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“Unless you tell me the truth, Agnes, you are seeing that Physician,” he stated decisively.

He watched her lips part, perhaps to argue further. But instead of forming words, she gave a little pout, her resistance faltering.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Theodore couldn’t help but smile now, touched by her stubborn yet endearing display.

“Evans is right. I didn’t sleep last night,” she confessed at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” he said, trying to lighten the mood with a gentle tease.

“When you see the physician, I am sure he will have something for you to help,” he added, hoping to reassure her.

“Now you are going back on your words. You said that if I tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have to see the physician,” she cried petulantly, her frustration evident.

“Your health precedes me keeping my words, Agnes,” he responded firmly, his tone softening to express his deep concern for her well-being.

“Why didn’t you sleep? Is something on your mind?” he asked, his worry resurfacing as he studied her troubled expression.

She was quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting away before she replied, “I don’t know... I think I am still getting used to being married and away from my family.”

Theodore swallowed uncomfortably, the weight of her words sinking in. He had indeed dragged her into a tumultuous life, far from the comfort and familiarity of her home.

Before he could offer any words of comfort, a knock sounded on the door, followed by the butler’s voice announcing the arrival of the physician. Theodore stood, his intention to open the door halted by her sudden movement.

“Theodore,” her hand shot out, grasping his sleeve. “Please. I don’t want a physician. Not for this. I’m fine. I will be alright,” she added, her eyes conveying a quiet determination.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice laden with concern despite the certainty he saw in her gaze. She nodded, her expression resolute.

“If you insist,” he conceded reluctantly before leaving the room to answer the door.

He informed Quentin that there was no need for the physician and then went down himself to apologize to the man for the inconvenience of the sudden wasted journey.

“Ah, women and their colorful moods,” the physician chuckled good-naturedly when Theodore explained the situation. The man’s understanding and jovial manner eased the tension of the moment somewhat.

“Well, in case a need arises, you can have some chamomile tea administered to her, My Lord. That never fails to calm the nerves,” the doctor advised, his tone light yet professional, before taking his leave.

“I shall be on it, My Lord,” Mrs. Davis, who had been standing by patiently, said as she caught the conversation from a distance.

Quentin went to see the doctor out, and the housekeeper turned to leave the hall.

“Mrs. Davis,” Theodore stopped her with a call. She paused and turned towards him, attentive.

“I know she will insist against it, but can you please have her take the tea?” Theodore implored, his concern for Agnes evident in his voice. “I think she needs it,” he added, his brow furrowed with worry.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that Agnes might not be sharing the whole truth with him, and this small act might offer some relief.

An odd smile flickered across Mrs. Davis’s features, perhaps touched by his evident concern, before she nodded in agreement.

“Rest assured that your wife is in the best hands, My Lord,” Mrs. Davis reassured him with a confident nod.

“Thank you,” Theodore sighed, a mixture of gratitude and residual concern in his tone. He had great trust in the housekeeper’s capabilities, and yet, the weight of worry was slow to lift.

He went about starting his work for the day, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Agnes. He wanted to stay with her, or at least see her once again. However, understood she needed to rest, and his visits would only interrupt that.

The day felt very long, and he could not understand why he was disquieted by it.

I think you know, Theodore.

CHAPTER 23