That fall could have killed you, and we both know it. You can’t stay here in the name of faith in God and pretend that everything is fine. “Yes, yes, I might not have stated that well, but you know what I mean. “I’ve long admired your family’s faith, but even God needs a little help now and then.”Įven with the eye patches, the doctor saw Tate’s brows rise. “We’ve known each other for years, Tate,” the older man ventured with quiet respect. The painless yet thorough examination complete, the doctor stepped back, closed his bag, and pulled a chair close. Tate had not expected to find his vision clear when the patches were lifted, but the horrible blur of dark and gray, now six weeks old, was disheartening. “I’ll check your eyes now,” the doctor said quietly as he went to work.
Had the ache intensified, or was he imagining it? Six months? Tate’s mind questioned as his hand came to his head. “No less than six months-possibly a year.” That the fall from his horse had caused his vision to become dim and blurred was difficult enough, but now to give up all sense of a normal life? That was going to take some thought. Such a thing had never occurred to Tate, and now the very thought of it caused him disquiet. Let your body heal without all this tension.” Leave all your business affairs behind, and rest without interruption or demands on your energy. Make it clear to your staff that you’re not to be disturbed. “If done properly, it will give you peace and quiet. “And what exactly will leaving London accomplish?” It may be that you’ll regain your sight if all you do is keep those patches in place, but if my vision were in question, I’d do everything I could to aid the healing.” “What do you suggest I do?” Tate asked, his voice still quiet. “I don’t wonder,” the doctor stated mildly, but the comment was not lost on the injured man. “I have a headache,” the gentleman said quietly.
“Mr Tate will see you now, Dr Harvill,” Mrs Thorpe, Tate’s aunt, finally appeared to say. Not accustomed in his line of work to being asked to wait, the good doctor remained silent to see what would happen. Tate’s man, Hastings, as well as his business manager, Charles Pierrepont, were among the parade of people. Several maids entered the room, a manservant behind them, all of them seeing to their tasks and exiting one at a time. Dr Harvill stood patiently in the hallway outside of Alexander Tate’s bedroom.
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