The ship’s surgeon, Dr. O’Conner, exited the room and closed the door quietly behind him. His face was grave. “Miss Wells, may I have a word with you?”
“Of course.”
He led me down the hall, away from our cabin, and then stopped, his medical bag tightly grasped in his hand. His heavy white mustache moved as he worked his mouth back and forth a moment before he spoke. “I’m afraid your mother isn’t doing well.”
My eyes widened in surprise. I thought she was feigning illness to manipulate me. Was she really unwell?
“I am planning to wire ahead to ask for an ambulance to transport her from the ship to your home,” he said. “I’m also requesting that her personal physician meet us at the harbor to oversee her care.”
Concern tightened my stomach. “Will she be okay?”
His face was severe as he studied me. “I cannot say for certain. She is very ill.”
“What troubles her?” She hadn’t complained of any particular ailment these past four days, just a general malaise.
“It’s hard to tell in situations like this.” He shook his head. “The mind is a powerful force, and when one is in such distress as your mother, it can create problems with any number of internal systems but especially the nerves. I’ve given her a sedative and will administer another before she leaves the ship. It should keep her comfortable until she arrives home.”
“Distress?”
“She would not tell me what troubles her, but whatever it is, it’s very serious, I’m afraid.”
I didn’t know what to make of his assessment. Was Mother truly ill or only playacting to manipulate me? If she was sick,I didn’t want to assume she was pretending. It was far too callous.
“Are you certain?” I asked.
He frowned at my question. “Miss Wells, in my long and varied career, I have seen people slip into great despondency. For some, it’s a chronic condition of the mind. For others, it’s an acute experience. But whatever the cause, it must be taken very seriously, or there are lasting consequences, both mental and physical.”
I nodded. “Of course. May I see her?”
“The sedative should be taking effect, but you may go in. We’ll be docking soon, so I must take my leave. I’ll return when I’ve arranged all the details.”
“Thank you.” I offered him an appreciative nod and then allowed him to pass by me.
Edith had stood near me the entire time, listening. When the doctor was out of sight, I said to her, “What do you know of this?”
“Gertie has been worried about Mrs. Wells since our second day at sea.” Edith’s hazel eyes were huge. “She’s never seen your mother like this before.”
The entire thing was odd. Mother had always boasted a strong constitution and was not one to give in to weakness. She abhorred it. Even when she had a headache, she refused to let it affect her, as if her body had no right to dictate what she did, when she did it, or how efficiently it was done. For her to be bedridden this long was befuddling.
I entered our stateroom, uncertain how I would find her. Mother’s eyes were closed as she lay upon her bed. She looked like she had aged a decade since we’d left London. The wrinkles had deepened around her eyes, her skin was a sickly grey, and her hair had lost whatever luster it boasted.
Was this a nervous complaint, or was it something else entirely?
A twinge tightened my gut. Was this my fault? Was she so terribly unhappy because I refused to marry Lord Cumberland?
And if it was my fault, would she continue to get worse as I continued to refuse?
Within hours, Dr. Payne, Mother, and I were in a boxy black ambulance on the way to our home. Mother seemed oblivious to the bumpy ride, lying flat on the hard bed on one side of the vehicle, not opening her eyes once as Dr. Payne tried to examine her.
My spirits were buoyed as familiar sights and sounds greeted me the closer we came to our brownstone mansion. We passed the famous Washington Arch at the foot of Fifth Avenue and then continued northeast past the Flat Iron Building, one of the tallest structures in Manhattan. There were dozens of mansions along Fifth Avenue, but perhaps the most striking of them all occupied Vanderbilt Row. The impressive mansions from Fifty-Second to Fifty-Eighth Streets were mostly owned by Vanderbilt family members. Our home, on Fifth Avenue and East Fifty-Ninth Street, sat just beyond this famous stretch and across from a golden statue of William Tecumseh Sherman at the east entrance to Central Park.
Seeing our home, I let out a sigh of relief. Father had been informed of our impending arrival, and he would make sure everything was set to rights. If Mother’s illness was because of my refusal to marry Lord Cumberland, Father would tell her it was of no consequence. It might take her a while to rally, but she would set her sights on her next challenge, and this whole mess would be forgotten.
Automobiles, bicyclists, pedestrians, and trolleys clogged the road. The day was warm and humid, making the exhaust from the traffic even more suffocating. Edith and Gertie followed theambulance in a hired cab with our many trunks, though I had lost sight of them somewhere near Thirty-Fourth Street, where the shopping traffic was the thickest.
The ambulance came to a stop, and I exited with the help of the driver. Father was at the open door of the mansion. His blue eyes glowed with welcome as he extended both hands.
I rushed across the sidewalk and up the steps to his tight embrace.
