We moved the little armchair and then helped him across to it, surrounding him with pillows and rugs. When we’d finished he had to laugh. “Look at me, I look like a ninety-year-old.”
“I brought you a copy of the Times when I was in town,” I said. “And some grapes and oranges.”
He took the newspaper. “I might manage a grape,” he said.
“And you remember the portrait of the little girl,” I said. I wondered why I found it so hard to use her name.
“In the gallery? You didn’t buy it, did you?”
“No. It had gone. The man at the gallery said that the painter had taken it back. He thought maybe he had found his own buyer. I thought it might be interesting to find who had wanted to buy the picture at this exact moment.”
Daniel wagged a finger at me. “Molly, what are you up to? Remember I warned you about getting involved in a case that doesn’t concern us. The local police are handling it and we should leave it to them, however annoyingly slow they seem to be. Now you women please leave me to enjoy my newspaper.”
As we went down the stairs Gus whispered to me, “He’s not looking well yet, is he, Molly? I hope sitting in the chair is not too much for him.”
“I am concerned about him,” I agreed. “That’s why I asked the doctor to visit again today, although I think I agree with Daniel that he’s an old quack.”
“At least you’ll be free to come and go as you please with his mother watching him like a hawk,” Gus whispered to me.
I shook my head. “I rather think my job will be to give him enough rest and keep her occupied. I wonder how long she’ll stay?”
“We can help too, if you want to go back to New York first thing tomorrow,” Sid said. “Much as I dislike rising before eight, we can make the sacrifice and come here in time for you to catch the six o’clock train.”
“You’re very kind, but you heard what Daniel just said. I really don’t want to upset him now.”
“You want to find out the truth, don’t you?” Sid asked.
“Of course I do, but Daniel is my husband, and he has been very ill. I must think this through and see what the doctor says when he comes.”
A few minutes later a harried-looking Martha came to tell me that Daniel’s mother had taken over the cooking and was there anything else I’d like her to do?
“I think it’s better if we let her keep busy,” I whispered and she grinned. Then she looked up. “Doctor’s here,” she said and went to answer the front door.
“Now what are you doing out of bed?” the doctor asked when he came into the bedroom and saw Daniel in the armchair by the window.
“I thought sea air might be good for him,” I said.
“Ye gods, woman, he’s had an infection of the lungs.” The doctor frowned at me. “A cold wind could do more harm than good. And he’s not strong enough to be sitting up yet. Take his other arm, Mrs. Sullivan, and we’ll get him back to bed where he belongs.”
The doctor’s face was somber and he made tut-tutting noises as he listened to Daniel’s chest with his stethoscope. He looked up at me. “There is still fluid on the lungs,” he said. “Lots of hot broth and hot tea to loosen that fluid and help him to cough it up. Good nourishing broth. Maybe an oxtail. And I’ll write you up a recipe for a tonic, and see if the pharmacist has a cough mixture containing licorice and slippery elm.”
“But he’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” I whispered as soon as I had led him out of the room. “He is on the mend?”
“To that I give a cautious affirmation,” he replied. “As I told you before, I’ve seen enough relapses to know that one can’t always predict the outcome. Plenty of rest, Mrs. Sullivan. Complete quiet. No excitement like letting him read a newspaper. He can be propped up in bed to help him breathe more easily, but no getting out of bed until I say that he’s ready.” He opened the front door. “I’ll be by again tomorrow.”
And then he was gone. I went back up to Daniel’s room. “That man took my newspaper,” he said grumpily. “And I was rather enjoying sitting in the window.”
“I suppose we ought to do what he says,” I said.
“At least give me my newspaper back.”
I handed it to him with a smile. “But if you read anything disturbing you are not to get excited.”
“Old fool,” he muttered. “And now my mother here too. I’ve got to make an instant recovery, Molly, so that we can go home to our own house. When did he say I’ll be well enough to travel?”