A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3) Read online

  Malcolm could have kissed her then and there, but he settled for a fond grin. “I’ll see to it.”

  “How are you feeling, Lady Montgomery?” the doctor, Dr. Durham, Malcolm finally recalled, asked, looking her over.

  Beth frowned and turned her head to him, her eyes still closed. “Dr. Durham?”

  He nodded with a smile. “Yes, my lady.”

  She moved her head up and down slowly. “I feel… fuzzy. It’s hard to think, and… what did you ask?”

  Malcolm’s eyes widened, and he looked at the doctor with some concern.

  Dr. Durham held out a consoling hand, waving him down. “I asked how you are feeling, my lady. You hit your head earlier.”

  Beth nodded, screwing her eyes up as she did so. “My head is pounding. Which seems to follow, if I pounded it. You ought to advise against such things.”

  Dr. Durham chuckled and checked her pulse yet again. “I generally do, my lady. Anything else?”

  He took her through a few commands, all of which she completed beautifully, and with each success, Malcolm felt his tension and fear ebb away.

  “Very good, my lady,” Dr. Durham praised from the foot of the bed where he had been testing the sensation in her feet and her ability to move them. “If the light will not be too much to bear, could you open your eyes for me? I must examine them next.”

  Beth nodded and sat up gingerly as Malcolm rushed to prop up pillows behind her. She scrunched her forehead, blinking a few times before opening her eyes a little.

  Malcolm wasn’t sure when he knew that something was amiss, but the vacant expression in her eyes certainly gave him pause.

  Beth smiled ruefully. “I seem to be having difficulty opening my eyes, Doctor.”

  Whatever breath had been in Malcolm’s lungs froze, and he looked at the doctor in horror. Dr. Durham glanced at him, his expression not one of shock, but one of alert wariness.

  Malcolm looked back at his wife, her hair matted but loose about her shoulders, and her dark eyes clearly open. “Beth…” he began slowly, his voice stiff but clear. “They are open.”

  She stilled completely, her eyes widening, but apparently not seeing. “They… They can’t be.” She blinked pointedly three times, and then she gasped a horrible, choking gasp, bolting upright, her eyes blinking and fluttering wildly. “I can’t see!” she wheezed, her voice catching. “I can’t… Malcolm, I can’t see! I can’t…” Her hands fluttered and flinched all about her, clutching at the bed covers, at her throat, and at her face. “I can’t see!”

  Malcolm moved to her at once, his own terror at her state fading into insignificance in the face of her anguish. “Beth…” he tried to soothe, his hands going to her arms.

  But she would not be consoled, and her words faded into panicked and unintelligible screams as her hands flew to her eyes.

  He quickly shifted to sit on the bed behind her, wrapping his arms firmly around her, pinning her arms to her sides and pulling her tight against his chest. “Beth,” he murmured, settling his mouth right at her ear. “Shh, it’s all right. Shh.”

  Her hands moved to his arms in a painful, clenching grip as her screams turned to sobs that wracked her frame. She lurched against his hold as if she would break it, tormented cries ripping from her throat. Her body rocked with the force of her screams, and he rocked with her, desperate to calm and comfort her, though what he could possibly do for her was beyond him. He whispered to her, unsure if she could even hear him but needing to say the words.

  “It’s all right, love,” he told her, kissing her hair and holding her painfully close. “I’m here, it’s all right. Shh.”

  Suddenly, her sobs became choked, and her expression turned almost vacant, her hands moving to cradle her head, alternating between pressing hard and holding limply. Her sightless eyes rolled a few times, the color draining from her face, and then her body convulsed, and she heaved. Dr. Durham was quick with a basin from the side of the bed, but nothing came forth as Beth heaved again and again.

  “Why can’t I see?” she whispered, her voice drowsy even as tears continued to fall, her chest hitching as she collapsed limply against Malcolm.

  He had no words and pressed a feather-light kiss to her brow.

