Page 42 of Whispers of Shadowbrook House

Oliver rode hard to Southampton, and, at the station, he quickly sent a telegram to George, pleading with him for his help.

He knew George was training as a surgeon, and he hoped his old friend could recommend someone to care for Max.

Then he boarded the train soaking wet and covered in mud splatters.

He managed a few fitful bouts of sleep, grateful for the hum of constant noise that drowned out too much thought of what and whom he’d left behind at Shadowbrook.

Each time he jolted awake, he stared out the window for a familiar landmark.

As the train eventually slowed to a noisy, squealing stop at the London station, Oliver saw George and another man standing on the crowded platform.

Case in hand, he stepped out the door before the train had fully halted.

He barely heard the grumbling words from the station official as he leaped onto the platform and into the embrace of one of his oldest, dearest friends.

“It is good to see you,” George said in his gentle voice. He stepped back from the embrace and gestured to the man beside him. “Matthew Nichols, this is Oliver Waverley. Oliver, this is your cousin’s new doctor.”

The man looked to be about the same age as Oliver, with an intelligent, confident expression and a quiet demeanor. His dark hair swept over his forehead in a fashionable way, and his coat was cut to perfection.

“He is a good friend of mine,” George said, “and he comes highly recommended by two of the specialists you named in your telegram. He is training at a children’s hospital specializing in lung disease. It’s our good fortune he’s available to travel with no notice.”

The men clasped hands. “Thank you for attending us, Mr. Nichols. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“I hope I can help your cousin recover.” Nichols smiled, and Oliver could see a serious gentleness in him.

The train journey back to Southampton passed quickly, and Nichols asked intelligent questions about Maxwell’s symptoms, and although Oliver didn’t know how to answer many of them, he filled in the young doctor as much as possible.

“I’ll give your cousin the best care I can manage with my full attention,” Nichols said.

George slapped a strong hand against Oliver’s leg. “And my humble assistance is always on offer.”

Oliver knew George’s years at St. Bartholomew’s hospital had included intensive training in several specialties. He’d been drawn to surgery, but George had excelled in all his studies, and Oliver was sure his friend would be a tremendous help with Maxwell.

The men arrived at Southampton station without incident, and Oliver dashed off through the pouring rain to order a carriage as the others gathered their cases.

Approaching Shadowbrook’s front entrance, Oliver wished he could offer the men a better impression.

The old house was falling down brick by brick.

He knew George wouldn’t think less of him for inheriting such a wreck, but he wished he could help him feel the gentleness growing inside the crumbling walls.

Would his friend be able to see the changes sprouting within? There was sweetness taking root despite his uncle’s frosty demeanor. If Uncle Arthur even agreed to see Oliver’s guests, there was no guarantee he’d be passingly polite to them.

The warmth spreading through the house had little to do with his uncle. Oliver was beginning to understand Arthur Ravens-croft’s limitations, but the tendrils of affection growing inside Shadowbrook were because he loved Pearl.

Love . It was true; he knew as soon as he thought it.

As the carriage brought them all to the house, Oliver glanced at the facade, still as crooked and tilting as ever. But the house grew ever so slightly more appealing to him as each day passed.

Oliver thanked the driver and helped gather the cases before leading his friends to the vast front door of Shadowbrook House. He’d only just placed his hand on the knob when the door swung open and Jenkinson filled the doorway.

Oliver ushered George and Nichols past the stoic butler and into the house, and as they were removing their coats, he saw young Violet peeking around a corner. He waved to her. “Could you help get my friends settled into rooms? I’m sorry there was no warning.”

Violet curtsied and nodded. “Madame Genevieve told me we’d have more company. There are rooms prepared.” She added in a whisper, “The woman knows things.”

He managed not to laugh and nodded his agreement. “She certainly seems to.”

Mrs. Randle stepped forward and gestured to her right. “Gentlemen, if you’d care for some refreshment, please follow me to the east parlor.”

