The Enigmatic Lady in the Ivory Tower

by Hazel Linwood

  “So, I am allowed to pursue love, but to do so quickly and with all social expedience.”

  The Marquess chuckled. “Just so. If it is not to be Tobias, then tell me who and I will invite them to Westwallow with all haste.”

  “And how could I possibly know such a thing?”

  “You have never met anyone during the London season that interested you, even a little?”

  Diana shook her head. “No, I have not. I had always hoped to, but I have never met the right person. My heart has never once felt the stirrings of love for a nobleman, or any man for that matter.”

  “Until Gabriel?”

  “Until Gabriel,” she confirmed as her heart constricted at the words.

  “Perhaps it would be best if you were sent away from Westwallow for a time.”

  “Back to Kilgrave?”

  The Marquess frowned in thought. “I do not wish to shame you in the eyes of your parents. If I were to send you home without my mother’s approval of your lessons being properly completed, it would cast a pall upon your character.”

  “Then what?”

  “Perhaps, once I have properly healed, we could travel to our family estate in Wales. I am overdue for a visit to see to my affairs there and it would be a perfect opportunity for you to put some distance between you and Gabriel.”

  “Does he not usually travel with you?”

  “He does, as my preferred horseman, but I can make other arrangements and he will understand the reason for it.”

  The Marquess’ eyes drooped, and his face looked both pale and flushed in a less than healthy fashion.

  “I believe your fever is worse than you have led me to believe, Ernest. I am growing quite concerned. I know that your mother forbade the village surgeon to attend you, but I believe that you are quickly growing to need him more by the moment. May I please have your permission to send for him? At least until one of the other surgeons that your mother sent for has had time to arrive.”

  The Marquess sighed. “She will be greatly displeased, but I will grant it.”

  Sighing in relief, Diana arose and went to the library door to summon Roberts.

  “The Marquess is in need of a physician and has requested that one be sent for.”

  “The nearest is the village surgeon, which the Dowager Marchioness has expressly forbidden, My Lady.”

  “The Marquess is aware and has asked that he be sent for immediately, in spite of this.”

  “As you wish,” the butler bowed and walked away to inform one of the stable hands that their services would be needed after all.

  The Earl, upon hearing this as he passed, met Diana at the library door. “I am glad to hear that he has decided to go against his mother’s wishes. I am concerned for his wellbeing. Does he look feverish to you?”

  “He does,” Diana nodded, equally concerned. “Was the surgeon amenable to returning if needed when you spoke to him before?”

  “After explaining the Dowager Marchioness’ words were born of a mother’s fear and not a genuine threat, he agreed to return if the Marquess summoned him.”

  “Thank you for speaking with him. I was quite concerned when he left under such a cloud of anger. The Marquess cannot suffer because of it.”

  “And he shall not. I will see to it. I will have Roberts await the surgeon’s arrival and show him straight to the library.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.”

  “Ernest is my friend. I will not see anything befall him if I can keep him from it, even if that means angering the Dowager Marchioness.”

  “You are a good man, Tobias,” Diana smiled, using his given name as a gesture of goodwill.

  A grin spread across the Earl’s face at her calling him Tobias.

  “It is my pleasure to be of assistance, My Lady.” Bowing over her hand, he kissed the back of it and turned to speak with the butler.

  Diana turned to reenter the library and found Gabriel standing but a few steps away. The expression on his face said that he had seen the friendly exchange between Diana and the Earl. After seeing him dancing so closely with the maiden from the village, Diana was too upset to care about his concerns for her own friendships. She knew they could not be together and now was as good a time as any to use her anger and pain to fuel their separation from each other’s affections.

  Turning away, she reentered the library to await the arrival of the surgeon.

  I pray that he arrives swiftly. Ernest is diminishing in health before my very eyes.

  Chapter 21

  Diana sat in the library bathing the Marquess’ face and neck over and over again with cool water in an attempt to keep his rapidly advancing fever at bay. She had called for white willow bark tea to be brought and had attempted to get it down his throat before he fell asleep, but his fatigue had overcome him, and he had drank very little before succumbing to the oblivion of a bone-weary slumber. The dance had been too much for him to bear in his condition.

  I do not care to admit it for one moment given her attitudes about her household staff, but perhaps the Dowager Marchioness was right in her belief that the dance should have been canceled for the benefit of the Marquess’ health. He was so adamant that it continued as planned and I know his reasons, but if he loses his life to a fever in the process, we will all bear the burden of the grief and guilt, and Westwallow, like Kilgrave, will be left without an heir.

  She was not certain how long she sat by the Marquess’ side before the surgeon returned. Roberts and the Earl somehow managed to slip the surgeon through the library door without the Dowager Marchioness seeing him. Diana was grateful for his arrival and rushed to move out of his way so that he might properly see to his patient. Moving to the door, she stood guard to ensure that they would not be interrupted.

