Cold-Hearted Rake
Page 70
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“He is better today, however?”
“Decidedly. And the ophthalmologist arrives today to examine his vision.” Helen paused, opening another flower. “I expect that Mr. Winterborne’s disposition will improve a hundredfold when he’s able to see again.”
“What if he can’t?”
“I pray that he will.” Considering the question, Helen looked troubled. “I think… he wouldn’t be able to bear anything that he thought of as a weakness in himself.”
Kathleen regarded her with wry sadness. “There are times in life when all of us have to bear the unbearable.”
After the last of the vanilla blossoms had been pollinated, Helen and Kathleen returned to the house and discovered that the ophthalmologist, Dr. Janzer, had already arrived. He was in the process of examining Winterborne’s eyes, while Dr. Weeks and Devon stayed in the room with them. Despite a few shameless attempts at eavesdropping, no one had been able to hear anything through the closed door.
“The number of ocular specialists in England, at Janzer’s level of expertise,” West said as he and the rest of the family waited in the private upstairs parlor, “can be counted on the fingers of one hand. He’s been trained to use an ophthalmoscope, which is a device that reflects light to allow him to look directly into the living eye.”
“Into the pupil?” Cassandra asked, looking amazed. “What can be seen in there?”
“Nerves and blood vessels, I imagine.”
Pandora, who had left the parlor a few minutes earlier, rushed to the threshold and announced dramatically, “Mr. Winterborne can see!”
Helen drew in a quick breath, her heart clattering. “How do you know, dear?” she asked calmly.
“I overheard him reading letters from an eye chart.”
Kathleen gave Pandora a chiding glance. “I asked you not to listen at the door, Pandora.”
“I didn’t.” Pandora held up an empty glass. “I went into the adjoining room and put this against the wall. When you bring your ear close enough, you can make out what they’re saying.”
“I want to try!” Cassandra exclaimed.
“You will do no such thing,” Kathleen told her, motioning for Pandora to come into the parlor and sit. “Mr. Winterborne is entitled to his privacy. We’ll learn soon enough if his vision is intact.”
“It is,” Pandora said smugly.
“Are you certain?” Helen couldn’t restrain herself from asking.
Pandora gave her an emphatic nod.
Helen retained her ladylike posture, but inside she wilted with relief, and prayed silently in gratitude.
“Thank God,” she heard West, who was lounging beside her on the settee, say quietly.
While the others in the room continued their conversation, Helen asked West, “Were you not optimistic about Mr. Winterborne’s vision?”
“I expected it would turn out well enough, but there was still a chance that something might have gone wrong. I would hate for that to happen to Winterborne. He’s not one to suffer hard knocks with forbearance and grace.”
Helen gathered that not all of Winterborne’s impatience was a result of being confined to a sickroom. “I had imagined that a man who owned a department store would be very charming and put people at ease.”
West grinned at that. “He can be. But the moments when he’s charming and putting people at ease are when he’s most dangerous. Never trust him when he’s nice.”
Her eyes rounded with surprise. “I thought he was your friend.”
“Oh, he is. But have no illusions about Winterborne. He’s not like any man you’ve ever known, nor is he someone your parents would have allowed you to meet in society.”
“My parents,” Helen said, “had no intention of allowing me to meet anyone in society.”
Staring at her keenly, West asked, “Why is that, I wonder?”
She was silent, regretting her comment.
“I’ve always thought it odd,” West remarked, “that you’ve been obliged to live like a nun in a cloister. Why didn’t your brother take you to London for the season when he was courting Kathleen?”
She met his gaze directly. “Town held no interest for me; I was happier staying here.”
West’s hand slid over hers and squeezed briefly. “Little friend… let me give you some advice that may prove helpful in the future, when you’re in society. When you lie, don’t fidget with your hands. Keep them still and relaxed in your lap.”
“I wasn’t —” Helen broke off abruptly. After a slow breath, she spoke calmly. “I wanted to go, but Theo didn’t think I was ready.”
“Better.” He grinned at her. “Still a lie… but better.”
Helen was spared the necessity of replying as Devon came to the doorway. Smiling, he spoke to the room in general. “According to Dr. Janzer, Winterborne’s eyes have healed well, and his vision is exceptional.” He paused as glad exclamations rippled through the group. “Winterborne is tired after the examination. Later we can visit him at intervals, rather than go all at once and gape as if he were a gibbon at the Bristol Zoo.”
Chapter 23
With his vision restored, and the fever gone, Rhys felt almost like his usual self. A surge of impatient energy coursed through him as his mind was overrun with thoughts of his store. He needed to communicate with his managers, his press officer, his private secretary, his suppliers and manufacturers. Although he trusted his staff to carry on competently for the short term, their work would soon become slipshod if he was not there to supervise. The store had just opened a book department – how had the first two weeks of sales gone? An expanded and remodeled refreshment room would be unveiled in a month – had the carpenters and technicians kept to their schedule?
