The Daughter of Highland Hall (24 page)

“Sir William’s brother, David Ramsey, was with a lady friend last night when her husband was shot.”

Lydia gasped and poked her finger with the needle. “Oh, my stars! Did he shoot him?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear the rest. Nelson walked into the hall, and I had to step away from the door—”

Someone cleared his throat.

Lydia’s stomach dropped. Lydia, Ann, and Patrick jumped to their feet as Mr. Lawrence approached.

The butler narrowed his eyes. “Eavesdropping is not an acceptable practice for any member of this staff.”

Lydia stood stone still and clenched her sewing to her chest. Gossiping about the family was not allowed, and many a servant had been dismissed for doing just that.

“Do you understand?” Mr. Lawrence’s gaze raked them.

“Yes sir.” Lydia looked down as Ann and Patrick echoed her reply.

“And if you happen to overhear a private conversation in the future, you are to keep it to yourself. Do I make myself clear?”

All three answered in unison: “Yes sir.”

“Now I suggest you find something else to discuss or take your break in silence.” Mr. Lawrence turned on his heel and strode out of the servants’ hall.

Lydia sank down on the bench, her heart thumping. “Goodness gracious,” she whispered.

“Sorry.” Ann glanced at Lydia and Patrick. “I didn’t mean to get us all in trouble.”

“We’ll live,” Patrick said.

Lydia tried to still her trembling fingers. “Yes, but what’s going to happen to Miss Katherine?”

Ann and Patrick looked at her with somber expressions, but none of them were willing to continue the conversation.

Kate picked up her skirt and followed her aunt up the front walk leading to the Wellington home. A movement in an upstairs window caught Kate’s eye. A woman’s face appeared for a split second, then the lace curtain swished back in place. Was that Edward’s mother or a servant? Kate glanced at her aunt to see if she had noticed, but Louisa’s determined gaze was focused on the front door.

“Now remember, don’t say anything about that awful incident at the Martindales’. If they mention it, pretend you’ve heard nothing.”

Kate lifted her chin. “You want me to lie?”

Her aunt shot a heated glance her way. “If they mention it, just let me handle it.”

Kate frowned. Lying to Edward and his family was no way to build a stronger connection. What was her aunt thinking?

She mounted the steps and stood to the side as her aunt reached for the brass knocker and made their presence known.

“Just follow my lead.”

Before Kate could answer, the door opened, and a tall, stern butler looked out. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Lady Louisa Gatewood, and this is my niece, Miss Katherine Ramsey. We’re here to see Lady Wellington.”

The butler nodded and ushered them into the entrance hall. “Wait here, please.”

Kate glanced around and rubbed her arms against the chill that seemed to be in the air.

The butler returned within two minutes, his expression even more solemn. “I’m sorry, Lady Wellington is not at home.”

Louisa’s nostrils flared. “Is Mr. Edward Wellington at home?”

The butler glanced toward the doorway at the end of the hall and back at her. “No, m’lady. Mr. Wellington is also not at home.”

Louisa’s expression hardened. “Very well. We’ll leave our cards.” She opened her bag and took out her small white calling card, and Kate did the same.

The butler took a silver tray from the side table and held it out toward them. They placed their cards on the tray, and he gave a slight nod.

“Good day.” Louisa turned and strode toward the front door. The butler hurried to reach it first and pulled it open. Kate followed her aunt outside, and the door closed behind them.

“Not at home!” Louisa turned to Kate, her eyes blazing. “I don’t believe a word of it. Eleanor must have heard about your cousin David. That’s why she won’t see us.”

“She might be out shopping or paying calls herself.”

“Ha! I don’t think so!” Louisa descended the steps, her skirt swirling around her feet.

Kate hurried after her aunt. “If that news is already circulating, then we
might as well go home.” Perhaps if Jon hadn’t left yet, she might still be able to go with him to Daystar Clinic.

“We are not going home. We must call on the Tremonts and thank them for hosting the ball, and then we’ll stop by the Hamiltons’ if we have time before tea.”

Katherine sighed. “Must we?”

Her aunt turned and glared at her. “Katherine, I am trying to salvage your future. You could at least show a little gratitude and cooperate!”

Katherine clenched her jaw. “Very well. But we’re going to receive the same kind of treatment wherever we go.”

They exited the front garden. Their chauffeur sprang into action and opened the rear door of the motorcar. Louisa climbed in and Kate slid in after her. She looked up at the Wellingtons’ lovely home, her spirits sinking. Had Edward and his family refused to see them because of the Martindale scandal? What about her conversation with Edward on the terrace last night? How could he ask her to consider a courtship one day and refuse to see her the next?

She didn’t know if she was more heartbroken or angry, then decided she was a good measure of both. Yes, her cousin had been foolish and reckless.

But why should
she
suffer for it?

Jon straightened his tie and knocked on Dr. Gleason’s door. He wasn’t sure why he had been summoned to the office of the hospital president, but the note said to come as soon as possible.

