Page 10 of The Shadow of the Count
How he wished he’d never come to this place. At least he knew Don was safe.
Six
“Ah, Donnie, there you are. Really, must you disappear all the time?” Lyle grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the giant dining room at the manor house where they’d been invited to stay. Lyle said he intended to stay a few weeks, but one never stated that intention immediately.
He supposed that was like his brother’s so-called Hollywood friends who came to his house in Palm Springs without any intention of leaving for days on end.
“Is it time to dine?” Donnie asked. He’d been on the terrace, enjoying the lack of small talk and perfume.
“Indeed, and you must meet this gentleman I just made acquaintance with. He’s a doctor.” Lyle’s voice dropped to a whisper. “At a sanitarium.”
“An asylum? Seriously?” He was at once horrified and incredibly intrigued.
“Yes! Can you imagine? Ian’s wife volunteers there for charity.” Ian was the cousin who owned the house.
“That’s even more surprising.” He couldn’t imagine Evelyn getting her hands dirty.
“She fancies herself Florence Nightingale, you know. One of her staff is with her at all times.”
“Ah.” He chuckled. She would be horrified by say, having to nurse Jeb through their encounter with the mummy last year.
They were seated by a footman, and the gentleman sitting across from them was a pleasant-looking man about Douglas’s age, with a quiet, somewhat tired air about him. He had dark brown hair and light brown eyes. And his smile was kind.
Donald smiled and nodded, waiting for the slightly older man to open the conversation. He hated being thought of as a rude American.
“Lyle. Will you introduce me to your friend?”
“Yes! Donnie, this is Dr. Richard Haworth. Richard, this is Donald Fitzhugh.”
“Pleasure.” The doctor inclined his head. “Lyle tells me you’re a professional adventurer.”
“Of a sort, I suppose. I am an academic, and I have a—mentor who hires my services now and again.”
“Ah. Well, it still sounds very romantic.”
“Thank you.” He chuckled. “So are you a medical doctor?”
“I am. I specialize in the treatment of the insane. I believe in moral treatment, you see. These poor souls deserve good care.” The doctor was a lean man with a shock of dark hair and deep-set brown eyes.
“Then you’re better than many doctors in these facilities,” said the lady on the other side of Richard. Donnie had yet to be introduced to her.
“Lady Blackworth.” Dr. Haworth nodded, the thin lips going tight. “The care has been sorely lacking, I admit, but there are many physicians most concerned with changing the treatment.”
“You do good work,” Lyle said soothingly.
Donnie smiled at him, hoping that encouraged him to relax. No one wanted their profession disparaged, he supposed. “I find your work fascinating. I’ve met many people in my travels that were thought mad, but were simply…” Seers, visionaries, possessed, psychics. “…misunderstood.”
“There are those too.” Shrewd brown eyes met his. “Some things cannot be explained with science.”
“Just so.” The words eased his mind. This man understood his meaning.
Lyle beamed over at them. “I knew the two of you would find common ground.”
“We’ll discuss this more at length after dinner?” the doctor asked. “Over brandy? I have a patient who I think…is not afflicted with simple illness.”
Chills rose on his arms. “As you say, of course.”
The universe brought people together, when there was need for it. He knew this, even as it frightened him. M. Grant had been instrumental in bringing a team together to investigate just such events, so Don would be watchful.
