“We…admire each other.”
“You’ve fallen in love with one another.”
Hyacinth felt her own cheeks turn pink. “It seems precipitous to be quite so definitive. I admire him and he seems to have begun to admire me. But it is early days and we know each other so little.”
“I wouldn’t say that. You know a great deal about him,” Marigold pointed out. “You’ve made a study of the man. Does he know you’ve attended a few of his lectures?”
“No yet, no.”
“So, in truth, it is only one of you who does not know the other well. I hope he will endeavor to learn about you with as much devotion as you’ve given to your study of him.”
Hyacinth swallowed thickly. “He seems keen to spend time with me.”
“Where is he now? He must be worried about you. Go and find him and tell him something about yourself.”
“Taken to your bed with fever and yet still imperious,” Hyacinth teased.
“I like seeing the light in your eyes and a smile on your face,” Marigold told her.
“Well, I’d like to see you recovered, so this is where I will stay for now.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Hyacinth called for the visitor to enter.
The man who stepped across the threshold was wizened, with a bald pate, white whiskers, and shiny gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose. Behind the glasses, clear blue eyes took them both in, assessing.
“I am Dr. Russell, and you must be the Misses Bridewell.”
“We are,” Hyacinth told him, releasing Marigold’s hand and getting to her feet. “I am Hyacinth and this is my sister Marigold.”
“Goodness, mirror-image twins, I see.” He entered, placed his weathered leather bag on a table, and withdrew a few instruments.
“We lookmostlyalike,” Marigold said, her voice still raspy, “but I’m more temperamental and Hyacinth is far more thoughtful.”
Hyacinth glanced at her and fluttered her eyes at her sister’s nonsense.
“A challenging patient, is that what you’re telling me you intend to be, Miss Bridewell?” Dr. Russell had a warmth in his tone and manner that put Hyacinth at ease, and he spoke conversationally while preparing to begin his assessment of Marigold.
Then he grew quiet, giving directions in a gentle voice, as he used a thermometer to take her temperature, a stethoscope to check her lungs, and an ivory tongue depressor to examine her throat. The man was thorough and his manner reminded Hyacinth of how their father had been with patients he tended.
As he shook the mercury in the thermometer down again, he nodded and hummed thoughtfully.
“I suspect the fever has broken and is quite close to normal. I will leave medication with the housekeeper to prepare for you that will assist with both the temperature and the pain I suspect you’re suffering.”
“My head does feel awful.”
Russell nodded, his brows furrowed as if in sympathy. “That we can mend. And sleep will do much of the rest. I think it is simply a matter of time until you’ve made a full recovery.”
The man’s tone seemed optimistic, and Hyacinth and Marigold exchanged relieved smiles.
“Thank you, Dr. Russell.” Marigold closed her eyes after the words were out as if ready for the healing sleep he spoke of.
“My pleasure, Miss Bridewell.” He turned back to Hyacinth and added, “Do ensure that cleanliness is observed too, to prevent the spread of the illness. Once the fever has passed, the chance of contagion will diminish, but do wash your hands after tending your sister. I shall return later in the day and again tomorrow to check on her progress.”
As he placed his tools back into his doctor’s bag, Russell appraised Hyacinth. “If I may say so, Miss Bridewell, you look like a lady who did not get much sleep last night.”
“I sat with my sister.”
He picked up his bag and stepped a bit closer. In a quiet voice, he said, “It might do her good to rest on her own for a bit, knowing that you’re taking your ease too. May I suggest a nap?”
