Felicity's heart went out to her father, but there was nothing she could do. "I know it's bad now, but Holt says it ought to start getting better in a few days. If you could just--"
Her father dropped a small china bird he'd been fingering nervously. It hit the floor and shattered.
"See what I mean? I can't even hold on to a stupid bird."
"It's not important. I never did like it."
"That's not the point. I can't do anything. I'm useless. I'm worse than useless. You'd be better off without me."
Felicity guided her father to a chair. She knew he'd only remain seated a few minutes. "Don't talk nonsense. What would I do without you?"
"Find yourself a nice husband, settle down, and raise a family."
"I still have plenty of time for that."
"You're twenty-six, Felicity. Everybody considers you an old maid, and it's all my fault. I'd hoped maybe you'd like Holt enough to marry him. He's a nice man."
"He's in love with another woman."
"I'm not so sure. I think if you--"
"I'm not going to try to take Holt from Vivian Calvert. You've never seen her, but it's hard to imagine anyone could be that beautiful."
"Holt's interested in more than beauty."
"Right now he's interested in sleeping."
She had been surprised when Holt had come down that morning looking as if he hadn't slept. He'd mumbled something about having things on his mind. She figured he was feeling guilty about kissing her and had lain awake half the night figuring out how to tell her it didn't mean anything, that he couldn't understand how he could have done anything so foolish when he was in love with Vivian. They had no patients until the afternoon, so Felicity had insisted Holt go back to bed.
She'd been relieved when he took her suggestion. She was feeling more than uncomfortable about last night. She was feeling guilty... and horrified. She could have stopped him--it wouldn't have taken more than a word. Instead, she had kissed him back with a passion she didn't know she possessed. Well-bred Southern ladies didn't throw themselves at a man--even when the man was their husband. Gentlemen expected a certain decorum from a lady. She didn't know where her decorum was hiding, but it certainly hadn't made an appearance last night. She could hardly believe she had stood kissing a man in her father's bedroom while he lay sleeping nearby!
But she was more horrified to realize she had fallen in love with Holt. That was insanity in so many ways, she didn't even want to think about it. Once her father got over the worst of his withdrawal, she would insist that Holt move back to Mrs. Bennett's house. The minute she felt her father was safely out of the woods, she'd insist that Holt set up his own practice if he wanted to continue in medicine. She didn't dare let herself be around him more than was absolutely essential.
"He looked worse than I did this morning," her father said. "You two don't have to keep sitting up with me."
"I think he's worried about other things."
"What?"
"He doesn't confide in me, but I imagine finding Vivian has given him a lot to think about."
"Like how to get out of marrying her."
"That's not fair, Papa. You've never even met her."
Her father got up and began to move around the room, trailing his fingers along the backs of chairs, toying with the fringe of a throw on the back of the sofa, twisting his hands together to keep from touching anything breakable. "I've heard what you've said about her. She's not the right woman for Holt. A woman that beautiful will never think of anybody but herself."
"That's not true of every woman. Some people have been kind enough to say I'm beautiful, and I worry about you all the time."
"Honey, you're my own daughter and I love you dearly, but you're lovely, not beautiful. There's an essential difference. Men like talking to you, being with you, enjoying your company, but they don't follow you around like they're in a trance."
"I wouldn't want them to."
Her father put down a small glass dish with shaky hands. "That's the difference. A beautiful woman would. That's how she'd judge her worth. I'm glad you're not beautiful that way. Too much external beauty can rot the soul."
From what she'd seen of Vivian, Felicity suspected her father was right, at least in this instance.
"True beauty comes from love, and love comes from within," her father said. "If it's true that beauty is as beauty does, you're the most beautiful woman in the world."
A knock at the front door shortened the hug Felicity gave her father. She was tempted not to answer, but it might be a medical emergency. She was shocked to open the door and see Vivian Calvert and one of the men she'd seen in Vivian's court.
"I've come to see Holt," Vivian announced and entered without waiting for an invitation. "I haven't seen him in three days. Is he sick?"
"This isn't a good time for me to entertain guests," Felicity said as the young man followed Vivian into the house.
"You don't have to entertain me," Vivian said. "Just tell Holt I'm here."
"He's asleep."
"I knew he was sick!" she said, satisfied in her assumption.
"My father hasn't been feeling well. Holt was up part of the night with him."
Vivian had been moving toward the parlor, but she stopped. "Is he sick?"
"No."
"Come on, Edward," she said to her companion as she moved toward the parlor once again. "We can plan your party while I wait for Holt to get dressed."
Apparently, Felicity's company was neither needed nor desired.
"Who's that man?" Vivian asked. She'd stopped just inside the parlor doorway.
"That's my father, Dr. Moore. Papa, this is Holt's friend, Vivian Calvert. I'm sorry. I don't know the gentleman."
"Edward Spiers," the man said, extending his hand to her father, who moved from his position behind the sofa to shake the young man's hand, then retreated once more.
"Tell Holt to hurry," Vivian said. "Edward is taking me for a ride in his new carriage."
