How to Heal the Marquess by Sally Forbes
Chapter Seven
Daisy wrung her hands impatiently as she paced outside the door of the duke’s bedchambers. She knew she must respect his wish to speak to his grandson privately. She would have been foolish to go against the wishes of a duke, and it could very well have gotten her father fired.
The duke was very ill, and her father had expressly told her to remain by his side. That he was lying in there and not getting the treatment he so desperately needed was worrisome to her. She knew well that every moment counted with patients as sick as the duke, and she wanted nothing more than to get back inside the room and resume caring for Lord Berbrook.
She could hear the marquess’s voice, loud but muffled because of the closed, heavy door. Suddenly, the image of his face came to mind. He was incredibly handsome, and he had stunned her so much that she had stared at him for far too long.
If the duke had not been so ill, she had no doubt she would have been reprimanded for such inappropriate behavior. She wondered if his grandson would do so when he left the bedchambers. But she had noticed him staring at her as well.
Frustrated and distraught, Daisy sat down on the chair just outside the duke’s bedchamber door. Though she was very worried about the duke, she was now thinking of the marquess.
She had paid him no heed when she and her father had entered the manor. But now she had looked into his cinnamon-brown eyes, and she could not fathom how she did not notice him right away. And now that she could not stop thinking about him, she struggled to remind herself of what was most important for the moment.
“Miss Gibson,” said a soft, feminine voice, startling her from her thoughts.
Daisy looked up to see the Duchess of Berbrook standing beside her. Her expression was warm and friendly, but her eyes betrayed the concern and worried she was feeling.
“Oh, excuse me, your ladyship,” she said, immediately starting to rise from the chair to allow the duchess to sit.
Before she could, however, Lady Berbrook put a gentle hand on her shoulder and took the chair beside her.
“Please, do not stand on my account,” she said. “It would do me some good to sit and talk with another woman just now.”
Daisy smiled kindly at the duchess.
“Of course, milady,” she said. “I would be happy to sit and talk with you.”
The duchess smiled. Then, she looked past Daisy at a servant who, a moment later, approached carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Daisy blushed, considering stepping away despite the duchess’s words, as it was inappropriate for her to be sitting with nobility when they dined or took their tea. But a moment later, the duchess smiled fondly at her.
“Would you like me to pour you a cup?” she asked, gesturing to the tea sitting atop the silver tray.
Daisy was so surprised, she was initially speechless. She had helped her father tend to many patients of the gentry, and it was rare that they and their families treated her as anything more than a servant. Her father was treated marginally better, as the patients and their loved ones were well aware that he could well be the difference between life and death for the patient.
She, however, was almost never treated as anything more than a maid to be ordered around and treated dismissively. So, to have a noblewoman not only offer her tea but to offer to pour it for her, was something to which Daisy could not even respond.
The dowager marchioness seemed not to need any reply. Before Daisy could gather her thoughts and speak up, Lady Penwell had already begun pouring Daisy a cup of tea. Daisy’s instinct was to take the cup and the teapot from the marchioness and pour her tea. But the kind, older woman looked up at her as she handed her the cup and smiled gently.
“Relax, my dear,” she said, closing her hands over Daisy’s as she took the cup from the noblewoman. “You are doing very well, and we are grateful that you and your father could come on such short notice. But take a moment to rest and talk with me. And, for heaven’s sake, enjoy some tea. I am quite sure that Tobias and Bertram will take a while to finish their talk.”
Daisy blushed, realizing that her thoughts must have been etched onto her face. She smiled and nodded, ignoring the nagging thought that the duke’s condition was terribly delicate and that he should be resting rather than conversing with anyone.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said. “You are far too kind. And I know that I speak for my father as well when I say that we are only too happy to be of assistance.”
The dowager marchioness nodded, smiling warmly.
“Yes,” she said. “It was immediately clear that you and your father were glad to help. Your father’s reputation precedes him, and it is refreshing to see that you share the same passion for caring for others as he does.”
Daisy blushed, biting her lip. She wondered if she should apologize for the unorthodox practice of a woman practicing medical tasks, but she ultimately decided against it. Instead, she took a sip of the tea, which tasted divine on her tongue. It had a hint of chamomile, and she could not help taking another immediate, longer drink.
“This is wonderful,” she said, gently holding up her cup to the marchioness.
The noblewoman smiled sweetly, reaching to the tray and retrieving a plate of biscuits and promptly handing it to Daisy, who accepted one gratefully.
“I had it brewed specially, just for us,” she said, winking at Daisy.
Daisy blushed. It was humbling that someone of the gentry thought enough of someone of her lowly station to do something special for her, especially after having just met her. She liked the dowager marchioness very much, and she was grateful for her kindness and friendliness.
“You truly are too kind,” she repeated, smiling sweetly at the marchioness. “And may I say that this is a lovely home.”
The older woman nodded, her smile turning sad.
“This is the duke’s home,” she noted. “My son and I live at his countryseat. But this always was a beautiful manor. Bertram has done well with the upkeep, but it is clear he is not one for bright colors or modern décor.”
Daisy nodded as the dowager marchioness spoke. She had already deduced that the duke was a widower. She did not know how much she should say about that fact or whether she should say anything at all. But she did not need to search for any response. A moment after the marchioness finished speaking, they heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. Daisy knew who it was before she even saw the figure reach the landing where they sat.
