have?” James asked.
The doctor considered it. “From the cases I’ve seen, it can be anywhere from three months to a year or even more, in chronic cases. It depends on how rapidly the disease progresses.”
“Have you told Whitby all this?” Lily asked.
Just then, another knock sounded at the door, and Sophia went to answer it. Lily turned in her chair at the same moment that Sophia spread her arms wide and said, “Annabelle, thank goodness.” She embraced Whitby’s sister, who held her tightly in return. “We are just getting the prognosis from the doctor. Come in.”
Lily—who had of course heard of Annabelle, but had never actually met her—watched her enter the room. She had honey-colored hair like Whitby’s, but the resemblance was coincidental, for Annabelle Lawson was an adopted sister. She had been the daughter of Whitby’s mother’s dearest friend, and had been taken in at infancy.
She wore a dark blue traveling gown and her eyes were blue, her nose tiny and slightly turned up. She possessed an uncommon beauty, though she did not seem aware of it. She did not carry herself with the confidence of a woman who knew she was beautiful. Miss Lawson seemed shy, and Lily was drawn to her immediately.
She was also very curious about why Whitby was so worried about her.
James rose and pulled a chair from the side of the room to bring it around next to Lily. “Annabelle,” he said, “this is my sister, Lily.”
Annabelle shook Lily’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, and have wanted to meet you since I was a girl.”
More than a little taken aback, Lily smiled at Annabelle. She had heard a lot about Lily? From whom? Whitby?
James returned to his own chair and sat down. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the desktop. “The doctor was just telling us what he thinks could be wrong with Whitby, though he can’t be sure yet.”
Dr. Trider repeated his prognosis for Annabelle, who raised a handkerchief to her eyes and began to cry. Lily leaned close and rubbed Annabelle’s back.
“We’re hoping for the best,” Lily said.
Sophia took a step forward. “Yes, of course we are, Annabelle. Don’t lose hope yet. He’s young and strong.”
She collected herself and lowered her handkerchief. “Thank you for everything you’re doing. You know, James, he has always considered you his best friend in the world.”
James nodded.
“When can I see him?” Annabelle asked.
“Right now,” James replied. “Perhaps Lily, you could show Annabelle to the Van Dekker room.”
“Of course,” Lily replied, hiding the fact that she was glad to be able to see Whitby again, even if it was only for a moment.
Lily rose and led Annabelle out of the study and through the long, wide corridors of the house.
When they reached Whitby’s room, they entered to find him sleeping, and Jenson was sleeping as well, his head tipped back on the chair, his mouth open, a noisy snore pulsing from his throat.
Annabelle and Lily shared a glance, then Lily walked around the bed to gently shake the older man on the shoulder.
“What, what?” he asked, startling awake. He took one look at Lily and quickly scrambled out of the chair to stand. “I do beg your pardon, my lady. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“It’s all right, Jenson,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I slept like that myself a few times through the night.” She gestured toward Annabelle, who stood just inside the bedchamber door. “Look who is here.”
Jenson’s face relaxed. “Miss Lawson. Thank goodness. He’s been asking for you.”
Annabelle walked to him. “I’m so glad you’ve been here with him. How is he now?”
“He’s seen better days,” Jenson replied. “Low spirits, I’m afraid, and nursing a lot of regrets and worries. But I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you.”
“No, it doesn’t. It’s why I came.”
Annabelle slowly moved to the bedside and touched Whitby’s
The doctor considered it. “From the cases I’ve seen, it can be anywhere from three months to a year or even more, in chronic cases. It depends on how rapidly the disease progresses.”
“Have you told Whitby all this?” Lily asked.
Just then, another knock sounded at the door, and Sophia went to answer it. Lily turned in her chair at the same moment that Sophia spread her arms wide and said, “Annabelle, thank goodness.” She embraced Whitby’s sister, who held her tightly in return. “We are just getting the prognosis from the doctor. Come in.”
Lily—who had of course heard of Annabelle, but had never actually met her—watched her enter the room. She had honey-colored hair like Whitby’s, but the resemblance was coincidental, for Annabelle Lawson was an adopted sister. She had been the daughter of Whitby’s mother’s dearest friend, and had been taken in at infancy.
She wore a dark blue traveling gown and her eyes were blue, her nose tiny and slightly turned up. She possessed an uncommon beauty, though she did not seem aware of it. She did not carry herself with the confidence of a woman who knew she was beautiful. Miss Lawson seemed shy, and Lily was drawn to her immediately.
She was also very curious about why Whitby was so worried about her.
James rose and pulled a chair from the side of the room to bring it around next to Lily. “Annabelle,” he said, “this is my sister, Lily.”
Annabelle shook Lily’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, and have wanted to meet you since I was a girl.”
More than a little taken aback, Lily smiled at Annabelle. She had heard a lot about Lily? From whom? Whitby?
James returned to his own chair and sat down. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the desktop. “The doctor was just telling us what he thinks could be wrong with Whitby, though he can’t be sure yet.”
Dr. Trider repeated his prognosis for Annabelle, who raised a handkerchief to her eyes and began to cry. Lily leaned close and rubbed Annabelle’s back.
“We’re hoping for the best,” Lily said.
Sophia took a step forward. “Yes, of course we are, Annabelle. Don’t lose hope yet. He’s young and strong.”
She collected herself and lowered her handkerchief. “Thank you for everything you’re doing. You know, James, he has always considered you his best friend in the world.”
James nodded.
“When can I see him?” Annabelle asked.
“Right now,” James replied. “Perhaps Lily, you could show Annabelle to the Van Dekker room.”
“Of course,” Lily replied, hiding the fact that she was glad to be able to see Whitby again, even if it was only for a moment.
Lily rose and led Annabelle out of the study and through the long, wide corridors of the house.
When they reached Whitby’s room, they entered to find him sleeping, and Jenson was sleeping as well, his head tipped back on the chair, his mouth open, a noisy snore pulsing from his throat.
Annabelle and Lily shared a glance, then Lily walked around the bed to gently shake the older man on the shoulder.
“What, what?” he asked, startling awake. He took one look at Lily and quickly scrambled out of the chair to stand. “I do beg your pardon, my lady. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“It’s all right, Jenson,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I slept like that myself a few times through the night.” She gestured toward Annabelle, who stood just inside the bedchamber door. “Look who is here.”
Jenson’s face relaxed. “Miss Lawson. Thank goodness. He’s been asking for you.”
Annabelle walked to him. “I’m so glad you’ve been here with him. How is he now?”
“He’s seen better days,” Jenson replied. “Low spirits, I’m afraid, and nursing a lot of regrets and worries. But I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you.”
“No, it doesn’t. It’s why I came.”
Annabelle slowly moved to the bedside and touched Whitby’s
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