Addicted. Charlotte Featherstone

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       Ten months later

      “Anais, you must come downstairs, at least for a cup of tea. It is Christmas Eve, you cannot possibly spend it up here in your room, oh—” Ann’s voice broke off when she came waltzing into the room and spotted Anais lying in bed with Robert Middleton’s ear to her breast.

      “I’m sorry,” Ann mumbled, clearly horrified that she had walked in on her sister in such an intimate position.

      “Don’t be silly, Ann. Dr. Middleton was just finishing with me, were you not, sir?”

      “Indeed I was, Lady Anais.” He straightened away from her. “I shall check in with you tomorrow to see how you are faring.”

      “Surely you do not need to call on me tomorrow?’ Tis Christmas morn, and you have a wife and child that you will not wish to leave.”

      He reached for her hand, clasping it tightly in his warm one. “I shall see you tomorrow, Lady Anais. Sleep well and remember you are not to exert yourself.” He snapped shut the wooden cylinder he had used to listen to her chest. “It’s utterly amazing. Your heart sounds much stronger than it did two days ago. If you keep this up, you shall be wandering about the woods in no time.”

      “Thank you, Dr. Middleton.”

      “Just Robert,” he murmured as he placed his hat over his dark blond hair. “We have, after all, known each other since we were in swaddling clothes.”

      “Thank you, Robert,” Anais replied, knowing he would not be happy until she did so. And truth be told, she did feel silly acting so formal around him. She had known him all her life. He was Garrett’s younger brother after all.

      “Send word to The Lodge if you need me. And remember, you are not to be near drafts or the cold air. The cold makes it harder for the heart to pump the blood. Your heart doesn’t need the strain. I’m afraid you shall have to miss out on the church service this evening. Your condition is delicate, you must not take any risks.”

      “Mother says that she believes you are much too young to attend me,” Anais said, laughing at him and his boyish pout.

      “No doubt she puts more stock in that old physician of hers, the one whose medical books were written in the time of the Bible.”

      “She’s threatened to send him to me.”

      “Whatever you do, don’t let him bleed you, Anais.”

      “I won’t, Robert.”

      “Well, then, if that is all, I shall be on my way. The weather, it appears, has taken a turn for the worst.”

      “Never know what winter will bring in Worcestershire.”

      He nodded and reached for his brown pigskin bag. “It’s much the same in Edinburgh. Well, then, good night, Anais, and happy Christmas to you.”

      “To you, too. Wish Margaret the same and give your daughter a kiss for me.”

      “I shall,” he said, beaming a wide smile at the mention of his child. “I certainly shall. Happy Christmas, Lady Ann,” he said, inclining his head as he passed her sister.

      Ann came over to the bed and sat down beside her after Dr. Middleton had closed the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was still here. He was up here for a very long time.”

      Anais shrugged and picked at the loose thread of the woolen blanket that covered her. She couldn’t help but notice how pale her fingers still looked and how her veins, so blue and cold, could be seen through her skin, as if her flesh was nothing but transparent tissue that was used for papier-mâché.

      “You are improving?” Ann captured her gaze. “You must be, for you look much better than you did a month ago when you returned from France. Lud, you looked on death’s door when Lord Broughton carried you in. I vow, it was providence indeed that you met up with him in Paris, for Aunt Millie would have been in hysterics had she to deal with you alone, and in a foreign city.”

      “It was very fortunate that I met up with his lordship,” she muttered, not wanting to talk about Garrett and the events that had taken place.

      “Has Dr. Middleton told you what your delicate condition is? He’s mentioned it several times to Mama and Papa, but he is rather vague to its cause.”

      Anais let her sister see her impatience. “I have told you, Ann, that it is nothing more than a bit of fever and malaise.”

      Ann arched an intelligent, blond brow, clearly not believing what she was hearing, but letting the rebuke slide. “Mother told Father that it is most likely your womanly organs rotting away in spinsterhood that is causing your heart to fail. But father believes that you’ve caught some sort of virulent brain fever from the French.”

      Anais СКАЧАТЬ