How to Heal the Marquess by Sally Forbes
Chapter Four
“I am working on a new herbal remedy, dear niece,” Ambrose Gibson said merrily.
Daisy turned from the shelf she had been perusing for medical supplies for her father and smiled sweetly at her uncle.
“Oh?” she asked, stepping toward him. “I would love to hear all about it, Uncle Ambrose.”
The man’s smile widened, and he winked at her.
“How about I do better than that?” he asked. “I would like to officially invite you to spend some time with me here, in my apothecary shop.”
Daisy gasped, nearly dropping the bottles she had been gathering. She frequented her uncle’s shop whenever her father needed more remedies and supplies, and she had spoken at length about some of the remedies her uncle used. It was, indeed, how she had learned some of the tricks she used when helping her father. But Ambrose had never invited her to witness him crafting his potions and medicines.
“Oh, Uncle,” she breathed, rushing over to him and placing her armload of items on a nearby counter so that she could embrace him. “I would be honored to spend some time here. But what has sparked this idea within you?”
The man hugged his niece tightly before releasing her. He shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were fond and serious.
“You have proven to have an aptitude for medicine, just like your father and me,” he said. “Besides, it would do me good to know I can pass on my remedies to someone I trust. And I trust you implicitly and wholeheartedly, Niece.”
Daisy’s eyes filled with tears of joy. Even though society would never accept her as a woman doctor, it meant the world to her that her family believed her capable enough to learn their secrets and tricks, so she could spend her life helping patients, just as they did.
“Oh, thank you, Uncle Ambrose,” she said, hugging him once again. “I will be here every spare minute I have. I so look forward to learning your recipes. And, perhaps, even coming up with some of my own.”
The apothecary laughed heartily.
“You are always welcome to experiment to your heart’s content, my dear,” he said. Then, he glanced at the stack of items she had been gathering. “Now, let me help you with those things. I am sure you will have a great many more before you are ready to return to your father.”
Daisy nodded and smiled gratefully.
“Thank you so much, Uncle,” she said.
They spent some time talking about remedies, as well as some of the ton’s current gossip. As a doctor’s daughter, she was not included in high society events. And while she did not find much of high society life terribly interesting, she did enjoy sharing in mild, light-hearted gossip, especially with her uncle. It gave her a break from the fatigue and worry of helping her father, and it was how she bonded with her uncle. It delighted her father to see her so close to his brother and to know she was taking an interest in the medicinal crafting side of medicine.
The sun was setting by the time Daisy was at last ready to leave the shop. She hugged her uncle, telling him she would return the very next time she had some time off from assisting her father. In turn, her uncle promised her that he would begin showing her some of his latest herbal recipes when she came next. With affectionate farewells and an extra handful of various herbs and flowers for her to use in continuing to practice making the remedies she had already learned, Daisy exited her uncle’s shop and boarded the carriage waiting to take her home.
When she exited the coach outside her father’s small, modest townhome, she turned to begin retrieving the items from the apothecary shop. But before she could gather them all, she heard cries of distress from behind her.
“Daisy,” her father said, breathless. “We must leave at once, dear.”
Daisy whirled around to see her father running down the front steps of the townhouse. She looked at him, frightened.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
The doctor reached his daughter, glancing inside the carriage at the new supplies, then looking back to her.
“There is an emergency at Berbrook Manor,” he said. “We must leave right away.”
Daisy nodded, looking back at the items from her uncle’s shop. As far as she could see, there was nothing that would not keep if she left it in the coach until they returned home. And, maybe, some of the new supplies would prove useful at Berbrook Manor when they arrived. She turned and got back in the carriage, with her father following right behind her.
As they traveled, the physician explained what he knew of the situation at Berbrook Manor and about Lord Berbrook himself. She listened as he told her about the duke’s sudden collapse during a party and how he could not be roused back to consciousness when word was sent to her father.
Daisy listened, absorbing the information her father was giving her, trying to decide how she could best help the duke when they arrived.
“I wonder what caused him to fall ill so suddenly,” she mused.
Her father shrugged, his face looking stern and thoughtful.
“In my experience, patients rarely simply collapse without previous signs of illness,” he said. “Especially if they collapse and cannot be roused with some effort.”
Daisy nodded.
“Perhaps, he simply became overwhelmed with all the excitement,” she said, doubting the words even as she spoke them. “If this is the first party he has hosted in quite some time, maybe it was just too exhausting for him to have such a grand ball at his home.”
