Page 45 of The Lord Next Door
“Then who was crying?”
“The nurse.”
“Oh.” She straightened her shoulders. “Perhaps they need my assistance.”
Smith’s eyes widened. “But my lady—”
She walked past him and down the corridor to the earl’s chambers. The nurse was standing alone outside the door, sobbing piteously. This was someone she could help, Victoria thought with relief.
“Nurse Carter,” she said, putting a hand on the woman’s trembling arm, “do tell me what’s wrong. Surely it can’t be this bad.”
The tall woman hugged herself, tears running unchecked down her face. “I tried to help him, milady, I did. But when his legs start painin’ him, nothin’ helps, and his temper strains somethin’ fierce. Please, milady, I’m doin’ me best. I don’t want to lose me position!”
“I’m certain your position is not in jeopardy. Lord Thurlow will handle everything.”
But the woman burst into fresh tears. “Milady, it’s me fault it got this far. Lord Thurlow is never to handle things. It only makes the earl worse!”
Victoria frowned as she patted the nurse one last time, then walked to the doorway. There was a tray and its contents scattered on the ground between the earl and his son. A servant knelt between them, cleaning up the mess, his shoulders hunched as if he could make himself disappear.
Lord Thurlow stood in profile to her, staring at his father. Frustration and anger warred in his expression, obliterating his usually pleasant mask.
“Father, you must cease tormenting the servants.” His voice was so very controlled.
“They’re mine to do with as I wish,” said Lord Banstead loudly. “You’re not the earl yet.”
Victoria saw pain and sleeplessness etched across the old man’s haggard face. For the first time she pitied him. She could not know what it was like to face one’s imminent death, to lose control of everything one had worked for, everything that gave one pleasure.
Lord Thurlow gripped his hands together behind his back. “I never said I was the earl, but someone has to manage the household, and you refuse to do it.”
“Are you saying I don’t know how to rule what’s mine?”
“Do you hear yourself? You are not some king whose every wish has to be granted.”
“But I deserve the respect of my title. What’s going on around here?”
Lord Thurlow sighed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You never attend parties. Yet tonight you take your wife to a dinner. Something’s different.”
“Father, I didn’t know you needed to approve my schedule.”
Unnoticed, Victoria stared wide-eyed between them. Lord Thurlow had asked her not to confide his railway plans to his father. She imagined that would lead to many more arguments.
She stepped away from the doorway when she heard Mrs. Wayneflete in the entrance hall, consulting with Smith and then sending everyone off to bed. The housekeeper bustled up the corridor, gave Victoria a brief smile, then put an arm around Nurse Carter.
“Go to the kitchen, dear, I’ve put on a pot of tea. I’ll be in to speak with you soon.”
After the nurse walked away hugging herself, the housekeeper glanced into the earl’s room, then gave Victoria a sympathetic smile.
“Right on schedule,” Mrs. Wayneflete said.
Victoria could only blink at her before saying, “This has happened before?”
“Every night since I’ve been here. The earl’s in a lot of pain, and wants more of his medicine, which the nurse can’t give him for fear of killing him. He sets up a fuss and attempts to bribe the servants, threatening them with the loss of their positions if they don’t do as he says. Why do you think so many housekeepers quit?”
“I am so sorry to involve you in all this,” Victoria whispered. Would Mrs. Wayneflete finally leave her after all these years?
“Now don’t you worry, my lady. I feel sorry for the old gent. Menfolk always do like to feel above the ruin of time. But your husband, he seems to be making things worse, now doesn’t he?”
