Page 40 of The Bachelor Spy
The girl’s eyes were so round and watery, Grace wondered if she might burst into a full-on wail if Grace pressed further.
After hesitating, the girl answered. “The doctor thinks perhaps fifteen pounds would cover the specialist’s fees and a week’s lodging nearby.” Jane’s voice was barely a whisper. “But that’s so much money, my lady. I couldn’t possibly—”
“You can, and you will.” Grace stood and moved to the small desk in the corner where she kept household accounts. After rifling through her set of keys, which felt endless but really was nothing as monstrous as Mrs. Powell’s key ring, she opened the drawer and counted out twenty pounds—more than Jane had mentioned, but the girl would need funds for food and any unexpected expenses.
“My lady—” Jane’s voice broke as Grace pressed the notes into her hand. “This is too much—”
“It’s exactly enough.” Grace squeezed the girl’s hands. Giving gifts was such a wonderful thing. She knew she had to be careful with their funds, but Frederick would approve this choice. “Your father needs care, and you need to be able to focus on his recovery without worrying about finances. Consider it an advance on your wages if it makes you feel better.”
“My … my lady.” Jane dissolved into a fresh wave of tears, even more violent than the previous. Goodness gracious, Grace had hoped to quell some of her tears, not encourage them. “You are too kind. You are always so kind.” She shook her head again as she looked down at the money. “I don’t deserve your kindness, my lady.”
“Nonsense, we all could do with a bit of kindness with all the very difficult things going on in the world.” Grace helped the girl to her feet. “Now, go tell your mother the good news. You have my permission to leave this afternoon to make the arrangements.”
“Oh, Lady Astley.” Jane impulsively threw her arms around Grace in a brief, fierce hug before remembering herself and pulling back with a mortified expression. “I’m so sorry, my lady. That was terribly forward—”
Grace leaned near and lowered her voice. “I’m terribly fond of hugs, Jane, so I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Another burst of tears, and Jane rushed from the room.
The dear girl must be managing a lot to be a walking waterworks.
Grace sighed and dropped back onto her chair.
But she understood. Lately, tender moments had affected her more profoundly too. In fact, she’d nearly broken down in the garden two days ago when she’d stumbled into one of the flower beds and nearly destroyed Mr. Porter’s newest bulbs.
Grace wasn’t certain how long she sat in the stillness of the room after Jane left, mind spinning through a varied list of items, from thieves to weepy servants to possible reasons she might die, when the door opened to reveal Brandon.
“My lady, Dr. Ross and his nurse have arrived.”
His nurse? Well, of course he had a nurse. But why bring the nurse along when he hadn’t before? Her throat closed the tiniest bit. “Please show them in, Brandon.”
Within only a few moments, the young Dr. David Ross and a woman who looked to be near his age with dark hair and eyes entered. Grace stood—offering them a smile, she hoped—but her heart had suddenly taken flight.
“Good morning, my lady.” He dipped his head, his green eyes lighting with his smile, and then he turned to the woman. “This is my nurse, Miss Dougall.”
“Nice to meet you, Lady Astley.”
Grace’s ears perked at the woman’s greeting. “You’re American?”
The woman’s smile spread wide. “Yes, my lady. But my father’s family is from Ednesbury, and I’ve returned there to see how I may help with the war effort.”
“How good of you.” Grace gestured for them to sit. “And I imagine Dr. Ross is a wonderful doctor to work with.”
Miss Dougall smiled over at the doctor. “He certainly is, and he thought, since we both have convalescent hospitals, it would be good for me to see how you are running yours to get an idea of a larger place.”
A tiny splash of pride had Grace sitting a bit taller, though she immediately deflated. “I’m sorry to say it is rather large, Miss Dougall, because there are so many wounded.”
“But at least we can offer a place for them to find medical support, comfort, and camaraderie.” Dr. Ross waved toward the room. “Especially in such a fine establishment as Havensbrooke.”
“Thank you.” Grace glanced around the room, her smile growing. “I am so very glad to call it home.”
“And I know you are busy with it as we are.” His expression sobered. “So I would not wish to take up too much of your time. How may I be of assistance to you?”
Heat fled her cheeks. Now was the time of truth. “Well, a friend of mine suggested I see you since I’ve been feeling rather … off lately. Tired, mostly. And my appetite has been strange.”
“I see.” He leaned forward, braiding his fingers in front of him. “Tell me about these symptoms.”
Grace described the exhaustion that had plagued her for months, particularly severe in the early days after Frederick left. The way certain smells made her nauseous. The tightness of her dresses. The strange fluttering sensation in her middle that had become more pronounced lately.