"I'll see if he wants to come down."
"He will," Vivian said, and settled herself in the sofa, indicating to Edward that he should sit next to her.
Felicity didn't want to wake Holt, but obviously Vivian didn't expect anything else. Besides, Holt would probably be angry if he missed seeing Vivian. "Papa, would you like a nap?"
"I want to talk to your father," Vivian said. "I've got a little boy who's always having headaches, and nobody can find anything wrong with him."
"You ought to ask Holt," Felicity said.
"Holt's good at cutting people up," Vivian said. "He doesn't know anything about children."
Felicity decided she'd better leave the room before she said something extremely rude. Holt did have more experience as a surgeon than a family doctor, but talking about him like that would hurt him deeply. The more she thought about Vivian's remark, the angrier she got. By the time she reached Holt's bedroom, she was so incensed, she had to pause and force herself to calm down. She knocked lightly on the door.
"What is it?" Holt's response came so quickly, she knew he hadn't been asleep.
"Vivian is here. I told her you were resting, but she insisted that I wake you. I'll tell her you can't come down, if you like."
"No, I'll come down. Give me a few minutes to dress."
"Are you sure? I know you're tired."
"No more than you are."
"You're done with your last patient after five. I could ask her to come back then."
She heard Holt laugh. "No one has ever told Vivian to go away and come back later. She'd be sure you were joking."
He was probably right, but Felicity supposed she couldn't put all the blame on Vivian. If men insisted on treating her like a princess with practically imperial rights, you couldn't blame her for taking advantage.
"I'll tell her you'll be down in a few minutes."
Holt didn't answer, so she started back downstairs. She didn't want to return to the parlor. She could imagine Vivian plying her father
with all kinds of questions and not understanding the answers. She probably didn't set eyes on her son for more than a few minutes a day.
Felicity told herself that was unkind. She'd never seen Vivian outside the context of a party. She didn't really know anything about the woman, and to be casting aspersions on her motherhood was extremely unfair. She was acting like a jealous shrew, which was exactly the kind of woman Felicity didn't want to be. She paused a few minutes at the foot of the stairs to get her emotions under control. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the parlor in time to see her father slowly slide from a chair onto the floor.
"He was just sitting there," Vivian said; "then he just stopped talking. I think he's dead."
"Holt!" Felicity screamed as she ran to her father and sank by his side. "I need you!"
Chapter Twenty
Holt had put on his shirt and pants and was about to put on his shoes when he heard Felicity's scream. His reaction was instinctive and instantaneous. He dropped his shoes, crossed the room at a run, jerked open the door, raced down the short hall, and took the stairs three or four at a time. As he hit the floor, he heard his name again.
"Holt!"
He sprinted to the parlor to see Felicity bending over her father, whose body was experiencing light spasms.
"I was asking him some questions about my son," Vivian said as Holt hastened to Dr. Moore's side. "He suddenly got this funny look, uttered a queer little moan, and slid to the floor."
"What's wrong with him?" Felicity asked Holt. "He acts like he's having a seizure, but he's not epileptic."
"It is a seizure. The first thing we have to do is move the furniture out of the way so he can't hurt himself," Holt said.
"Get up!" Felicity ordered Vivian. "Help me move the sofa," she said to Edward. When Vivian didn't move, Felicity grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Move out of the way. Take the other end and move it toward the doorway," she said to Edward. The startled man obeyed without question.
Holt moved a chair and table against the wall. Felicity and Edward moved the remaining chair and hassock, then turned to the coffee table.
"Now what do we do?" Felicity asked.
"We need to turn him on his side."
It wasn't difficult to roll her father on his side, but it was virtually impossible to keep him there. The spasms increased in strength until it was all Holt could do to keep him in position.
"Don't just stand there," Felicity said to Edward. "Holt needs help."
Edward dropped to the floor opposite Holt. Between the two of them, they steadied her father enough to keep him on his side.
"Is he going to die?" Vivian asked.
"I expect he'll come out of it in a little while," Holt said. "Meanwhile, we have to be careful to watch his breathing. I need to make sure he doesn't swallow his tongue or choke on anything that might come up from his stomach. Vivian, throw me a pillow. I need something to put under his head."
"I'll get it," Felicity said.
"You can bring me a blanket. We need to keep him warm to avoid the possibility of his going into shock."
Holt took the pillow Vivian handed him and placed it under Dr. Moore's head, keeping his face to the side. Felicity was back within moments with a light blanket, which they spread over him. Holt checked Dr. Moore's mouth to be sure he hadn't swallowed his tongue, but his breathing was unimpaired.
"What do we do now?" Felicity asked.
"We wait," Holt said.
No one spoke, all of them staring at Dr. Moore, but it was Felicity's expression that would remain etched in Holt's memory for a long time. He had seen fear expressed in a thousand different ways, but none more heartrending. It had gouged deep lines in her face until she looked exhausted from the effort to sustain her courage. He wanted to reach out and enfold her in his arms, to comfort her, to make her feel safe, but he couldn't turn his attention from Dr. Moore.
