JAMES FULTON, THE Duke of Lennox was annoyed. He
called for his valet to arrive precisely thirty minutes prior
to midnight, yet the door remained open and there was
no sight of the man. He could of course remove his
clothing himself, but it begged the question as to why he
still employed a valet in the first place? His cravat itched
against his throat and with an annoyed scowl, his nimble
fingers loosened the material allowing him air to breathe.
For the twentieth time today, he wondered why he had
bothered to attend Lady Albermay's soirée anyways. It
was the same scene repeatedly and it got quite
exhausting. The same chits were vying for his attention,
their mamas pushing them towards him like lambs to the
slaughter. The wallflowers giggled and blushed at his
presence and the men did their best to hide their distain
and jealousy.
It unsurprisingly made for a less than enjoyable time. He
had only gone because there was only so much
entertainment for a duke in an empty manor. However,
with the terrible mood he was now in reminded him of his
foolishness.
A glass of brandy would be nice about now if any of his
servants listened to his summons. What did he pay them
for if not to wait on him hand and foot? Still scowling,
James stepped outside his chambers, surprised to see
the upper floor of the Chalcott manor eerily silent. There
were no chamber maids skirting around as they usually
did at this hour. The only sounds present were from the
sheets of rain hitting the glass windows at alarming
speeds.
Frowning, James walked down the first flight of stairs.
There was nobody there either. The front entrance, where
his butler always remained was empty. He employed a
sufficient number of servants, yet it seemed that no one
was presently conducting their duties. What could be
more pressing than their duties?
He stood in the entryway for a moment, before he faintly
heard sounds from the servant quarter's below. Curiosity
getting the better of him, he followed the noise. He
certainly did not make it a routine to visit his staff here,
yet he could hear them bustling about. In quick brisk
steps, he arrived to see several of his servants in his
housekeeper's room. They were all crowding around
something, but with his obscured view he could not see
what it was.
Leaning against the outer frame of the door, he was able
to remain relatively hidden. The servants were so busy in
whatever they were doing that they did not notice the
presence of their master.
"Get me another rag."
He knew that voice, it was his housekeeper, Mrs. Shire. A
maid went to follow her orders when she happened upon
James and gasped loudly.
"Your Grace," she sunk into a deep curtsy.
Her voice was loud enough that the rest of the servants in
the room froze for a moment before they all followed in
suit. Realizing that it did him no good to stand in the
corner, he stepped into the dimly lit room and his gaze
met that of his valet's.
"You were to tend to me," he took out his pocket watch
and flipped it open to see the time, "seventeen minutes
ago."
His valet paled, "Apologies Your Grace, I lost track of
time. I can tend to you now."
James gestured to his half-done cravat, "Hutton, does it
look like I still require your assistance?"
Hutton wisely kept his mouth shut. The rest of the
servants waited for his next tongue lashing, but it never
came. "Mrs. Shire," he addressed his housekeeper, "do tell
me what all this fuss is about."
His housekeeper moved to the side allowing James to
get a view of whatever they were crowding around.
As he walked closer to the cot, he drew in a sharp breath.
"Where did you find her?"
It was Martin, his butler who answered. "Near the stables,
Your Grace."
James nodded; his eyes still trained upon the young
woman on the cot. Her eyes were closed, mud and dirt
caking her hair. Her clothes were drenched and torn in
places making the scraps and cuts more visible. He did
not know what happened to her and how she'd found his
isolated estate, but he knew that if she died now, it would
be under his watch—thanks to his foolish servants who'd
taken in the stray.
"Hutton," his valet stood straighter at the sound of his
name. "Wake up one of the groomsmen and ride
alongside him to the village. Summon whatever
apothecary is residing there."
Hutton bowed before taking his leave, his valet did not
question being sent out in the rain. If they created the
mess, they were going to be responsible for cleaning it up
as well. A physician would have been better to tend to the
woman however he knew at this hour, it would be
impossible to find one. He would send out a missive for
one later—once he knew the woman would survive the
night.
"Mrs. Shire, what do you think is wrong with her?"
His housekeeper met his gaze, and the words were
solemn. "She's been on the road for quite sometime
based on the scrapes. I am not sure if the infection has
spread but she has a high fever as well—probably from
being out in the rain too long."
James nodded, "Keep changing the cloth on her forehead
until the apothecary arrives."
He seated himself on a chair and looked around the
room. Most of the servants had fled but a few chamber
maids remained as Mrs. Shire directed them. His gaze
met that of his butler and because of years training,
seconds later Martin was in front of him.
"Get me a glass of brandy, will you?"
His butler nodded, "Very well, Your Grace."
James settled into the chair getting as comfortable as he
could, it looked as though it was going to be a long night.
***
The noise was the first thing that woke him up from the
light slumber. Rubbing his eyes, he looked towards the
door to see Hutton and another male behind him. Both
were drenched, presumably from the rain. James stood
up as Hutton made the introduction.
"Your Grace, this is Mr. Ballard, he is a physician."
Splendid. If the physician had arrived in place of an
apothecary, it would save him time tomorrow. James
cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't expect a physician to reside
in a small village of Dulverton."
Ballard shrugged out of his coat and gave James a tight
smile. "Fortunately enough, I was visiting my sister when
your valet happened upon me."
James gestured towards the cot where Mrs. Shrine and
his other servants had stepped a respectable distance
away. Ballard walked towards the woman before he
glanced at the crowd, "May I please have some space?"
James tilted his head towards the door and the servants
all fled, leaving only him and the doctor. James watched
as the man poked and prodded the woman.
He cleaned the cuts that were visible with some solution
he'd brought before wrapping them tightly in a cloth.
"Will she ever wake up?"
"It is too early to say, Your Grace. The fever is high but
because she is unconscious, I cannot give her any
medication."
James snorted, "Is there anything you can do?"
Ballard shook his head. "Medicine can perform a great
number of miracles, but it has it's limitations. In this
instance, it is up to the body to heal itself."
"So, we just wait to see if she dies?"
The physician shot him a sympathetic glance, "You
cannot control everything in this world, Your Grace."
James ignored him and stormed out of the room. It had
been a waste of his time to call the man, it was clear he
had no knowledge of medicine. His butler, Martin stood
dutifully right outside the room. "Summon another
physician, I do not care if they have to be dragged from
their beds, make sure they come here in haste."
"Very well Your Grace, what should I do about the other
physician?" He gestured towards the room.
"Pay him twenty-shillings and let him be on his way."
The weather was terrible, and it was cruel of James to
send the man out in the rain, but it was clear that he was
a fraud. If there was one trait, he hated more than
anything—it was liars. Not waiting to see if his orders
were being followed, James retired to his bed chambers.
He needed a cool head and rest for when the next
physician would arrive.
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