  Her cries eventually faded into pained whimpers that may have hurt more than all the rest. Beth surprised him by pulling his arms somehow further around her, more tightly against her, now cradling her entirely as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Malcolm,” she whispered, her voice cracking, causing his heart to splinter in agony. “I can’t see.”

  Malcolm pressed his mouth to her hair, murmuring against her as his own eyes began to dampen. “I’m so sorry, love. I’ve got you now. It’s all right.”

  As he felt her nod against him, he turned his eyes heavenward and offered a desperate silent prayer as she continued to cry in his arms.

  “It may be permanent, but it may not be.”

  Malcolm glowered. “That isn’t an answer, Doctor.”

  Dr. Durham sighed heavily. “I know, but unfortunately, it is all I have.”

  Malcolm shook his head, then put it into his hands. They had moved down to the study once Dr. Durham had finished his examination of the now listless Beth, and Malcolm had held her all the while, unwilling to leave her for even a moment. She had clung to him but had not seemed aware of it or of him. She had asked the same questions of the doctor at least three times, and her reaction to the blindness had unmanned him every time, even if it was not as intense as the first. Distracted and unfocused, she had at first responded to the doctor’s requests. As the examination had gone on, however, she seemed more fatigued and unstable.

  “The room is spinning,” she’d whispered to Malcolm as it ended, and he’d kissed her brow again, before glaring at the doctor and demanding that he give his wife something to help her rest.

  After she’d begun to doze in a laudanum-infused sleep, the men had descended to Malcolm’s study, and there, his legs had failed him, and he’d sunk into a chair, weary and heavy with his own grief and confusion. Dr. Durham had given him space in which to recover himself, though he had not done more than to exhale several shaking breaths.

  Once Malcolm was able to vocalize, he began to ask questions, knowing Beth would have many when she woke. He needed to be prepared for that. At this moment, he was anything but.

  Especially when the response to the first question, a rather simple one, was lacking. All he’d asked was when her sight would return. But the doctor had only shaken his head in response.

  “Explain what you can, then,” Malcolm demanded from behind his hands.

  “Her pupils were dilated, my lord, but there was still a slight response to light, though slower and not similar on each side, and though she could not see it…”

  The doctor continued to attempt an explanation, but the technical terms were unintelligible to Malcolm’s current state of mind. He should have put together the examination he had seen the doctor do with Beth’s vision, but he barely recalled a moment of it in the face of comforting her. What he could make out from the description was that time would be their best indicator. Either Beth would recover her vision, or they would need to accept a possibly permanent state.

  He found himself nodding absently, as if he understood any of it, and dropped his hands. “What can we expect?”

  Dr. Durham seemed relieved to move to a more comfortable topic, if such a thing were possible. “Well, she will have some raging headaches, and she will be quite unsteady until her balance returns. Her memory will be poor, as you saw just now, and she may forget I was here, so be patient with her. She may continue to react to the revelation of her blindness with the same behaviors for a while. She might be prone to being more emotional than usual, and changes in sleeping and eating habits would be quite normal. In fact, all of that aspect is perfectly normal, given the injury.”

  “Normal.” Malcolm snorted softly, glancing up. “I doubt we can consider any of this no
rmal, doctor.”

  The doctor looked down at him sympathetically, then indicated a vacant chair. “May I, my lord?”

  Malcolm gave him a brusque nod.

  He sat and leaned forward, rubbing his hands together a little. “You need to consider, my lord, how fortunate you are.”

  “Fortunate?” Malcolm’s jaw tightened, as did his right fist.

  The doctor nodded slowly. “Very, very fortunate. Do you have any idea, Lord Montgomery, how truly dangerous it can be to be thrown from a horse? How often the injured party could have fractured a limb or even a neck? Or have complete memory loss? Your wife was not unconscious for very long, all things considered, and she has no injuries that should prevent her from leading a fairly normal life, if her recovery goes well.”

  “But she can’t see,” Malcolm pointed out bitterly.

  There was a long pause, and then, “You and I both know there are worse things.”

