Chapter 5

Five

T he next morning, Stephen awoke to Smith’s knock on his door and climbed out of bed with anticipation. His valet drew open the blinds and laid out his trousers and riding coat for the day.

“Are you still planning a trip into town, my Lord?” he asked. “I drew up your coat for that purpose, but was unsure if your plans had changed.”

“You are correct,” Stephen assured him, stepping into his clothes with care. “My mission today is to find the town doctor and convince him to see to the wellbeing of my aunt. She agreed to as much yesterday with Miss Selwyn, but I have no certainty that her mood will remain favorable.”

“Miss Selwyn appeared below-stairs last night,” Smith said, helping to fasten the cuffs on Stephen’s coat. “She seemed a pleasant enough lass. I believe there was some mild surprise among the servants that she had deigned to introduce herself in the servants’ quarters, but for the most part the verdict was that she seemed quite sweet and unassuming.”

“A bit too sweet, if she is to hold my aunt in check,” Stephen said, then, shrugging, “but so far she has proved more able than I. I cannot complain.”

“A letter came in the post yesterday,” Smith said, pulling it out and laying it on the table. “I would have brought it to you sooner, but it was held up with some documents in the library. I told them you had not set up an office there, but the servants below stairs seem to think all your correspondence must be shuffled there regardless.”

Stephen picked it up and broke the seal, reading the contents quickly. “It is from my parents,” he said, disheartened as he read. “They wish to know why I have not yet returned home. They speak of the coming Season and the opportunities I am currently missing.” He closed the paper and tossed it aside, fiddling disconsolately with his cravat.

“We have been here for a few weeks now, my Lord,” Smith said, carefully.

“And we will be here for a few more,” Stephen responded quickly. “At present, to leave my aunt would be most ungentlemanly. I see that she needs aid, and if I were to ride to London so as to avoid missing the first ball of the Season, I would feel sorely the curse of unfinished business.”

He brushed his hair back from his face and, directing Smith to call for his horse to be brought ‘round after the morning meal, made his way down to the breakfast room. To his surprise, the new Miss Selwyn was already there with his aunt. Previous to her arrival, his breakfasts had always been either alone or interrupted near the end by the arrival of his aunt in a state of great dishevelment. This morning, though still in a sparse shift, his aunt seemed calmer and more composed. It even looked as though she’d allowed her companion to brush her hair and braid it back in a proper French braid, tied with a bit of ribbon at the end.

Miss Selwyn was wearing a simple brown morning gown dotted with white flowers. Her soft hair was pulled back in a sober bun, and only a few whisps had managed to escape their confines. She looked up with a bright smile upon his arrival and paused momentarily in the buttering of a scone.

“My Lord,” she said. “Good morning to you.”

“And to you,” he said, shooting a glance at his aunt. “And you, Aunt Cecelia.”

His aunt looked at him only briefly, but turned her gaze quickly back to the person who seemed to hold her utter fascination — the new lady’s companion at her side. Miss Selwyn behaved as though oblivious to the attention, calmly going on to prepare a plate for his aunt and pour her a bit of tea.

“The crumpets are fine this morning,” Miss Selwyn said, “but Lady Cecelia has declared them too hard for a morning meal and opted for the softer scones.”

“The food here has always been quite fine,” Stephen said, sitting and preparing his own plate. “I find I don’t even miss the repast of my own home in Cheshire.”

Miss Selwyn raised her eyebrows with interest. “Cheshire? Is it quite lovely there?”

“There are some fine walks,” he answered, “and the sandstone ridge has an invigorating overlook.”

“I have heard as much,” she answered. “You must miss your family.”

Stephen paused a moment, tempted to tell her that he did not, in fact, miss his family or the life that waited for him back home. Such a thing would have been honest, but it would have been too forthright for a conversation with an employee. Instead, he gave a quick nod and forced a smile.

“It is right and proper to miss one’s family,” he said noncommittedly, pouring himself some tea and looking away.

“A mischievous urchin may soon do my first, if he meets with a teapot or ewer,” Aunt Cecelia chirped suddenly, her eyes fixed on Miss Selwyn. After a long, confused pause, at which point Stephen found himself looking at the placid-faced lady’s companion in confusion, his aunt continued, “My second bring on us both hunger and thirst. My whole thirst and hunger will cure.”

