Arranged: An Array Series (Book #1)(56)

Leaving my two pieces of baggage at the door, I went up to the second floor to see Papa. I hesitated before opening the door, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing myself for how my father would be on the other side. Each inhale was attempting to pull inner strength from somewhere within me, to prepare for the worst. Setting my hand on the doorknob, I turned it enough to poke my head through it. The itchy squeak of the door caused my body to tense, hoping I hadn’t disturbed Papa.

Inching toward his pine four-poster bed, the warm, stale air stuck to my skin, immediately making me start to perspire. Wiping my forehead with my sleeve, my eyes studied his blanched face. Reaching over to touch his cheek, his skin was warm while his breathing was steady. I walked over to crack open a window, allowing the warm spring air to flow swiftly through the room. Standing by his bedside again, I kissed his forehead gently, whispering that I was home and would be back up soon. Leaving his room, Mrs. Reynolds was at the bottom of the staircase, waiting for me.

“Have you been sleeping?” I asked her, noticing black circles under her eyes and wrinkles as she furrowed at me.

“I could ask you the same thing. Why do you look like they’ve been putting you to work over there?”

“I drank some bad coffee and was ill for a few days; nothing major,” I replied, forcing a small chuckle. “Just getting my own strength back.”

“I heard of that Lady being poisoned. Your father is going to be so—”

“Let’s not worry him about that,” I retort. “He needs peace and to focus on getting well.”

Holding my stare for a moment, she nodded and walked toward the kitchen. “Come, let’s go make you some dinner. You’re looking too skinny for my liking, young lady.”

I sniffed. “Being skinny is the new fashion.”

Mrs. Reynolds groaned. “These stupid, piddly little females are so senseless. What man wants a twig for a wife?”

I didn’t answer her, nor did I care what any man wanted. I wanted to leave the last week behind me. I was home and safe.

∞∞∞

George’s doctor arrived as promised in the late morning. He was a short elderly man who looked vaguely familiar. Waddling into the front entrance, he handed his belongings to Mr. Brooks, and took off his light jacket. Examining the foyer, his eyes landed on me.

“Ah, Lady Barlow,” he bellowed in a cheery mood. “Glad to see you up and around. I was one of the doctors who checked in on you. Though, you wouldn’t know that; you were unconscious most the time. I’m Doctor Norris.”

“Pleasure to meet you, doctor. Thank you for nursing me back to health.” I held out a hand for him to shake, but he bowed over it instead, and I smiled. “My father is upstairs. Would you like to see him now, or do you need to freshen up first?”

Releasing my hand, he shook his head. “No, no, we’ll see him now. I want to know how serious a case this is.” Without asking, he started up the stairs, then stopped at the top, waiting for me to take the lead. At Papa’s room, I let him enter first, watching him place his black bag down at the bottom of the bed.

Dr. Norris felt his head, examined his abdomen, and made little “hmm’s” as he went. I didn’t realize I was tapping my foot until the doctor glanced at me briefly, with squinted eyes.

“He has a high fever, possible infection, internally. He is wheezing a little, so some fluid may be in his lungs,” the doctor informed.

“What do I need to do?”

The doctor put away some of his tools. “Encourage coughing; he needs to be fed broth. Has he been up, conscious?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Hmmm... Keep a cool cloth on his head, make him comfortable. I’m staying in the inn nearby and will stay until he is back to full health.” I took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed. “Don’t fret, my Lady. I’ve seen this before.”

“Thank you,” I replied. Withdrawing from the room, Doctor Norris took some tea before he went on his way. Getting my mind off Papa for a moment, I made a list of things to do while being back. Sitting at Papa’s desk, I skimmed some of the papers on his desk, looking over the company’s inventory reports.

Mr. Torres.

Of course, his little spy. I really did like the man; his intentions were in the right place, I couldn’t fault him for that. But I didn’t want to be linked to Garrett every which way I turned. Deciding to speak with him tomorrow, I began to clean Papa’s desk, looking over accounts and receipts, when a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” I chimed. A well-known face poked her head around the door.

“Hi, stranger.”

“Eve!” I exclaimed, dropping the handful of papers in my hands. Walking toward her, I took her in. She wore a beautiful light blue gown that hung over her shoulders with her blonde hair pulled up and curled. Her presence took a pinch of anxiety away, knowing that she’d know what to say about what has been transpiring.

“How have you been? Let me look at you.” She held me at arm’s length, studying me. “Oh darling, what is wrong?”

“I’m just getting over being sick myself.”

“Sick?” she asked, and I nodded. “Not a bad man?”

“Oh, Femme Fatale, Eve. Does everything involve a man?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “When you look like that, yes.”