“Decidedly. And the ophthalmologist arrives today to examine his vision.” Helen paused, opening another flower. “I expect that Mr. Winterborne’s disposition will improve a hundredfold when he’s able to see again.”
“What if he can’t?”
“I pray that he will.” Considering the question, Helen looked troubled. “I think… he wouldn’t be able to bear anything that he thought of as a weakness in himself.”
Kathleen regarded her with wry sadness. “There are times in life when all of us have to bear the unbearable.”
After the last of the vanilla blossoms had been pollinated, Helen and Kathleen returned to the house and discovered that the ophthalmologist, Dr. Janzer, had already arrived. He was in the process of examining Winterborne’s eyes, while Dr. Weeks and Devon stayed in the room with them. Despite a few shameless attempts at eavesdropping, no one had been able to hear anything through the closed door.
“The number of ocular specialists in England, at Janzer’s level of expertise,” West said as he and the rest of the family waited in the private upstairs parlor, “can be counted on the fingers of one hand. He’s been trained to use an ophthalmoscope, which is a device that reflects light to allow him to look directly into the living eye.”
“Into the pupil?” Cassandra asked, looking amazed. “What can be seen in there?”
“Nerves and blood vessels, I imagine.”
Pandora, who had left the parlor a few minutes earlier, rushed to the threshold and announced dramatically, “Mr. Winterborne can see!”
Helen drew in a quick breath, her heart clattering. “How do you know, dear?” she asked calmly.
“I overheard him reading letters from an eye chart.”
Kathleen gave Pandora a chiding glance. “I asked you not to listen at the door, Pandora.”
“I didn’t.” Pandora held up an empty glass. “I went into the adjoining room and put this against the wall. When you bring your ear close enough, you can make out what they’re saying.”
“I want to try!” Cassandra exclaimed.
“You will do no such thing,” Kathleen told her, motioning for Pandora to come into the parlor and sit. “Mr. Winterborne is entitled to his privacy. We’ll learn soon enough if his vision is intact.”
“It is,” Pandora said smugly.
“Are you certain?” Helen couldn’t restrain herself from asking.
Pandora gave her an emphatic nod.
Helen retained her ladylike posture, but inside she wilted with relief, and prayed silently in gratitude.
“Thank God,” she heard West, who was lounging beside her on the settee, say quietly.
While the others in the room continued their conversation, Helen asked West, “Were you not optimistic about Mr. Winterborne’s vision?”
“I expected it would turn out well enough, but there was still a chance that something might have gone wrong. I would hate for that to happen to Winterborne. He’s not one to suffer hard knocks with forbearance and grace.”
Helen gathered that not all of Winterborne’s impatience was a result of being confined to a sickroom. “I had imagined that a man who owned a department store would be very charming and put people at ease.”
West grinned at that. “He can be. But the moments when he’s charming and putting people at ease are when he’s most dangerous. Never trust him when he’s nice.”
Her eyes rounded with surprise. “I thought he was your friend.”
“Oh, he is. But have no illusions about Winterborne. He’s not like any man you’ve ever known, nor is he someone your parents would have allowed you to meet in society.”
“My parents,” Helen said, “had no intention of allowing me to meet anyone in society.”
Staring at her keenly, West asked, “Why is that, I wonder?”
She was silent, regretting her comment.
“I’ve always thought it odd,” West remarked, “that you’ve been obliged to live like a nun in a cloister. Why didn’t your brother take you to London for the season when he was courting Kathleen?”
She met his gaze directly. “Town held no interest for me; I was happier staying here.”
West’s hand slid over hers and squeezed briefly. “Little friend… let me give you some advice that may prove helpful in the future, when you’re in society. When you lie, don’t fidget with your hands. Keep them still and relaxed in your lap.”
“I wasn’t —” Helen broke off abruptly. After a slow breath, she spoke calmly. “I wanted to go, but Theo didn’t think I was ready.”
“Better.” He grinned at her. “Still a lie… but better.”
Helen was spared the necessity of replying as Devon came to the doorway. Smiling, he spoke to the room in general. “According to Dr. Janzer, Winterborne’s eyes have healed well, and his vision is exceptional.” He paused as glad exclamations rippled through the group. “Winterborne is tired after the examination. Later we can visit him at intervals, rather than go all at once and gape as if he were a gibbon at the Bristol Zoo.”
Chapter 23
With his vision restored, and the fever gone, Rhys felt almost like his usual self. A surge of impatient energy coursed through him as his mind was overrun with thoughts of his store. He needed to communicate with his managers, his press officer, his private secretary, his suppliers and manufacturers. Although he trusted his staff to carry on competently for the short term, their work would soon become slipshod if he was not there to supervise. The store had just opened a book department – how had the first two weeks of sales gone? An expanded and remodeled refreshment room would be unveiled in a month – had the carpenters and technicians kept to their schedule?
