When they were well down the hall, Alwyn said, “Mrs Caspar, though I am confident in my diagnosis, I can ask a licensed doctor to come and verify it. I only came because of the urgency of your message, and Dr Felix’s request that I would see his patients during his absence.”
“No, no.” The woman took a deep breath as they walked alongside each other. “Dr Felix would not have deputed you if he did not deem you competent. But tell me, Mr Alwyn—”
Here she stopped walking, and grasped his arm firmly.
“Were you honest when you said he will recover? His arm…it just hung there. And…he spoke like a stranger.” Her eyes were huge in the pale oval of her face.
“Mrs Caspar, I have seen a number of apoplectic patients. Those who appear as functional as your husband does, tend to recover most of their previous capabilities.” As a safeguard, he added, “There may be residual effects, but exercise and time can work wonders.”
She gave a brave nod, her hand tucked into the solid crook of his arm, and they began to descend the curved staircase.
Halfway down, Alwyn saw a woman standing by the front door below, and although her back was to him, he knew her at once. He paused in his descent, lest he and the lady in his care tumble down the rest of the flight.
Miss Belinda Everson.
He hadn’t thought he would see her in that hour, but there she was. She wore a lavender dress with a cream-coloured shawl draped from the crooks of her arms. The wealth of her lustrous dark hair was piled on top of her head, revealing the ivory nape of her neck.
And she was talking to Sliger.
Seeing how the boy was smiling at her, Alwyn regretted even more that he had allowed him to come along. Pressing Mrs Caspar’s forearm between his arm and torso, he began again to go down the staircase.
Sliger looked up at their approach and stood up straight.
Alwyn cleared his throat just as Miss Everson turned to him. A look of inquiry on her face juddered as their gazes locked.
“Miss…Everson?” he stammered. It sounded every bit a question, and a flash of something darkened her eyes.
“Yes, that is correct, Mr Alwyn.”
“How delightful to see you,” he said, then chided himself.
‘Delightful’? As her uncle lays infirm upstairs?
“Erm, that is…I am pleased to see you, Miss Everson, in spite of the circumstances.”
That is hardly reassuring to a family in distress!
Giving up on trying to salvage the moment, Alwyn squared his shoulders and turned to Mrs Caspar, saying, “With your permission, I will return tomorrow at about this time.”
The woman nodded, pressing her lips together. Alwyn bade the ladies goodbye, and exited the townhouse, beckoning Sliger to follow.
“How did you find the patient?” the boy asked as they started down the street.
Sorting through the muddle of his thoughts, Alwyn tried to answer Sliger in detail, knowing he must record what had happened during the visit in Felix’s log. As he finished doing so, he was sure that he detected a bounce in the boy’s step.
“What were you and Miss Everson discussing while I was seeing to Mr Caspar?” he could not keep himself from asking.
“Oh, she is quite a conversationalist!” Sliger’s voice was a merry sing-song. “It seems she wanted to know all about me.”
Stopping abruptly, Alwyn pivoted on his heel.
“That will not do! You are not to practice your wiles on a patient’s niece, no matter how pretty she may be!”
Looking as if he had been slapped, Sliger stuttered, “I did not mean…forgive me—”
“A proper doctor always keeps at the forefront of his mind that he is meeting a family in their hour of need, and he shows the utmost respect toeverymember of their household.”
Alwyn resumed walking, his jaw aching with tension.
