The Lady's Patient: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abby Ayles

  By lunchtime the sedatives were wearing off again, and he was once more asking about the possibility of going for a walk in the gardens.

  “I am not sure that it is wise,” Kitty said. “Your health is improving for all the rest, you would not want to spoil it.”

  He paused and mulled it over. “I suppose I have been feeling better since I got home,” he admitted. “A little more rest will not hurt. Though I am feeling almost right as rain.”

  Kitty nodded. “Yes, you're looking very well again, Lord Stamford.” She was trying to remember her boundaries, her social limits. Although his shirtless shoulders peeking out from under the blankets made this very hard.

  “What did I tell you, Kitty? Doctors: a bunch of charlatans,” he insisted.

  “That is not so. Look at how well they have managed to help me,” she replied. “I am sure they could help you as well, if only you gave them a chance.”

  “No, no, I will hear none of it. As soon as they lay a finger on me I shall no doubt be set back to where I started,” the earl argued.

  “That was not the case for me, nor would it be for you. Look at how well you are doing already. No doubt your improvements would double or even treble in speed with proper medical care.”

  “Perhaps if you were more like myself, you would not be suffering a chronic condition,” he suggested. “After all, my own approach is working wonders.”

  Instantly, Kitty was seeing red. She could tolerate him insulting doctors. She could tolerate him ignoring all proper advice. But for him to blame her doctors, who had been so kind to her, for her condition, was a step too far. She had worked very hard alongside medical staff to get to a point where she was almost completely normal. She could not bear to hear someone accuse them, and therefore her, of causing her own illness.

  Kitty had to bite her tongue. She could not let him know what was actually happening, however satisfying it would be to ruin his delusions. Perhaps when he was healed? Yes, when he had recovered she would reveal that it had been medical care all along.

  Of course he would probably despise her for it. He might reject her future advances, ask to never see her again, even expose her stay at his house. But a little part of her felt it would be all worth it to see the look on his face when he was proven wrong.

  But all that could wait.

  The most important thing was to see him well. She poured him some more tea, laced with painkillers to alleviate his joints, and sedatives to stop him from overexerting himself. He was already getting more alert and mobile, and no doubt the painkillers would soon wear off as well. She could not have that. She needed to make sure he could rest, and in a couple of hours, perhaps after a nap, eat a decent meal.

  He sipped his tea and smiled. “You really do brew the best teas,” he remarked.

  “It's the housekeeper,” Kitty said. “She must have a new blend from town. Sadly, it does not agree with my delicate constitution.”

  He sipped the tea some more. “You really ought to tell your doctors to leave you be, not being able to drink a tea is not natural.”

  “Indeed,” Kitty murmured.

  “What was that?” he asked, taking another sip of the tea, obviously comforted by the somewhat faster action of the sedatives.

  “Please, tell me more tales of your travels,” she asked softly, holding his hand. She needed to keep him calm and distracted until he fell asleep and was able to rest properly.

  And then there was the perks of the job: his wonderful company, the touch of his skin, and his extraordinary tales. However much he was annoying her, she could not help but feel some affection for him still. His stubbornness and belligerence was part of his charm, in a way she could not entirely comprehend.

  It was inappropriate. She knew it was. But who was there to chastise her? Dr. Allen was downstairs in the study, where he would not be discovered. The staff had the afternoon off. Until Delilah and Cassandra returned, Kitty could fully enjoy sitting alone in the earl's room, hearing his stories.

  If anyone were to find out... It did not bear thinking about. But for now, all that existed was his company, his hand, his voice, and his beautiful face. Was it such a crime to enjoy those things? She knew it would go no further, there was no risk to either of them. And they were both lonely and in pain, seeking sympathy and someone to lift their spirits.

  Besides, she was unlikely to marry anyway. Between the stigma associated with her condition, and her father's inability to stop talking about it, she knew that few young men would take the risk. She would never know the loving touch of a husband's hand, or the sweet comfort of his company on a bad day.

  The very least she could do was enjoy a substitute. It was not going to ruin her marriage prospects any more than they already were. And at least now she could have those things which she would never be able to have otherwise.

  It would do no harm. She had to keep telling herself so. She was simply providing him with some comfort and company as he healed. As he told her tale after tale they gazed into each other's eyes, him with loving gratitude, and her with the affections she could never speak.

  He was her escape from this world.

  Her heart almost stopped when he kissed the back of her hand.

  “Thank you,” he said softly. “You really are a treasure. I see now why Delilah asked you to come and care for me.”

  “You are welcome,” Kitty said in hurried tones, averting her gaze in shame.

  “I have no doubt that it is thanks to your care that I am recovering so well,” he insisted.

  “Thank you, Lord Stamford.”

  “I am simply astonished that you continue to put your trust in doctors when you have evidence before you that they are not needed,” he said. “I worry that their so -called treatments may be making you worse. Like my father.”

  “Your father?” she asked. She recalled someone mentioning the old earl. Was it Delilah? Most likely.

