“He will, Nellie. Charles is a very able fellow. Have faith.”
Jason ambled over to pour a glass of brandy from the drink’s tray. He held up the decanter of madeira, but Nellie declined with a shake of her head. She couldn’t wait in the house a moment longer. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”
He swiveled the crystal stopper in his hand. “A walk?”
“I like to walk in the rain.”
“Please forgive me if I don’t join you.” With a chuckle, he turned back to the table. “Where’s Beverly? Have you seen her?”
“She’s in the south parlor.”
In the great hall, Nellie shrugged into her pelisse and put on her hat. She thanked Grove for the umbrella and went out into the easing rain, cutting across the soggy lawns to the turn in the carriage drive. From there, she might be able to see the curricle approaching from some distance away.
Breathing in the wet scent of old leaves, she crossed the gravel. She had only gone a short distance when the sound of horses’ hooves thudded over the ground.
She stepped onto the grass verge. A few minutes later, the curricle appeared, traveling fast. Charles was driving a pair of grays. An older man sat beside him, clutching his bag in his lap. Charles nodded to her as they passed, and the man raised his hat.
Relieved, Nellie hurried back to the house.
Charles and the doctor came in. He introduced him as they discarded their dripping oilskins. “I have Dr. Chapman to thank for my leg mending as good as new when I was a stripling.” Charles frowned down at her. “What were you doing out in the rain? We don’t want you to fall ill, too.”
“A little rain won’t hurt me,” Nellie said, a little indignant, but so pleased to see him.
“Where is Jason, Nellie?”
“He was in the library. He will be with Beverly. The south parlor.”
The doctor’s bright eyes beneath craggy gray eyebrows settled on Nellie. “I shall be here overnight, should you wish to consult me, Your Grace.”
Before Nellie could register surprise, Charles, impatient to see his mother, ushered him upstairs.
Did he mean…?What presumption, she thought, her cheeks hot. But she paused, a hand on the banister. Surely a doctor couldn’t make a diagnosis so early?
The urge to tell Charles of her suspicions tightened her chest. What if she were wrong, what if there was another reason? Worry, perhaps. She just couldn’t risk disappointing him.
*
An hour later,the doctor was shown into the drawing room where the four of them tensely waited. Nellie had ordered a large tea, with plates piled high with the chef’s cakes and pastries, and ham and cress sandwiches. Her mother believed food was calming when one was worried. Nellie wasn’t in agreement today. Her stomach churned at the sight, and she could only sip the tea.
The doctor accepted a cup and saucer from her, drank, then sat back to observe them. “I found the dowager duchess very weak.”
“She is,” Jason agreed with a savage twist of his lips. “That surgeon was a fool.”
Charles cautioned him with a hand. “What is your opinion, Dr. Chapman?”
“I am not an advocate of phlebotomy. The removal of blood from a patient can have serious adverse effects if overdone. I would not recommend any more be taken in your mother’s case.”
“Can a cure be found?” Charles asked.
There was sympathy in Dr. Chapman’s eyes. “Your mother is very ill, Your Grace. I believe we can lengthen her life for some months. A year if we are lucky.”
“Oh, no,” Beverly murmured and took out her handkerchief.
Looking grave, Jason put his arm around her.
Nellie sagged in her seat beside Charles, who sat upright and grimly silent.
“Your mother needs to build up her blood. She must rest, eat red meat, preferably liver, and drink several glasses of burgundy every day. I have some medicine which will help her to feel better. Laudanum can be administered for sleep, but be careful with the dose. Then we shall see. It is not a cure, however. Your mother has cancer.” He shook his head. “I believe she has been aware of it for some time.”
