“I can’t believe this,” Edward breathed. “I can’t believe she was listened to under such circumstances! The physician should have been sent for at once! What was anyone thinking?”
“We had to do as she instructed us, Your Grace,” Mr. Bradford said. “She is the Duchess, and in your absence, she was in charge of the household. I agree with you that help should have been summoned sooner, but she told us over and over that she wouldn’t permit it. There was discussion among the staff of doing it anyway, but in the end, we decided the only thing to do was to listen to her and do as we were told.”
It pained Edward to think that help would have come sooner if he had been home. Of course, he would have insisted that the physician be sent for right away if he had been here. But even so, it should never have come to this.
“What about Margaret?” he demanded. “She has the authority to summon a physician. Didn’t anyone think to ask her what she thought of all this?”
“Of course, we thought of it, Your Grace, and that’s exactly what we would have done if not for the fact that she isn’t here.”
“Not here?” Edward frowned. “What do you mean, not here? Where is she?”
“She’s gone to her country house.”
“While Lydia was ill? She wouldn’t do that, surely.”
“She left on the same afternoon the Duchess fell ill. We’ve been assuming that she didn’t realize how unwell the Duchess was—if she had, I’m sure she would have stayed.”
Still, it was odd that Margaret would leave Lydia alone at all. That wasn’t something that had been discussed with Edward. He had assumed that while he was away in Bath, Lydia would be looked after. He wouldn’t have left her alone if he had known this.
Or would I have? After all, the staff is here. And I did want to go without her. Perhaps I would have justified it to myself, even if I had known that Margaret wouldn’t be here with her. Maybe I would have told myself that it was all right to leave Lydia behind.
He was consumed by guilt. Lydia should have been with him. He should have been with her. She was his wife, and although he hadn’t realized it until now, he was in love with her. In spite of all of that, he had left her alone, and now she was ill, and no one was taking proper care of her. And that was entirely his fault.
“Where is she?” Edward asked. “Up in her room?”
“Yes, that’s right. She’s resting.”
“I’m going up to see her,” he said. “You’re to let me know at once when the physician arrives. Find a way to get him here sooner if you can. Don’t delay.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mr. Bradford replied.
Edward hurried up the stairs and down the hall to Lydia’s bedroom. It seemed providential now that he had felt so compelled to rush home to her. It was almost as if he had known, somehow, that she would need him—even though there was no way he could have known it.
He paused outside her bedroom door, feeling anxious and unsettled, wondering just how ill she would be. It was deeply troubling that this had all happened while he had been away. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to bring himself to leave her ever again. This was the punishment he deserved, he thought, for taking such a long time to understand his feelings for her. If only he had figured it out sooner, he would have been with her when this happened. And if that had been the case, it wouldn’t have taken so long for her to get the help she needed.
He knocked on the door, wondering whether or not he would hear her voice asking him to come in.
But the door was answered by her lady’s maid, Violet.
Violet had dark circles under her eyes—she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. She gasped at the sight of Edward. “Your Grace! I didn’t know you were home!” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
“I heard that Lydia was ill. May I come in?”
“Of course.” She stood back to admit him.
Lydia lay on her back in bed, her eyes closed, her hands folded. She looked peaceful, but there was something unhealthy about her appearance. She was pale, all the usual color gone from her cheeks, and Edward thought she looked a bit thinner than usual. Her chest rose and fell only very slightly as she breathed, and it made him feel deeply uneasy.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked anxiously.
“We don’t know,” Violet replied.
“Tell me what happened.”
“All we know is that she collapsed after tea one day,” Violet explained. “She came up to her room—we don’t know why, we can only assume that she was beginning to feel a bit unwell, and she intended to lie down. But when I found her, she was on the floor. She must have collapsed. She was unconscious, and I had to call for help to get her into bed.”
“Has she been awake since then?”
“Here and there, but not for very long,” Violet said. “When she wakes, we try to get her to eat, or to drink tea, but she hasn’t had much of an appetite.And she doesn’t stay awake for very long—usually only a few minutes, and then she drifts off again.” Tears filled her eyes. “Your Grace, I wanted to call the physician, but everyone said we should wait, and she insisted that she didn’t want me to do it.”
