Page 53 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
He felt as if his entire life had led to this fateful moment. As the coach came into the drive, he could see yard workers moving to bring in the horses. They were waving them in, and no matter how much Francis wished to pound on the roof and tell the driver that he had made a mistake, that in fact he should be returning to London, he could not.
He had set his course against the storm, and now the winds had come overtop him, and there was nowhere to go but forward lest he risk capsizing completely.
He felt the coach make its complete stop, and he watched the door intently until it swung wide open. He was greeted by the jovial faces of those enjoying the late summer weather.
“Good morning, Doctor.” Daniel said, walking to the top of the stairs overlooking the drive.
“And to you.” Francis climbed warily down from his perch.I must not let my emotions betray me.I must remain calm.
“Was the drive pleasant enough?” Daniel inquired as he met Dr. Fowler on the steps.
“It was the haul from London, at the very least.” Francis remarked, crossing into the entryway.
“It can be such a tedious ride.” Daniel added, shutting the front doors behind them. They waited there in the tiled room for a pause and then Daniel said, “May I take your hat and coat, Doctor?”
“Yes of course.” Francis slid his jacket off and handed Daniel his hat.How could I be so foolish?Such an action should have been routine and unacknowledged. Francis felt as if he were not off to a particularly good start.
“This way, Doctor. The Duchess is expecting you.” Daniel began to lead him into the house.
“And the Duke?”
“Away on business, I am afraid.”
“Away?” Francis felt his heart jump with hope.If Worthington is not here, it will be far easier to accomplish my goal.“Any word on when he will return?”
“None, I'm afraid. His Grace certainly has his own mind for his schedule.” Daniel remarked.
“Indeed.” Francis replied, glancing nervously between the expensive paintings that adorned the walls all around him. The angels and Christian martyrs of the Renaissance-style art stared down at him, ever judging his actions and thoughts. He could feel St. Sebastian's penetrating gaze cutting deep into him, like the arrows that protruded from his own, holy body.
“Here we are, Doctor.” Daniel pushed open a set of double doors, leading them into the east sitting room.
Francis saw the table made up and the Duchess standing by, ready as ever to receive some company from the city. On any other day, this would have been a most welcome sight that Francis rejoiced in. However, that day, it only brought him a taller tidal wave of anxiety.
“Doctor Fowler!” the Duchess exclaimed, gleefully. “Come in, come in, please make yourself comfortable.
“Your Grace, so good to see you.” Francis offered, walking towards the tea setting like a man walking to the gallows.
“I am so sorry that my spirited son is not here to see you in as well.” she remarked, gesturing to Daniel to pull a chair out for Francis.
“He is a busy man, Your Grace, I can take no offense.” Francis sunk heavily into the delicate chair.
“So, tell me of the city.” the Duchess went on. “How is your wife, well, I hope? It has been far too long since I have paid London a visit.”
“My wife is as well as she ever was.” Francis said, sucking in his breath. The thought of her untarnished grace, filling his house with her unique radiance, nearly brought him to tears.
“Are you quite alright, Doctor?” the Duchess cocked her head to the side. “You seem a bit pale, you haven't touched your crumpets.”
“Oh, I am well.” Francis shook himself.You will give yourself away! Get a hold of yourself, man!“I am only plagued by a lack of proper sleep, Your Grace. You see the previous evening I had cause to take out on a house call in the city, and as such, I was not afforded the hours of sleep the body requires, nor my fine wife's supper.”
“Poor thing.” the Duchess gawked. As Francis had suspected, that sort of lie went a long way with her sort of folk.There you are, you old rascal,the devil on his shoulder sneered. “Well come, eat, drink. You must regain your strength, much like our patient.” she rolled her eyes upwards as she spoke.
“And how is our patient, speaking of such?” Francis inquired, raising the tea cup to his lips and sipping down some of the hot brew. “Has she shown signs of improvement?”
“I cannot say that I have paid her any of my attention.” the Duchess confessed. “But between Mrs. Redford and my son, I have been assured that she is recovering steadily.”
“But you yourself have not been to see her, if I understand correctly Your Grace?” Francis sat forward a bit, reaching forward for a pastry.It is as if the stars are aligning for me.
“To my shame I have not.” The Duchess began to fan herself, sitting back from the tea setting. She had hardly eaten anything at all, if indeed any crumb had even passed her lips. “There is something I find, well, unsettling, about the whole of it.”