Stephen set down his fork. It was this sort of madness that had confounded him in the days before Miss Selwyn’s arrival. He thought it best to converse with his aunt, but when she interjected strange riddles like this in the place of proper conversation, he hardly knew how to proceed. Miss Selwyn, however, seemed unperturbed.

“Quite so,” she said, smiling at the dowager. “Although a bit on the nose for our present activity.”

She went back to her meal, and the time progressed in relative peace, although Stephen was unsure how such a state was maintained. She caught onto the answer to the riddle quickly enough, he thought. And yet I have still not deciphered it.

When the meal drew to a close, he pulled her aside as his aunt went ahead to her drawing room.

“Miss Selwyn, may I have a moment?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, stopping quickly and looking up at him with a bright, disarming smile. “How may I help you, my Lord?”

“I wanted you to know my plan for the day,” he said. “I am riding into the village to find the doctor and bring him back to help my aunt. After she agreed to see him last night, I am filled with renewed hope that she will be well in time.”

“A wonderful plan, my Lord,” Miss Selwyn said. “We will take a turn in the gardens later, so if we are not here when you return you may look for us there.”

“Quite so,” he said, pausing a moment and feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

“Is there anything else, my Lord?” she asked, looking up at him innocently.

“No, not at all.” He turned to go, and was nearly to the front door when she called out after him.

“The answer to her riddle, my Lord, was ‘Break’ and ‘Fast’ — 'Breakfast.’” She smiled when he turned around to look at her, and he wondered for a moment if she was teasing him. “You of course already knew that,” she amended quickly, the same laughing look in her eyes. “But just in case you didn’t know for some strange reason.”

He nodded, put on his hat, and took his leave, laughing to himself as he went.

His horse was saddled and ready at the base of the stairs, and he found the route into town pleasant and easy riding. The roads here were country roads, but well-kept and not nearly as rutted or rocky as the ones he’d grown up navigating at home. When he reached the village at last, he went first to the inn and inquired after the address of the local doctor.

“We’ve a new one in town,” the innkeeper grumbled, bustling about his work at the bar as he spoke. “I can’t set store by him myself. Or our old doctor was regular gentleman with proper education in the medicinal arts, but sadly had to take his leave a fortnight back to tend to a family emergency. He is replaced at present by another doctor entirely who has only been in town a few days. He is rumored to be quite the world traveler, and though many attest to his superior experience, he has yet to be proved in our little village.”

“What is his name and where does he reside?” Stephen asked.

“You need only cross the street to the row houses yonder and knock upon the blue door,” the man assured him. “Doctor Edward Morris, he is.” He looked suspicious. “And the best of luck to you, I can say. As I mentioned—”

“You cannot set serious store by his experience,” Stephen finished for him. “I will consider myself duly warned.

He crossed the street and was surprised to find the door answered on the second knock. Standing before him was an older man with grey hair and sideburns. The man wore the proper black coat of his profession and held in his hand a little watch on a gold chain. He frowned at Stephen.

“Yes?”

“I am looking for Doctor Morris.”

“I am he,” the doctor stood aside. “Would you like to come inside?”

“I can’t stay long,” Stephen answered, staying on the stoop outside. “I only wished to ask if you could make your way out to March Manor later this week. My aunt resides there and is quite unwell. I believe she has a touch of…” he paused, unsure of the right word to use. In the end, he settled on the one he knew a man of the medical profession would understand. “… A touch of madness,” he said, adding quickly, “and she seems to be ailing in body. She has only just agreed to have a doctor attend her, and I wish to take advantage of this change of heart at once.”

The doctor paused a moment and then, smiling, turned behind him and took in hand his cane and cloak. “Very well.”

Stephen paused, surprised. “Now?”

“Yes,” the doctor pushed gently past him and shut the door behind him. “You said it was a timely matter, and as you can see I am in want of patients at present. It is always so in a new town. It takes a bit of desperation and proving before the village folk trust my medicine.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows, liking the man’s honesty already. “Let us fetch a horse for you from the town livery and we can ride back to the manor at once,” he said.

