Page 74 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
Foster held out her robe, turning his gaze from her as he did so. “Forgive me, My Lady.”
She became aware of a tremendous bustling outside her door as if the entire house had suddenly come alive. “Foster, please tell me what has happened.”
He turned just as she was fastening her robe. His face was dire, and his lip trembled as he spoke. “I came to look after His Lordship, having left him in the library some time before. When I arrived, I discovered him lying prostrate upon the floor.”
“Merciful Heaven!”
He exited her room, and she followed, close on his heels.
“I’ve sent Giles to fetch the physician. The other footmen have laid him upon the couch in the library. Lisbelle is tending to him.”
“I must see him,” she said frantically.
“Of course, My Lady.”
She descended the immense staircase quickly. Her heart beat fast in her chest, and a gnawing worry quickened her step to match the beat.
“Please, dear Father in Heaven,” she whispered, “let him be alright.”
As they made their way to the library, she saw maids scrambling about with wash basins and cloths. She heard Lisbelle commanding them in stern, even tones.
“He’s to have air. For Heaven’s sake, you’re too close to him, you daft piglet! Get away.”
She entered the library and saw him on the couch. He seemed pulled down as if held there by invisible restraints. Her heart nearly broke when she saw his white pallor and the expression of pained sorrow on his face.
He turned his watery eyes to her, his lips trying to form her name.
“Sshhh,” she said, kneeling at his side. “My darling, do not speak.”
A tear fell from the corner of his eye as he stared at her.
“My Lady,” Lisbelle said timidly, “if you please I need to apply this here cloth to his head.”
“Yes, of course,” Abigail said, moving out of the way.
“There, there,” said Lisbelle. “We’re gonna get Your Lordship feeling better in no time at all.”
Emily and Madeline entered now, both emitting shrieks when they saw him.
“Oh for the love of the Saviour hisself! Keep your gobs sealed shut!” cried Lisbelle, who, upon turning to see the sisters, nearly swooned from the faux-pas.
“Oh,” she said, “dear me! Oh, My Ladies, forgive me! Oh...”
Abigail put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Peace, Lisbelle. We understand.”
The maid looked at her pleadingly, nodded, and then resumed her task of dabbing Lord Ambrose’s brow with the wet cloth.
“There, there,” she said, this time somewhat shakily.
“What happened?” said Madeline. “Is he alright?”
“Giles has gone to fetch the physician,” said Abigail.
“But is he alright?” said Emily.
Abigail looked at her daughters. So sweet they were side by side. “He’ll be alright.”
“If you please, My Lady,” said Lisbelle, “and My Ladies, His Lordship needs a bit of air. If he’s anything like my own dear father was when he ... when he suffered a similar ailment—it was his heart, you see—they said the best thing was not crowd round like an exhibition, but to let the man breathe freely-like.”
