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“Yes, Dr. Alton,” Mayson could not keep the sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Mr. Whitley finished fitting the wooden leg, and went away with it to make a last few adjustments.

Dr. Alton left, and Mr. Bruce came in to help with the mustard plaster.

Then, for a time, Mayson drowsed, propped up on the pillows. After a time, Evelyn came in and sat beside him.

“Mayson, can you take a little soup?”

“Evelyn! When did you come in?”

“Just a little while ago. Come now, you would not eat the porridge this morning, and you’ve eaten nothing today except the medicine Dr. Alton left for you. This is a good beef and carrot soup that the new cook made for you.”

Mayson opened his eyes, and blinked at Evelyn, who was sitting beside his bed with a bowl in one hand, and a spoon poised in the other. “We have a new cook? What about Jemmy?”

“Dr. Alton says that Jemmy is not yet well enough to work, so the Duchess sent for Betty’s mother. You remember Betty. She is the newest maid.”

“I remember Betty,” Mayson said. “Nice person, easy to get along with.”

“The very one. She has been helping with the Duchess. As you might imagine, Her Grace is having a difficult time with all the upset in her household. Were that not so, I would have been here a good while ago. Now then, open up!”

Bemused, Mayson obediently opened his mouth. The soup was flavorful. There were no exotic spices, but there was plenty of beef flavor, along with a garnish of garlic and onions.

“Dr. Alton says you are to have garlic in nearly everything until the congestion in your chest breaks up. He would not have left us on our own, but the vicar’s wife is having her first baby, and apparently is having a difficult time of it.”

Mayson started to say, “Quite all right,” but as soon as his mouth opened, Evelyn popped another spoonful of soup into it. He chewed, tasting carrot. He kept his gaze on Evelyn’s face. She looked worn and tired.

Mayson swallowed, managed to intercept the next spoonful by catching Evelyn’s hand. “How is the Duchess?” he asked.

“Not doing well. She is having a miserable attack of gout, and is quite upset. She is especially wroth with the Duke for sending us two cooks who are not worthy of the name. She sent them packing this morning.”

“Did she? I would have given a great deal to have seen it.”

“It was a treat. The pair of them scarcely stopped to pack their things, they fled in such a hurry. That perked her up for a little while, but it wore her out, too. She is sleeping now, and I left Betty with her.”

“Do you think Betty can act as a companion for her?” Mayson asked.

“Not really. But she does very well as a chamber maid, better than I in some ways. More than that, I can trust her to stay with the Duchess and not wander off on some misguided personal mission.”

“And how is the new cook?”

“Competent. She understands how to make a good broth. Her biscuits are a little heavy, but Jemmy will more than make up for that as soon as he is able.”

“Evelyn,” Mayson said. “This is all happening because of me. I think you are right, we should go to New South Wales as soon as I am able to travel.”

“You said that yesterday. And I will go with you anywhere you wish to go, Mayson. But first, we must get you well enough to travel.”

“I’m working on it,” Mayson said peevishly.

“Then eat up your soup. I will speak privately with Mr. Wilson.”

“Must you? Are you sure that is a good idea?”

“Mayson, if we do not, we shall be leaving without recommendations. For all his stiff front, he is a kindly man. I think he understands a great deal about our situation.”

“I wish I understood it. Is Mr. McElroy listening to us?”

“No. He went to bed as soon as I came in. Poor fellow! He has also had a hard time of it, but he is much heartened by the prospect of getting his new leg tomorrow.”