Lucy was horrified to learn that her friend, Isabell, was sick again. A note was left on her bed which she found on her return from London. She wanted to go to her immediately, but the Duchess had made it known she was so desperately in need of Lucy’s attendance that Lucy could not rush to visit her friend until later in the afternoon.

The carriage had arrived just before noon after an uneventful trip home from London. The last several days in London had been taken up with seeing the sights—one more fitting for the dresses—and a cheerful farewell from Lord and Lady Oakley, who welcomed Lucy to return for a visit at any time.

“Oh, there you are,” Judith said as Lucy came into her sitting room. “It seems as though you have been gone forever.”

“Six days, I believe, Your Grace.”

Judith pointed to her little bottle, shaking her finger. “Oh, Lucy, you are the only one who understands my needs. We already know Flossy is useless, and that other girl, what is her name?”

“Sylvia.”

“Yes… well, she was adequate, but she has no sympathy… no gentle understanding of my condition as you do. Now, will you take Isabell outdoors for me? She has been squirming for the past hour, and I know what that means.”

“Of course.”

Lucy picked up the dog and was headed out of the drawing room when Judith called out, “And hurry back. I need you to change my shoes. These new ones have been killing me. Oh-h-h, how I suffer.”

Lucy left the Duchess’s chambers and was headed to take the dog outside when she was waylaid by Ann.

“Oh, there you are… finally back from your little jaunt to London?”

“We arrived back just before lunchtime.” The dog was now squirming to be let down. “You must excuse me, I should love to visit, but your mother tells me the dog needs to go outdoors immediately.”

“Oh, I do not want to visit with you, I want you to fetch me a basin of hot water. I want to wash my hair. And make certain you do it as soon as possible. I need it to dry before tea time.”

Ann turned her back to Lucy and carried on toward her rooms.

As Isabell, the dog, was relieving herself, Lucy looked out across the vast expanse of the estate and thought about her old home. Many of the memories were fading, but she had a longing to go back and visit the sight of her old house, at least once more. She knew it had been rebuilt and had new tenants, but perhaps George would indulge her and take her on his horse some morning or afternoon when he was free.

Lucy returned to the Duchess and ensconced the dog once again in her Grace’s lap.

“O-o-o, woo wittle sweetie,” she cooed and lavished a biscuit on the dog that gobbled it up in two chews and a swallow.

Then the Duchess stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes. “Shoes,” she commanded. “Fetch my slippers—the blue ones.”

Lucy obeyed, and once the Duchess was comfortable again, and after she had comforted herself with another dose of laudanum, she dozed off to sleep.

Lucy escaped the Duchess, headed to the kitchen to inform the kitchen maid that Ann had requested a basin of hot water, and then slipped out the kitchen door and headed to see her dear friend.

* * *

As Lucy approached the Langley cottage, she saw the two brothers playing with a hoop in the front garden.

“Hello, boys,” she called out as she came through the gate, “Is your sister at home?”

The oldest boy responded, “She is inside. Feeling poorly.”

Lucy nodded and entered the cottage.

“Isabell?” she called out not seeing her in the common rooms.

“Lucy? Oh, Lucy, I am in the bedroom.”

Lucy went to the door and looked at her friend snuggled up under a mound of covers, even though it was still summer.

“Isabell, what can I do for you?” she asked with some concern.

“I feel rotten. I am shivering, but I think I have a fever.”

Lucy went over and felt her forehead. “You certainly do. Let me get a basin of water. We need to get your temperature down.”

“Are the boys alright?”

“They are playing in the front and seem fine.”

She went to the kitchen poured some fresh water from a pitcher into a basin, found a hand towel, and went back to the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, doused the towel in the water, wrung it out, and applied the cool, wet towel to Isabell’s forehead. Lucy did not want to let on, but she was worried. Isabell was thin, pale, and appeared to be very weak.

“Has the doctor seen you?” she asked.

Isabell waved her hand in dismissal. “It is just a cold or something. It will pass.”

Lucy guessed that Isabell’s reluctance to see a doctor was due to the cost, not the condition.

“How was your trip?” Isabell asked weakly.

Lucy forced a smile and said, “Marvelous, but exhausting as well.” She did not want to talk about the dresses, the sights, or publisher just now. “I will tell you all the details when you feel better.”

Isabell closed her eyes. “The cloth feels good. Thank you.”

Lucy continued to nurse her for the next hour until her father returned. But before Lucy left, she took Joshua aside and said, “Isabell really needs to see a doctor. Her fever worries me, and with her fragile condition, I am concerned for her.”

“Aye, but the doctor costs dear.”

Lucy reached into her pocket where she still had change from the money Betsy had given her for her personal use. She pulled out all she had and pressed it into Joshua’s hand.

He scratched his sun-worn face. “I will send one of the lads to fetch him tomorrow morning.”

“Not this evening?”

“You think I must?”

“I do.”

He nodded and called the boys inside.

“Would you like me to make some supper for you all?” Lucy asked.

Joshua shook his head once. “You done plenty for one day. I can feed the lads and myself. You best go home, and I will fetch the doctor.”

Lucy went back to Isabell’s room, looked in and said, “I am going now. I will come back to check on you sometime tomorrow if I can. Your father is going to call the doctor.”

“You are such a dear friend.”

