Free The Plight of the Darcy Brothers by Marsha Altman Page B

Lilly's usual.
    “These will need to be removed in about a week. I can give you my card, or you can have someone else do it,” Dr. Maddox told his patient.
    “I'll take your card, but I may not use it,” the man said, putting his shirt back on with a grunt of pain.
    “I understand completely. Keep the wound clean. I recommend boiling water and letting it cool before putting it over the wound to prevent infection. Do this at least once or twice a day until the stitches are removed, keep the area bandaged with something clean, and you should prevent infection, which, of course, would be most serious.” He quickly put his instruments away, washed the blood from his hands, and stood up. “Good luck.”
    The patient raised his bottle in a sort of toast. “Good job, Doctor. I did not get your name.”
    “Dr. Maddox,” he said, and doffed his hat.
    He was nearly out the door when his patient said, “You have not asked my name.”
    Maddox turned back to him, took one look at the man in the diminished light, and said, “No.” Then he left with all expediency.
    When he returned to his house, his manservant was up to greet him, as these calls were not unknown, and Dr. Maddox found it convenient to drop his bag with a servant and be able to reasonably expect the instruments to be cleaned and ready in the morning. He found himself tired, probably from the hour, and inquired as to his wife. “Mrs. Maddox is retired.”
    Of course she was. The sky was practically lightening. He did not want to disturb her, so he took to his own bedroom, as was his custom when returning from a late call, and collapsed on the bed.

THE INVITATION
    “DANIEL! DANIEL, WAKE UP!”
    Dr. Daniel Maddox opened his eyes to the normal blurry world and a figure that was undoubtedly his wife. He knew her figure, but the red hair always gave it away, even if her voice didn't. Though her voice was not particularly piercing, it was very excited and, therefore, a little rattling to someone who was sound asleep. “What?”
    “Daniel.” She leaned over, and he had only the vaguest idea of what the gesture was, being unable to see it with any clarity, until she kissed him on the head. “You won't believe what I have to tell you.”
    “I already know you're with child.”
    “Stop being a doctor for once,” she said. “We've been invited to a royal ball.”
    That made him sit up. If not for the level of pure exasperation in her voice, he would not have begun to believe it. “What?”
    “I know! I cannot properly explain it, unless you can. Here.” She handed him the invitation, which was very large in his hands.
    He held it up to his face and let his eyes adjust to the morning—well, probably afternoon—light, as the letters became clear. “It seems we have. Dear, can you hand me my—” But she already had his glasses and put them in his hands. He put them on, and as the world became clear, he lay back and gazed at the invitation and then at his wife. She was dressed properly, so it must have been at least a decent hour of the morning, probably later. “I cannot explain it either.”
    “You are descended from nobility.”
    “I have never in my life spoken to the current earl of Maddox. Nor would he have the authority to invite me to a royal ball.” He gave her back the invitation. “But this is—uhm, good news. This Friday, so frightfully soon.”
    “I know. I never thought I would say this about a ball, but I haven't a thing to wear.”
    “Neither do I.” It would certainly cost him, but as they had no choice in the matter, and as his wife was exuberant over the idea, he was readily willing to spend every last shilling on her dress. He also had the wisdom not to share this with her at the moment. “I suppose something will have to be arranged.”
    “You will not admit it,” she said, and kissed him as she sat down next to him, “but I know you had something to do with this.”
    “If you are inclined to keep rewarding me as such, I will