Page 165 of The Sisters of Sea View
Viola’s heart throbbed, and tears threatened. “You are right. I should at least find out what is happening. Perhaps something went wrong with his carriage, so they have been delayed. I will run over and see. Thank you, Em.” She pressed her sister’s arm, grabbed her hooded mantle, and hurried out the door.
Viola ran down the lawn, along the lane dotted with sprinkling rain, and up the drive to Westmount.
Taggart held the chaise door as the elder Mr. Hutton prepared to step inside.
“Mr. Hutton!”
He turned. “Miss Viola. I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”
“Has the major already left?”
His father nodded. “A few hours ago. Colin and Armaan went with him.”
“But not you?”
He shook his head. “He knew I disapproved of the risky surgery as you did. Said I should return home and they’d send word later. I agreed at first. Now I’ve changed my mind. I don’t feel right leaving at such a time. So I’m going to Exeter, whether he likes it or not. Father’s prerogative.”
“Take me with you, please. I want to be there too.”
When he hesitated, she added, “I have felt terrible ever since we argued. If something were to happen to him...”
“I understand perfectly. Will your family mind? I am more than old enough to be your father, so I don’t think tongues will wag, yet perhaps...”
“I don’t care about that. I just want him to be well. I want to be there when it’s all over, no matter what.”
“So do I.”
“Emily knows I am here, but perhaps Taggart could let my family know I’ve gone with you?”
Taggart nodded. “’Course, miss.”
“Very well,” Mr. Hutton said. “Do you need anything else, or are you ready to go?”
“I am ready.”
Commanding the lead postilion to urge the horses to speed, they set off up the hill and away from Sidmouth. The postilion, taking Mr. Hutton at his word, drove the horses hard, even when the rain worsened. The two sat quietly inside the carriage, Viola praying until the motion of the vehicle lulled her into a fitful sleep.
They arrived in Exeter less than two hours later.
Stopping to ask a local person for directions, they then made their way through the busy streets to the hospital.
Leaving the chaise and weary animals to the postilion’s care, they hurried up the walk and into the building, asking a workman with a mop and bucket where they would find the operating theatre.
“Operating theatre?” the elderly man echoed, face puckering in alarm.
“Yes, we are in a hurry, so...”
“You knew him, then? I am sorry. Dreadful sorry.”
“What?”
The man shook his head. “Beastly business. Poor fellow died on the table. I didn’t see it firsthand, thank the Lord, but I saw the students leaving pale faced, and one poor lad retched.” He lifted his tools as proof.
“No!” Viola pressed a hand to her mouth.
Mr. Hutton gritted his teeth. “Take us to him.”
“I covered him up, proper-like,” the man said. “I don’t know that you want to see him, truth be told.”
