'No, Maria,' said Lady Wychwood, 'Annis is extremely tired, and must have no more visitors today.'
'Oh,' said Miss Farlow, with an angry little titter, 'I do not rank myself as a visitor, Lady Wychwood! You have several times gone into Annis's room, and some might think I had a better claim to do so, being a blood relation! Not that I mean to say that you are not a welcome visitor, for I am sure she must always be pleased to see you!'
Sir Geoffrey took instant umbrage at this, told her sharply that Lady Wychwood must be the only judge of who should, and who should not be permitted to visit Annis; and added, for good measure, that if she took his advice she would not allow her to go near Annis again, since he had no doubt that it was her ceaseless bibble-babbling that had tired her.
Realizing that she had gone too far, Miss Farlow hastened to say that she had no intention of casting the least slight on dear Lady Wychwood, but she was unable to resist the temptation to add, with another of her irritating titters: 'But as for my visit having tired dear Annis, I venture to suggest that it was Lucilla who did the mischief ! A great mistake, if I may say so, to have permitted her to visit –'
'Shall we go up to the drawing-room?' interposed Lady Wychwood, in a voice of quiet authority. 'I think you are rather tired yourself, Maria. Perhaps you would prefer to retire to bed. We must not forget that it is only a very few days since you too were ill.'
Finally quelled, Miss Farlow did retire, but in so reluctant and lingering a way that she was still within tongue-shot when Sir Geoffrey said: 'Well done, Amabel! Lord, what a gabster! Ay, and worse! The idea of her having the brass to say that it was Lucilla who exhausted Annis! A bigger piece of spite I never heard! More likely your visit did my sister a great deal of good, my dear!'
'Of course it did,' said Lady Wychwood. 'Don't look so down-cast, child! You must surely be aware that poor Maria is eaten up with jealousy. And allowances must be made for people who are convalescent from the influenza: it often makes them cantanker some! Pray let us put her out of our minds! I was wondering whether it would entertain you to play a game of backgammon with Sir Geoffrey until Limbury brings in the tea-tray?'
But hardly had the board been set out than it had to be put away again, for a late caller arrived, in the person of Lord Beckenham. He had come to enquire after Miss Wychwood. He had only that very afternoon heard of her indisposition, for he had been obliged to visit the Metropolis at the beginning of the week. He explained at somewhat tedious length that he had stopped to eat his dinner at the Ship before continuing his journey, why he had done so, how he had come by the distressing news, and how he had been unable to wait until the next day before coming to discover how Miss Wychwood was going on. He did not know what she, and her ladyship, must have been thinking of him for not having called days ago.
He stayed to drink tea with them, and by the time he left Sir Geoffrey was heartily sick of him, and, having seen him off the premises, informed his wife that if he had to listen to any more forty-jawed persons that day he would go straight off to bed.
Fifteen
Miss Wychwood, next morning, declared herself to be so much better as to be in a capital way. Jurby did not think that she looked to be in a capital way at all, and strenuously opposed her determination to get up. 'I must get up!' said Miss Wychwood, rather crossly. 'How am I ever to be myself again, if you keep me in bed, which of all things I most detest? Besides, my brother is coming to see me this morning, and I will not allow him to find me languishing in my bed, looking as if I were on the point of cocking up my toes!'
'We'll see what the doctor says, miss!' said Jurby.
But when Dr Tidmarsh came to visit his patient, just as her almost untouched breakfast had been removed, he annoyed Jurby by saying that it would do Miss Wychwood good to leave her bed for an hour or two, and lie on the sofa. 'I don't think she should dress herself, but her pulse has been normal now since yesterday, and it won't harm her to slip on a dressinggown, and sit up for a little while.'
'Heaven bless you, doctor!' said Miss Wychwood.
'Ah, that sounds more like yourself, ma'am!' he said laughingly.
'Begging your pardon, sir,' said Jurby, 'Miss Wychwood is not at all like herself ! And it is my duty to inform you, sir, that she swallowed only three spoonfuls of the pork jelly she had for her dinner last night, and has had nothing for her breakfast but some tea, and a few scraps of toast!'
'Well, well, we must tempt her appetite, mustn't we? I have no objection to her having a little chicken, say, or even a slice of boiled lamb, if she should fancy it.'
'The truth is that I don't fancy anything,' confessed Annis. 'I have quite lost my appetite! But I will try to eat some chicken, I promise!'
'That's right!' he said. 'Spoken like the sensible woman I know you to be, ma'am!'
Miss Wychwood might be a sensible woman, but the attack of influenza had left her feeling much more like one of the foolish, tearful creatures whom she profoundly despised, for ever lying on sofas, with smelling-salts clutched in their feeble hands, and always dependent on some stronger character to advise and support them. She had heard that influenza often left its victims subject to deep dejection, and she now knew that this was true. Never before had she been so blue-devilled that she felt it was a pity she had ever been born, or that it was too much trouble to try to rouse herself from her listless depression. She told herself that this contemptible state really did arise from her late illness; and that to lie in bed, with nothing better to do than to think how weak and miserable she felt, was merely to encourage her blue-devils. So she refused to yield to the temptation to remain in bed, but got up presently, found that her legs
had become inexplicably wayward ('as though the bones had been taken out of them!' she told Jurby, trying to laugh), and was glad to accept the support of Jurby's strong arm on her somewhat tottery progress to her dressing-table. A glance at her reflection in the mirror did nothing to improve her spirits. 'Heavens, Jurby!' she exclaimed. 'What a fright I am! I have a good mind to send you out to buy a pot of rouge for me!'
'Well, I wouldn't buy you any such thing, Miss Annis! Nor you don't look a fright. Just a trifle hagged, which is only to be expected after such a nasty turn as you've had. When I've given your hair a good brushing, and pinned it up under the pretty lace cap you bought only last week, you won't know yourself !'
'I don't know myself now,' said Miss Wychwood. 'Oh, well! I suppose it doesn't signify: Sir Geoffrey never notices whether one is looking one's best or one's worst – but I do wish I had asked you to paper my hair last night!'
'Well, your hair don't signify either, miss, for I shall tuck it into your cap,' replied her unsympathetic handmaid. 'And it's such a warm day there's no reason why you shouldn't wear that lovely dressing-gown you had made for you, and haven't worn above two or three times – the satin one, with the blue posies embroidered all over it, and the lace fichu. That will make you feel much more like yourself, won't it?'
'I hope so, but I doubt it,' said Miss Wychwood.
However, when she had been arrayed in the expensive dressing-gown, and had herself tied the strings of the lace cap under her chin, she admitted that she didn't look quite such a mean bit.
Sir Geoffrey was admitted shortly after eleven o'clock, and so far from not noticing that she was not looking her best he was so much shocked by her white face, and heavy eyes that he forgot the injunctions laid upon him and ejaculated: 'Good God, Annis! Dashed if I've ever seen you look so knocked-up! Poor old lady, what a devil of a time you've been having! And when I think that it was that infernal bagpipe who gave it you I could – Well, never mind!' he added, belatedly remembering his instructions. 'No use working ourselves up! Now, I'll tell you what Amabel and I wish you to do, and that is to come to Twynham as soon as you're well enough to travel, and pay us a long visit. How would that be?'
'Delightful! Thank you: how kind of you both! But tell me, how do you find Tom?'
He never needed much encouragement to talk about his children, and spent the rest of his brief stay thus innocuously employed. When he got up to go, he kissed her cheek, gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and said: 'There, no one can accuse me of having stayed too long, or talked you to death, can they?'
'Certainly not! It has done me a great deal of good to have a chat with you, and I hope you'll give me a look in later on.'