Suzanne awoke to find Dr. Gregson poking a needle in her thumb.
“Can you feel that?” he asked, his smile nearly obscured by the gray beard covering his face. He had been a kindly figure to her all her life, at least until this moment.
“Yes!” she said, jerking back her hand.
He pulled out the covers from the bottom of the bed and did the very same thing to her big toe.
“And that?”
“Yes!” she said, drawing her foot away.
He wasn’t the only person doing odd things to her. Mrs. Thigpen was placing a wet cloth on her forehead and Emily was standing there looking terrified while fanning her the whole time.
Even Adam was involved, keeping vigil at the door with his arms crossed, looking as fierce as one of those statues in the Egyptian parlor.
“Have you any pain anywhere, my dear?” Dr. Gregson asked. “Any pain at all?”
She couldn’t imagine why he was asking her that question. Then it slowly came back to her. She’d gotten out of bed, put on her dressing gown, gone downstairs, and entered the library. How very odd that she couldn’t remember anything after that.
“My head hurts,” she said, and would’ve put her hand exactly on that spot except that the back of her head was covered up with a substantial bandage.
“What happened?”
She looked from one to the other, but none of the people in her bedroom seemed to know any more than she did.
“I went into the library,” she said. “But that’s all I remember.”
“Drummond found you at the base of the stairs, Your Grace,” Mrs. Thigpen said. “Did you fall?”
She couldn’t remember. When she said as much, Dr. Gregson nodded.
“It happens that way sometimes,” he said.
“Will she ever remember what happened?”
She looked up at Adam. She had wanted to ask the same question, but he was faster.
Dr. Gregson came and sat on the chair someone had moved beside the bed. Once there, he took her wrist in his hand, felt for her pulse, and then nodded approvingly before speaking.
“Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes not. It all is determined by the circumstances.”
She didn’t have the slightest idea what he meant, but decided that it would be a waste of time to inquire further. In other words, Dr. Gregson didn’t know.
She closed her eyes, tried to remember, but all she got was darkness. She wasn’t comfortable with the idea that something had happened and yet she had no inkling of it. Was the memory simply gone forever? Or would it pop up unexpectedly like a word she couldn’t recall and that suddenly—when her mind was no longer on it—appeared before her as if it were written on the air?
“We will let you rest,” Dr. Gregson said. “I’ve left a tonic for you with Mrs. Thigpen.”
Her eyes flew open. “No tonic. No preparation. No potion. Nothing, Dr. Gregson.”
He frowned at her. His beard didn’t obscure his disapproval.
“Your head will begin to throb, my dear. You will need something for the pain.”
“I will take my mind off it or occupy myself in other ways, Dr. Gregson. I will not be taking anything.”
He looked at Mrs. Thigpen. “Nonetheless, my good woman, I will leave the tonic in your hands. Perhaps you can convince my patient to do what is best.”
She was not going to take anyone’s tonic, a fact that Adam alone seemed to understand. When she glanced at him he nodded. At least she had one ally in the room.
“Emily will sit with you for a while,” Mrs. Thigpen said. “I think it best that she have someone with her, do you not agree, Dr. Gregson?”
He nodded emphatically. “That I do. I will return tomorrow. I do not expect you to be out of this bed. I don’t expect any further complications, but you must take care not to overdo.”
She doubted that anyone would let her do anything. She started to nod, but the throbbing at the base of her neck stopped her.
“Very well, Dr. Gregson, I shall be a model patient.”
He shook his head, his way of saying that he strongly doubted that fact, and left the room, followed by Mrs. Thigpen.
“What time is it?” she asked, looking at Adam, who’d moved to the end of the bed.
“Nearly dawn.”
Only a few hours had passed since she’d entered the library, then. She suddenly got the impression of darkness, something swooping down on top of her.
“Would it be possible to have some tea?” she asked, turning to Emily.
The young girl jumped up from the chair she’d taken when the physician left the room and nodded.
“Of course, Your Grace. I’ll be right back.”
“You’ve remembered something,” Adam said the moment the door closed behind Emily.
“I don’t know if I have or not.”
Before she could say another word, the door opened again. Mrs. Thigpen entered, bearing a brown bottle. They were going to go to war if the woman thought she was going to take another dose of laudanum or opium or anything designed to strip her wits from her. To her surprise, however, the housekeeper merely held up the bottle.
“Will you reconsider, Your Grace?”
Suzanne managed a smile for the woman, who had always been a dear to her and Georgie. She didn’t deserve a show of temper.
“No, Mrs. Thigpen, I will not.”
The housekeeper nodded and tucked the bottle back into her dressing gown pocket. “I told the physician that you were set in your mind, but he would insist.”
“He’s a stubborn old goat,” Adam said.
Mrs. Thigpen looked like she was biting back a smile.
If they’d been alone, she would have told Adam what she’d remembered, but she didn’t want to speak in front of the housekeeper. There were times when Mrs. Thigpen became a trifle histrionic. She expanded on things and used hyperbole when none was necessary. Several threads of gossip had originated with the housekeeper. If she hadn’t been so exemplary at her job, her enjoyment of a good story might have been cause for dismissal.
Consequently, Suzanne remained silent.
Nor did it look like the housekeeper was going to leave, not as long as Adam was standing there.
“Thank you,” Suzanne said. “I understand you found me.”
He nodded.
He looked straight at her, almost as if he were examining her. Did he know how handsome he was, with his green eyes and freshly shaved face? He didn’t wear a mustache or a goatee. She had an inkling that he would be as handsome with both, but she was strangely glad he had gone against fashion.
“A good thing,” Mrs. Thigpen said. “Otherwise, it might have been morning until one of the maids discovered you.”
Left hanging in the air was the question—what had either of them been doing in the library at that hour?
Adam bowed slightly. “I will say good-night, Your Grace.”
She smiled in return. A very cold and frosty smile that she’d perfected in the years of being married to George. It was a reserved expression, one he’d approved of, that gave no hint of true favor toward the recipient.
She watched him leave the room and instantly felt the difference.
Mrs. Thigpen took the chair beside her bed, reached out, and patted the mattress beside Suzanne’s hand.
“A most unusual man,” the housekeeper said, as if expecting a confidence. “At first all the maids were afraid of him. Now they just act silly around him.”
So did she. A thought she was definitely not going to share with the housekeeper.