“And Harry has gone off with his bacon-brained friend to Wells, for the races!” said Jessamy bitterly. “Just when he is most needed!”
“He can scarcely be blamed for not having foreseen that he would be needed. You mustn’t think I don’t value Harry, but I can’t but feel that if I stood in Frederica’s shoes I should look to you for support rather than to him.”
The flush rose again, but this time from gratification. “Th-thank you!” Jessamy stammered. “I don’t think — But I’ll do my best! And if Frederica does wish me to stay with Charis I–I will!” He drew a breath, and said heroically: “In fact, I’ll offer to!” Doubt shook him, and his anxious look returned. “Only — Sir, will you, if you please, tell me exactly what I must do? I mean, about postchaises, and hiring the boys, and how much it will cost? And — and I’m afraid I haven’t enough blunt for my journey!”
“Curry will take care of that, and there will be no need for you to hire a chaise for Frederica: she will come here in my travelling-carriage, which will remain here until Felix can be taken home. It will be far more comfortable for him, you know, than a chaise.”
“Yes, indeed it will be!” Jessamy said, raising eyes brimming with gratitude to his face. “Thank you! You — you think of everything, sir! I’m so very much obliged to you! I’ll do exactly what you tell me to!”
Alverstoke’s smile was a little twisted, but he only said: “Curry will tell you what my orders are. Go down to him now: it’s time you were gone.”
Jessamy nodded, but lingered for a moment, looking down at Felix. He turned away, biting his lips. “Yes, sir. I–I know he’ll be safe with you, of course! It’s only that — You won’t leave him, will you? Oh, no! I beg pardon! I know you won’t!”
“You may be very sure I won’t,” Alverstoke replied, gently pushing him towards the door. “Though I may be strongly tempted to do so when he wakes up, and tries to tell me how one might propel a balloon by the use of steam!”
Jessamy laughed rather shakily, gripped his hand for an instant, and went quickly away.
The Marquis shut the door, and, after glancing at Felix, walked over to the leaded casement. Curry had brought the phaeton up to the house; and in another minute Jessamy emerged, climbed into it, and Curry gave the horses the office. The Marquis watched until the phaeton was out of sight; then turned, and went back to the four-poster, looking down at Felix.
It was hardly surprising, he thought, that the boy’s appearance should have dismayed his brother. It was not the bandage round his head which was alarming, or his stertorous breathing, but his immobility, and the position in which he lay, which was on his back, perfectly straight, and with the bedclothes drawn up under his chin. No doubt the doctor had settled him in this position; perhaps the broken ribs made it uncomfortable for him to lie on his side; but it made him look almost as if he had been laid out for burial. The Marquis saw this, but his mind was neither fanciful nor ill-regulated, and he was easily able to maintain his calm. He had formed a good opinion of Dr Elcot, and was content to abide by his pronouncements. Elcot plainly felt uneasy about possible developments, but he did not expect any great change to take place immediately; and he certainly did not consider Felix to be in danger. The Marquis felt that what lay before him was not anxiety but tedium. Hours of it, too! he thought, consulting his watch. And with nothing whatsoever to do, if Felix continued to sleep soundly, but to try to keep awake. Probably the armchair would help him to do that: it looked to be hard and unaccommodating. He remembered that he was engaged to join a convivial party at the Castle Inn that evening. He smiled crookedly, contrasting that engagement with his present situation. It was to be hoped that Charles Trevor would recall this, and make his excuses for him. He would, of course: he never forgot things like that. He would be waiting up for news, too, for Eliza would have told him what had happened, and he would guess that his services might be needed. A most reliable secretary, Charles: he would miss him damnably, but he would have to let him go. Which reminded him that he must bring him to the notice of one of the coming men of affairs.
So his lordship sat down in the armchair, to occupy his mind with consideration of this question.
XXII
It was not long before the Marquis’s meditations were interrupted by a gentle scratching on the door. He opened it, to admit Judbrook, who came in, bearing a tray, which he set down stealthily on the table, whispering that, besides the barley water, his sister had sent up a bowl of vinegar and water, in case the poor young gentleman should have the headache. He seemed to be very much concerned, and shook his own head sadly when he looked at Felix. “Eh, he’s bad!” he muttered.
“Not, I hope, as bad as he looks. Do you think your sister could send me up some cold meat, or something of that nature?”
“Indeed, my lord, she’ll do no such thing, nor wouldn’t think of it! She bid me tell you your dinner will be laid out for you in the parlour in half-an-hour, and begs you will excuse it not being what your lordship’s used to, her having had no time to dress a joint, or a chicken. We have our own dinner midday,” he explained apologetically, “but Polly knows fine how to manage for gentlemen, being as she was housekeeper to a gentleman in London for fifteen years. Which I sometimes wish she was still, because she don’t like living in the country, and never did, which is what makes her so maggoty! Still, she thought it was her duty, when my missis died, and she’s right enough at heart, my lord, for all her crotchets. It was me bringing the young gentleman in without a word to her which set her on end, her being one as likes to act contrary. Though how I was to ask her leave, when I was in my Three-acre field, which was where it happened, my lord, and all of a quarter-of-a-mile from here, I don’t know, nor she neither! But, there!” A slow smile crept over his face, and he said, with more truth than he knew: “Your lordship knows what females are!”
“None better,” agreed his lordship. “I trust I shall be able to come to terms with Miss Judbrook, however — which is a matter I wish to discuss with you. As for my dinner, pray tell her not to put herself to any trouble over it! Cold meat and cheese will do very well. But bring it to me here, if you please!”
“I was thinking that I could stay with the young gentleman while your lordship was in the parlour?”
Alverstoke shook his head. “No. Very obliging of you, but if the boy were to wake, and see only a strange face, it might alarm him,” he said tactfully.
“Just as you say, my lord. There’s just one other thing, which — Well, I’m fairly put about to know what to offer your lordship to drink!” Judbrook disclosed. “Barring the cowslip-wine Polly makes — and she says it ain’t fitting — we don’t have any wine in the house. I could send one of my lads down to the alehouse, but I doubt — ”
“On no account! Unless you have no beer in the house either? That’s all I want — and I do want that!”
“Oh, if that’s so, my lord —!” said Judbrook, his mind relieved of care. “I’ll bring you up a mug straight!”
He also brought up a second tray, loaded with the mute witnesses to his sister’s mettle; and by the time the Marquis had disposed of a meal which began with a bowl of excellent soup, and included a dish of hasty mutton, and two pigeons roasted on a spit, the long summer’s day had begun to close in, and he had had the satisfaction of seeing his charge stir a little, slightly altering his position, and turning his head on the pillow. He then entered into lengthy negotiations with the farmer, whose reluctance to accept any payment for his hospitality would, under different circumstances, have bored him intolerably; and sent for Miss Judbrook, to compliment her on her culinary skill, in the hope that a little flattery now would, later, benefit Frederica. She gave him no reason to congratulate himself on this manoeuvre, for although she was civil, her countenance remained forbidding, and never more so than when he told her that she would shortly be relieved of all responsibility by the arrival of Miss Merriville at Monk’s Farm. Judbrook then showed him where his own bedchamber was situated, adjured him to rouse him at need, supplied him with a number of candles, and left him to while away the night-hours as best he might, only reappearing (in his bedgown, for which he blush-fully begged pardon) to give his lordship a bottle containing the saline draught brought by the doctor’s man.