Frederica

‘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 Judbrook, 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 realised, 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!’

‘I never doubted that. May I ask what part Miss Winsham plays in this?’

‘A very small one,’ she confessed. ‘My uncle died last night, you see.’

‘Accept my condolences! I should have supposed that this must have released Miss Winsham from what she conceived to be her most pressing duty, but I collect that I’m mistaken.’

‘Yes, because my Aunt Amelia is now prostrate, and falls into hysterics as soon as Aunt Seraphina leaves her side. She has spasms, vapours, and – Oh, dear, I ought not to talk so! I have so little sensibility myself that I find it very hard to sympathise with people like Aunt Seraphina. I should be much inclined to – No!’

‘I know exactly what you would be much inclined to do,’ he said, smiling. ‘I saw how you dealt with Charis, in a similar situation!’

‘It was not at all similar!’ she replied. ‘Poor Charis had suffered a severe shock! There was every excuse for her! My uncle’s death has been expected for weeks – and, in any event, I should not slap my aunt’s face!’