Page 48 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
“I am his wife,” Patrina said, carefully controlling her temper. “Do you try to say that I am not family?”
“Quite the contrary, Lady Morendale. But it will be most distressing. And,” he paused, glancing pointedly down at the tea-tray again, “the Marquess is not able to eat or drink too much at present. I’m sure his redoubtable mother will be able to order a tea-tray for him, should his appetite change.”
Patrina bit her lip. “Very well, I’ll leave the tea-tray outside. But I must go in.”
She set it down on the windowsill and made to step around the physician. He only stepped to the side, once again putting himself in between her and the door.
“Your wifely anxiety does you great service, Lady Morendale,” Mr. Blackburn said smoothly. “But I fear the sick-chamber is already over-full. More people would only serve to distress the Marquess. Perhaps later.”
“No,” she said, beginning to feel piqued. “Now, Mr. Blackburn. Please, step aside.”
He heaved a sigh, delicately removing his pince-nez, and began to clean them on a square of cloth which seemed to be expressly for this purpose.
“My lady, you seem like a woman of spirit. That is admirable. However, in my line of work, I must often come up against men and women with greater spirit – and greater authority – than you yourself. I am a man of medicine, of science, and things that arenecessaryoften go up against the personal preferences of those ladies and gentlemen. I have learned to be firm. I have learned that a physician who acknowledges the authority of anyone in a house besides himself is useless. So I must tell you, Lady Morendale, that your presence here is not welcome and not appreciated. It is not in favour of the greater good. I am not sure what benefits you believe you can impart, but the Marquess will be well cared for without your oversight.”
Patrina flinched backwards, eyes wide. “Surely you jest.”
“I am not, my lady,” he said, sighing regretfully. “If you insist on making trouble, I may have to take further steps.”
“Further steps?” she echoed, unable to believe what she was hearing. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
On cue, the door opened. Clayton slipped out. Of course it was Clayton. He glanced at Patrina, then over at the tea tray, and then finally exchanged a long look with Mr. Blackburn.
In that moment, Patrina realized that she was outmatched and outnumbered. She would not be allowed in. She was Lady Morendale, yes, but it was nothing more than a name. A meaningless title. Swallowing hard, she tilted up her chin.
“You can’t keep him from me forever.”
Clayton only lifted his eyebrows, looking carefully surprised. “Why, my dear cousin-in-law, do you think we have unkindplans? We’re only thinking of the Marquess’ health. Neil will understand. But Mr. Blackburnmustbe allowed to work, you know. It’s for the best.”
“I just want to see him, Clayton.”
Clayton took a step forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“And so you shall,” he said, in a soothing, benevolent sort of way. “Not just yet, though. We must all do our bit to take care of Neil. Why not go and play your pianoforte. I know how much you enjoy that.”
There was really nothing else to do, not unless she planned to humiliate herself by barging past the men and getting in that way. Swallowing hard, Patrina turned and walked away. Every time she turned around, Mr. Blackburn and Clayton were standing there, staring after her.
Something is wrong,she thought.Something is very wrong here.