  “His Lordship has significantly worsened since I was here last. No matter how well that they are tended, these wounds always seem to become septic if they do not kill you outright,” the surgeon shook his head in concern.

  “I have been following your instructions to the letter. I have been monitoring the wound, bathing His Lordship’s neck and face, as well as administering the white willow bark tea, but it does not appear to be helping as much as we had hoped.”

  “You did well, My Lady. I am only sorry that I was not here to aid you in his care.” The surgeon shook his head again in concerned appraisal of the Marquess’ deteriorating condition as he murmured to himself under his breath, something Diana could not quite make out. He immediately set to work cleansing the wound once more and re-bandaging it. He did everything that Diana had been doing for him and she began to wonder if the surgeon was truly able to help the Marquess after all.

  “Is there nothing more that you can do for him?”

  The surgeon nodded, dug around in his bag and pulled out a paper folded around a small amount of fine powder. “Give this to him in a tea and it should help to bring his fever down.”

  Diana had no notion as to what the powder consisted of, but if it would help the Marquess to feel better, she would do as instructed without hesitation. “I will,” she promised.

  The surgeon did a few more things, writing down a few notes of instruction, then arose to leave. “If the fever continues to rise, send for me again.”

  Diana nodded in agreement, then peeked out of the door to make certain that the Dowager Marchioness was not standing nearby to see the surgeon leave the manor house. As she poked her head out of the door, she found Gabriel standing just outside of it.

  “How is he?” he asked. The moment that he saw her face, his own lined with concern.

  “He has a fever.” Diana avoided Gabriel’s eyes and searched the hall for the Dowager Marchioness.

  Gabriel knew what she was doing. “Her Ladyship has been called away. If the surgeon wishes to take his leave unnoticed, now would be the time.”

  Diana nodded and motioned for the surgeon to go. The surgeon saw himself to the door and Gabriel slipped inside of the library to look in on the Marquess. Dia
na followed, shutting the door behind them to avoid prying eyes. As upset as she was with Gabriel, she did not wish to see him lose his place at Westwallow if the Dowager Marchioness caught him disobeying her orders to remain outside of the house.

  Gabriel reached out and touched the Marquess’ skin and frowned. “Did the surgeon order a cooling bath? Did he coat the wound in honey?”

  Diana shook her head. “No, he instructed for me to give him these powders.” She lifted her hand carrying the folded papers of medicine and handed them to him.

  Gabriel nodded. “If his fever worsens, will you come and get me?”

  Diana nodded in agreement. “I will.”

  “Very well.” Gabriel bowed, handed her back the packets, and slipped out into the hall. Diana watched with relief as he managed to exit the house unnoticed.

  Turning back to her sleeping patient, she continued to bathe his face, neck, and chest, over and over again. When more tea was brought up from the kitchens, Diana blended the surgeon’s powders into the liquid and attempted to wake him so that he would drink it down. The Marquess mumbled incoherently in protest, but he did manage to swallow some of it.

  Once the dance had ended, the Dowager Marchioness entered the library with the Earl in tow to look in on her son. She took in the state of him and frowned deeply. “I told him that we should not have held such a frivolous event and now with this,” she gestured with her hand along the length of his still form. “It was foolishness from the beginning.”

  Diana said nothing but stood in silence as the Dowager fussed and complained over her son’s fevered sleeping face. Nothing was said of the surgeon’s return visit and Diana took that as a sign that their efforts had been successful in evading the Dowager’s attention. Once again, the Dowager Marchioness did not stay by her son’s side for very long before claiming fatigue and retiring to her rooms for the night.

  Diana knew that the Dowager Marchioness loved her son, but one would never have known it by looking at her face. Once the Dowager had gotten over the initial shock of her son’s accident, her face had returned to its usual disapproving set of hardened lines, concealing any concern that she might have felt on the inside. It was beyond Diana’s understanding how a mother could look upon her son with such seemingly cold indifference. Had she a son, Diana would not have left his side for one moment.

  “Escort me to my rooms, if you would, Lord Appley,” the Dowager Marchioness requested of the Earl. It was clear that she was truly tired from the day’s events and she leaned heavily on the Earl’s arm as she walked out of the room. Diana felt a momentary pang of guilt for thinking so poorly of the older woman when she was clearly so exhausted, physically if not emotionally.

  “Shall I return?” the Earl offered before exiting the library.

  “No, rest.” Diana shook her head. “I will remain at his side and send for you if I need you.”

  “Very well. I will look in on you in time.” The Earl nodded, gave her a reassuring smile, then escorted the Dowager Marchioness up the stairs.