  “It was through his death that I realized what monsters doctors are. I learned from his mistakes, even though he and my sister did not,” Earl Sinclair said, his face falling a little.

  “I would like to hear about this,” Kitty said softly. “Perhaps if I understand why you feel this way, I can help you more.”

  “Or perhaps you will see sense and change your mind about your doctors,” the earl replied.

  “Anything is possible. But what happened to your father?” she asked.

  “He was very ill. When we were little it was not the case, but as he grew older his illness slowly claimed him,” Earl Sinclair explained. “It all started with a little fever. I remember it because it didn't go away. It just got better and worse, better and worse. Then he started developing red sores, and my mother asked for a doctor to diagnose him. The local doctor did not know what it was. So they sent for more and more, from all over the country.”

  “What did they say?” Kitty asked, enthralled. “Did any of them know what it could be? Was it contagious?”

  “They said they had never seen anything like it, but that didn't stop them from trying, now, did it?” He sighed heavily. “They isolated him from the rest of the family and attempted all sorts of treatments. It began innocently enough. A few herbs, some balms, something to prevent the bleeding. But it didn't work.”

  “At all?” Kitty asked.

  The earl shook his head. “They were able to reduce his pain, but no more. The main condition continued to tear his body apart. If anything, their treatments simply made him worse. He developed boils around his hairline, his eyes would swell, and his mouth would swell so much that he could not eat. And all the while we not only feared losing our father, but we feared that we would contract such a terrible illness, that we would also live as he lived.”

  “It sounds like an awful fear for children to live in,” Kitty conceded. “And your father? Did anything help in the end?”

  “He just grew worse and worse until eventually he passed away. For all their expertise and herbs and pills and potions, they
were powerless,” Earl Sinclair concluded.

  “But that is what medicine is,” Kitty replied. “Doctors do not know everything, and when they encounter something new they simply make an effort to help, or at least to learn, so that they may help the next patient.”

  "No, doctors exist only to keep us ill so that they can continue to extort money from us. Any other idea is pure delusion,” he said.

  “My doctors help me every day. If only you gave them a chance, perhaps you would understand,” Kitty insisted.

  “Give them a chance like my father did? And end up like my father did? I am perfectly alright without medicine. God did not put us on this earth with medicines. Do you not think if we needed them they would occur naturally?” he asked.

  Kitty sighed. She could not tell him. Not yet.

  “You women are just too sentimental about these things. Like Delilah and my poor brother in law,” he said with another sigh.

  Kitty recalled Delilah mentioning her husband, and Cassandra talking about her brother. There was no doubt that the earl had witnessed some atrocious illnesses and deaths. But why was he placing the blame so squarely on doctors, when it was clearly just the tides of fortune? Could he not see that the doctors were doing all they could to help?

  “Promise me that you shall consider leaving your doctors behind,” he asked. “I am thinking of opening a retreat for natural medicine, focusing on allowing the body to heal itself. And I would love for you to be a model patient.”

  “You need to get some rest,” Kitty told him gently, offering him the last sips of his medicated tea.

  He was a little delirious with the medicines. A retreat? What an odd idea. What a foolish one. He would forget soon enough.

  As he shrunk under the covers, Kitty left him to nap, going to see that lunch was underway.

  At least now she more or less understood why he was so wary.

  Chapter 27

  Delilah and Cassandra's return was a breath of fresh air for Kitty's soul. She had to stop herself running to the door to greet them like an overeager child as soon as she heard them announced by the servants.

  Instead, she regained her composure, made sure she looked neat and proper, and walked gracefully down to greet them, instructing the servants to run two hot baths, ensure dinner was prepared, change the bedding on Cassandra and Delilah's beds, and carry their luggage to their rooms.

  The very least she could do was show that the house had been properly managed in their absence, to display her gratitude towards them, and to let them know that she enjoyed their company.

  It was not that she did not enjoy the earl's company. She simply enjoyed it too much, and she was afraid of what might happen if she were left alone too long. She adored him. She could not help herself. He was childish and stubborn and arrogant and reckless, but that was everything she had denied herself.

  Her whole life, she had wanted to be more like the boys, or at least like the other girls, who could go out and do things without a plan, who could go walking in the fields with each other, who could ride horses and travel and generally enjoy themselves. And he was an example of all that. He was a man who could, and did, do as he pleased.

  She felt thrilled to be able to see and hear how reckless his life was. And she loved it. She loved him. He made her happy. He gave her hope for the future.

  As the girls made their way in, they were surprised to see that Kitty and Earl Sinclair were back. But they still went to change out of their travel clothes before sitting down in the front room with Kitty to catch up.

  “My brother seems rather different,” Delilah said. “Is anything changing? He looks healthier, but he is not himself.”

  Kitty felt her heart sinking. “I must admit, I have taken some matters into my own hands where his health is concerned. After the trip he was in such poor shape, that I had to ensure he received medical care. On my doctor's advice, and with the support of my father, we have agreed to engage in some deception.”

  Delilah raised an eyebrow. But Kitty could tell that she was not angry, just purely curious.

