Page 31 of Anna and the Mad Earl

Anna clasped her hands. “Oh, I do hope there is! That would be wonderful if he could have a normal childhood and grow up here on your estate.”

He gave her a brief, tired smile. “I am certain something can be arranged.” He blinked and rubbed his temples.

This was when Anna noticed the strain about his eyes. He had the same look as he had at dinner time, before he had his second attack.

“My lord, I think you must think of yourself, now, and rest.” She took his arm resolutely and walked him out of the examination room. “If you overexert yourself, you will have another attack come on.”

“She knows me well, by now,” St John murmured, but allowed himself to be led into the corridor.

Anna led him up the stairs. He was leaning heavier on her arm than she liked and that worried her. He stumbled on the last step and she held him up.

“‘Physician, heal thyself,’” St John muttered. “I have often thought about the irony of this and how I simply cannot discover the root of my own ailment. You are right, however, that overexertion tends to trigger these episodes. I begin to see flashes and sparks, and then a dull throbbing begins in my temple.” He rubbed his head again.

“So, try to anticipate it and rest in a dark and cool room until it passes.” Anna led him to his room, and he sat on his bed, heavily. “I shall return momentarily.”

Anna went down to the kitchen, where she encountered the kitchen staff busily preparing supper. Mrs Marks dried her hands on her apron and stepped up to her. “The boy is well taken care of and lying in a chamber that we keep reserved for visiting servants. The scullery maid is with him and keeping an eye on him as she is peeling the apples. He has his own bed, and he fell asleep again as soon as his head hit the pillow. Poor mite, I don’t think he’s ever felt the softness of a pillow beneath his little head.”

Mrs Marks was, in every respect, the opposite of her husband. She was short and big-bosomed and soft where her husband was tall and wiry and austere. It was clear she had a big heart for her eyes filled with tears when she talked about the child. Anna was glad that Jem was taken care of by such a kindly soul.

“His Lordship isn’t feeling well,” she informed her. “I was wondering what helps him when he has an oncoming attack.”

Mrs Marks frowned. “Dear me, not again. The poor man. His headaches are ferocious. Chamomile tea might help, and much, much rest. Also, he must eat. He tends to have these attacks more frequently when he is exhausted and skips meals. The man hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

Anna nodded. “I can take a tray up to him once it is ready.”

Mrs Marks proceeded to arrange a tray with chicken broth and oatcakes, and a steaming mug of chamomile tea, which Anna brought to the earl.

Instead of resting in bed, the earl was sitting by the desk, writing, and did not look up when Anna entered.

Anna set down the tray, stepped up to him and pulled the quill out of his hand.

He looked up at her blankly.

“You must stop. Having you overexert yourself does no one any good, least of all yourself. Mrs Marks says you haven’t eaten since yesterday. That won’t do. You must eat. You must stop working and start caring for yourself, lest you bring on another one of those horrible attacks. You also must drink this.” She shoved the steaming mug of tea under his nose.

“There were a lot of ‘musts’ in that sentence—” he began but interrupted himself when she glowered at him.

“I will brook no contradiction in this matter.”