“How is my aunt today?” Kate asked, hesitating between a ham, and some cold beef.
“Not as stout as I could wish,” he replied, “but better! Decidedly better! As I foretold, nothing would do for her this morning but to leave her bed. And now she is determined to see you! Had she wished to see anyone else I must have withheld my permission, but you, I know, can be trusted not to chafe her nerves. I daresay you may think I am making a great fuss about nothing: she certainly thinks so! but the truth is—though she would rip me up for daring to say so!—that she is not quite herself yet! These stomach disorders are not to be trifled with. And her attack was a particularly violent one: indeed, at one moment I was really alarmed!”
It struck Kate that he was more uneasy than the occasion seemed to warrant, but before she could do more than assure him that she would try not to chafe her aunt’s nerves Pennymore came in, carrying a covered dish, which he set down before her, saying that he had ventured to suggest to the chef that a baked egg might be welcome to her. “Which, miss, he was very glad to cook for you, knowing, as he does, that you never partake of anything at breakfast but a scone, and a cup of tea.”
“Why, how kind of you both!” said Kate. “Pray tell Gaston that it is precisely what I was wishing for!”
“And precisely what I should have recommended, had I been applied to!” said the doctor, in a hearty tone. “But we can always rely on our good Pennymore!”
Pennymore was so much revolted by this playful remark that he became suddenly afflicted with deafness, and left the room without betraying by so much as the flicker of an eyelid that he had heard it.
Undismayed, the doctor said archly: “You are to be congratulated, Miss Kate! You have made yourself beloved of us all, from Sir Timothy down to the kitchen-maids! One would say you had been managing large households all your life!”
“I am afraid you are offering me Spanish coin, sir,” she replied coolly. “I have never met the kitchen-maids, and have had very little to do with managing the house.” She saw that he was about to utter another of his fulsome compliments, and said, before he could do so: “How does Torquil go on today? I am sorry he should be laid up again.”
“Oh, it was nothing more than a touch of the sun, and becoming overtired! He was a little feverish last night, to be sure, but he is a great deal better today, and will come down to dinner, I hope. I could have wished that Mr Philip Broome had not come out on to the terrace yesterday—and that you, Miss Kate, had not called to him to take your place at quoit-throwing! Not that I blame you! You cannot be expected to understand the effect Mr Broome’s visits have upon Torquil! It is sad it should be so, but Torquil is never so well when his cousin is at Staplewood.” He sighed, shaking his head. “He is so excitable, and so anxious to vie with Mr Broome! It is very natural, and very natural that Mr Broome should encourage him. Most good-natured of him indeed! But he does not appreciate how necessary it is that Torquil should not, be allowed to exert himself beyond his strength. It would be wonderful if he did! Young men of vigorous constitution seldom realize how easily such frail boys as Torquil can be knocked-up.”
She returned no answer to this, and, after a moment, he said, with a little laugh: “And now I learn that he has taken Sir Timothy out in the tilbury! No doubt with the kindest of intentions, but imprudent—very imprudent! I wish I may not have Sir Timothy on my hands, as well as her ladyship!”
Kate had meant to have preserved a strict silence, but this was too much for her resolution. She raised her eyes from her plate, and stared at the doctor, saying, with an air of astonishment: “But surely, sir, I have heard you trying to persuade Sir Timothy to go out for drives?”
“Ah, yes, but in the barouche, not in a tilbury! It is an effort for an old man to climb up into any of these sporting carriages, you know.”
She rose, pushing back her chair, and said: “I expect he had as much assistance as was needed. Excuse me, if you please! I have been cutting fresh roses for my aunt’s room, and must now go to arrange them in a bowl. Do you permit me to take them to her myself, or is she, perhaps, resting?”
“Oh, certainly, certainly!” he said, hurrying to open the door for her.
She went out, and, some twenty minutes later, mounted the Grand Stairway, carefully carrying the glass bowl in which she had arranged a dozen half-opened roses. At the head of the stairs she encountered Sidlaw, who had been lying in wait for her in the upper hall. She said pleasantly: “Is her ladyship ready to receive visitors? Dr Delabole tells me that at last it is safe for me to see her. I am so glad she is better.”
Sidlaw’s sniff expressed her opinion of the doctor. She said grudgingly: “She is in a way to be better, miss, but further than that I will not go. I thought I would drop a word of warning in your ear, which is why I’ve taken the liberty of intercepting you.”
“No need,” Kate said lightly. “The doctor has already warned me not to chafe her nerves.”
“Him.” Sidlaw ejaculated. Her face worked; she spoke with suppressed passion, twisting her bony fingers together. “He doesn’t know—nobody knows except me! It was worry that wore her down, till she was in a state to take any infection. She’s never given way, never once let a living soul suspect what a struggle it has been to her to support her spirits. She’s had nothing but trouble—she that I thought to see become a leader of fashion! Such style as she had! Everything prime about her! And so beautiful!”
“She is still very handsome,” offered Kate, hoping to check the flow of this unaccustomed eloquence.
But Sidlaw was obviously suffering from pent-up emotion, and she swept on, unheeding. “She ought to have married a nobleman—one of those who were the sprigs of fashion, twenty years ago! There was several dangling after her, for she was very much admired, I promise you! She was born to be a duchess, as over and over again I told her! And what must she do but throw herself away on Sir Timothy, a man old enough to have been her father!” She gave a gasp, and made an effort to control herself. Darting a rancorous look at Kate, she said: “I shouldn’t have said so much. I’m sure I don’t know what came over me, miss.”
“I don’t regard it,” Kate replied. “I know how anxious you have been since my aunt took ill, and how devotedly you’ve nursed her. You’re tired—overwatched! Will you take these fresh roses in to her, and see if I may go in? I don’t wish to disturb her if she’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping!” Sidlaw said scornfully. “It’s little enough sleep she’s had for weeks past!” She took the bowl from Kate, muttering that it was to be hoped Kate would do more for her aunt than cut roses, and walked off down the gallery to Lady Broome’s bedroom.
She reappeared a minute later, carrying a vase of wilted flowers, and told Kate, ungraciously, that she might go in to sit with my lady. “And you’ll please to remember, miss, that she’s in a poor state!”