Oliver glanced at Mr. Nichols hesitantly. He would not begrudge the man something to eat after such a taxing journey, but he also wanted the doctor to see Maxwell immediately.

Mr. Nichols shook his head and spoke to Mrs. Randle. “I’ll be happy to take something cold to eat after I’ve seen the patient, if that’s agreeable to you, ma’am.”

Oliver didn’t wait to hear Mrs. Randle’s reply.

He took the stairs two at a time and heard Nichols’s feet keeping pace with his own.

He also heard strains of violin music, but whether it was the phantom tones of the wind through the halls or the stronger music he’d heard with Pearl, he could not say.

Approaching Maxwell’s room, Oliver opened the door slowly, hoping to see Maxwell sitting up against his pillows.

Instead, he found Pearl standing at the foot of Maxwell’s huge bed, the old violin tucked beneath her chin, her eyes closed, and tears streaming down her face. Maxwell lay twitching, his eyes closed, his face as pale as when Oliver had left the house.

So lost in her thoughts and her music, Pearl didn’t hear Oliver and Nichols enter the room. He placed a hand gently on her elbow.

Her eyes flew open, and she drew the bow away from the strings. “Oh, Oliver. You’re back. I’m so glad.” She gave him a tired smile, then looked to the bed. “I thought maybe he’d like to hear some music. I know it’s silly.”

Oliver placed his arm gently across her shoulders. “Not silly at all. I’m sure he loves it.” He turned her toward the door. “Pearl, this is Mr. Nichols, a doctor from London. Matthew, this is Pearl Ellicott.”

The doctor bowed. “Miss Ellicott, do I have your consent to examine the patient?”

Pearl looked surprised. “Of course. You don’t need my permission.”

“You are the one who is caring for him. Of all of us, you know him best. I’ll not proceed on any treatment plan without your agreement.”

Pearl’s “thank you” came out as a breath, a sigh. Oliver assumed Dr. Dunning did not defer to this extent to Pearl’s understanding of Maxwell’s condition.

“If you please, I would like to hear all your observations since the time of the latest episode.”

Pearl picked up a small book and handed it to the doctor. “Here are the notes I’ve taken. I thought they’d be more coherent than my words. I’m a bit tired.”

Nichols gave a nod of understanding and took the offered book. He flipped through the pages quickly, then went back and read each entry slowly.

Oliver watched Pearl as she straightened and tucked the bedcovers around the boy. He stepped close to the bed and took a careful look at Maxwell. “Has he wakened?”

Pearl nodded. “Occasionally.” She drew close to him and whispered, “He may be awake now. He seems easier when he’s silent.”

“He looks strong, doesn’t he?” It was untrue, but Oliver needed something to say, and if Max was awake, he wanted the words to be positive.

She stepped close to his side, and her sleeve brushed his. “He’s been calmer. He’s breathing easier.”

Oliver wondered if her words were as much hopeful invention as his.

Still absorbing Pearl’s notes, Matthew Nichols spoke. “He appears to be making progress.”

Oliver wished the doctor’s words were more clearly positive, but the meaning of his message was better than it might have been. At least he didn’t say Max was lying so still because he’d worn himself out.

Finally, the doctor put the notebook on the side table. “Is there somewhere I can wash my hands before I examine the boy?”

Pearl pointed to Max’s washstand, and with the doctor’s back turned, Oliver took advantage of a moment’s privacy. He leaned close and whispered, “Are you all right? How can I help?”

Pearl’s eyes were still shiny from her earlier tears, but she smiled at him. “You’ve done more than I could have expected. More than anyone. I can’t believe you’ve found a new physician to help him while also allowing him to remain here.”

“I will always do what I can for Max, but I hope you know I meant to offer help to you . What do you need?”

Pearl reached out and took Oliver’s hand, lacing her fingers through his. She pressed his hand with hers and looked deeply into his eyes. “For now, only this. And when we see him well, I’ll have all I need.”