“Indeed it did,” Dr. Heyworth agreed. Then he settled his kind eyes on Antoinette. “Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked softly, and the concern in his voice released a sob that Antoinette stifled with her handkerchief.
“A little,” she murmured.
“Would you like me to prescribe you some sleeping pills?”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
“Sleeping pills?” Rosamunde interjected as the doctor lifted his bag onto his knee to make out a prescription in small, illegible writing. “Do you really need sleeping pills, Antoinette?” She turned to Dr. Heyworth. “Aren’t they terribly bad for her?”
“They’re very mild,” the doctor explained patiently. “And it’s only for a while. You see,” he continued, turning back to his patient and speaking in a slow, reassuring manner, “if you are tired, your heart cannot heal because all your energy goes into getting you through the day and not into tackling the core of the trouble. So you need to rest, eat well, take long walks in the country air, surround yourself with loved ones, and give that battered heart of yours a chance to recover. If sleeping pills help you rest, then I can see no harm in taking them for a short period.” Antoinette listened attentively, wiping her eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. It was very unusual that a doctor should talk about her emotional health with such understanding. For a moment she felt that he was a wise old friend and not a doctor at all. “It’s all right to cry, Lady Frampton,” he said. “Tears are nature’s way of healing.”
“Yes, Antoinette,” Rosamunde added. “You must cry it all out; that’s what our Mama would have said. It’ll make you feel much better.”
Dr. Heyworth handed Antoinette the prescription. “It might be that your heart never completely heals, but that a patch metaphorically covers the wound to stave off the pain and enables you to pick yourself up, dust yourself down, and go on. You have suffered a terrible shock, and so you have to give yourself time and space to grieve. And you mustn’t feel guilty or that you are a burden to your family and friends, because if you don’t let it all out, it will bury down deep and never go away. It will only find a moment later on in your life to come back and manifest as physical pain.” For a moment his eyes darkened, but he seemed to push through the sudden wave of sadness and continue with a compassionate smile. “You must talk about it as much as you can, Lady Frampton. One day you’ll discover that it doesn’t hurt anything like as much as it does now.”
“Antoinette is certainly no burden to me, Dr. Heyworth,” said Rosamunde firmly.
“Good. Do you live nearby?”
“In Dorset, about an hour away. But I’ll stay here for as long as she wants me to.”
The doctor nodded his approval. “I’m very pleased to hear it.”
By now Wooster had slid to the floor in a happy slumber, with his head resting on Dr. Heyworth’s feet. Dr. Heyworth bent down and stroked his ear. It twitched with pleasure. “How are the boys?” he asked Antoinette.
She took a deep breath, calmer now. “David is dealing with it in his own quiet way. Tom comes across as not really caring very much, but I know he’s dreadfully sad. As you’ll appreciate, he’s not very good at coping with problems. So he puts his head under the carpet and pretends that everything is all right. I’d rather that than the alternative.”
“He’s avoiding alcohol?”
Antoinette picked at the ragged cuticle on her thumb. “He drank at the funeral, as one would expect. But generally he’s being very careful. This is a testing time for him, but he’s being very strong.”
“And Joshua?”
“He’s so uncomfortable with emotion, he’d rather move on as swiftly as possible and get on with his life.”
“This has been very tough on you all. When death happens so unexpectedly, there’s no time to prepare for it. It’s a great shock. And an accident like Lord Frampton’s seems unnecessary. It’s natural to feel angry, too, Lady Frampton.”
Antoinette’s face livened as the doctor articulated what she was too ashamed to admit: that she resented her husband’s lack of caution as he had selfishly sought pleasure without any apparent concern for those who loved him.
Dr. Heyworth knew he had touched a nerve. He stood up. “You can come to see me any time,” he said to Antoinette. “Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who is not in the family. I’m always here for you, Lady Frampton.”
Antoinette saw the sympathy in his eyes and knew that he meant it. In fact, he seemed to understand why she was cold all the time and how hard she was trying to act normally, when she just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. He hadn’t said a great deal, but she could sense in his expression the words left unspoken, and was grateful. “I’d like that very much,” she replied.