1601834527 (R) by Jane Goodger

Author:Jane Goodger [Goodger, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-01-21T22:00:00+00:00

“You’ll wear out the carpet, you will,” Mrs. Fitz said not unkindly as she left Lady Rose’s room for the second time, shaking her head when Charlie lifted his head in question. Charlie got the distinct impression the staff was a bit excited to have a real English lady under their roof. Despite the fact Charlie’s clothing clearly proclaimed him a working man, they were polite and deferential. He gave another begrudging point to Cartwright. A well-run staff that appeared happy could only have a kind master who paid well. He didn’t want to like Cartwright, but he found it was impossible not to like the man. He was pleasant, polite, and measured. Lady Rose and he would get along quite well. Hell, just thinking of them together nearly drove him to his knees. But this home, that man, they were where Rose belonged, not in some two-bit rooming house, which was all Charlie could afford.

Finally, after an eternity of waiting, Dr. Landsdowne emerged. He was younger than Charlie expected, neatly dressed and sporting a well-groomed and rather impressive mustache and muttonchops.

“How is she?”

The doctor started, unaware that anyone had been waiting outside. “And you are?”

“A friend.”

“Mr. Avery works for Lady Rose’s family and I expect he’ll want to report to them,” Cartwright said easily as he approached the two men.

“Ah, Mr. Cartwright.” The doctor seemed almost relieved to see the other man walking toward them.

Charlie felt his hands curling into fists. He didn’t very much like being ignored, as if he were nothing—even though, to these two men, that’s exactly what he was.

“How is she?” Cartwright asked, glancing over at Charlie as if he were well aware he was repeating Charlie’s exact question.

“She has influenza,” he said in a clipped British accent that bespoke his origins. “And being out in this storm weakened her to a point that I am not certain she will survive the night.”

Charlie felt the blood leave his head and he staggered, held upright only by the wall. The doctor looked at him curiously, as if unaware how very devastating his words were.

“I’ve given her jaborandi and so she’ll sweat quite a bit. Do try to have her drink. It won’t do to allow her to get too dehydrated. Her fever is dangerously high, her breathing labored. I am sorry, Mr. Cartwright, but it is in God’s hands.”

Charlie listened to the physician’s words, spoken without inflection. He might have been talking about a tree that had been damaged in the wind and would have to be cut down.

“No,” Charlie roared. “You do something. She has not traveled all this way to die. You do something, you cold son of a bitch. You’re talking about a young girl in there, a girl who left home frightened and desperate, and she is not going to die tonight, because you are not going to let her.”

The smallest bit of emotion flickered in the young doctor’s eyes, there and gone and perhaps just imagined. “I am not God. And I am not immune to her suffering,” the doctor said calmly.

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