The Harlot Bride Read Free

milady. Lucy started sobbing again, and promised herself that his Lordliness would not find Lucy Farquhar an easy conquest. She wouldn’t love him. She wouldn’t honor him. And she certainly wouldn’t let him put his old, gnarled paws upon her person!
     
    ** ** **
     
    Lawrence. P. Randolph, physician, arrived at the Graham residence promptly at ten o’clock the following morning. The lady of the house herself, the elderly aunt, opened the door to him the very moment he rapped upon it with his cane. The woman was nervous and obsequious as she showed him in, a state he considered quite fitting given the nature of his visit. He noted that the girl was nowhere to be seen, and smiled thinly. She was no doubt waiting upstairs in a state of agitation, which also was well and good and precisely as it should be. He would have considered it quite immodest of her had she been sitting calmly in the parlour.
    He accepted Mrs. Graham’s offer of a cup of tea, not because he had any desire for refreshment or passing pleasantries with people who bored him, but because it pleased him to make the young lady upstairs wait. He knew his voice was deep and carried well. Even if she hadn’t heard his rap on the door, and he was quite certain she had been listening just as intently as her aunt, she would hear his voice from the parlour. And as the minutes passed, she would grow ever more frantic about her impending ordeal. He smiled to himself to think of it. It was no accident that Doctor Randolph was the personal physician to the Earl of Chiltenham. If ever there were two gentlemen cut from the same cloth, it was Lord Tazewell and his friend the good doctor.
    After twenty or thirty minutes, Doctor Randolph set down his teacup.
    “Well. Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Graham. I expect it’s time I moved on to the matter at hand. Will you be so kind as you conduct me your niece?”
    Lucy’s aunt, who had been nearly beside herself with anxiety while the doctor took his own good time over tea, rose as quickly as her old knees allowed.
    “She’s upstairs, Doctor. In her room. If you’ll just follow me, please, sir. I’m afraid I’m a bit slow on the stairs. Oh, how my knees torment me! It’s a wonder I get out of bed every morning.”
    She continued to fuss as she led him up a flight of stairs, and when she at last reached the top, short of breath, she stopped at a closed door and knocked tentatively.
    “Lucy?”
    There was no reply. Mrs. Graham glanced fearfully up at the doctor, and knocked again, just a little louder.
    “Lucy? The doctor is here. I’m afraid you’ll have to let us in. Please, Lucy.”
    She tried the knob and seemed surprised when it turned.
    “Oh! It’s not locked. I just thought…”
    Doctor Randolph gently moved the old woman’s hand aside. “I think it’s best if I take things over from here, Mrs. Graham. Although you are of course welcome to remain with your niece if you…”
    “Oh, no! I couldn’t. No, I’m sure she’ll be all right with you, sir. I expect my presence would only make matters more trying…”
    “Very well. In that case, please return to the parlour,” he said, in the sort of voice one used to calm an agitated mare, his hand upon the doorknob to Lucy’s room. “I shan’t be long. His Lordship specified that a complete examination would not be necessary.”
    Poor Mrs. Graham went quite red in the face, as the doctor’s words only emphasized what part of her niece the doctor had been sent examine.
    “A..ah…yes.. well, yes…I’ll wait downstairs then, sir,” she stammered as she turned away from the door and fled, as fast as her poor old knees allowed, back towards the top of the stairs.
    Doctor Randolph turned the knob and opened the door into a small and pleasant bedchamber, quite bright and clean. He glanced around appraisingly and established that the morning light coming in through the paned window was sufficient for a proper examination and that it would therefore not