Not Fit To Clean ||Closed||
"Oh." Her eyes widened with surprise for a moment before remembering that he was, indeed a doctor. She supposed it made a bit of sense for him to want to examine her. "Of course, my Lord. Follow me."
She tucked her arm through the handles of the basket in which she carried his laundry and led him through the door. They walked down the hallway at a brisk pace before she veered to the left suddenly, ducking into a side passageway that was only used by the staff. They descended a flight of dark and narrow steps, Liatris’ head swimming uncomfortably again, before alighting on the cold stone floor of the servant’s wing.
"She’s just in here." She said in hushed tone. She could head the cook chattering with one of the stable boys in the kitchen and she would prefer they not be made aware of the Master’s presence in their domain. The cook was a large crass man who would surely end up with his foot in his mouth.
Liatris pushed open the creaky wooden door that led to Natasha’s room. She was laid up in bed, her blankets pushed off to the side and a basin of lukewarm water on the table next to her. A damp and clammy rag rested on her forehead. She was asleep, but she stirred when they came in. Liatris swallowed thickly. She looked even worse than she had this morning. Suddenly Liatris’ dizzy spells that she had written off earlier were worrisome to her. Would she end up like this?
He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to call him my Lord. He was okay with being called Dr. Ruxton or even Mr. Ruxton. But the idea of being a lord always rubbed him a wrong way. Something his father always said to get over. And surprisingly he had yet to get used to it.
Following after Liatris, he pulled his shirt on. Nodded at the other servants as they passed them. He didn’t often go down to the servants wings. He came down once or a while to check to make sure that the everything was in top shape and that everything was working order. But it was a rare sight. And it was a part of the house that he didn’t now that well. He had always thought he would be different from his parents and that he would know ever part of his house. But that’s not how it went.
Stepping int the room, Ewan tried not to make a face at the conditions. He had been in worse places. Kneeling beside the bed, he realized he hadn’t brought his tools down with him. “Liatris, can you have someone fetch my bag? It’s in my study.” He peered down at Natasha, she didn’t look like she was strong enough to talk or hold a conversation. He turned his attention back to his maid, “When did you notice that she was getting sick?”