“Come in,” Dr. Gleason’s deep voice called from beyond the door.

As Jon stepped inside, Dr. Gleason looked up. Piles of charts and folders covered one side of his large oak desktop. Bookshelves packed with medical texts lined the walls behind him.

“Good morning, sir.”

Dr. Gleason rose from his chair, a weary expression lining his face.
“Good morning, Mr. Foster.” He reached out, and the two men shook hands. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jon sat in the wooden chair facing the desk.

Dr. Gleason returned to his chair. “I heard how you saved that young boy last Friday.” Dr. Gleason studied him through narrowed eyes. “That was a very good call.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“The combination of symptoms was quite unusual. How did you make that diagnosis?”

“My father treated a young woman with similar symptoms a few years ago. The memory stayed with me since it was an unusual case.”

Admiration shone in Dr. Gleason’s eyes. “Well done.”

Jon shifted in his seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the praise. All he’d done was recall his father’s example and follow the training he had received.

Dr. Gleason sat back and folded his hands over his protruding stomach. “So … have you reached a decision about the position you’ve been offered here at St. George’s?”

Jon straightened. So this was the reason for this summons. “I’ve been giving it a great deal of thought, sir.”

“I know it would be a change in direction for you, but you could put your skills to good use here.”

“I want to use my training where it’s most needed.”

Dr. Gleason’s brow creased. “You’ve decided to return to India, then?”

“Actually, I’m considering another option.”

“Has someone else made you an offer?”

“I’ve been volunteering on the East End at Daystar Clinic. Dr. Pittsford has suggested I join him there when I finish my training.”

“Why would you want to practice on the East End, especially at a charity clinic?”

“People there have little access to good medical care. The caseload at Daystar is quite heavy. Dr. Pittsford needs another full-time doctor.”

“Pittsford is a good man, but he’s an idealist. His potential to make a difference is limited by his lack of connection and financial support. I doubt his clinic will last another year. I see no future in it, especially not for a promising young man like yourself.”

Jon didn’t want to insult Dr. Gleason, but he needed to make his position clear. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t agree.”

Dr. Gleason’s eyebrows lowered. “Think very seriously about this, Mr. Foster. These two paths lead to two very different destinations.”

“I’m aware of that, sir.”

“Are you?” He tapped his finger on the desk for a moment, then focused on Jon. “If you stay on at St. George’s, you’ll rise to the top of your profession and have a long, successful career. You’ll be able to support Dr. Pittsford’s clinic and other causes like it. Perhaps one day you might even sit in this chair and have a fine home and family of your own. Do you really want to turn down a future like that?”

A vision of walking into the hospital’s annual dinner with Kate on his arm rose in his mind and filled him with a powerful longing. If he accepted Dr. Gleason’s offer and let the word spread about his inheritance, he would be accepted in the finest society. Then he might be able to give Kate the kind of life she wanted.

But was that the best path for him to choose?

Jon looked across the desk at Dr. Gleason, his desires pulling him two very different directions. “I need more time, sir.”

Dr. Gleason rubbed his chin. “I can give you a little longer, but I must have your answer by the first of August. If you decline my offer, I’ll have to ask someone else to fill that position.” Dr. Gleason looked at Jon over the top of his silver-rimmed glasses. “Think long and hard, Mr. Foster. You won’t receive another offer like this.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good.” Dr. Gleason rose, and Jon stood as well. “By the way, we’re hosting a dinner at our home next Friday. My wife will be sending you an invitation.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied, but an uneasy feeling rose in his chest.

“My daughter Evelyn enjoyed meeting you. She said you two had quite an enjoyable conversation.”

“It was a pleasure to meet her, sir … and your other daughters as well.”

Dr. Gleason’s expression dimmed, and he released a sigh. “Yes, three daughters, all of marriageable age, and not one promising match for any of them—at least not yet.”

Jon’s stomach tensed, but he remained silent. He certainly hoped he hadn’t given the doctor reason to believe he was interested in Evelyn.

Dr. Gleason studied him a moment more, then motioned toward the door. “You may go.”

“Thank you, sir. Good day.” Jon nodded and strode out of the office.

He had an important decision to make and not long to make it.

“Mrs. Adams!” Lydia hurried down the backstairs.

The housekeeper stepped out of the kitchen doorway and looked up. “Yes, Lydia?”

“Lady Gatewood is not feeling well. She asked if you’d come up and see her.”

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Adams smoothed her hand down her navy-blue skirt, jingling the keys clipped at her waist. “What seems to be the problem?”

“She says her head is pounding and her stomach’s upset. She wouldn’t even let me open the drapes. I asked if she wanted tea or something else, but …” Lydia lifted her hands. There was no pleasing Lady Gatewood when she was feeling poorly.

“Very well, I best go up.” Mrs. Adams turned toward the stairs, then looked back. “There was a letter for you in the morning post. I left it on the side table in the servants’ hall.”