  Roberts entered to inform her that he would be right outside if she needed anything at all. A maid came to clear away the room’s clutter and then all was still once more. Almost by default, Diana had been left in sole charge of the Marquess’ care, but she did not mind. He had been kind to her since her arrival at Westwallow, brotherly even, and she wished for him to recover as quickly as possible for his own sake, as well as for the people under his care.

  With the guests all gone and the majority of the servants turned into bed for the night, the house took on an almost eerie quiet, as if even the structure itself awaited with bated breath to know the fate of its master. Diana dipped a clean cloth in the fresh water that the maid had brought and squeezed it back out into the bowl. A cold chill passed up and down her spine as the cool water ran down her fingers to drip in a rhythmic splashing sound upon the wooden floor at her feet.

  She laid the cloth over the Marquess’ forehead and let it remain there for a time, before repeating the process over again. She was not certain of how long she sat there repeating the process, when she was startled by the feel of a hand on her shoulder. She had not heard anyone enter and jumped at the unexpected human contact.

  “It is I,” Gabriel murmured softly to soothe her. “I came to see how you and His Lordship are faring.” He reached over her shoulder to feel the Marquess’ fevered skin and his sleeve brushed past Diana’s cheek, causing her to close her eyes as a shiver passed over her at the contact. “His fever has increased.”

  “It has,” Diana nodded, unable to move away from his warmth even though she knew that she should. She leaned toward him subconsciously, uncontrollably drawn to it by the mere closeness of his presence. The feel of him was a soothing balm to her tattered heart even if he was a large part of why it was tattered to begin with.

  “And you gave him the surgeon’s powders?”

  “I did.”

  Gabriel frowned in concern. “I will return momentarily,” he promised, then left the room.

  Diana sat in silent confusion for several moments. When Gabriel returned, he was carrying a large bathing tub followed by Roberts carrying two buckets of water. A footman entered behind them with two more buckets and a sheet hanging from his arm. Gabriel set the tub down near the Marquess and took the sheet from the footman. He laid it over the tub’s surface, then poured the water into the tub.

  Gabriel and the footman Stephen each took an end of the Marquess, with Gabriel grasping him under the arms and Stephen at his feet. They lifted him up off of the chaise lounge and sat him down into the water, bedclothes and all. Gabriel took the cloth from Diana and began to drip water over the Marquess’ head.

  “Roberts, would you be so kind as to bring some fresh bandages and honey?”

  Roberts looked to Diana and she nodded.

  “Yes, of course,” the butler answered and hurried from the room to do as requested.

  Gabriel continued to bathe the Marquess’ fevered form while Stephen went to fetch more water. Gooseflesh rose up along the Marquess’ arms and he groaned in discomfort from the cool water against his hot skin. He called out his deceased wife and child’s names, as if attempting to summon them from the darkness beyond. Diana’s heart broke at the anguished sound. To have loved and lost the way that he had was beyond any form of understanding for anyone who had not suffered so themselves.

  The look of compassion on Gabriel’s face was palpable and Diana loved him all the more for it. It took everything within her power not to reach out and caress the worried creases from his furrowed brow. It was clear that he truly cared for his master, and Diana had seen that the caring was mutual. To turn her mind away from the temptation of touching him, Diana asked a question that she otherwise would have left unspoken.

  “How was your dance with the blacksmith’s daughter?”

  She regretted the question the moment that it fell from her lips and she blushed profusely, averting her eyes to avoid feeling further shame at her jealous thoughts.

  Gabriel looked up in surprise. “It was a dance.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it were of little to no consequence.

  “I know that the Marquess has plans for the both of you,” she continued on in spite of her better judgement.

  Why can I not simply hold my tongue?

  “He does,” Gabriel admitted, nodding, but before he could say anything more Stephen returned with the water and poured it into the tub.

  Roberts followed shortly thereafter with the needed supplies. “I took the liberty of having a new nightshirt brought down for His Lordship.”

  “Thank you, Roberts. Your efforts are much appreciated.” Diana took the shirt from him and laid it down upon the chaise lounge.

  Diana was uncertain how long Gabriel kept the Marquess in the cooling water before he finally nodded to Stephen to aid him in lifting the Marquess up out of the tub. Diana turned around to give them privacy as they changed the Marquess’ shirt and laid him back down on the chais
e lounge. Diana turned back around as Gabriel unwound the bandage, patted the skin dry, smeared honey over it, then rebound the wound.

  “Did you learn all of this from your grandfather and by caring for horses?” Diana asked, in awe of his unusual skills.

  “Some of it,” he nodded. “I have learned many things from many people, family or otherwise, and I have had full access to the Westwallow library from the time that I was quite small, thanks to the generosity of the former and current Marquess.”

  “You know far more than is usual for a stable hand,” Diana observed, hoping that he did not find her words offensive.

  Gabriel had shown levels of intelligence that rivaled any man of her acquaintance. It was one of his more attractive qualities, among the many that he possessed.