mother and father that-"
He trails off at that, ashamed, but Samuel says nothing as he gets RIchard settled into the pillows more comfortably and holds a glass of water for him to sip on. Eventually, he tells him, "I can tell father, that Rich, if you don't want to. I certainly don't mind."
He would like that a great deal, and manages to say so, befoer the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him for a while dragged him down fully.
When he wakes again the doctor comes, and examines him, pronounces nothing much wrong with him but overwork and exhaustion. He can't help but agree with the man, since he can't manage to stay awake long enough to see the end of the visit.
Once his son is asleep, and Samuel Fitzwilliam is sure of that, he leads the doctor out of the room and tells him that he'd like him to look over the letter sent from Richard's commanding officer, about what he had endured in France. The man is perfectly agreeable, and once he reads the letter, informs him calmly that what his son needs most is rest, good care, and time.
"He ought to be taken care of a little, sir, perhaps even fussed over, if he'll allow it. He's been injured badly, and some wounds will shake a man a little more than others will. Other than that, though, he is in sound health, and I believe, just as liable to recover than any other man.
"Keep him quiet, and gently amused, and above all keep him warm. As worn thin as he is, if that pnuemonia comes back in earnest, it will kill him, my lord."
He reflected a moment, then asked, "He doesn't like the windows closed?"
"No, he panics if we try."
"Well, that habit will have to end before much longer. He cannot afford to catch a chill, my lord. It may very well be the death of him."
The death of him. That sends a chill through the Earl's heart, and he determines, then and there, that his youngest son will not be taken from him this winter, no matter how many blankets he had to wrap Richard up in.
First things first, however, he must go and tell him wife what the doctor had said, and that her youngest would most likely soon be asking for her.
Harriet Matlock had been something of an oddity around the town these last thirty years, as
He trails off at that, ashamed, but Samuel says nothing as he gets RIchard settled into the pillows more comfortably and holds a glass of water for him to sip on. Eventually, he tells him, "I can tell father, that Rich, if you don't want to. I certainly don't mind."
He would like that a great deal, and manages to say so, befoer the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him for a while dragged him down fully.
When he wakes again the doctor comes, and examines him, pronounces nothing much wrong with him but overwork and exhaustion. He can't help but agree with the man, since he can't manage to stay awake long enough to see the end of the visit.
Once his son is asleep, and Samuel Fitzwilliam is sure of that, he leads the doctor out of the room and tells him that he'd like him to look over the letter sent from Richard's commanding officer, about what he had endured in France. The man is perfectly agreeable, and once he reads the letter, informs him calmly that what his son needs most is rest, good care, and time.
"He ought to be taken care of a little, sir, perhaps even fussed over, if he'll allow it. He's been injured badly, and some wounds will shake a man a little more than others will. Other than that, though, he is in sound health, and I believe, just as liable to recover than any other man.
"Keep him quiet, and gently amused, and above all keep him warm. As worn thin as he is, if that pnuemonia comes back in earnest, it will kill him, my lord."
He reflected a moment, then asked, "He doesn't like the windows closed?"
"No, he panics if we try."
"Well, that habit will have to end before much longer. He cannot afford to catch a chill, my lord. It may very well be the death of him."
The death of him. That sends a chill through the Earl's heart, and he determines, then and there, that his youngest son will not be taken from him this winter, no matter how many blankets he had to wrap Richard up in.
First things first, however, he must go and tell him wife what the doctor had said, and that her youngest would most likely soon be asking for her.
Harriet Matlock had been something of an oddity around the town these last thirty years, as
