But Morpeth shook his head and said through his teeth, “No, I don’t want it.”
Lady Lyndmouth stroked his face. “Just a little, Giles. So you can rest.”
“No.”
Now the butler Andrews, who had been silent throughout, spoke. “Is there anything you need, Dr. Andrews?”
Alasdair went to the window, pulled back a drape, and looked out. It was pitch dark.
“The snow has stopped, I believe. When the dawn comes, if the snow continues to hold off, some men might go to the carriage and recover my medical bag for me. I will describe it for ye.” He then crossed to the butler Andrews and said in an undertone, “And please ask Mrs. Andrews which of her trunks she would like as well. She would appreciate another dress to wear, I am sure. And endeavor to ask the marquess about his wife’s laudanum. If he desists, let me know, and I will ask him myself.”
His tone had clearly not been low enough. Lady Lyndmouth stood. “I will go to Lord Painswick now. And I will have him take me to the marchioness’ room and we will get the laudanum.”
“I will not take it,” Morpeth said.
Alasdair stepped to the bed again. “We will only have it ready, my lord, in case ye change yer mind. Perhaps the pain will pass.”
“What is it, Doctor?” Morpeth asked. Alasdair could hear him try to mask his fear with gruffness. “What is the cause of the pain?”
Alasdair kept his face neutral. “I am hoping ’tis a small ureteral stone, my lord.” But he knew it was not. The man had florid peritonitis. But it was not a lie to say that is what he hoped. The alternative was so much worse. “A small stone, much smaller than a bladder stone, that is moving from the kidney to the bladder. They cause excruciating pain. Like giving birth. But when the stone passes, the pain goes away.”
Morpeth’s eyes searched his face. “You don’t think that is the true diagnosis.”
“We will wait and see. I will attend on ye and see if yer condition improves or worsens.”
“Andrews,” Morpeth said peremptorily.
“Yes?” “Aye?” Alasdair and the butler answered simultaneously.
Morpeth turned his head to the butler. “Go get the doctor some kind of cloak he can wear so he can stay warm. He is not burning with fever like I am. And I would prefer my physician not to succumb to cold while he is tending to me.”
“Yes, my Lord,” the butler Andrews said and after Lady Lyndmouth kissed Morpeth once on the lips, she rose and she left the room with the butler.
The two men were alone.
“I would,” Alasdair cleared his throat, “like to inform yer wife of yer condition.”
“No.”
“My lord—”
“Dr. Andrews, it does not inspire confidence that you want to tell her anything. You must think this is more serious than you let on. But I will not have my wife worried until she must be.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Alasdair sat in a chair and prepared, as he had so many times before, to wait through the night.
The butler Andrews quickly returned with a cloak and then left again, saying he would arrange for men to go to the carriage at first light and that Dr. Andrews should ring if he thought of anything he needed. Lady Lyndmouth was back in a half an hour, clutching two bottles of laudanum.
“We must hope,” she said, smiling thinly at Alasdair, “that the marchioness still has enough for her own use so that you don’t have another patient on your hands, Doctor. Because I am not giving these bottles back.”
At midnight, Morpeth consented to his first dose of laudanum.
Two hours before dawn, Lady Morpeth came into the room through a door in the wall that was behind the headboard of Lord Morpeth’s bed. Nurse Gastrell supported her with one arm.
“Doctor,” Morpeth gasped as Lady Morpeth drew near. He looked accusingly at Alasdair.
“I could hear, Giles,” Lady Morpeth said as she approached the bed. “I could hear you in pain, the doctor’s voice, Lady Lyndmouth’s voice.” She fixed Lady Lyndmouth now in her gaze. “My bed is just there through the wall.” She pointed at the wall behind Morpeth’s bed. “I can always hear what passes in this room.”