Her father rubbed his chin, his eyes fixed out of the carriage window.
“I do hope you are right, Daughter,” he said, in a voice that told Daisy he was uncertain about her optimism.
They traveled the rest of the short distance to Berbrook Manor in silence, which was not unusual for them when they traveled to see sick patients. Daisy took the opportunity to sneak glances at her father, noting how he was beginning to look aged and how the dark circles under his eyes seemed to have become permanent. The wild idea that he himself might be ill crossed her mind, but she forced it away. He is simply fatigued, she scolded herself.
The commotion they discovered outside Berbrook Manor as they approached kept her from dwelling on her morbid thought. People were hurrying to carriages, which were pulling away from the mansion quickly, as their own carriage made its way in the opposite direction, up the last part of the driveway to the front door of the manor. Everyone leaving was dressed in fine clothing, and she guessed they had arrived before all the party guests had departed. They disembarked from the carriage when it stopped, trying to avoid the remaining ball guests as they approached the door, where the butler waited to show them to the duke.
The entryway to the manor, unlike the front lawn, was completely deserted. Daisy did not see even a single maid as they walked through the hallways, where enormous paintings of people and landscapes hung lined the brown paneled walls.
The manor was very well-kept but not elaborately decorated. The most lavish décor she spied was the red velvet upholstery on the chairs, one of which sat outside each room they passed upstairs.
The doors to the rooms were closed, so she could not get to peek inside, but all the doors were identical, a uniform brown, with black trim. Even the small, round tables standing outside each door, and crystal vases which sat upon them, were identical, with the same number of yellow roses in each one.
Daisy imagined how much time it would take to learn which room was which, with no way to differentiate between them. She stuck close to her father and the butler, not wishing to find herself lost in the expansive, bland manor.
Getting lost was nothing to fear, as she soon learned. The oppressive silence inside the manor was soon ruptured by the sounds of violent coughing. Her stomach twisted into knots as the trio followed the sound up the stairs and down a hallway that seemed, in that moment, impossibly long. The butler picked up speed as they continued down the hallway, which was lined with mirrors as well as portraits.
The sound grew rapidly louder and, by the time the butler came to a stop outside what Daisy knew must be the duke’s bedchambers, she felt as though she had swallowed blades made of ice. The butler knocked on the door so gently. Daisy did not know if it could be heard over the sound of the duke’s horrible coughing. She was so focused on the coughing that the sudden opening of the door made her jump. When she looked up, the sight before her made her heart stop.
There stood the most handsome young gentleman she had ever seen. His skin was pale, no doubt from distress and worry, but she could still see how tanned his complexion was. His cinnamon-brown eyes were wide and fearful, but she was instantly lost in them. His face was clean-shaven, so she could see how tense it was, but it was also chiseled and masculine. She did not realize her breath had caught until he spoke, startling her into breathing once more.
“You are the physician, I presume?” he said, speaking quickly.
Daisy’s father nodded.
“I am Dr. Gibson,” he said, offering his hand.
The young man shook it. “Tobias Peyton, Marquess of Penwell,” he murmured rapidly. “Please, come. It is my grandfather.”
The doctor turned to his daughter, gesturing for her to enter the room first. But just then, the marquess looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. He looked back at the doctor, confused.
“Who is she?” he asked.
Daisy’s father straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. Daisy understood at once what was happening, and she held her breath again.
“This is my daughter,” Dr. Gibson said. “She serves as my nurse and assistant.”
The marquess frowned, looking her over. Daisy knew, though he did not speak, what he was thinking. She knew of the stigma attached to women practicing medicine, as it was something she always faced when dealing with London’s high society. She offered a weak smile, hoping to melt some of the marquess’s coldness.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, your lordship,” she said, giving a brief curtsey.
The marquess said nothing to her, looking back to her father instead. This annoyed Daisy, but she bit her lip and said nothing.
“If you would, please, your lordship,” the doctor said, breaking the tense silence, “kindly wait in the hallway while we conduct our examination. The sooner we look him over, the sooner we can begin his treatment.”
The marquess looked as though he would say something more, now completely ignoring Daisy. But before he could, her father gently guided her past him inside the room, standing in the doorway as they waited for Lord Penwell to comply. At last, the marquess stepped away from the door, though reluctantly, allowing the doctor to close it. Daisy’s father looked at her, giving his head a gentle shake.
“Let us begin, my dear,” he said quietly.
