He forced himself to get up, to open up the fire in their little kitchen and heat hot water for washing. Then he crept into his room… no, Georgie’s room now… to find clothes to wear. She was still asleep, curled up on her side facing the wall so that her face was hidden from him. He crept out again, dressed quickly, ate some stale bread and butter and went downstairs.
Work. That was what he needed now. A couple of hours of steady work, and then he would go back upstairs and see if Georgie wanted any breakfast.
At first he was so sunk in his own misery that he scarcely noticed what else was going on in the house. The study was at the furthest corner, well away from the front door and the stairs, the usual sites of bustle. But eventually the unusual amount of movements about the house filtered through his abstraction,and even he could not ignore the unmistakable sounds of a carriage arriving, and before breakfast too.
He slipped through the library into the Chinese room which gave a view over the front drive and saw a smart town carriage pulled up before the steps, and a man being ushered into the house by an obviously agitated Froggett. Was it…? Surely that was the physician from Brinchester?
Jamie made his way quickly to the Marble Hall, where a couple of footmen and several maids stood in a huddle, whispering together.
“Robert, was that Dr Percival I saw arriving just now?”
The huddle split into its constituent parts, the footmen bowing, the maids bobbing curtsies. “Oh… yes, sir.”
“Is someone ill? Not the duke, I trust?”
“No, sir. Mrs Payne, sir.”
“’Tis the baby, sir,” one of the maids said, her handkerchief to her eyes. “’Tis so sad.”
“This house be fated,” another maid said darkly. “Children don’t thrive here.”
The duchess came lightly down the stairs just then, still in her nightgown and robe, and chased the servants away. “Jamie! You are up early. You have heard about Sophia, then?”
“I have. Can the doctor do anything?”
She shook her head doubtfully. “I do not think so. She has the village midwife, the apothecary and the physician arguing over her bed about possible treatments, but I am not optimistic.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Bless you, but no. She has her mother with her, and that will be the very best restorative. A girl needs her mama more than doctors and lozenges at such a time. I am going to give them ten more minutes and then chase them out. Is Georgie better?”
“Um… Georgie?”
“She went to bed early last night with the headache.”
“Oh… oh, yes. She is still asleep.”
“Rest is the best thing for her. Send down for a tisane if she would like one when she wakes. Hester has an excellent receipt.”
“Thank you, but I think she already has the ingredients.”
“Excellent. Forgive me, Jamie, but I must go back to Sophia.”
“Of course, of course.”
Jamie climbed the stairs thoughtfully. He found Georgie just waking up, and, having missed supper the night before, hungry for breakfast.
“Shall I bring you something in bed?”
“No… thank you, but no. I will go back to bed afterwards, but it will do me good to be up for a while.”
They ate in the kitchen, as usual, always the warmest place in the apartment. In the summer, perhaps, they would take breakfast in the dining room where it was cooler, but for now the heat from the fire was welcome.
He toasted some bread for her, brought out the remains of yesterday’s cake and brewed a pot of tea. She took one sip and pulled a face.
“Ugh! This tea is horrid. I’ll have to go to Fothergill’s to get something more palatable.”
“Not today, I hope,” Jamie said. “You need to rest. Would you like me to go into Brinchester for you? I can be there and back in a couple of hours.”
