‘You will?’ He jumped to his feet eagerly.
‘Yes, um…’ I cleared my throat, desperately trying to search my mind for something to say. ‘The reason I was reluctant to mention anything about Ella is…is…’
…that she is in deep, deep crap right now, too literally to think about. That she might die, and she doesn’t want to hurt you.
‘…is that it’s something rather delicate. A, um…female complaint.’
He blinked. ‘Female complaint? So she’s not suffering from the epidemic that has been rampaging through London?’
‘Oh, no!’ If by ‘no’ you mean ‘yes’. ‘She’s suffering from something completely different. A female nervous disorder named…what did the doctor call it again… Potius Stercoritis.’[50]
Edmund’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh my God! Is it dangerous?’
‘Oh, no, not at all!’
And I should know. After all, I invented it just now.
‘But it is very exhausting and requires the strictest rest. Otherwise, it could turn into Egoiacentemexcogitatositis, and that is deadly.’ [51]
Edmund paled. ‘Heaven help us!’
‘Don’t worry. There are a number of things we can do to prevent that from happening.’
‘What? What, tell me!’
‘Well, on doctor’s orders, Ella must be visited by as few people as possible—preferably close female relatives. They are least likely to disturb the delicate balance of humours and aggravate the Potius Stercoritis.’[52]
‘Certainly, certainly.’ He nodded eagerly. ‘I’ll keep my distance. I promise. What else? Please, Miss Linton, let me help! I’ll do anything!’
‘Um, well…the doctor said…the doctor said that carrots would help.’
‘Carrots?’
I nodded energetically. ‘Oh yes. When peeled, they give off a certain aroma that is particularly beneficial for anybody suffering from Potius Stercoritis.’
‘Wonderful! Tell me more! What else did the doctor say?’
Bloody hell! Why did this fellow have to be so damn steadfast, persistent and concerned for my sister’s well-being? Why couldn’t he be a witless fool, or a heartless bastard just like all the other men who had tried to marry her? That would make this situation so much easier to deal with.
Desperately, I looked from right to left, searching for anything sensible to say. To my left hung a painting of a decorative ocean scene, showing two fishing boats sailing into a harbour. ‘Err…ship planks!’
‘Pardon?’
Edmund blinked.
‘Ship planks,’ I repeated, more confidently. ‘Preferably old and worm-eaten. Stuck under the pillow they are an excellent cure against Potius Stercoritis. And so is seaweed, if applied externally in moderate quantities and mixed with lugworms.’
‘Really?’ Edmund stared into empty air for a moment, then blinked. ‘Lugworms? Amazing what kind of advances modern medicine makes nowadays. I would have never considered using those as medicine.’
Congratulations. You are a moderately sane person.
‘Don’t you worry.’ Taking my hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘I’ll take care of it. And I won’t try to come in again. I won’t disturb Ella unnecessarily. I would never do anything to jeopardize her health.’
Then he whirled and hurried down the corridor.
‘Where are you going?’ I called after him.
‘I’ll be back!’ he yelled, and without another word disappeared around the corner. I stared after him, confused. Where was he off to?