They set out together, arriving at the manor as the midday sun was high in the sky. They talked little on the journey — just enough for Stephen to learn that the innkeeper had indeed been correct about the doctor being well-travelled. It sounded as though the old man had been to every exotic place where the British held sway, and had carried back with him herbal remedies and local knowledge about various maladies. He seemed a quiet man in general, unwilling to boast about his experiences. He only shared a small bit, and only in response to Stephen’s repeated questions.

At the manor, they walked inside together and into the empty drawing room.

“My aunt’s companion said they might be in the gardens,” Stephen said, looking out and catching a glimpse of skirts far away near the hedge. “I think I see them there. Come with me.”

The two walked outside, and Stephen guided the older man to a bench in the shade. “Wait here a moment and I will bring her over,” he assured the man. “I believe she will be more comfortable if she can come to you on her own terms.”

He proceeded into the hedge maze a few meters away, ducking under the twining arch and into the cool interior. He saw Miss Selwyn first, bending helpfully over his aunt, who was perched on a little stone bench peering out through the greenery in the direction of the house.

Miss Selwyn looked up when she saw Stephen, her face worried. “She has seen your friend,” she said. “She protests most strongly that she will not see a doctor. She declares that she has changed her mind.”

Stephen sighed. This is precisely what I was afraid of. Then he noticed a change in his aunt’s countenance. Her face, almost pressed against the hedge in her effort to spy on the old doctor, softened suddenly. She drew back from the hedge and looked at Stephen, shaking her head.

“Not today,” she said, more calmly than he had expected.

Miss Selwyn cast a quick glance at Stephen, then back at his aunt. “Not today?” she repeated hopefully. “But another day?”

“He seems an old man,” his aunt went on, almost wistfully.

“He is a good doctor,” Stephen said. “He has travelled much, and knows his job very well. We will be with you the entire time, I assure you.” He looked at Miss Selwyn, remembering how quickly his aunt had taken to her the night before. “Miss Selwyn will be with you.”

His aunt sat quite still for a moment, unusually silent and calm. Then she shook her head again. “Perhaps I can see him later,” she said, “but at present I do not wish to see the doctor.” She looked up, her eyes reflecting the dappled light of the vines overhead. “You go speak with him. I am going to watch the leaves dancing.”

Miss Selwyn looked at Stephen with what he could only guess was apology in her eyes. “Perhaps I can come with you to speak to the doctor,” she said.

“Of course,” he said, more curtly than he’d meant. He knew it wasn’t her fault that his aunt’s mind had changed in the interim between their conversation last night and today’s adventures, but he felt disappointed nonetheless that the doctor had come all this way for no purpose. He led the lady’s companion back out to Dr. Morris and introduced the two.

“It is no matter,” Dr. Morris assured them both. “I can come another day, when your aunt is feeling better. As you describe her symptoms, though, I would not be so certain to assume she is going mad.” He smiled at Miss Selwyn. “This lady, in particular, accounts for her actions in a way that gives me much hope.”

“How do you mean?” Stephen said, looking at Miss Selwyn as well. “She has only told you about her experience over the last few days.”

“And what she has described is not necessarily the markers of madness. I would guess your aunt is suffering from extreme loneliness. It seems she has been shut off for some time, and such isolation can make a person say and do strange things.” He stood and brushed off his coat. “I imagine your aunt would benefit from your continued attention and friendship. I am loathe to prescribe any medicinal remedies until I have seen her, but I would go on to say you have inadvertently stumbled upon the best remedy — companionship. Try this new situation with your Miss Selwyn for a few weeks, and come back to tell me how your aunt’s illness is proceeding.”

He left after that, following the butler outside and leaving Stephen with Miss Selwyn in the garden. Stephen turned to her, wanting to apologize for his earlier sharpness of tone, but not knowing how. She, however, seemed nonplussed.

“It is a good thought,” she said simply. “Waiting to see if companionship is all she requires.”

“Yes,” he said quickly, taking her cue to keep the exchange professional. “I am hopeful he is right.”

They hesitated a moment longer, and then Stephen gave a sharp bow and took his leave.