"He's going to be fine," he said to Felicity. "These seizures don't usually last long."
"Nothing like this has ever happened before," she said, her voice sounding hollow, unlike itself. "Is there anything you can do?"
"No."
The spasms gradually became weaker, giving Holt time to remember that Vivian and her young man were still in the room. Edward--he thought that was the correct name--remained kneeling directly across Dr. Moore from him, ready to help if the spasms should get worse. Vivian remained standing against the wall, her expression one of strong distaste.
"He's drunk," she said.
"He's not drunk," Holt corrected. "He's an alcoholic."
"You can't fool me with words," Vivian said. "Sometimes my father drank so much, he'd pass out for a whole day. Then when he woke up, he'd go into spasms just like that if he didn't get something to drink."
Holt was tempted to stuff a pillow in Vivian's mouth. She seemed unaware of the effect her words were having on Felicity, but Holt knew that each word cut with the sharpness of a knife. He'd heard them said about his own father, could remember the meanness of the children who used his father's weakness to taunt him, could remember the desire to disappear and never be seen again.
But he knew that Felicity would never consider disappearing. No matter how much the words or actions of people hurt her, she would use her own body to shield her father from the cruelties and insults.
She was better than he was, Holt thought. Stronger, too.
"People ought to be told," Vivian said.
"People know," Holt said. "We've all come together to help him conquer the problem."
"It will happen again," Vivian said. "People like him can't help themselves."
"Just because your father and mine were powerless to overcome their weakness doesn't mean other people can't," Holt said.
"My father will succeed," Felicity said. "I won't leave his side until I'm perfectly certain he's well again."
"Good," Vivian said. She appeared to shake the gravity of the scene from her mind as easily as a dog would shake water from his coat. "I haven't seen you," she said to Holt. "You haven't been to any parties."
"I've been helping Felicity look after her father," Holt said.
"Surely Miss Moore would sit with her father so you could go out and enjoy yourself."
"I'd be happy to assume the entire responsibility for my father," Felicity said.
"There," Vivian said with a brilliant smile. "Now you can come to Mary Elliot's party tonight. She tells me she's invited you."
"I won't be going to any parties until Dr. Moore is better." The spasms had ceased, but the doctor hadn't regained consciousness.
"But if his daughter is willing to take care of him, there's no reason--"
"There's every reason," Holt replied before she could say more. "Besides, I wouldn't be in a party mood worrying about him."
"But he's a stranger," Vivian said. "Why would you be worried about him?"
"Because he's my friend," Holt said. "Besides, I promised, and I don't break a promise."
"But--"
"The doctor appears to be coming around," Edward said. "I'm sure he'll be a lot more comfortable without strangers here."
"He won't know where he is or who we are," Vivian snapped.
Felicity had dropped to the floor next to her father, anxiety pinching her face. "He doesn't look awake to me," she said.
"I saw some movement of his eyelids," Holt said.
"I haven't had a chance to talk to Holt," Vivian said to Edward.
"I'll try to see you some afternoon," Holt said without taking his eyes off the doctor.
"I may not be at home," Vivian said petulantly. "I can't sit around waiting for you to show up."
"Then I'll see you when I can."
"Will you see them to the door?" Felicity asked Holt.
"We can find our way out," Edward said.
Holt knew it was rude to leave guests to show themselves out, but he was nettled at Vivian for what she'd said about the doctor. He could understand why she would never forgive her own
father for leaving her an orphan, but he couldn't understand why she didn't realize it would hurt Felicity just as much to have someone refer to her father as a drunk.
"She's angry with you," Felicity said after Vivian had practically flounced out of the room.
"She'll have forgotten about it by tomorrow."
"I doubt it. She feels slighted that you paid attention to another woman. She's a woman, and I know how we think."
"Your father is coming around."
Felicity forgot Vivian. "What should I do?"
"Continue to make him as comfortable as possible. He probably won't know where he is or what happened. He might not even know who we are, but he'll be back to his normal self in a few hours."
"A few hours! You have patients to see."
"I'll tell them to come back tomorrow."
"I'll take care of my father. You take care of the patients."
"You might need some help."
"If you'll tell me what to expect and what to do, I'll be fine."
Holt felt hurt that she was so anxious to get him out of the room. Was she this upset about the kisses they'd shared last night? "Don't drive me away," he said. "I want to help."
"You have helped. You are helping."
"I don't mean just by seeing patients. I mean by being here with your father. With you."
"Why?"
She wasn't merely asking the obvious question. There was something fearful about the way she looked at him.
"Partly because he wouldn't be in this condition if I hadn't forced it upon him. More than that, I like your father. He's an excellent doctor and a fine man. I want to do everything I can for him. And I want to help you. You've had to shoulder too much responsibility for too long. You love your father--he's all you have in the world, the only person who loves you. You also feel guilty for protecting him so he could drink and grow worse. You're frantic at the thought of losing him. I know how you feel, how helpless, how afraid. I want to be with you, to let you know you're not alone."
Born To Love Page 23