  Kitty explained the whole situation to them. They had already received some letters during the trip, but hearing the full extent of the situation, as well as how unwell he was upon returning, shocked them. Both agreed when Kitty explained the solution.

  “That makes sense,” Delilah said with a relieved sigh. “I am so glad that you are putting such great effort into helping us.”

  “I am simply doing what was asked of me by a friend,” Kitty replied, feeling happy that her hard work was acknowledged.

  Delilah smiled warmly and reached to touch Kitty's hand. “You are being a very good friend to us, and it is a relief to see that my brother is in such safe hands.”

  Kitty hesitated. “Even if I must deceive him?”

  “Whatever you must do,” Delilah insisted. “I cannot lose the last man in my life. My father is gone, my husband is gone. How could I lose my brother also? Deceive him all you must.”

  Something was different about Delilah. Her suspicions about Kitty seemed to have faded, and the initial warmth between them was blossoming anew. As they talked Kitty felt that the overprotectiveness and the resentment was gone. She felt that the sisterly love they had formed between them was back, and she was glad. It was, after all, what had led her to the earl's house in the first place, and she wanted it to come first and foremost, before any other relationship.

  Delilah's suspicion had hurt her more than the earl's rejection ever could. She had learned from a young age that the heart was fickle, and that men and women never fully understood one another. But between two women there ought to be love and compassion, built on mutual understanding and respect. And all that had returned suddenly.

  Kitty had a feeling that Delilah and Cassandra had been talking. She also had a feeling that, for better or for worse, Cassandra was on her side. She wasn't sure why, all she could assume was that she and Cassandra had simply connected on a level which made it feel natural to support one another. Kitty could feel the same affinity and care herself.

  They decided to go and check on Earl Sinclair again to see if he was ready for lunch yet and, rather than be excluded as she had been the previous time, Kitty walked between the two older women, as they discussed what they would do about the earl's stubbornness in the face of medicine. But none of them could think of a better solution than what was already underway.

  The earl was just waking from yet another drug-induced nap, looking much more refreshed. “Good morning? Good afternoon?” he asked hazily.

  “It is lunchtime,” Delilah said. “I shall inform the staff that you are awake and we shall all dine together.”

  As Delilah left the room, Earl Sinclair stared out the window lazily and smiled, still under the effect of the medication. At least he was happy. Blissfully ignorant of the source of his own recovery. And that was how it ought to stay.

  “I recall that I left some clothes in my cases which require cleaning,” Cassandra said a little too obviously. With a gentle smile and a loving touch to Kitty's shoulder, she floated out the room, leaving Kitty once again alone with the earl.

  She sat down in the chair beside his bed but, still barely awake, he took no notice.

  “I was thinking,” he said, staring at the window, “that perhaps I ought to get married.”

  Kitty looked around hesitantly. “Married, Lord Stamford?”

  He seemed stern suddenly. “A man my age ought to be married, don't you think? It is befitting. And then I would not need to turn to strange young girls for the care I need.”

  “I see,” Kitty said, her heart falling. Of course he was not referring to her when he said he wished to marry! Why would she ever assume that he meant her? He looked at her, from time to time, the way a man looked at a woman. But that meant nothing. Men could cast equally meaningful glances at well -made sculptures. There was more than desire to finding a wife. Still, she smiled. “Where does a man such as yourself find a wife?” s
he asked softly.

  “I do not know. Can you think of anyone who would want to marry a reckless fool like myself, Kitty?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers suddenly.

  Kitty was not sure what to make of this. Were these simply the delusions of a man who was on a large amount of medication? Or was it in earnest? No, he could not mean it. He had just said that he did not want to rely on her. She was reading too much into this look.

  He did not look away. He smirked. That smirk. It made her stomach do backflips and her heart thump wildly against her ribs, as though attempting to break out. She wished she could see what manner of bad behavior went through his mind when he smiled like that. He wasn't thinking of anything good or decent, that much she was certain of.

  But he could not be referring to her. She was out of bounds. Beneath him. He must be referring to her father's abundant list of high class, wealthy acquaintances. He was looking at her, not as a woman, but as an accomplice. As someone who would assist him in trapping some other poor young woman into enduring his mischief until the end of time.

  Yes, that was what the smile meant. He was inviting her to be as reckless as he was. If her heart could have sunk any more, it would have. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how feminine and wifely she aimed to be, men always looked at her how they looked at one another, how they looked at their sisters.

  “What say you?” he asked, looking out the window again.

  “We could meet some of my father's friends, many of them have daughters of your standing,” she mentioned, also looking out the window at two swallows dancing in the sky.

  He paused. His silence drew her eyes to him, in case the medication had left him weak yet again. But no, he was just watching the birds, a blank expression replacing the smirk. “That sounds most excellent,” he replied. “I knew I could count on you to support me.”

  Kitty smiled to herself. Yes, she would support him. She would support him in all that he wanted, do anything to make this man happy. Even if it made her deeply, deeply unhappy. After all, it would be the height of pride, of vanity, to refuse to help him and hope he would notice a plain, boring little thing like her.