Folding her hands in her lap, her ladyship took a deep breath before saying, “I have been told that I have an unpleasantly large kidney stone lodged inside me, and frankly. . .” She suddenly scrunched her face and gasped as she gritted out, “It’s a rather unforgiving bugger.”
Momentarily startled by the dowager’s use of profanity, it took Mary a second longer than usual to react to what was happening, but once she did, she quickly produced a bottle of laudanum from a cabinet designed to house carafes filled with brandy and other such drinks. Instead, it contained most of Mary’s medical equipment. She understood that Lady Warwick was enduring an intense amount of pain and consequently added as much of the medicine to her tea as she deemed safe. “Here, drink this,” she told her quietly. “It will ease your suffering.”
The dowager obediently complied. It took a few minutes for the laudanum to take effect, but once it did, she drew a deep breath and returned her cup to Mary, settling back against the sofa with a drained expression upon her face. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t usually agree with taking that stuff, but it was necessary this time. It seems as if the pain is getting worse—unbearably so.”
“If it is a kidney stone that you are suffering from, then I will most likely have to operate in order to have it removed.” Mary met the dowager’s gaze. “It will be not only an uncomfortable procedure, but a painful one as well, I’m afraid.”
The dowager gave her a hard stare of determination. “I have never been the sort to be bowled over by anything, Lady Steepleton, not by men, not by the pestilent rules of society, and not by the difficulties of life itself. Consequently, I simply refuse to allow such an insolent little stone to dictate my level of well-being when I am otherwise in perfectly good health. I have reached the point where I will happily endure whatever I must, if it will only free me from this constant torture.”
Mary nodded her head sympathetically. “I must also warn you that the opinion of the other physicians you’ve consulted must not be entirely dismissed. Such an operation is not without risk.” The dowager opened her mouth as if to protest, but Mary quickly continued. “I’m not trying to dissuade you, but since you are contemplating putting your life in my hands, I do feel obligated to tell you this. My track record is good. I’ve lost very few patients, and none after performing a lateral lithotomy—which is what this situation will call for—of which I’ve done five. In addition, you will require one to three months to recover, so if we do it now, you shall be forced to miss the remainder of the season.”
“Pfft. . .” The dowager waved her hand dismissively. “As it is, I haven’t attended a social function in over two years due to my ailment. But if you are able to help me, then, who knows? Perhaps I’ll be able to dance a jig next year.”
Mary smiled. She really liked the older woman. “If you feel up to it,” she said. “I can examine you right away, and then tomorrow evening, I can come to your home and perform the procedure, if that is agreeable to you. Do you have a maid or a lady-in-waiting whom you would trust enough to assist?”
The dowager nodded. “Mrs. Harper will do; she was there when my children were born, so I know she’s not the squeamish sort.”
Mary blinked, realizing that Mrs. Harper must be a trusty servant if she’d been in her mistress’s employ for so many years. Composing herself, she got ready to examine her ladyship. It didn’t take long for her to confirm that a kidney stone was indeed the culprit. “Will nine p.m. tomorrow evening suit your ladyship?” she asked as she walked the dowager to the door.
“I think it would be splendid,” Lady Warwick replied. She smiled, and as she did, Mary couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were sparkling with the onset of tears. “I cannot possibly thank you enough. Really, Lady Steepleton, I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”
Upon seeing her out, Mary retrieved the tray of food that Thornton had left for her in the dining room and then made her way back upstairs to her bedroom, completely exhausted. She was almost at her door when a soft thud, followed by a rustling sound, brought her to a halt. She paused to listen, but no other sound followed. Convincing herself that it was probably nothing, she eased her bedroom door open and instinctively glanced around the room. Nothing looked particularly out of place until a cold wind gripped her and she saw that her window stood gaping wide open. Setting down her tray, she ran across to it and looked out, just in time to see a dark shadow disappearing over the garden wall. “Oh God,” she murmured as her stomach tied itself into a tight knot of despair.
Swallowing hard, she pulled the window shut with trembling fingers and locked it firmly back in place, then closed the curtains to block out the darkness. She turned around to glance about the room once more. He eyes went straight to her dresser, where she’d left her father’s journal. It was gone. Anger, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of loss, poured through her. This was her father’s life, written in his own words and by his own hand, that someone had stolen from her. Whatever their reason, it wasn’t justified.
A thought struck her, and gripped by fear she ran over to the wardrobe and threw open the door. The boxes were still there where she’d left them, but what about the books? She lifted the lid. There they were, all of them, save for the very first volume. Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever it was that the intruder had been after, she still had a chance of finding it before he did. She would need a plan, though. It was no longer safe for her to remain in her own house, at least not with the books stashed away in her wardrobe and with very little with which to protect herself. Whoever it was that had taken the first book would almost certainly return soon in search of the rest. She couldn’t very well guard them every hour of every day.
