Page 4 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“Not at all, Your Grace.” Oliver continued his brushing, while Felix stood to leave the stables. “Your Grace?” Oliver’s voice called after his retreating back.
“Yes?” Felix asked turning back toward the stall.
“If I might make a suggestion, Your Grace?”
“Go on,” Felix instructed.
“My mother used to swear by the old woman who lived alone out in the woods. She was a healer of sorts. Perhaps…”
“It is unlikely that a mere peddler of herbs would be able to offer aid, where the most highly educated of physicians have failed, Oliver.”
“I am sure that is so, Your Grace.” Oliver paused in his task once more to meet Felix’s eyes. “But what harm would there be in the trying?”
Felix stood and studied the groom’s face for a time and then nodded slowly. “I will give your words some thought, Oliver. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“I will speak with Her Grace, and if she gives her consent to speak with the healer you will go and fetch her. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Oliver nodded his assent.
Smiling in appreciation for the groom’s thoughtfulness, Felix turned and reentered the manor house. Climbing the stairs, he entered the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber to find her in a worse state than when he had left her. “I am sorry, Felix, but I do not think I can join you in the rose garden for luncheon today,” she whispered weakly. She was barely able to lift her head to speak with him.
“There is nothing to be sorry for, Mother. The roses will still be there tomorrow. It is I who am sorry that you are feeling worse than before. I know these doctors’ visits tire you. If only I could give you the strength of my own body, I would do so gladly without hesitation.”
“I know you would, my son, and I love you all the more for your selflessness and compassion. There is not a prouder mother in all of England.”
Felix sat down on the edge of the bed and took his mother’s hand in his. “Oliver Singer, the groom from the stables, has made a suggestion.”
“Oliver is such a kind young man. What did he have to say?”
“He has recommended that we consult an old healer woman who lives in the forest not far from here. He claims that his sainted mother swore by the old woman’s healing powers.” Mrs. Singer had been their head housekeeper for many years until she had died of breast cancer while under the surgeon’s knife. She had been replaced by Mrs. Taylor, who served them still.
“Mrs. Singer, poor soul, I do so miss her smiling face about the house.” The Dowager Duchess sighed sorrowfully.
“It has its risks, does it not, consorting with such women?” Felix asked, concerned.
“Yes, but no more than what I have already suffered. I believe it to be worth it, my son. Could you possibly arrange such a meeting on my behalf? Perhaps after we have finished consulting with Doctor Standish and his colleagues. I would not wish to insult the good doctor.”
“Of course, Mother. Anything you wish, simply ask and it shall be done.”
“You know what it is I want, Felix.”
“Yes, Mother, I do. I have given your request some thought, and I will invite the Weathertons to luncheon next week.”
“Tomorrow, Felix,” the Dowager Duchess firmly demanded.
“So soon?” he asked, uncertain that he wished to begin his courtship on the same day as one of his mother’s doctor’s visits.
“Yes, the sooner the better, my dear. We do not know how much time I have left, and I wish to see you settled before I go.”
Felix brushed the hair back from her face. “I will send an invite to the Earl of Bredon to attend luncheon upon the morrow. For now, I will go and inform Oliver of our desire to see his healer. We will see what can be done, though I am not certain what good a few chants and a bag of herbs will be able to accomplish that all the best doctors in England could not.”
“We will not know unless we try, my son.”
“I will do whatever it takes to save you, Mother, no matter what that might be. If this woman can truly help you, then we will arrange for her to move into the manor house to attend you at all times. If she cannot, then I think we should begin considering bringing in some of the doctors that Uncle Edmond has written to us about from the East.”
The Dowager Duchess’s half-brother, Edmond Hargreaves, was a military officer on the Indian subcontinent. He had written many letters on the topic of medical inquiries he had made on his sister’s behalf. In his last letter he had written that,‘If you cannot travel to India, my dear sweet sister, then India shall most certainly be forced to make the journey to you. Simply say the word and I will inundate you with the mysteries of eastern medicine.’Felix was to the point of desperation that he was willing to try anything.
