by Fanny Walsh
“I believe so,” Mary said. She was indeed still a bit shaky, but she stood without falling.
Duncan watched with concern as she took a couple of tentative steps. He released her hands but kept his arms outstretched.
Mary noticed his expression and smiled.
“I believe I am fine now, Duncan,” she said.
Duncan’s heart warmed at Mary’s determination.
“Nevertheless, your uncle was right. We must get you checked out and make sure you were not injured.” Duncan turned to the assembled crowd at the front of the room. “You all must be examined. Please, if you will follow me, my clinic is not far from here.”
Duncan took Mary’s arm and led the way out of the room. He could hear the lashing Kent Hillington was giving the building manager as they left. He might have smiled if the situation were not so grim.
He saw his cousin helping Mr. Langdon walk as they left the building, and Duncan suspected that he had suffered the worst of the injuries.
Duncan’s suspicions were confirmed when the group reached his office. He examined the investigator and discovered that he had suffered several severe burns, as well as smoke inhalation and a fractured wrist.
Thankfully, however, he would be fine.
Duncan salved and bandaged the wounds, braced the man’s wrist, and got him situated in one of the sickbeds so that he could keep an eye on him overnight. He also gave him something for the pain so that Mr. Langdon would rest more comfortably.
“Thank you,” the investigator slurred as the medication began to take effect.
“I am glad that I could be of service,” Duncan said. He rose to leave the room, but the investigator spoke again.
“How is Miss Beaumont?” he asked, his speech becoming more muddled as he spoke. Fortunately, Duncan had plenty of experience with speaking to medicated patients, so understanding him was not terribly difficult.
“I’ve not tended to her yet, but she does not seem to have suffered any serious injuries,” he said.
Mr. Langdon licked his lips and nodded, his eyelids becoming apparently heavier as he talked.
“That is good,” the investigator said. “She is an extraordinary woman, indeed. She was very brave and strong today.”
Through the drugged haze on the investigator’s face, Duncan thought he saw something of a dreamy expression. He seems to be a bit smitten with her, Duncan thought with a smile.
“She is indeed an exceptional lady,” Duncan said.
Mr. Langdon smiled broadly.
“And very beautiful,” he added.
Duncan smiled again. He could understand how the investigator felt for Beatrice, because he had similar feelings for Mary.
Then, Mr. Langdon’s smile faded. Duncan thought the man was feeling additional discomfort. He was just about to ask him when Mr. Langdon continued speaking.
“I suppose it is foolish to think that a lady such as her would be interested in a man like me,” he said.
Duncan blinked in surprise.
“Why is that?” he asked.
The investigator chuckled, wobbling around on the sickbed. Duncan was intensely grateful that the man had not tried to stand.
“I am merely a private investigator,” he said. “I am not a lord or any such thing, and I am certainly far from wealthy. A woman like Miss Beaumont deserves nobility, with wealth beyond measure.”
Duncan listened quietly. He rarely gave advice, unless it was to one of his regular patients or Julius. But the investigator sounded so dejected as he spoke, that Duncan felt compelled to offer some kind of solace.
“Love is not always synonymous with nobility and money,” Duncan said.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Langdon said. “But those are things Miss Beaumont deserves. Things I could never give to her.”
“Have you made any mention of courting her?” Duncan asked.
Mr. Langdon chuckled again.
“Certainly not,” he said. “Better to spare myself the embarrassment should she reject me.”
“Perhaps you are doing the good lady an injustice,” Duncan said. “She is kind as well as beautiful, and she certainly would not wish to be cruel to you.”
Duncan thought the investigator looked sheepish.
“Of course, you are right,” Mr. Langdon said. “I did do her a grave injustice.”
Duncan knew that it was the medication doing much of the talking, so he tried to redirect the conversation to keep Mr. Langdon from dwelling on his error.
“Besides, true love knows no limitations. Things like wealth or titles are meaningless if two people truly care for each other,” Duncan said. He smiled, again thinking of Mary.
Duncan’s diversion seemed to work. The investigator brightened again.
“Do you think I should ask Miss Beaumont to court her?” he asked.
“I think that you will never know what is possible until you try,” Duncan said.
Mr. Langdon nodded, his eyes closing. His head drooped, and Duncan once again thought the man had nodded off.
“Thank you again, doctor,” Mr. Langdon mumbled. “For everything.”
“Not at all,” Duncan said softly. “Rest now, Mr. Langdon.”
The investigator mumbled something unintelligible as he drifted off to sleep. Duncan closed the door to the room so as not to disturb the man while he worked on the others.
