After they buried little Hope Eliot, Robbie spent another week in bed, for her bleeding wouldn’t stop. She was truly getting tired of being on her back, although she had finished the first draft of her book and for the life of her she couldn’t change the name of the haughty, snotty parrot, so Birdie it was.
A knock at the door brought her out of her reverie. Lydia entered and closed the door softly behind her. She crept to the bed, sat in the chair beside it, and looked at Robbie. There was an odd expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
Lydia took a deep breath. “I think your sister’s sight has returned.”
Robbie sat up, alert. “Why do you think so?”
“I’ve wondered about it for a while. Shortly after she and I visited you the last time, she changed.”
“Changed. How?”
“She makes sweeping gestures in an attempt to find things. She didn’t do that before. It’s as if she’s pretending.”
Robbie rested against her pillows, a slight headache forming behind her eye. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“What should we do? We can’t let her go on indefinitely, having us acting as her hand maidens.”
“It sounds a bit mean, but perhaps we should set a trap. Nothing drastic, nothing that could hurt her, but something to catch her in her lie.” She gave Lydia a stern look. “You’re sure about this?”
Lydia nodded. “I’ve been watching carefully, and she’s just not the same person she was before.”
Robbie’s fingers drummed the bedding. “I wonder what she’s waiting for?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Did anyone tell her I was pregnant and lost the bairn?”
“As far as I know she still thinks you have the grippe, but since she can see, Lord knows what else she has discovered.”
“Do you suppose she sneaks around the house at night? That would be my guess, knowing Birdie as I do.”
“What, listening at keyholes?”
With a shrug, Robbie said, “Why not? What better way to find out what’s happening in a house this size, especially if no one is telling you anything.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
“Bring her here to visit again. I’ll think of something.”
• • •
Gavin stepped into Robbie’s room; she was asleep. He saw her finished manuscript on the floor, picked it up, and read through it. It was delightful and insightful. He chuckled quietly a few times; her humor was well placed. And how appropriate was the name of the parrot!
A thought occurred to him. Hopefully it would be something to lift her spirits. He tucked the manuscript beneath his waistcoat and went to pen a letter to a friend.
He met Lydia on the stairs.
“Might I speak with you, sir?”
“Indeed,” Gavin replied. “In the library?”
“Nae,” she answered. “In the solarium, if you don’t mind.”
Curious, he followed her down the long hallway, past the kitchen, morning room, and dining room, and into the large, empty solarium.
Gavin glanced about, realizing that he had done nothing with this room; it looked a bit neglected. “I’ve been meaning to bring in some plants—”
“’Tis not plants I’m thinking the room needs,” Lydia interrupted.
Interested, he asked her to explain.
Lydia moved about the room, her stout legs taking longer strides than Gavin had thought possible. “You’ll think me disrespectful, but I have an idea.”
“Go on,” Gavin encouraged.
Lydia took a deep breath. “Well, seems to me our doctor friend does little when he’s here. I’ve seen him bored even if you haven’t. He caters to Miss Birdie like a lap dog, but I’m thinkin’ he needs more to do than that.”
Interest piqued, Gavin urged her to continue.
“There’s no doctor in either Galashiels or Melrose, is there?”
“No,” Gavin answered. “One travels through from time to time, but not as often as the townfolk would like, I imagine.”
Lydia’s gaze was intent. “What if we were to set up a little clinic in here? Would the doctor be interested?”
The idea was sound, if surprising. Gavin was quiet for a few moments, and then said, “Lydia, you have taken me by surprise.”
“If I’m going to stay on here, sir, I’ll need something more to do than babysit your wife’s sister. I’ll be ready for the madhouse long before my time if that’s what will keep me occupied.”
Gavin tented his fingers against his lips. “Let me bring it up to Dr. Innes, feel him out on the idea. It’s fine with me, but then, I’m not the doctor.” He lifted a tawny eyebrow in her direction. “Methinks that means you’d like to work with him.”
“Aye. I’m an excellent nurse and midwife,” she replied.
“All right then,” Gavin said, leaving the solarium to pen his letter, “we’ll have much to discuss later.”