  Malcolm inhaled sharply and was unable to move for a long moment. Flashes of memory splashed across his mind of Caroline lying in their bed, her eyes closed in death, of his grief in those early weeks, of the empty house and empty rooms, the emptier look in his children’s faces…

  There were worse things. But this certainly seemed bad enough.

  Malcolm released his breath slowly, then grunted. “I may not see it as fortunate for a while, but I understand your point.”

  Dr. Durham smiled without humor. “Very well.” He wiped his hands on his trousers and rose, nodding at Malcolm. “I will return in the morning to see to her. I shall give your housekeeper instructions as to her care until then. I doubt you would remember anything I told you at this moment.”

  Normally, Malcolm would have argued the point. He was a man who was used to cataloguing many details and pieces of information all at once while under the most stressful, and sometimes painful, situations. But this… this was different. And it was beyond him.

  “Thank you,” he said with real sincerity, beginning to rise.

  Dr. Durham shook his head quickly. “No need, my lord. Take your rest while you can.”

  Malcolm nodded his gratitude and sat back in his chair as the doctor showed himself out.

  The sudden silence in the room was deafening. More than that, it was eerie. After the frantic pace of the morning, combined with the heartbreaking cries of his wife, Malcolm couldn’t bear the sound of his own heartbeat, unsteady and too loud in this room.

  He had no notion of time, no conception of the day’s schedule or the children’s… He sucked in a harsh breath as that thought caught hold.

  The children.

  How was he going to explain this to them? Had they heard Beth’s scream? The sound of them still rang in his ears and would for quite some time. As a grown man, he would be haunted by them. But if his children had heard… what impact would it have on them?

  If this blindness was not temporary, they would need to aid him in helping Beth find her way. They would have to change everything. The way they played, the duties she undertook, the very layout of the house, all would have to adjust to this new challenge.

  How would Beth adjust?

  Before today, he would have said that Beth could handle any difficulty that she happened across with a smile and with ease. Then, he had witnessed her panic, heard Beth’s screams, and felt the devilish power of both as he held her in his arms. Malcolm was not a typically demonstrative man, but it had been purely instinctive to take her in his arms, hold her with all his strength, and to reassure her that she was not alone.

  But how accurate was that notion? She was quite literally alone in the dark, with no one to guide her through it. He could hold her hand, stay by her side, and wait upon her hand and foot, but he would not know the darkness she faced. He would have no idea how she felt, as it was not within her nature to show weakness, and he suspected she would hide all that she could from him.

  His cheerful and warm Beth had screamed with the torment of the damned less than an hour ago.

  He would have given his life to keep her from any such pain. Realizing the depth of his emotion for her was startling and humbling.

  “Papa?”

  Malcolm bit back a groan and slid his gaze to the door of his study, left ajar by the doctor’s exit.

  His two eldest children stood there, looking somehow both older and younger as they eyed him carefully. They were so alike in so many ways, each of them inheriting features from both parents, though none of the same ones. They approached life with the same solemnity, neither being prone to the giddiness their younger siblings exuded, but both being willing to smile more often than not. Beth had brought them both out of their natural reserve, and he had seen them blossom more under her tutelage than he had since Caroline had been alive.

  Would their Bitsy now be able to continue to do so?

  “Papa?” Archer asked again, taking a small step into the room.

  Malcolm shook himself from his painful thoughts and gestured with his hand for them to come in.

  They walked in hesitantly, then Archer looked at Jane. That caught Malcolm off-guard. Archer was the natural leader of the group, while Jane quietly followed or observed. It was not like her to be the one of the two to speak up.

  “Papa, what is wrong with Bitsy?” Jane asked, her voice almost delicate in its tone, as if she already knew the severity of the answer.

  His eyes darted between them. “Did you children hear anything this morning?”

  Archer frowned, then shook his head. “No, Mrs. Franklin had us all go outside to race the garden path right after breakfast, and then we went to the stables to visit the horses. We’ve only just returned.”

  Malcolm closed his eyes in relief, reminding himself to thank the nanny repeatedly for her wisdom and foresight.

