“May I examine ye further, my lady?”
“Yes.”
Lady Morpeth’s pulse was strangely slow but it was regular. Her lungs were clear. Upon palpation of her lower abdomen, her uterus was slightly enlarged but not tender.
“I wonder ...” he said.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“I know it does not explain yer many years of illness but is it possible that ye are with child right now?”
Lady Morpeth grew agitated and tried to sit up on her elbows but did not have the strength and fell back. Her nurse came and helped her and put pillows behind her.
“I suppose ... I suppose it is possible.”
“She has been so ill,” the nurse said. “It hardly seems likely she would have the strength.”
“I have never been able to bear a child, Doctor.”
“I dinnae ken what yer underlying illness is, but if ye usually have monthly courses and ye have nae blood within the next month, I believe ye may be pregnant.”
“What will you do for me, Doctor. Will you bleed me?”
“Nae.”
“No bleeding?”
“Nae. At this juncture, I dinnae ken that it will help, since I dinnae ken what disease ye have. And it will certainly not help if ye are with child. However,” he paused here, “I will speak to the cook. There may be some foods that will settle yer stomach. To eat might help ye to feel better.”
The nurse spoke. “You are going to do nothing for her, Doctor?”
“I only do things when I think they will improve the patient’s health. So I will undertake to make sure that my lady takes in some food without vomiting.”
Lady Morpeth held her hand out to Alasdair.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
He nodded, bowed over her hand, and went away.
He thought it very odd, Lady Morpeth’s appearance. Very small, blonde, blue eyes. So much like Lady Lyndmouth downstairs. And like Arabella. Lady Morpeth was some older, sicker version of Arabella.
Lord Morpeth had a kind of woman, apparently.
Alasdair shuddered. How very glad he was that his Arabella was healthy.
He went down to the kitchens. He found two scullery maids, washing dishes from luncheon. One of them went and roused the cook for him and he sat with her at a well-scrubbed wooden table and explained the broth from chickens, the egg whites, the dry cracker. The cook scoffed at first, saying that my lady had never been a good eater. But she would endeavor to make the broth and a dry cracker tomorrow. And the egg whites could go up right now.
“I have heard that ye have very few hens’ eggs right now,” Alasdair said. “May I suggest ye reserve all egg whites for Lady Morpeth?”
At dinner, Morpeth confronted Alasdair.
“I heard you went to see my wife, Andrews, without my permission.”
Alasdair finished chewing his bite of meat, took a sip of his small beer, wiped his mouth.
“Aye.” And then, reluctantly, “I apologize. I should have spoken to ye first.” Another sip of small beer. “Although it would have made nae difference what ye said. I ne’er refuse the request of a patient to see me.”
Morpeth sneered. “As long as they can pay your fee.”