Lydia drew in a deep breath. She felt good about this. Now, however, she and Birdie needed to make a little visit to the real patient.
• • •
Birdie stepped into the room, blinking repeatedly. “Robbie?”
“Yes, I’m here, Birdie. I’m still in bed. You remember where the bed is, don’t you? Just follow my voice.” She watched Birdie carefully. Lydia came into the room behind her.
Suddenly Robbie doubled over, pretended to have a severe cramp. “Oh, Lydia, please bring me some towels from the bath; I think I might be losing more clots.” She winced and let out a series of little cries. She peeked at her sister and found her watching her, eyes wide.
Lydia hopped to it, scurrying off into the bath.
“Oh, oh, I need…I need that basin on the bedside table, please, Birdie hand it to me or I might be sick in the bed. Oh, God! And…and would you go into the drawer of the night table and get me a clean handkerchief? Thank you, you’re such a dear.”
Birdie gave her sister a quizzical look; their eyes met. Robbie saw it; the evidence that her sister could see.
Birdie narrowed her gaze. “All right. So I can see. What of it?”
“How long?”
Now Birdie looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, or the nasty little parrot in her story. “The night I happened to overhear Gavin and Colin talking about the mistake he made when he asked you to marry him because he thought you were me.”
It all comes out now, Robbie thought.
Birdie swung around, flinging her arms. “All of this should be mine. All of it.” She gave her sister a hateful look. “When did you discover he’d made a mistake, and why in God’s name did you stay?”
“Because he asked me to.”
Birdie snorted. “I’m surprised he didn’t come looking for me when he discovered his blunder.”
“I told him you were married.”
She frowned, her face ugly with furrows and wrinkles. “That must have given you great pleasure.”
“I merely told him the truth, that you absconded with my beau.”
“If Joey had actually cared for you, I wouldn’t have been able to sway him.”
“But you did. You did. And now, here you are, rather in a predicament and, I might add, an unusually ugly temperament, even for you.”
Birdie studied her sister for a moment. “You think just because you carried his bairn he’ll stay with you.” She snorted again. “I heard them all whispering, like I was both deaf and blind. My God, Robbie, it wasn’t even fully formed yet. It wasn’t even a baby! And you named it and buried it.” She put on a sarcastic pout. “Buried in the Eliot plot, as if it really had been something.”
Heat and anger rose up in Robbie, her cheeks burning with a rage she could barely conceal. “She was something to me. She would have been fine if…if—”
Birdie cocked an eyebrow. “If what?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Robbie answered.
“Oh, yes it is.” Lydia came out of the bath. “It’s your fault she lost that bairn, you selfish girl.”
“My fault?” Birdie placed her fists on her hips.
“In your eagerness to get out of your apartment, you accidentally pushed the door open, and the doorknob hit your sister in the stomach.”
Again Birdie’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re trying to make me feel guilty about something just because I couldn’t see at the time, forget it.”
“That’s right, Lydia,” Robbie said softly. “Let’s forget it.”
Lydia swore. “No, let’s not. I’ve seen the pattern here. Birdie does something hurtful, and everyone excuses her. Birdie suddenly acts the victim, and everyone pities her. Birdie pouts when she doesn’t get her way, and everyone lets her have it.”
The pan Lydia was carrying landed on the floor with a thud. “I’ve been silent long enough. What this girl needs is a dose of reality.”
Birdie stood, arrogant, her arms folded across her chest. “And just what might that be?”
Lydia studied her through slitted lids. “Maybe I’ll shave your head.”
Birdie squeeked and touched her precious hair. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, I would dare, missy; maybe one night I’ll come into your bedroom while you sleep and shave off all of those curls you value so much.”
Birdie whirled toward her sister. “You wouldn’t let her do that, would you?”
“I’ll need Robbie to hold you down,” Lydia replied.
Birdie was nearly speechless. Breathing heavily, she turned to her sister. “Robbie? You couldn’t do that, I know you couldn’t.”
Robbie hid a smile. “At the moment I don’t have the strength, but give me time.”
With a frustrated huff, Birdie stormed from the room.