If not that route, surely I could manage something.
Cordelia has just poured me a cup of Earl Grey when the doctorwalks into my bedroom. The scent of fir trees, wet wool, and saddle leatherclings to him. Kelly is literally a breath of fresh air.
He checks me over, asks pertinent questions, and decides I amshoring up nicely. Cordie fetches my mother, and she is delighted with the goodnews. Mama stays but a moment since my father is going over her householdaccounts in the study on the main floor. This is just a formality. My mother isan East-Coast heiress and has plenty of her own money—she doesn’t drain hisreserves in the least. Sounding impulsive, Mama invites Dr. Kelly to suppertomorrow.
“I would be delighted, madam,” he replies. “Especially if MissGrayson joins us. She’s looking better every second.”
Not a family meal. Anything but that.
Mama hems and haws and tries to avoid confirming my attendancewhile still encouraging the doctor to come. My father sends the butler to find Mama,and she leaves in a rush—after agreeing to Kelly’s request.
Brimstone and hell-fire! Now I’ll have to go.
Kelly wanders around my room snooping, as though he has nothingbetter to do with his time, and picks up one of the books Cordelia has beenreading to me. “You’re a fan of romance novels? I’m shocked by this, MissGrayson. Absolutely scandalized.” The doctor chuckles at his own teasing,replaces the volume, and continues to investigate the shelves. “Ah, but here’sJane Austen to balance things out. Bronte, Longfellow. And my old friend, LordTennyson. An excellent choice.”
“‘One equal temper of heroic hearts,’” he recites. “‘Made weakby time and fate but strong in will …’”
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. Take that,Kelly, and—
I stop mid-insult when he asks, “Have you heard of Braille,Miss Grayson? It can help you to read these books for yourself.”
Braille? What in blazes is that? Crossing my arms, I feelawkward standing there, still in my nightclothes. I shrug, having never givenactual reading much thought. Why would I? I have Cordelia.
The doctor leaves the shelves and walks directly to me.“Through Braille, the blind use their fingers and touch a series of raised dotson the page. The dots represent words. A former patient of mine in Boston readsBraille. I could ask her for advice on your situation.”
Overwhelmed, I retreat a few steps, back toward the safety ofCordelia. The doctor gives me no quarter and follows. “As a physician, I amduty-bound to improve your quality of life if I see a means of accomplishingit. I also feel some proprietary rights concerning you, Miss Grayson. I didsave your life.”
Guilt rears its ugly head. Without Dr. Kelly’s heroic actions,I might well have died yesterday. I sigh and gesture toward the sitting room ofmy suite. We may as well be comfortable if Kelly is going to keep talking aboutthis Braille business. Cordelia offers him a cup of tea.
“Thank you, Miss Collins, but I cannot stay,” he replies. “MissGrayson, we’ll continue our discussion another time, I hope.”
Kelly heads for the door and then pauses. “In future, may Ihave the honor of using your Christian name?”
My eyebrows rise of their own accord, but I nod, bemused bythis question. No man has ever asked my permission before. Even Tom assumesthings.
“Then good evening, Hester,” he says, a smile in his voice. “AndI’m Noah to my friends.”
Twenty-four hours pass, and given that I have received noreprieve, the family meal is unavoidable. I’ve been bathed, doused with rosewater, and powdered. Not that my skin could get much paler if popular opinionis correct.
Cordelia is working feverishly on my hair with the curlingtongs. “Sit on your hands, Miss Hester,” she barks like a soldier on campaign.“If you keep reaching up to your head that way, you’ll get burned.”
It takes forty-five more minutes, but my hair is finally done. Cordiesteps away and sighs. “How striking you look! That dress, the oyster-coloredsilk. Just lovely.”
My companion is doing double-duty tonight since Mama is betweenhairdressers, and she gathers her weapons of beauty and goes to check on mymother’s coiffure.
“Don’t move. Don’t mess yourself up,” she orders on her way outthe door.
I fully intend to follow Cordie’s advice, but it is so tediousto sit here, waiting to proceed down to the dining room. It’s like passing timein a tumbrel when you know you’re expected at the guillotine. I cannot standthe thought of descending the stairs under Kelly’s watchful eyes. Or worse,with my father silently criticizing my every move. Better to go down now withoutan audience.
After slipping into a pair of elbow-length gloves, I choose mybest mahogany cane, and take the stairs to the main floor.
I turn in the direction of the drawing room, but a ridergallops up the drive and stops at the front entrance of the house. I recognizehis whistle, but it isn’t the Clementine song tonight. It’s “SweetRosie O’Grady”. Our butler fails to appear so I open the door and smileat Dr. Kelly. He steps in, smelling of citrus linen water and newly ironedcotton.
“You do clean up nicely, Hester,” he says, taking my hand andkissing my gloved knuckles as though I were a fine lady.
My face feels ten shades of red, but he continues chattingaway. Even a novice can tell that Dr. Kelly is good with women. It does notstretch the imagination to suppose he has conquered more than his share ofhearts.
Cane in hand, I lead Kelly to the drawing room. I hear himremove his overcoat and drape it across the sofa. The doctor admires the piano,fiddling around with the keys before breaking into a sprightly rendition ofJohn Phillip Sousa’s “Semper Fidelis”. What in the world? I wasn’texpecting this martial tune. For the hundredth time, I wish I could laugh.Instead, I grin until the sides of my face hurt.
My parents join us as the last note hangs in the air. Thenthere is an awkward period of silence. Kelly seems to have surprised them aswell with his choice of music, but Mama recovers quickly and welcomes
