Page 32 of To Heal a Broken Earl
“Yes, because of the salve the doctor will insist he use,” Hastings groaned. “He’s the worst when it comes to helping himself with that leg. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the leg bedevils him constantly—the pain is intense. And the only thing we’ve found to be of any help is the salve prepared by the little Italian doctor from London, who also has a practice here, in the village.”
“I see,” Emma said, furrowing her brow. “What is his objection to it?”
“The smell,” Hastings and Stanhope said together.
“Upon my word! That bad?” Emma asked, startled.
“Yes,” Hastings grumbled. “His lordship calls it skunk spray…when he’s being polite.”
“I heard him compare it to a rotting animal carcass as I was leaving the billiard room earlier today,” Stanhope said, grimacing. “I have to agree. He’s not far off with that description. Oh, zounds! I apologize, your ladyship, for the language. But the salve is most odiferous.”
Emma burst into laughter. “There’s no reason to apologize. We’re all quite familiar with those smells. Together they create a very colorful description, indeed.”
“I had wanted his leg to be of some relief to him on his birthday,” muttered Hastings, setting his cup down with a frustrated thump.
“His birthday? When is Lord Wilton’s birthday?” Emma asked.
“In a little over a week, on the fourteenth of May. He never remembers his birthday, and he’s not one to mark it, either. In all the years I’ve known him—back when we were in the war—he would always remember the birthdays of his men and get dinner and a mug of ale, or something like it. But when it comes tohisbirthday, he always forgets. Or rather, he opts not to remember.”
“He’s always been one of those leaders you don’t mind taking orders from, if you ken my meaning. He cared about the men under his command in battle,” Hastings explained. “And I knew many enlisted boys who were not as lucky as I was to have such a commander in the war.”
“And the earl has been a generous lord since he inherited the title,” Stanhope agreed. “I’ll tell Mrs. Peppers when she returns from the village. She would be terribly upset if she weren’t informed about the master’s birthday. She’ll make him a cake.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Peppers will want to do far more than just bake a cake,” Hastings drawled. “She’ll no doubt plan a special dinner with all his lordship’s favorites.”
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Emma said. “We should have a birthday dinner for him. With your help, we can alert the others in the household and make it a lovely celebration.”
“We’ll make a list of what we’ll need, and I’ll head into the village early tomorrow morning,” Hastings said.
“I’m sure Mrs. Peppers will have a list a mile long to add to it,” Stanhope added.
“Splendid!” Emma said. “We have to make sure to keep things a secret from Lord Wilton.”
“May I suggest we enlist the assistance of Wright?” Hastings added with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Good idea,” Emma said. “I’ll make sure to speak with him. And I’ll take care of decorating the dining room,” she added. “And if I could speak with the Italian doctor, perhaps there is something I can do to help make the salve less noxious.” She was thinking about the essence of sandalwood she had seen in one of the linen cabinets. “All right. We all have our duties. I’ll ask Katie to create a birthday card. She enjoys drawing.”
“If Katie needs any charcoal, paper, or a pencil, I will add it to the list,” Stanhope offered. “I’ll also check the nursery. There may be drawing instruments in there.”
“If we can pull this off, Lord Wilton will be very surprised,” Hastings said, much more enthused than when Emma had entered the kitchen. “Dr. Bianchi has an office in town. I’ll contact him and ask him to stop by for a quick visit with you. Maybe we can convince Lord Wilton to meet with the good doctor as well, while he’s here.”
“Perfect! Have him bring some of the salve,” Emma suggested.
Hastings and Stanhope laughed together.
“Why are you laughing?” Emma asked.
“No need. I can supply you with some of that now. Lord Wilton has enough salve to last him an entire year!” Hastings replied, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
“Why so much?” Emma asked.
“Because every time the good doctor came to visit, he would bring a jar of salve, and Lord Wilton would tell us to lock it up!” Stanhope inserted.
“Last I counted, we had twenty jars. I’ll just be a few minutes,” Hastings said.
Emma looked at them and rolled her eyes to the heavens.
“We’re not laughingathis lordship. It’s just the situation because he can be stubborn,” Stanhope said.
