Caspar, Alwyn put his pencil away and read over the notes he had jotted down. Mrs Caspar was looking at him expectantly as she sat on the bed, her hand resting protectively on her husband’s shoulder.
The diagnosis was clear — thus the brevity of the evaluation — but that did not make it easy news to deliver. Although the patient seemed inattentive, slumped against the headboard, Alwyn thought it only proper to address him directly.
“Mr Caspar,” he began. “It seems that you have suffered an apoplectic fit.”
Hearing Mrs Caspar’s sharp intake of breath, her husband turned to her, his face expressing just as much confusion as concern.
“Dear, why…are you crying?” His mouth was sloppy as it struggled to form the words. He looked again at Alwyn. “And who…is this?”
“This is Mr Alwyn,” his wife reminded him, her voice breaking, as she had introduced the young man earlier. “He’s come to see you at my request, George darling.”
“Am I…ill?” As if suddenly noticing that he was tucked into bed, Mr Caspar moved to push the covers off, but his right arm was laggard in its intended motion. He stared at the limb as it lay heavily in his lap. “What’s happened…to me?”
Mrs Caspar turned her eyes imploringly to Alwyn.
Steady,he told himself.Exude confidence that they may trust all will be well.
“As I was saying, Mr Caspar, it seems you have suffered an attack, but based on what I see, I believe you will soon recover.”
It did not seem the patient was listening as he pawed at his mouth with his left hand, then drew it away, wet with strands of spittle.
Using the wrinkled handkerchief she had been clutching, Mrs Caspar dabbed at her husband’s face and hand before carefully climbing off of the bed.
“Dearest, why don’t you rest while I see Mr Alwyn out?” With the care one would show a young child, she helped him re-situate himself under the covers, then led Alwyn out of the room, nodding at the footman standing sentinel by the door.
