“I do not think it is a good idea,” Evelyn replied. “She is upset and in a certain amount of pain, and Dr. Alton does not want you out of bed for longer than it takes to use a chamber pot. Right now, Mr. McElroy has greater mobility than you.”
“Now that is unkind of you, Evelyn. Although I should be lonely these long days lying here without him.”
“Long days… it has been but three,” Evelyn protested, while Mr. McElroy said at the same time, “I was glad to do it. The time drags for me, too. I’ll be glad when the carpenter has me new leg.”
“Oh, the pair of you! One in bed, the other in a comfortable chair. I have been upstairs and down, reasoning with the cooks the Duke sent for his mother, and finally cooking her bedtime snack myself at her drawing room fireplace.”
Mayson began to cough into a large white handkerchief. He then blew his nose, and when he would have wiped his eyes on the same cloth, Evelyn handed him a fresh one. “Tank you,” he said, the nasal congestion gripping his usual clear diction.
Evelyn did not say anything, merely looked worried.
“Did Dr. Alton look in on you today?” she asked.
“He did, on both of us, and on Jemmy,” Mr. McElroy said. “He said to tell you he would be by in the morning, and not to fret yourself too much. He left some packets of tea for you to make up for Mr. Rudge, as well as a draught for the pain in my arm, and a pair of crutches for me.”
“How is Jemmy?” she asked.
“Fit as a fiddle, and chomping at the bit to be back in the kitchen. The physician wants him to wait another day, especially since he anticipates a fight between Jemmy and that pair of dunderheads the Duke sent to cook. He is hoping that both Her Grace and Mr. Rudge will soon be fit enough to send those cooks back to the estate manor.”
“Oh, dear,” Evelyn laughed a little. “It would seem that no one likes them. But small wonder. They tried to cook up a seven-course meal for Her Grace. Mr. Wilson had to speak with them very sternly about Dr. Alton’s directions for the Duchess.”
“Let me guess,” Mayson suggested, “They tried to make all her favorites for one meal?”
“That would have been bad enough,” Evelyn sighed, “but the lead cook wanted to make a steak and kidney pie. This, when Dr. Alton expressly forbade organ meats, and the entire household knows that she detests the dish. Apparently, it was the late Duke’s favorite and is this cook’s specialty.”
“What did you do?” Mr. McElroy asked, with great interest.
“Suggested that he make the dish for the staff, and requested fresh bread, apples and cheese for the Duchess. I roasted the apple before the fire, toasted the bread, and Her Grace and I had a simple repast. Oh, and tea. I made ordinary tea by the drawing room fire.”
“Good solution,” Mayson put in. “And I think you had the better meal. I did wonder when Mr. McElroy and I were served the pie. It might be this cook’s specialty, but I cannot compliment him on his crust or the gravy.”
“Oh, dear,” Evelyn laughed. “Should I make something for you?”
“Not to worry. Mr. Wilson slipped us a snack of bread, cheese, and apples, having given over most of the pie to the hound master who hoped that it would not give his pups indigestion.”
“Oh, dear. Whatever possessed the Duke to send us these two fellows? Surely he knows how important it is that his mother have the right foods.” Evelyn shook her head in disbelief.
“That is a good question,” Mayson replied. “I can scarcely credit it myself.”
“Well, I think I’ll toddle off to bed,” Mr. McElroy said. “If you could just help me with the door, Mrs. Swinton?”
“Gladly,” Evelyn replied, as Mr. McElroy struggled up onto his one good leg with the aid of the crutches. “Will you need help at the other end?”
“With the door, I might.”
But when Evelyn opened the door, she found one of the footmen waiting. He volunteered not only to assist Mr. McElroy with the doors, but with any other thing he might need. “We reckon you saved Jemmy,” the footman said. “We got into a lot of mischief together when we were boys. I’d be glad to do it in any case, but I’m especially happy to be of help for his sake.”
Relieved, Evelyn watched the two men, one young and hale, the other old and injured by life, make their way down the hall
Then she closed the door and resumed her seat beside Mayson. She picked up his hand, and held his knuckles to her lips. “What will become of us?” she murmured.
Mayson, who had been drowsing with his eyes closed, opened them and said, “I’ll not leave you, Evelyn. You are not sitting another death watch. I have been thinking. Maybe you are right about what would happen if I take up my title. Let us run away together. New South Wales would suit, or maybe some place in the Americas. What do you think?”
“I think I will go with you to the ends of the earth,” Evelyn replied. “It would be nice to have a destination so that I know what to pack.”
Mayson started to laugh, then began to cough again. When he lay back against his pillows, he looked pale and the red patches on his cheeks were brighter than ever. “Just let me get over this,” he said. “Then we will make our plans.”
Evelyn smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “I will wait as long as it takes,” she said.
