The Visitor (20 page)

“Yes, Dr Smith. Thank you.”

“Keep your activity light, and be wise.”

Anne lay smiling at the ceiling while Weston saw the good doctor out. Her skin, hips, and back ached from the hours in bed, but a reprieve was on the way.

“You’re looking pleased.”

Anne beamed at Weston when he returned.

“It’s wonderful news, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

Anne stared at her husband.

“Am I shorter than you are?” she teased. “I believe I’ve forgotten.”

“Well, you were,” he teased right back, “but all of this lying down might have given you a chance to grow.”

“Only in the middle, I fear.”

Weston leaned to kiss her expanding waist. “I’ll write to my mother right away.”

“Do, Weston. And please ask her to visit again when the baby is due.”

“I shall.”

Not able to help himself, Weston kissed her again, this time on the lips. He thought she would be in this bed until her pains began. What a wonderful surprise to learn that he was wrong.

Pembroke

The eye patches came away easily, but Dr Tilney commanded Tate to keep his eyes closed. Dr Tilney had also ordered the drapes drawn, so the room was dim. Tate worked at not being anxious, but the temptation to open his eyes was nearly overpowering.

“All right, Mr Tate, you may open your eyes,” Dr Tilney said from directly in front of him. “Slowly, I think, would be best.”

Tate did so, not able to rush even if he’d wanted. His lids flickered and then carefully opened all the way. He forced his eyes wide for a moment before attempting to look around.

“Remember that the drapes are drawn.”

“I see.”

“What do you see?”

“Shadows mostly, but things aren’t nearly so dark.”

“Good. Now I’m going to open the drapes over this one window, so turn your eyes for a moment.”

Tate heard the movement to his side and then was told to look back.

“I don’t want you to have pain, so turn away if the light hurts.”

Tate moved his head slowly, his heart sinking.

“What do you see?”

“A lot of light, but things are still out of focus.”

“How much light?”

“I think all there is.”

Without a word, the doctor moved to the other windows. The room was now fully lit, but as Tate had said, things were blurry around the edges. He watched the doctor come toward him, and found his face a mass of flesh with few distinctive features.

The doctor looked into Tate’s eyes and ran a few tests. He questioned him about pain or dizziness as he moved along.

“No, nothing like that,” Tate said, discounting the disappointment in his heart.

“I’m very pleased. Two more months with the patches, and I think we’ll know where we stand.”

Tate had all he could do not to sigh. Blurry as it was, the light was delightful.

“May I look for just a few more minutes?”

The doctor nodded in understanding. “I’ll gather my things and make one more check, but then it’s back to darkness.”

“Very well.”

Ten minutes later the patches were in place, the doctor was gone, and Aunt Harriet was at his door.

“How are you?”

“Disappointed, but dealing with it.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. Ring if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

It has occurred to me—
Tate began speaking to God the moment he was alone—
that I thought I knew Your will. I was so certain You would return my sight by now. If I had been questioned, I would have said I was accepting either way, but my present disappointment tells me that I was not ready for this.

Cassandra lingered in his mind just seconds later. He’d never really considered asking her if she could have feelings for a blind man, so certain was he that his sight would be fully restored.

But that is what I want to know right now,
Tate confessed.
Even more than wanting my sight back, I wonder what Cassandra Steele thinks of me. I ache at the thought of her exiting my life. Something akin to grief fills me, even greater than the thought of living life in a haze.

The more Tate thought on it, the more determined he was to ask Cassandra a few questions, but when he tried to picture himself doing such a thing, something inside him froze.

“This is not good,” he said aloud to the empty room. “If I can’t get the nerve in my heart, how will I go about it when she’s with me?”

With no forthcoming answer, and having to face the fact that he wasn’t as thankful as he ought to be, Tate was left alone with his prayers. He determined to agree with God about whatever He planned and to restore the trust he’d worked on from the moment he woke in darkness.

“Which map is your favorite to study, Henry?”

“Probably Africa.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, Edward is there, and it’s so vast.”

Cassandra didn’t ask him anything else. Their morning rides were a great deal more chatty than they’d ever been, but the youngest Steele still tried to be sensitive to Henry’s need for silence.

“Will you be going to Pembroke today?” Henry asked just when they were arriving back at the stables.

“Unless I get word.”

“Is that what happened yesterday?”

“Yes. The note didn’t say why, but I was asked to postpone until today.”

Henry had nothing more to say as the two went in to breakfast, but Cassandra didn’t notice. She was too busy wondering if she would, in fact, be needed at Pembroke again.

Africa

In his tent, Edward Steele dug around in his bag, sure he’d placed his pad and pencil in there, but he wasn’t able to locate them. Pulling out a stack of letters, he noticed that the top one was from his sister, Lizzy. Edward opened it up, remembered reading it the first time. He took it out to the fire where his traveling companion, Thomas Morland, stood attempting to repair a leather strap on his bag.

“Tell me, Morland,” Edward didn’t beat about the bush in asking, “have you ever noticed my sister Elizabeth?”

Morland turned to look at Lizzy’s brother as though he had taken leave of his senses, but the younger man was staring back, his face serious. “Noticed her?” he questioned.

“Yes. Noticed her.”

“How could I not? She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Why have you never shown any interest?”

Morland laughed a little.

“You can’t be serious. Your sister could have anyone she wished. Why would she pay the least attention to any interest on my part?”

Edward brought the letter back up to his face and read, “‘Out of curiosity, Edward, does Morland ever speak of me or ask after me? I know you won’t say anything to him, and he can’t see my red face from Africa, but I do wonder about it.’”

Edward brought the letter down in time to see Morland lower himself slowly into a chair.

Morland stared across the fire at the youngest Steele male, his face a bit pale under his tan.

“I thought you knew,” Edward said when he could see how shaken his friend was.

“Not a single hint.”

“I’m sorry, old man. I would have asked you a bit differently.”

“But she’s never given a single clue. Are you certain you understood her?”

“You can read the letter yourself, Morland.”

Morland only shook his head, his face a mask of confusion, and asked again, “But how would I know? She’s given nothing away!”

Edward smiled a little at the frustration in his voice.

“It was that way with Charlotte. She and Lizzy are both so pretty, and they’ve never wanted to flirt. Problem is, they’ve done such a good job that poor blokes like yourself are utterly in the dark. Barrington nearly lost his mind before he knew where he stood with Charlotte.”

“What did he do?”

Edward smiled again, the boyish smile that made him so likeable.

“He took the plunge. He told her up front how he felt, with plans to leave the country if she refused him.”

Morland didn’t laugh or smile, but Edward continued to keep it lighthearted.

“You’ve already left the country, old man. All you need to do is write. If she rejects you, you’re already out of sight.”

“No.” Morland surprised him with his seriousness. “This has to be handled in person.”

Edward’s smile twisted a little.

“It sounds as though our trip is going to be cut short.”

“Not at all, Edward. You can stay on and enjoy yourself, but I’ve got to look into plans to get home to England.”

Pembroke

“How are you, Mr Tate?”

“I’m well, Cassandra, thank you. Are you well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Not since the first few days had Cassandra felt so awkward. It was on her mind to ask why she hadn’t been needed the day before, but it was as if she’d been forbidden to speak of it.

“The newspaper today?”

“That’s fine.”

Cassandra began to read without further ado, but something had changed. There was a tenseness in her listener that had not been present before. Her heart felt burdened over what to do. He was supposed to be resting, and to bring the subject up seemed all wrong to her. After all, he was old enough to know what he needed.