Her father came rushing toward them, his face flushed and his arms full of supplies and his medical bag. Daisy leapt up immediately to help him, as did the dowager marchioness, to her surprise. But before the women reached him, he stopped, looking at Daisy with alarm.
“Daisy, why are you out here?” he asked, his eyes becoming angry. “I expressly asked you not to leave the duke’s side.”
Daisy’s heart sank as she recalled the duke’s request.
“He left me with no choice, Father,” she said. “He asked that I leave and give him a moment alone with Lord Penwell.”
The doctor looked only marginally less angry. He opened his mouth, no doubt to continue chastising Daisy for disobeying his orders. But the dowager marchioness stepped between them, taking some of the items the doctor was struggling to hold onto.
“I asked her to sit and speak with me while the two of them talked,” she said, glancing knowingly at Daisy. “She made Tobias promise to fetch her if Bertram so much as sneezed while she was in the hall. But we could hardly deny him his request to speak privately with his grandson.”
Dr. Gibson nodded, the anger in his eyes dying. He glanced apologetically at his daughter and gave her a sheepish smile.
“Yes, of course,” he said. “You were right to obey the marquess and the dowager marchioness, Daughter. Forgive my quick judgment.”
Daisy’s heart squeezed. She could not imagine how he must be feeling, what with his fatigue, plus a potentially terminally ill patient and a family who, no doubt, felt she had no place there at all. She knew he was only trying to help her prove she was just as capable of caring for the duke as himself, and his first thought must have been that she was proving the contrary.
“Think nothing of it, Father,” she said. “I apologize for disobeying you.”
The physician briefly kissed her cheek, giving her a tired but loving smile.
“You did exactly as you should by obeying the family’s direct orders,” he said. Then, he turned to the dowager marchioness, glancing at the tea and biscuit that Daisy had been holding. “And thank you for showing my daughter such hospitality. You are an exceedingly kind woman, my lady.”
The noblewoman smiled graciously, looking at Daisy warmly.
“It is my pleasure, really,” she said. “Miss Gibson is truly a godsend. She performed flawlessly in your absence until my son and father-in-law sent her out here. And she is a delight to talk to. Truly, I enjoy having her here.”
Daisy glanced at her father, who looked noticeably relieved.
“She is certainly a godsend to me,” he said, smiling fondly at her. “I do not know what I would do without her assistance.”
The dowager marchioness nodded knowingly. Then, she held up a spare teacup, once more retrieving the teapot.
“Would you care to share some tea with us while you wait for the two of them to finish?” she asked.
Daisy saw her father consider the offer, no doubt wishing for some sort of refreshment to alleviate some of his terrible fatigue. But before he could respond, the door to the duke’s bedchambers opened and out stepped a very stern-looking marquess. He locked his gaze firmly on the doctor, once more ignoring Daisy’s presence completely.
“We have finished our discussion,” he said. Daisy’s heart softened a little when he spoke. Though he was trying his best to be authoritative, the sadness and worry were clear in his voice, and his cinnamon-brown eyes shone with what she was sure were unshed tears.
The doctor murmured a kind word of thanks to the marchioness as he declined the tea. Then, he turned and gestured for Daisy to follow him into the room. This time, the marquess did not protest, but his scowl deepened, and Daisy could feel the disapproval radiating from him. She ignored him this time, however, following her father wordlessly inside and waiting for him to close the door once more.
The physician walked promptly over to the bed, pulling the brand-new tonic from his medical bag and then handing the bag to his daughter. Daisy watched as her father gave the duke the tonic. The ailing man made a brief face, no doubt of distaste at the flavor of the medicine. Her father nodded sympathetically, patting the duke lightly on the arm as he swallowed the medicine.
“There are very few tonics which taste pleasant, my lord,” he said. “But I can assure you that it will help you to feel, and rest, better.”
The duke nodded, weakly wiping at his mouth.
“Thank you, Dr. Gibson,” he said. “You have done well, and you have done all that you can for the time being.”
Daisy glanced at her father, who was looking at her. After checking the duke for fever, he rose and pulled Daisy aside, away from the duke’s sickbed.
“You return home, darling,” he said, keeping his voice low and quiet. “I shall stay and sit with the duke overnight.”
Daisy took a deep breath. She would normally argue with her father, insisting that she stay instead. But she had already received a cold welcome from the marquess, and she knew that there was no possibility the duke and his family would ever agree to allow her to stay in her father’s stead.
Before she could agree or dispute her father’s request, however, the duke began to cough. She and her father both rushed over to him, but they quickly realized his cough was due to an effort to speak.
“I do not need a babysitter,” he said, too weakly to sound truly indignant. “I am ill, but I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. My family and I shall send for you if your assistance is required again. But for now, please, return to your home.”
The doctor opened his mouth to protest, but Daisy touched his arm.
“I think we should do as he asks,” he said, recalling the stern look the marquess had given her when he and his grandfather had asked her to leave the room. “We must comply with the duke’s wishes.”
Her father bit his lip but eventually nodded.
“Very well,” he said, turning back to Lord Berbrook and giving him a tight smile. “Please, do not hesitate to summon us, no matter the time, should you begin to feel worse. We shall return straightaway.”
The duke relaxed, clearly relieved they would do as he asked.
“You have my thanks, Dr. and Miss Gibson,” he said, wheezing once more. “I think I should like to rest now.”
