Page 20 of Romancing the Scot
“And again, I thank you, but I cannot.” The doctor turned to Hugh. “I have only a few moments before I must go, m’lord, but I stayed to speak with you.”
“And I’m here now,” Hugh replied. “What is it?”
“Well, to begin, I’m happy to report that the young woman’s fever has broken, and she’s out of any immediate danger. She’s awake but extremely weak. Her youth will prove to be in her favor, however. I suspect, given time to mend, she’ll regain her health.”
Hugh recalled the limp and unconscious body he dragged out of the crate. She’d been barely alive. And after carrying her back to bed the other night, he still didn’t think she would make it. He thought the fever would take her.
“And her memory?” Jo asked.
“What about it?” Hugh asked, looking from his sister to the doctor. From the moment he’d walked in, he’d known that something was bothering her.
“It appears your guest is repressing memories of her past,” Namby said.
“What does she remember?” Hugh asked.
“Nothing at all. We asked a few simple questions about her past, but her mind appears to be a blank slate regarding everything before her time in the crate.”
“She doesn’t even know her name or her family,” Jo added. “She recalls neither where she came from nor where she was going. She can’t even remember the little she told you when she wandered into your study.”
“Nothing about searching for a father?” Hugh asked.
Jo shook her head.
“I’m hardly an expert in the afflictions of the mind,” Namby said, looking steadily at Hugh. “But I have recently read about this. It occasionally happens in soldiers, m’lord.”
“Grace might not be a soldier, but she’s certainly been through an arduous ordeal,” Jo said in defense of their guest.
The physician agreed. “Indeed. Loss of memory is sometimes the result of a sudden shock or a blow to the head,” he explained. “Other times it may occur during or after extended periods of suffering. In this case, if we add to that the delirium that accompanied her days of sustained fever, I’m not surprised at some subsequent disorder of the mind.”
The need to forget. Hugh had seen it himself. Men whose minds shut out the horror they’d witnessed in battle. They were the lucky ones.
“Will she recover from it?” he asked.
“Perhaps. In time.” The doctor glanced at the clock standing against a wall. “But it may very well be a slow process. She must be handled with patience, gently coaxing her along. It’s quite possible she may begin to remember important details of her life—family, for instance—as well as how she came to be here. When that will happen is another question entirely.”
Listening to the doctor, Hugh was now more impatient than ever to hear back from the clerk he’d sent to Antwerp. He hoped MacKay would find something that would explain Grace’s condition. Perhaps if she were reunited with her kin, he thought, her memory would return more quickly.
“I can make arrangements to have her taken to my house in the village,” the physician offered. “As you know, my wife is always looking for a ‘project,’ as she calls it. Your young woman would be well looked after. And my two apprentices will be more than happy to assist in her recovery, I’m certain.”
“Thank you, sir, but no. We can keep her here,” Jo asserted. Her gaze flew to Hugh. “Of course, that is, if you have no objection.”
What he was feeling didn’t matter, he reminded himself. Though he served as master of Baronsford, in his mind the house belonged to the family. This was the place they returned to celebrate, to mourn, to heal, and to gather. The tumult of the memories stirred up in him by Grace’s presence could not be the priority. He looked at Jo, the person who would be most affected.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you. I do,” Jo said, turning to the doctor. “We’ll keep her here at Baronsford until she has regained her strength.”
“Very good,” Namby said. “Then I’ll check back in a few days, unless you need me sooner.”
Before walking through the house to his study, Hugh listened to the doctor giving instructions to Jo about what to do and look for while caring for Grace.
Namby had mentioned his wife’s “projects.” Jo needed them, as well. Dividing her time between Baronsford, Melbury Hall in Hertfordshire, and the townhouse in London, she was devoted to the family. But for her entire adult life, she’d kept herself occupied with causes she felt were important, especially since the debacle of her broken engagement fifteen years ago. The tower house charity that she ran with Walter’s wife was an example of it.
Perhaps having Grace stay at Baronsford would be a good thing for Jo too, for however long she needed to recover.
In his study, Hugh found the orderly stack of papers on his desk waiting for him. His secretary was a good man for prioritizing items requiring his attention. Invitations for the upcoming annual ball needed to be sent out this week, and the list of guests was on top of the pile.
Picking up the list, Hugh fought down his annoyance, in spite of the fact that he knew how important the ball was for the family and for the community. Still, he frowned at his mother’s gentle insistence that his name should be on the invitation as host, rather than that of the earl and countess. He understood her motivation. Since he returned from the wars, she’d been striving to keep him involved and make him feel a sense of ownership of Baronsford.