  “Papa,” Jane demanded again, her voice stronger. “What’s wrong with Bitsy?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, debating the wisdom of deflecting her question. Her somber blue eyes removed any alternative but offering the truth, though they were so young. Too young to have such trials in their lives, but there was nothing for it.

  “Bitsy fell and hurt her head,” Malcolm sighed, holding out his hand. Jane took it without hesitation. He fought hard for a swallow. “And her eyes.”

  “Her eyes?” Archer asked, frowning. “What’s wrong with her eyes, Papa?”

  Malcolm barely avoided closing his own eyes as his heart stuttered in pain. “She can’t see, Archer.”

  Jane gasped softly but cut it off the moment it was audible. Her hold on Malcolm’s hand tightened. “She’s blind?”

  He didn’t think to ask how she knew the word and only nodded. “For the time being, yes.”

  His children shared a horrified look with each other. “Is she blind forever?” Jane asked in a much less steady voice.

  “I don’t know,” Malcolm whispered. “But for a time, at least.”

  Jane suddenly put her arms around Malcolm’s neck and hoisted herself onto his lap, laying her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her instantly, pulling her close. Archer laid his hand on his father’s shoulder, trying for bravery, although his chin quivered.

  “Can we… can we see for her?” Archer asked, his brow furrowed.

  Malcolm put his arm around his son, unable to speak for a long moment as he touched his forehead to his son’s. “It doesn’t work that way, Archer,” he eventually managed. “Bitsy is going to need to rest for a while, perhaps a very long time. She may not be herself for a time.”

  “We’ll help her,” Archer vowed. “I’ll behave in lessons and draw anything she wants me to, even flowers.”

  “And we’ll help with Greer and Samuel,” Jane told him, surprisingly without tears. “We’ll make sure Bitsy gets lots of rest.”

  Malcolm smiled at them both fondly. “That will be very helpful, children. I am sure she will appreciate your efforts.”

  “I bet she’s scared,” Jane suddenly whimpered, sounding distressed fo
r the first time.

  “She probably is,” he murmured, nodding.

  “Bitsy can’t be scared,” Archer said, shaking his head firmly, looking so fiercely stubborn Malcolm wondered if he might guard the door with a wooden sword. “I won’t let her be, Papa.”

  Malcolm held these two children close and raised his damp eyes heavenward, unsure if he was tormented or grateful, but strongly suspecting it was both. “We’ll manage something,” he told them. “Somehow, we will find a way. Together.”

  The children accepted his words with fervent nods, but Malcolm was far less certain.

  A sinking feeling told him that things would somehow get worse before they got better, and he did not even know what better would look like.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Malcolm hated it when he was right and did not wish to be.

  Most of the time, he quite enjoyed being right. There was a certain pride in being correct in one’s statements and thinking, as well as predicting forthcoming events. It was a terribly satisfying feeling when it worked in his favor.

  This was not one of those times.

  Things did get worse… much, much worse. And as the days stretched into more than a week, he was utterly at a loss. He didn’t know what to do or how to proceed. He did not know one single step to take.

  Beth was not herself. She was the furthest thing from herself that he could have possibly imagined. He’d thought that when she had stopped forgetting so much, that all would improve. Nothing had improved. She was still listless, somehow more so than when she had discovered her blindness. The color had still not returned to her face, and she had no interest in having her hair dressed. She was completely uninterested in anything that anyone offered, whether it was tea or breakfast or flowers or fresh clothing. She mutely accepted the doctor’s remedies and allowed him his examinations. She never questioned or complained about anything.

  She did not speak at all.

  Malcolm had tried, but his attempts at conversation had been somewhat limited, as he had no idea what to say to her. What did one say in the present situation? He wasn’t particularly adept at talking for the sake of it under normal conditions, and this was quite beyond him. He’d never imagined his bright and vibrant Beth could be like this. She refused meals and visitors, hadn’t asked after the children, didn’t seem to notice when he spoke to her, and had not smiled in days. He hadn’t realized how vital it had been to have her smiles in his life, but now it felt as though he had not seen the sun in years.