“A good day that'd be.” Leah said blankly, blinking at the paneling.
“Dr. Fowler is already on his way from the city.” the Duke explained, a bit deflated. “When he arrives, will you at least meet with him? You may decide for yourself then if he should examine you or not.”
“Your offer is a fair one, Your Grace.” Leah said. “I will meet your Dr. Fowler.”
“Thank you.” the Duke sighed, clearly glad the negotiations were over. Then he began to chuckle and said, “I did not expect that to be a matter of contention.”
“I find one can never know what will or will not be a matter of contention.” Leah answered in his same candor, still facing just up from her pillow.
“Are you at all educated?” the Duke asked, likely finally willing to seek a background for her vocabulary.
“Not by your definition.” she shrugged. “Friend of mine taught me to read when I was young. Been reading anything I could ever since.” Then several gears clicked together in her mind, and she rolled her head sideways to stare at the Duke. “Do you have a library in this house?”
“I do, would you like to see it?”
“Perhaps when I can walk on my own.” She smiled gingerly.
“Of course, how foolish of me.” The Duke shook his head again, biting at his lip. Clearly, the interaction was proceeding differently than whatever he had imagined.
What had he imagined?
“Do not reprimand yourself,” she scolded playfully. “but I should like to read something. It seems I am to lie here for some time, and I feel I have learned all I can from this ceiling.” She pointed upwards with her eyes.
“Yes, I can imagine.” The Duke got to his feet, running his hat around his hands again. “I will send some books by that you might find of interest. If I am honest, well I–”
“You did not think I could read?” Leah finished his sentence for him.
“Yes, to my ignorance.” he bowed his head. “Forgive me.” The Duke turned to leave and rested his hand on the intricate doorknob.
“Your Grace.” Leah called out as he turned the handle.
“Yes?”
“Thank you, again, for saving my life.”
“It was my pleasure.” He grinned and left the room.
* * *
Kenneth was thrown off kilter by his meeting with Leah. He closed the door behind him and stared blankly down the grand hallway.
He could see Mrs. Redford coming towards him, another tray of piping chowder atop it, but the sound of her footsteps seemed delayed, and it disturbed him. He shook himself present, straightened his vest and began walking towards the library.
“Pardon, Your Grace.” Mrs. Redford bobbed her head towards him as she hustled past.
“See that she eats her absolute fill, Mrs. Redford.” he mentioned back.
“Of course, Your Grace.” she answered with another bob of her head.
Kenneth entered the library, scratching his head over what books he would have pulled for Leah to read. What do women read? Poetry? Not her, most likely.
He gazed over the towering shelves of varying leather spines, running his finger along a stack absently. In truth, Kenneth had not often spent time here. It had been largely his father's space, and with him gone, Kenneth had found very little reason to enter the room.
Standing there between the hundreds of books, Kenneth felt at a complete loss, helpless even. He knew nothing about the arrangement, nothing about the content, and nothing about quality literature, for that matter.
In a panic, he reached for the dusty servant's bell and gave it a frantic ring, summoning his manservant Daniel in a matter of moments. Sometimes it still surprised him how quickly someone would respond to the ringing of those little bells.
“You rang, Your Grace?” Daniel inquired, giving a stiff quarter bow.
“I did, Daniel, I did.” Kenneth threw up his hands. “Our guest upstairs, Miss Benson, she has requested reading material from the library.”
“Reading material, Your Grace?” Daniel looked puzzled.
“I know it, Daniel, but not sure enough.” Kenneth waved his hands about and dropped them to his side. “She requires something to read. Yet I know not what to bring her. Help me decide, man, I need your aid.”
“Well, Your Grace.” Daniel was clearly adjusting to the situation, but he composed himself and tried to help the Duke. “What does she enjoy reading?”
“I do not know.” Kenneth faltered. “I should have asked her.”
“Perhaps, it is a fair place to start, Your Grace.”
“You make a sound point, Daniel.” Kenneth turned back to ogle the shelves. “I shall go to her and ask, so that I might make an informed decision. However, I cannot return empty handed, surely. I must bring her at least one volume in the meanwhile.”
“What novel will you select, Your Grace?”
“I know not!” Kenneth leaned against one of the scaling ladders, and it began to roll on its track, so he was forced to recoil. He brushed off his sleeve with an irritated expression.
“Well, which literature is Your Grace familiar with?” It was clear Daniel was truly trying to help, but Kenneth was not making it easy for him.
“Shakespeare.” Kenneth announced abruptly. “Everyone knows and loves Shakespeare. Am I wrong?”