Next, he tended to Beatrice. The fire had singed her dress, but he was relieved to see that she had only a minor burn on her arm.
As he tended to her burn, he noticed Beatrice studying him intently.
“Are you alright, my lady?” Duncan asked, fearing momentarily that she had been shaken up as badly as Mary had been.
“Yes, doctor, quite,” Beatrice assured him. “I was just thinking how fortunate it was that you found Mary. You know, before she jumped.”
Duncan nodded solemnly as he applied salve to Beatrice’s burn.
“Yes, it was very fortunate,” Duncan said. Beatrice continued to look at Duncan, her eyebrows furrowed.
“Will Mr. Langdon be alright?” she asked.
Duncan looked up, startled. For a moment, he thought that Beatrice had overheard something of his conversation with the investigator. He flushed.
“I am keeping him here overnight as a precaution. But yes, he will be fine.”
Beatrice sighed and smiled weakly.
“That is a great relief,” she said. She did not look entirely reassured, however.
“We were all quite lucky,” Duncan said.
“Yes, we certainly were,” Beatrice said. “I just feel terrible for Mr. Langdon.”
“Why is that?” Duncan asked.
Beatrice began fidgeting with a ruffle on her dress.
“It is my fault that he was there with us today,” she said. “I feel responsible for him getting injured.”
Duncan smiled kindly at Beatrice.
“You could not have known what would happen,” he said. “You mustn’t blame yourself.” He thought for a moment. “I am certain that Mr. Langdon would not blame you, or want you blaming yourself.”
Beatrice nodded.
“You are right,” she said. “I cannot help thinking that my investigation was the only reason he was there.”
Duncan tried to hide a knowing smile.
“I do not believe that is the only reason,” he said.
Beatrice looked at Duncan, blushing. Then, the distress returned to her features. She bit her lip.
“The fire today… You don’t think that maybe…” Beatrice began, wringing her hands.
“That it was arson?” Duncan finished for her. He thought for a moment.
“I cannot say for sure,” he said. Silently, he added that he did not see how it could have possibly been an accident. He did not speak the words aloud, for fear of distressing Beatrice further. She seemed to read it in his expression, nonetheless.
“Oh dear, what if there is more to all of this than meets the eye?”
Duncan gave Be
atrice his best reassuring smile.
“My lady, do not fret. When everyone has recovered, we will meet again and talk. For now, however, we must not jump to conclusions, until we have all the facts.”
Beatrice nodded, but her face relaxed only minutely. Duncan finished bandaging her burn. He was impressed that she did not flinch. Though her burn was minor, he knew it must be painful.
“Go home and rest, my lady,” Duncan said.
Beatrice nodded and smiled weakly. Duncan escorted her to the door and saw her safely off. Then, he turned to Mary, who had opted to sit in the waiting room of his office while he tended to Mr. Langdon and Beatrice.
“Are you ready?” Duncan asked.
“Yes,” Mary said. She offered her hand, which Duncan took quickly to help her from her seat.
He gently guided her to her feet and slowly walked her to the examination room. He did not yet know the full extent of her injuries, and he did not want to risk exacerbating any she may have, especially after her breakdown.
He got her situated comfortably, then set about performing a careful examination. His foremost concern was for her wellbeing. However, he could not deny, least of all to himself, that he was glad for another opportunity to be this close to her.
Fortunately, she had suffered nothing more than a few splinters in her hand from the windowsill, physically. He was still a bit concerned about her emotional wellbeing, and he wondered if he should offer her something to calm her nerves and help her rest.
As he held her hand and gently removed the splinters, he also could not deny that he wished dearly that he could hold her closer, especially now that she had accepted his proposal. He also dearly wished that he was holding her hand in his for more than professional, platonic reasons.
He worked in silence for several moments. He wanted very much to discuss Mary’s proposal acceptance declaration. However, part of him could not help fearing that, if he mentioned it in any way, she would change her mind and flee his office, and his life, forever.
He wondered momentarily if she merely said yes because she was in shock and shaken. The thought concerned him, and he fervently prayed that, once she had time to calm down and think clearly about his proposal, she would not change her mind.
But she did say yes, he thought, trying to chase away the dark notion of Mary recanting her acceptance. At last, she said yes. His heart started pounding, and he had to pause to take a deep breath.
“Duncan?” Mary asked. “What is it?”
Her question broke his resolve, and he prayed he would not regret his words.
“What made you change your mind?” he asked. He tried to turn his focus back to Mary’s hand, but his heart thumped harder in his chest. He hoped she would not retract her acceptance and fulfill his prediction.