* * *

George and his father were in the sheepfold marking sheep they wanted to cull from the flock with a pot of red paint. The smell of the animals was oppressive, and the dust kicked up by the frightened sheep as they scattered around the fold began to irritate George’s eyes and nose. How he longed to be at his easel working on a portrait of Lucy.

When they were finally done, George pulled off his gloves and escaped outside to cough up the dust and wipe his eyes. As they headed toward the house to wash up for lunch, his father put his hand on George’s shoulder. “Not the nicest work, that. But we need to do that at least once a year.”

“What will happen to the sheep we selected?”

“To market. Mutton most likely.”

“I know just how they feel,” George said with a chuckle.

“Oh? And how is that?”

“Mother has been after me to begin seriously looking for a wife. Since I refuse to go to Oxford, she feels it is time to find a bride.”

“What can be wrong about that? You are twenty. It is not too early to be thinking about marriage, an heir, the continuity of the family name.”

Even though he knew it was a lie, he said, “There is no one locally that I am even remotely interested in.” In his heart, his feelings for Lucy were constantly growing, but he knew his parents would never entertain such an unsuitable match and felt there was no use in suggesting her.

“There are a number of fine families with daughters of marriageable age in the county. And if we must, we can go further afield. I have had enquires from several notable families from as far away as Somerset and York even.”

“Oh, Father, must I? I really feel I should continue my instruction in running the estate before I can even begin to think of marriage. You want me to do the best job possible, do you not?”

His father looked at him, and George could tell he had struck a chord with his father.

“You may have a point. Starting up a family can be very distracting. However, I am still fairly young and healthy, so I do not expect you will be required to run the estate for quite some time yet.”

“But still, I need to focus on learning. Marriage would certainly distract me from that.”

“Perhaps. Let me have a word with your mother. She can be very stubborn once she sets her mind on a particular outcome.”

George put his arm around his father’s shoulders. “But Father, I know you have the knack to get your way when you need to. Am I not right?”

His father did not look at him but gave a sly smile. “If I do this, then I expect you to put your full attention into learning everything you need to know about running the estate.”

“Of course… except for my painting, of course. I already made that perfectly clear.”

His father sighed.

* * *

Her Grace would have to wait. Lucy was determined that the first thing she must do this morning was to go and check up on Isabell’s condition.

It was early, and the family might not be stirring yet, but Lucy remembered that Joshua was always up early and prepared to start work.

She knocked on the cottage door and was greeted by Isabell’s father.

“How is she?” she asked urgently.

“The doctor came last night and gave her a potion. I have not checked on her yet. I just got up myself. Come in, and we can look in on her.”

They went to her bedroom, where the boys also slept. They opened the door and peeked inside. All they could see was the pile of blankets with no movement. The boys were still asleep, so they tiptoed and bent over the bed and pulled back the top cover to reveal Isabell’s face. She appeared to be sleeping soundly. She was not restless as she had been the day before, and Lucy felt her forehead and said, “The fever has broken. Thank God. I believe the worst is past.”

“Best to let her sleep then. Think you not?” Joshua asked.

“I do.”

They backed out of the room and closed the door.

“I cannot stay. Will the boys be able to care for her today?” Lucy asked.

“The doctor left several potions and gave instructions for their use. I believe the eldest can care for her.”

“I will try and come back later his afternoon or early this evening. And tell the boys they can come fetch me if it is urgent.”

Joshua took hold of Lucy’s hands. “You are an angel, Miss Lucy Brighton. God bless you.”

She smiled and left, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders as she walked through the morning mists and chill.

* * *

Lucy fretted all day over Isabell, her mind only partially on the task at hand. The Duchess was restless and constantly calling for Lucy from some other part of the house to come and tend to her. The dog was taken out three times. More than the usual number of doses of the drops were administered, and even though Lucy read to her when requested, the Duchess tended to fall asleep within a few moments of Lucy’s starting to read.

Finally, Lucy was able to break free when the Duchess settled down for a nap. Lucy raced over to check on her friend and could not see the boys as she approached the cottage. She knocked and went inside.

“Isabell?”

“In here.”

Lucy went to the bedroom and was delightfully surprised to find Isabell sitting up in the bed, no longer bundled under a mountain of covers.

“Oh, Isabell, you look so much better. You finally have some color.” Lucy began to cry. “I was so worried about you.”

She went over to the bed, sat on the edge and took Isabell’s hands. “You feel so much cooler. The fever must be gone completely now.”

“I believe so. And I have been able to take some soup and some cheese curds. I feel that I shall soon mend.” Lucy gave her friend a hug, and then sat back and beamed at her with a large smile. “Now then, I want to hear all about London, and what you got up to.”

Lucy was only too happy to oblige, and they nattered away the rest of the afternoon. She did not think of leaving until Joshua returned, and she realized she needed to get back to help Cook prepare supper.

* * *

George helped Lucy down from the back of the horse. They were both silent as they stood at the edge of the stream and looked at the rebuilt house. The only part remaining from the old house was the fireplace and chimney, and now a wisp of smoke drifted skyward—perhaps left over from the fire to prepare breakfast. But there seemed to be no one about.

Lucy shivered involuntarily, and George put his arm around her shoulders. But Lucy disengaged from him, went over to the bank of the stream, picked a flower, and went to lay it at the cottage door.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, as she returned.

She looked up at him with moist eyes, and said, “I am. Thank you for bringing me. I do not think I shall need to come here again.”