“Everyone knows of him, Your Grace.” Daniel allowed. “However, I would not go so far as to say everyone loves him. He has both his critics and his followers.”
“Yes, but there are far more followers than critics, are there not?”
“It depends on whomever is acting, Your Grace.”
“I do not mean on stage, I speak of reading the text. There, I see it on the shelves.”
“When was the last time you read from Shakespeare, Your Grace?” Daniel asked, delicately.
Kenneth realized that he had never read any of the works, he had only attended performances. He felt foolish.
“Come now, Daniel, give me a book to bring to her. It is only a symbol, for I shall ask her what her preferences are.”
“Perhaps some short stories, Your Grace.” Daniel crossed to a shelf and began scanning the titles before retrieving one. “Harmless tales of morality.” he handed the book to Kenneth.
“Harmless indeed.” he joked, taking it under his arm. “If you would remain here, I may require your assistance retrieving her titles of choice, providing we have them.” Then Kenneth stopped at the door, blinking. “What are the odds we won't have what she wants to read?”
“I think that depends greatly on what sort of reading she enjoys, Your Grace.” Daniel offered. “But your father did amass a–” Daniel paused to find the correct word, glancing over the high rings of shelves. “serious collection,” he concluded.
“Well enough.” Kenneth shrugged, and went to present his offering.
In the hall he met his mother who, like she could often be found, was directing the dusting efforts of some of her precious picture frames.
“What are you reading?” she asked, her curiosity no doubt perked by the long-lost sight of a book under his arm. She often badgered him to read more. “The food for the mind,” she called it.
“Nothing, Mother, it is for Miss Benson.” he tried to brush her off and walk past.
“Miss Benson?” Juliet hurried to intercept him. “She can read?”
“So, she has told me.” he replied, feeling caged between the wall and his mother's demanding personage.
“Well, come on, what are you bringing her?”
Rather than explaining that he did not actually know, he just showed her the book cover.
“Have you read this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” he confessed.
“Well, it is a good enough choice. When can we expect the doctor?”
“Dr. Fowler should be here some time about tea.”
“Splendid, we will have it with him after he concludes his examination.” Kenneth could see that she took excitement from the
arrangement of 'proper plans' as she called them.
“Well enough, Mother.” He moved around her. “I shall send for you when he arrives.”
“Yes, very well be on your way.” Juliet teased, fluffing a dust rag in his direction. She turned back to the servants present and Kenneth could hear her commanding voice start up again as he ducked up the stairs.
Kenneth knocked on her door, and heard her answer with a “Come in.”
“I have brought you something to read.” he began, holding the book up before him. “Although I confess, my manservant selected it. I fear you shall find it horribly boring and full of church speak.” He tossed the book forward to the bed, and it bounced between her ankles. He looked around and gave a friendly nod to Beatrice, who was folding cloth in the corner and stocking the room's linen closet.
Leah peered past her knees at the title of the discarded book. She smiled a bit at the title.
“Short stories concerning Christ.” she read, her head turned sideways.
“Do you have a preference? We have a healthy collection, and I am sure we could find something more suited to your tastes. Please, tell me, what would you prefer I bring you?”
“Do you deliver books to the bedsides of all of your guests, Your Grace?” she asked suddenly, disarming Kenneth. His mouth hung open without a word for a moment before kicking his brain back into action.
“No.” He coughed. “Only the injured ones.”
“Well said.” she smiled. Kenneth assumed she was trying to make the most of her situation; she was on bed rest, healing slowly in an unfamiliar place. Kenneth had seen plenty of soldiers in the same position with half the heart that she now possessed.
“So, what shall I bring you?”
“You'll have anything I want to read?”
“Or very close to it.”
“What about Frankenstein? I never got a chance to read it, but I have heard all about it.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Frankenstein. I do not know the author’s name, but she became very famous.”
“Shelley, I think,” Kenneth said. “but it was rumored to be a false name.”
“So intriguing.” Leah exclaimed joyfully. “I must read it.”
“I–” Kenneth stammered. He had not ever read the work by the unknown Shelley, but he had heard his fair share about its evils and horrors from his mother. Once he had been to see an adaption on the stage, but he had drunk a bit too much in his box seat and fallen asleep within twenty minutes of the play's beginning. In turn, the only opinions he had of her were formed by his mother's rants about morality and common decency, and of course, godliness. “I would.”
“Well bring me that then.” Leah clasped her hands together and smiled. “And we shall have something else to talk about.”
“That is one book,” Kenneth admitted, “that is not in our library. My mother saw to it.”
“That's a shame.” Leah's face fell. “Anything like it?”