But where could she possibly go on such short notice? She considered her other property in Northamptonshire, but did she really want to shy away to a lonely castle where she knew even fewer people than she did in London? The truth of the matter was that, outside of her staff, she had only two friends: Mr. Summersby and his sister, Alexandra.
Mr. Summersby had told her that he wanted to help, and in spite of everything, she believed him. However, after what had happened between them and the things she’d said to him, he was just about the last person she wanted to crawl to for help.
That left only one person: the Countess of Trenton. With a heavy sigh, Mary began piling her father’s journals into a bag, along with a few items of clothing that she placed on top. Wishing to be gone before Emma and Thornton awoke, she hurried out of the house, leaving behind a quick note, explaining to them that she’d gone to visit a friend for a few days. She then pulled her hood over her head and walked quickly toward Berkeley Square, intent on waiting by the servant’s entrance to avoid waking the household too early.
When Alexandra eventually walked into breakfast at ten, she was more than a little surprised to find Mary waiting for her at the table. “I am so sorry,” she said. “I do hope that I haven’t kept you waiting for too long.”
Mary gave her a weak smile. “Not at all, Alexandra. Your husband asked if he should wake you before he went out, but I asked him not to disturb you.”
Alexandra eyed her quizzically. “You must have been here for quite some time if you managed to run into him. He usually leaves by eight.”
Mary lowered her eyes to her lap, in an almost embarrassed fashion that instantly piqued Alexandra’s interest. “The truth is that I have been here since four.”
“Good heavens!” Alexandra exclaimed. “Has something happened? Are you all right?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, yes, I am quite all right, thank you. However, there was an intruder at my house during the night. I believe I must have startled him, for he ran off. Nonetheless, I didn’t feel comfortable remaining there and hoped that you wouldn’t mind overly much if I came here. Forgive me, but I could think of nowhere else to go.”
Alexandra dropped onto a chair, completely speechless. “You poor thing,” she finally managed to say. “Of course I don’t mind. But this intruder you mention: do you have any idea why he was there?”
“He was after my father’s journals, I believe, for I had left one of them out on my nightstand, and it was the only thing he took.” Alexandra spotted the glistening tears before they began to fall. A moment later, Mary was shaking with grief. “I am terribly sorry,” she said, sobbing.
Alexandra was beside her in a second. “You mustn’t be. It is quite understandable for you to be shaken, especially when something so personal and so dear to you was taken.” She poured Mary a cup of tea. “Here, this will help soothe you.”
Alexandra watched while Mary drank and her breathing returned to normal. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to take your father’s journal, Mary?” she eventually asked.
Mary shook her head and let out a heavy sigh. “No, but I received a threat the other day, warning me not to follow in my father’s footsteps. And Ryan. . .er, Mr. Summersby. . .told me that he encountered a stranger who gave a similar warning. Whatever this is about, it must be linked to my father’s work in some way. I just fail to see how.”
Alexandra considered that for a moment before she asked the next question. “Have you told Ryan that you are a surgeon?”
Mary looked as though she might cry again. “I wanted to, but we had a horrible fight. He told me he’d been assigned to protect me. I know that if it were not for that, he wouldn’t have given me a second glance, so I refused him after he. . .Oh dear, I have made such a mess of everything.”
“After he what?” Alexandra asked with mounting curiosity. She had a good mind to throttle her brother if what she suspected was true. He’d been so bloody righteous in Paris when he’d caught her together with Michael, and now. . .She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Tell me what he did.”
Mary sniffed and looked away. “I couldn’t possibly,” she groaned. “And even if I did, I cannot pretend that he is entirely to blame; we were equally responsible for what happened. It is no matter, really, only that he now believes he must marry me, and I just won’t have it. I refuse to marry somebody just because he has some nitwit notion that he must, simply because society decrees it has to be so. Nobody saw us, so nobody needs to know about it.” She met Alexandra’s gaze. “And if you tell anyone, then I shall only deny it.”
Alexandra nodded. Yes, Mary Croyden was indeed very similar to herself. She couldn’t help but like her, and in spite of what Mary might think, Alexandra knew that Ryan cared about her and that he wasn’t just favoring her with his attention because of the assignment. But she would leave Ryan to convince her ladyship of that. As for now, there was still the matter of Mary’s safety to consider. “Naturally, you are more than welcome to stay here until this whole thing resolves itself,” she told Mary. “We have plenty of space and shall be more than happy to have you.”