Seasons of Love by Anna Jacobs

Author:Anna Jacobs
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Fiction, Historical, Azizex666, General
ISBN: 9780727856432
Publisher: Severn House Publ
Published: 2001-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Fifteen months after their wedding, Helen became aware that Charles was having stomach trouble.

He said it was nothing and refused to let a touch of indigestion incapacitate him. Then one evening, when he and Helen were sitting after dinner on the balcony of their villa overlooking the Bay of Naples, he had a much sharper attack than ever before. As he was taking a sip of wine, he grunted, let the wineglass drop and doubled up, gasping in pain.

‘Charles! What is it?’

‘Pain. Stomach. Must have - unh - eaten something!’ He waved her away and concentrated on breathing deeply and not crying out.

She went quietly to the other side of the room and rang for Alfred, who came and helped his master upstairs. She had great faith in Alfred's common sense, as well as in his devotion to his master. She also guessed that Charles would prefer to suffer in private. He was rather sensitive to anything which put him in a bad light in front of his young wife. As if she could think anything but well of him, whatever he did. She might not be in with love him in a romantic way, as she knew he still was with her, but she loved him dearly, nonetheless.

After a while Alfred came down to report that his master had been sick and was now lying in bed, feeling somewhat easier. ‘He says he don't want a doctor fetched, Mrs Carnforth, but I - well, that is

’ He faltered to a halt.

‘But what? Please go on, Alfred!’

‘Well, I don't want to seem disloyal to the Captain, but he's had a few sharp attacks of indigestion lately, really sharp, which he's hidden from you - and - and that ain't something he's ever suffered from before, not even in India, where they put pepper in everything! So I thought - well, if you sent for the doctor, there'd be nothing the master could do but see him.’

‘Thank you for confiding in me, Alfred. I shall do that at once.’ She never called him Briggs, which seemed so impolite to one who was very much part of the family.

The doctor arrived half an hour later, having judged a rich Englishman to be of sufficient importance to warrant an instant response to this late call. With much grumbling, Mr Carnforth submitted to an examination and enumerated his symptoms.

When the doctor came downstairs, he refused very politely but firmly, to discuss his diagnosis with Helen. ‘That is for your husband to tell you, Mrs Carnforth.’ He bowed his way out again as quickly as he could.

Cold fear crept into Helen's heart. The fear darkened to an icy dread when Alfred came to tell her that his lordship would like to be left alone for an hour or so. ‘He’s sorry to keep you from your bed, ma’am.’

His face was so wooden fear shot through her. ‘It's bad news, isn't it?’ she whispered. When he avoided her eyes and said nothing, she pleaded, ‘Don’t keep it from me! I can bear anything but not knowing.

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