“I'm afraid not.” Kenneth bit his lip. He had entered with the intent of making this woman more content, and it seemed he had only done the opposite. “But I shall find it for you, that I promise.”
“You will?” Leah's eyes sparkled. “You have no reason to do so. Forget the matter.” She leaned back to glance out the window.
“I shall not.” Kenneth accepted the challenge. “For no one's sake but my own satisfaction, if it well pleases you.”
“That would please me most.” Leah grinned. “In the meantime,” she poked at the book of short stories with her toes. “bring me something Greek.”
“Greek?” Kenneth was stunned. “Like Homer?”
“Yes.” Leah cocked her head. “Greek like Homer.”
“Very well.” Kenneth jumped to his feet and exchanged a sideways look with Beatrice that caused him to blush. It was if he had been caught being honest, seen outside of his adventurous image of armor. For some reason that embarrassed him, as if he had never been truly honest at home in the first place. The feeling swirled up quickly, as his face became red, and he ducked out the door as quickly as he could.
Who is this woman that reads Homer? Whoever she was, she had set events into motion that Kenneth could not foresee.
Chapter 7
Dr. Fowler's coach arrived at the house about two in the afternoon. The day had turned into a fine one, and light wisps of clouds drifted about overhead without a care in the world.
A fine ocean breeze wafted over the southern hills and tugged at Dr. Fowler's hat as he disembarked with his medical bag. He was a short man with spectacles and overall a kind demeanor, but at times his hawkish nose could be considered ugly by conventional social standards. Kenneth met him in the parlor as Daniel took his coat.
“Dr. Fowler.” Kenneth said, walking up with his hand outstretched. “It is good to see you, my friend; it has been some time.”
“Yes, some months, Your Grace.” Dr. Fowler took the handshake and dismissed Daniel with a natural nod. “Have you been well?”
“I have, and you?”
“I cannot complain, Your Grace, I am still with the Royal Society.”
“Yes, of course.” Kenneth thought about what Leah had told him earlier.
“Well, anyhow.” Dr. Fowler huffed. “Where is our patient?”
“Upstairs, in one of our spare rooms.” Kenneth beckoned and began to lead Dr. Fowler through the house.
“I admit, Your Grace, I heard some strange stories regarding this woman you wrote of to me this morning.”
“Have you?” Kenneth asked, dismissively. Of course, he knew by now that word of his actions would be all over London.
“I heard that you killed three thieves who were attacking her, Your Grace. I also heard stories suggesting some sort of, well, previously-established relationship, between you and this woman people saw you carrying into your coach.”
“I am sure you have heard a hundred different stories, my dear Dr. Fowler.” Kenneth said impatiently, starting up the grand stair case. “Rest assured that none of them are true.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” the doctor apologized, wiping his brow with a small kerchief in his breast pocket. “I meant no disrespect. I mean only that it is an unusual circumstance.”
“In that you are correct.” Kenneth admitted. “The truth of the matter is that I found a woman beaten near to death and brought her in so that she may recover in a place that is safe.”
“You should give that to the papers,” Dr. Fowler breathed laboriously on the long staircase. “before they keep to what they've been given.”
“It's in the papers?” Kenneth asked, astonished.
“It got a small mention, Your Grace, on the back page, but the more people talk on it the more of a story it will become. A sort of, investigative series, if you will.”
“I find people utterly absurd on occasion, don't you?” Kenneth shook his head. He had to get ahead of this publicity before he was permanently ineligible for marriage with a noble woman. Although he was not driven by a desire to marry, Kenneth understood the importance of a good match for the sake of his family and estate. Those were two things he took very seriously at all times, as of late.
“Indeed, Your Grace, utterly absurd.” Dr. Fowler hauled himself with the handrail to the top step.
“Now, before you go in, Doctor, I would speak with you a moment.”
“Concerning?” Dr. Fowler took the moment to wipe all the sweat from his face.
“Your patient. She…Well you see, she has that common distrust of doctors.”
“Common by which you mean only the common folk have it.” Dr. Fowler protested, puffing out his chest. “People do not understand that we are men of science, medical science. How is it she was raised to hold such an old-fashion belief?”
“She is of the common folk, doctor, and you must not offend her. She requires you meet her, and she approves of you before you may examine her.”
“I say.” Dr. Fowler frowned. “This is most out of the ordin
ary. I cannot pretend to understand it.”
“I do not ask for you to understand it, doctor, but I do ask for you to indulge it.” Kenneth lowered his tone to be more commanding. He knew he could be quite the imposing figure when he wished it.
“Of course, Your Grace.” the doctor nodded hurriedly. “I shall meet and talk with the poor woman. If what I hear is true, she is most in need of a doctor.”
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