Cowed by this threat, Felix swallowed the potion. He said anxiously, as Alverstoke lowered him, and withdrew his supporting arm: “You won’t leave me, will you?”
“No.”
Felix seemed to be satisfied; and after a few minutes the lids sank over his eyes. Dr Elcot touched the Marquis on the shoulder, and led the way out of the room. “Children of your own, my lord?” he said, as he closed the door.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Oh! Thought you must have: seem to know how to handle ’em. Well, it’s what I expected: rheumatic fever. No use asking me how serious it may be, for I can’t tell you yet. What I can tell you is that he needs to be carefully nursed. You told me his sister would be coming to do that: is she to be depended on? You’ll pardon me if I’m speaking too freely: it’s a matter of the first importance.”
“You may repose complete confidence in Miss Merriville,” replied Alverstoke. “She is a woman of excellent sense; and she has stood to Felix in the relationship of a mother ever since his childhood. Now, I know nothing of illness, so I must request you to enlighten me. I collect that this rheumatic fever is more serious than I had supposed?”
“It might have serious consequences,” replied Elcot. “However, the boy’s a fine little fellow, and I should rather think he has an excellent constitution, so we won’t alarm his sister. When does she arrive?”
“I can’t tell that, but from what I know of her I’m confident she will come as soon as may be possible. She will wish to see you, of course.”
“Ay, and I wish to see her! The boy will do well enough for a while: I’ve given him a paregoric draught, and I expect him to sleep for the better part of the morning. You’d be wise to do the same, my lord!”
“I had liefer shave!” said his lordship.
“Do both!” the doctor recommended.
The Marquis contented himself with the shave. He regarded with considerable misgiving the oldfashioned razor which Judbrook lent him, but although it felt clumsy in his hand its blade was well-honed, and he managed to shave himself without mishap. Miss Jud-brook, meanwhile, restored his creased muslin neckcloth to something approaching respectability; and although he would not entrust his coat to her for pressing he was able to meet Frederica in tolerably good order. But he avoided his valet’s eye.
She arrived shortly after ten o’clock, in his own well-sprung and lightly-built travelling-carriage, and she was unaccompanied. The Marquis lifted her down from it, and held her for a moment between his strong hands, saying: “Good girl! I knew you wouldn’t delay.”
“I didn’t leave London as early as I had wished, but your postilions brought me here like the wind.” She looked up at him, in the frank way he, had grown to love, and said, with a smile in her eyes: “I have been obliged to thank you so many times, cousin, that there seem to be no words left.”
“You can’t think how glad I am to know that!” he retorted.
“Oh, yes! You think it a dead bore to be thanked — but I hope you know what is in my heart!”
“No — but I wish I did!”
The smile touched her lips. “Now you are joking me! I forgive you only because I know you wouldn’t do so, if — if matters were desperate! Tell me! How is he?”
“Still sleeping. The doctor gave him some sort of a paregoric medicine, when I sent for him this morning. He means to visit him again at noon, or thereabouts. I told him that you would wish to see him, and he replied that he wished to see you! He had the impudence to ask me if you were to be depended on, too! Will you come in? A bedchamber has been prepared for you, and the parlour is set aside for your use.”
“If you will be pleased to come with me, ma’am, I will show you the parlour,” said Miss Judbrook, who was standing in the doorway.
She spoke in frigid accents, but thawed a little when Frederica said, holding out her hand: “Thank you! I am so very much obliged to you for all you have done. I am afraid it must have meant a shocking upset for you, too.”
“Oh, well, as to that, ma’am, I was never one to grudge trouble!” responded Miss Judbrook, taking the hand, and dropping a reluctant curtsy. “I’m sure, if Judbrook had asked me, I should have told him to bring the young gentleman in straight, but nursing him I cannot undertake!”
“No, indeed!” agreed Frederica. “You must have enough to do without that!” Following her forbidding hostess to the parlour, she paused on the threshold, cast a swift look round the room, and exclaimed: “Oh, what a handsome carpet!”
The Marquis, who thought the carpet quite hideous, blinked; but realized, an instant later, that his Frederica had said exactly the right thing. Miss Judbrook, bridling with pleasure, said that it had been laid down not a month ago; and almost cordially Invited Frederica to step upstairs with her.
The Marquis, prudently remaining below, went out to confer with his henchman. He found Curry, who had driven up to the farm behind the carriage in the phaeton, assisting one of Judbrook’s farmhands to remove from the carriage a quantity of baggage; and his valet, having survived a journey on the box-seat without loss of dignity, directing these operations. The Marquis instructed his postilions to take the carriage on to the Sun, at Hemel Hempstead, which hostelry had been recommended to him by Dr Elcot; told Knapp to procure accommodation there; and Curry to wait with the phaeton until he himself should be ready to leave the farm; and went back into the house.
It was not long before Frederica joined him in the parlour. She declined the armchair, and sat down at the table, laying her clasped hands upon it. “He is still sleeping, but not restfully. I think I should go back as soon as I may, but before I do so will you tell me, if you please, cousin, what the doctor has said? I can tell that Felix is very feverish, and can guess how anxious a night you must have passed.” She read hesitation in his face; and added quietly: “Don’t be afraid to open the budget! I’m not a fool, and I’m not easily overpowered.” She smiled faintly. “Nor is this the first time one of my brothers has been ill, or has done his best to kill himself. So tell me!”
“Elcot speaks of rheumatic fever,” he said bluntly.
She nodded. “I was afraid it might be that. My mother had it once. She was never quite well after it: it affected her heart. I was only a child at the time, but I recall how very ill she was — worse, I think, than Felix is. But our doctor wasn’t skilful, and she wasn’t carefully nursed. I can remember that she dragged herself out of bed, because she heard the baby crying — that was Felix, of course. Well! Felix won’t do so! He is more robust than my mother ever was, and medical science is more advanced. I don’t mean to fall into despair, I promise you, so you needn’t look at me as if you feared you might at any moment be obliged to recover me from a swoon!”
“I certainly don’t fear that: you have too much force of mind! If I look grave, it’s because I am afraid you have an anxious, as well as an exhausting, time ahead. I only hope you may not be quite worn down.”
“Thank you! I’m not such a poor creature! I shall have Jessamy to help me, too — perhaps as soon as tomorrow, if Harry returns to London this evening, as we believe he will. Dear Jessamy! he wanted so much to come with me today, but he never said so. He understood at once how improper it would be to leave poor Charis with only the servants to bear her company, and said he should stay in Upper Wimpole Street until Harry arrived to relieve him of that duty. He means to travel to Watford on the stage, and I own I shall be glad to have him with me. I can trust him to watch over Felix when he sleeps, so that I may lie down on my bed for a while. You see how rational I am, cousin!”