Mary hesitated, and Duncan feared the worst. His hand began to tremble slightly, and he picked up a damp cloth and began dabbing at the small wounds left behind from the splinters he was removing so she would not notice.
“What is it that you are hiding?” Mary asked after a moment.
Duncan was so surprised by her question that he looked up at her too quickly.
“I do not know what you mean,” he said, confused.
“I have given you a great deal of personal information about myself. In fact, I believe that the only people who know more about me than you are my uncle and Beatrice. And yet, you have not told me a single thing about you.”
Duncan’s head began to throb. In all his attempts to get Mary to agree to marry him, he had not once thought of the day where he might have to tell her all the secrets which he worked so hard to keep hidden.
“Mary, please,” Duncan said, stalling. “Is this really the time to discuss such matters?”
“I believe that now is the perfect time to discuss them. If I am to marry you, I wish to know exactly what it is you are not telling me,” Mary said firmly. “After all, how can you ever expect a union between us to work if you are keeping secrets from me?”
Duncan dropped Mary’s hand. The utensil he was using to remove the splinters clattered to the floor, and he jumped to his feet and moved away from Mary.
At his sudden reaction, Mary’s face began to soften, and for a moment Duncan dared to hope that she would drop the conversation for the time being. Then, her face hardened again and folded her arms across her chest.
“So, you are hiding something,” she said. Her words were more of a statement than a question.
Duncan sighed in exasperation, a feeling of cold dread forming in his stomach.
“Yes, Mary, I am,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice flat, but her eyes sad and suspicious.
“It is nothing that means you cannot trust me, I assure you,” he said, still hoping that he would not have to tell her.
“I cannot trust anyone who is hiding anything from me,” she said, determined. “And I certainly cannot marry them.”
Duncan broke at last.
“Tell me, about which of these would you like to know more first? My overbearing tyrant of a father who did everything in his power to protest and prevent my career in medicine? My cousin, who is nothing more than a drunken braggart who is terrible with betting but cannot resist a card game? Or, perhaps you would like to hear about the members of my family who suddenly went completely mad?”
Mary did not move, but her mouth fell slightly open. She stared at Duncan in stunned silence. Duncan was now certain that she would step off of the examination table without another word and walk away. Yet suddenly, he did not seem to be able to stop talking. He began pacing.
“My father will not even publicly acknowledge me as a physician. He seems to believe that I have shamed him by joining this profession and not joining him in the family business.
“My cousin, Theodore, is in constant debt because of his careless gambling habits, and he always seeks my assistance when he is in trouble, no matter how many times I have pleaded with him to cease the card game bets. And my family seems to be quite susceptible to madness.”
Duncan continued pacing, worried because of Mary’s perpetual silence.
“I never intended to keep secrets from you, Mary. I just could never figure out a way to broach these subjects. They do not follow introductions well, and they are far from proper ballroom conversation.”
Duncan stopped pacing with his back to Mary and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. To his horror, he realized that he was near tears. He forced himself to breathe and compose himself before he turned back to Mary.
When he dared turn around, Mary was still looking at him, but her eyes were now unreadable. The silence between them seemed to stretch on forever, and he feared he might collapse under the pressure. He wanted to prompt her to say something, but he was too frightened by her expression to speak another word.
“Why do you not just defy your father if you are that unhappy?” Mary finally asked.
Duncan stared at her dumbly. He felt great relief that she had not stormed out of his office, uneasy with the conversation at hand, and completely unsure of what to say next.
“Being a physician is directly defying him,” he said with a dry chuckle.
Mary smiled, and its warmth began to renew Duncan’s confidence. While talking about these things was difficult, he felt a sense of lightness at having told them to Mary.
“What I mean is, why do you not turn your back on his wishes for you and deny him the opportunity to continue trying to run your life?”
Duncan could not be sure, but the way she had spoken made him think that she might have some experience with family members trying to run her life. He had told her a great deal of his greatest struggles in a matter of minutes, but he knew that he had to choose his next words carefully.
“I cannot,” he said at last.
Chapter 21
Mary sat watching Duncan pace and fumble with his words, not with animosity, but with curious sympathy.
If she were bein
g honest with herself, she expected that Duncan’s mysterious secret-keeping was the result of something far more sinister or, at the very least, more difficult to handle. She could not be sure exactly what it was that she had suspected he was hiding, but something as common as family struggles was certainly less foreboding.
However, this insight into Duncan’s secret turmoil was as heartbreaking as it was a relief.
