Lillian doubted a third doctor would be able to give them a more hopeful prognosis, but she knew better than to say so. “Would you like me to call for one?”
“Yes. No. I’m not sure.”
Lillian waited. “Can I take those papers for you?” she asked.
Miss Helen looked down at the folder, as if she didn’t recognize it. “These are some old debts my father wanted taken care of. He thinks it’s the end. I told him he’s a silly goose, that he’s perfectly fine. I mean, he’s not yet seventy. It’s simply indigestion, right?”
“I’m sure that’s all it is.” Lillian laid a hand on Miss Helen’s shoulder. At that, Miss Helen burst into tears, much in the way that Lillian almost had with Mr. Graham. Neither of them was used to kindness, to gentleness. Which meant when someone reached out, softly and with care, it was enough to bring the walls of defiance and defensiveness crashing down.
She stood there, rubbing Miss Helen’s bony shoulder for a couple of minutes until she had composed herself.
“Thank you, Miss Lilly.” Miss Helen took a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her nose. “I can count on you, like no one else.”
If she only knew. A knock sounded on the door, and Miss Winnie stuck her head in. “Mr. Danforth is here to see you, Miss Helen.”
“Goodness, no. I can’t see him at the moment.” She looked up at Lillian. “Will you go down and explain, tell him about Papsie? I can’t leave his side.”
“Perhaps it’s better if I stay with you,” countered Lillian. “Miss Winnie can relay the message.”
“No. Better it come from you. Go on. Tell him I shall reach out when I’m ready to receive visitors.”
As Lillian descended the stairs, Mr. Graham was in the midst of a dangerous-sounding fugue. Mr. Danforth had his hat in his hands and looked up at her. His face was pale.
“Miss Helen can’t see you right now.” Lillian found herself speaking too loudly, both to compensate for the music and as a warning to Mr. Danforth to be careful what he said. “Her father is ill. She’ll send word when she’s receiving visitors again.”
He moved closer to her. “What happened?” He wasn’t referring to Miss Helen.
“Not here.”
Lillian led the way outside, where a slight rain fell. They stood in a corner of the porte-cochère farthest from the front door, out of sight of anyone lurking in the foyer.
“Why did you send that note, breaking it off?” he said.
“I couldn’t do that to Miss Helen. She doesn’t deserve to be mistreated in that way.”
“I went to the castle hoping you’d changed your mind and would come anyway.”
“It wouldn’t have been fair to elope with you, and I’m sorry for misleading you earlier. I’m not who you think I am.”
He shook his head. “I know we may not come from the same social circles, but times are different. It doesn’t matter to me one whit that you’re not New York high society. Heck, I’m not New York high society anymore.”
“That’s not it. You don’t know me.”
“Whoever it is you are, or you think you are, I want that. Nothing can dissuade me, and I promise to take care of you. From what I can see, Miss Helen treats you unkindly, is changeable and irritating. I guess I don’t understand why you want to protect her.”
“She is all of that, but right now it would be hurting her when she’s most vulnerable.”
“She treats her dogs better than you.”
The remark was cutting, but at the same time, partly true. Only last week, Miss Helen had plucked Lillian’s sandwich from the lunch tray that had been brought up to them in the sitting room and fed it to Wrigley.
In spite of the fraught tension with Mr. Danforth, she let out a rueful laugh. “You’ve got a point.”
A footman came out of the doorway, and Lillian and Mr. Danforth stepped apart, waiting until he’d passed by and turned onto the street. Mr. Danforth’s face softened. “I know the way we came together is unorthodox, to say the least. I think we both deserve a fresh start.”
“What do you mean?”
“I came here to tell Miss Helen that I will not be proposing. I want to start a life with you cleanly, honorably. I’ll accept the place offered me at Harvard Medical School in Boston. I’ll sell my parents’ brownstone, and we’ll find rooms up there while I study, far away from the Fricks. Imagine, picnics on the Common, strolling along the Charles River. I’ll come home after seeing patients all day and walk straight into your arms.”