‘However much you might wish to,’ he agreed.
‘Certainly not!’ she said, with a severity belied by the laughter in her eyes. ‘You are quite – that is to say, if I were not so deeply indebted to you, I should say –’
‘That I was quite the most detestable man alive?’
‘Abominable was the word I had in mind!’ she returned instantly. Then her eyes softened. ‘No, I shouldn’t! To us you have been all kindness, however abominable you may be! Now, do be serious, sir! The case is not as bad as you think! My aunt has promised to keep a watch over Charis, but she feels that her sister has the greater claim on her. Well – well, I expect I should feel that too, so I can scarcely blame her! She thinks that, since it would be most improper for Charis to attend any parties at this moment, and will have Harry to accompany her out walking, or driving, besides Mrs Hurley to take good care of her, her presence cannot be deemed necessary. I must tell you also that your sister – Cousin Elizabeth, I mean, – has been as kind as you are! She sent Charis a note this morning, inviting her to stay at your house, while I was away, and offering to escort her to Lady Castlereagh’s assembly tonight. Charis declined it, of course – indeed, nothing would prevail upon her to go junketing abroad under these circumstances! – and – and I know I can depend on Harry! He is very much attached to Charis, you know, and won’t let her fall into dejection.’ She rose. ‘I must go. Would you, when you reach London, tell Charis just how the matter stands here, and assure her that there is no need for undue misgiving? I should be so much obliged to you!’
‘Willingly, but I’m not returning to London yet awhile. Did you think that I meant to play nip-shot? I’m not as abominable as that, I hope! You goose! why did you suppose that I had sent for my valet?’
‘I didn’t! I mean, – oh, was he your valet? I thought he must be some sort of a courier, and wondered that you should think it necessary to provide me with him!’
‘As well you might! Foolish beyond permission, Frederica!’
‘No! How should I know what freakish thing you might take it into your head to do?’ she countered. ‘I never met anyone as extravagant as you are! But you must not stay here on my account! Indeed, there is no need!’
‘You are quite mistaken. After the anxieties and exertions of the past twenty-four hours I am wholly exhausted, and must ruralise for a few days. I shall be putting up at the Sun, in Hemel Hempstead – and pray don’t argue with me! Few things are more boring than fruitless arguments!’ He took her hand, and pressed it. ‘I’m off now, but I shall come back presently – to assure myself that you are taking good care of my ward!’
Twenty-three
The Marquis did not return to Monk’s Farm until shortly before six o’clock, by which time he had been refreshed by a long sleep, a complete change of raiment, and a tolerable dinner. After a brief conversation with both the Judbrooks, he went upstairs to the room in which Felix lay, and entered it softly. The curtains had been drawn across the window, shutting out the westering sun, but he was immediately aware of a change. The room was redolent, not of the mustiness of disuse, but of lavender; and, as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he saw that a truckle-bed had been set up, the heavy patchwork quilt removed from the four-poster, and a screen placed to shield from Felix the light that would later be cast by the oil-lamp which now stood upon the table. Felix was uneasily asleep, moaning a little, and muttering; and Frederica was sitting in the armchair, which she had drawn up to the window. She rose when she saw who had entered the room, and came towards his lordship like a ghost, breathing: ‘Don’t wake him!’
She passed before him out of the room, and he drew the door to behind them both. He saw that she was looking pale, and very tired, and said: ‘He’s no better? I can see you’ve been having the devil of a time!’
She shook her head. ‘No. We can’t expect him to be better yet, you know. And at this hour a feverish person is always at his worst. But Dr Elcot has told me just what to do.’
‘Are you satisfied with Elcot? If you would wish to have another doctor’s opinion, tell me! I’ll set out for London immediately, and bring Knighton here – or any other you choose to name!’
‘Thank you – but no: I think Dr Elcot knows just what he is about.’
‘Very well, then go down to the parlour now, to your dinner! You will offend Miss Judbrook if you don’t: she appears to have exerted herself to prepare an elegant repast for you, which is ready, and – so she tells me – rapidly spoiling. And let me inform you, my dear, that if you mean to say that you dare not leave Felix in my care you will offend me too!’
‘I shan’t say that, at least! Dr Elcot told me how well you managed Felix, and how good you have been to him. The truth is that I am not at all hungry – but I know how stupid it would be to refuse my dinner, so I will go downstairs. If Felix should wake, and complain that he is thirsty, there is lemonade in the blue jug on the table.’
‘Now, why the devil didn’t I think of lemonade, when he was so thirsty last night?’ he exclaimed.
She smiled. ‘How should you? In any event, I don’t think Miss Judbrook has any lemons. I brought some from London – which reminds me that I shall need some more. Will you procure some for me in Hemel Hempstead tomorrow, cousin?’
‘Yes, and anything else you need, but go down now!’
She went obediently, returning half-an-hour later to find him supporting Felix with one arm, and trying, not very successfully, to turn the pillow with his other hand. She went at once to the rescue; and he said apologetically: ‘I fear I’m not yet very deedy! He has been turning his head continually, trying, I think, to find a cool spot. Frederica, are you sure you don’t wish another doctor to see him? I won’t disguise from you that he seems to me more feverish now than he was last night.’
She began to bathe Felix’s face and hands with a handkerchief soaked with lavender-water. ‘Dr Elcot warned me that he expected him to be worse before he is better. It will soon be time for his medicine again, and that will make him easier: you’ll see! At least – do you mean to go back to the Sun immediately, or would you wait for just
twenty minutes? To hold him for me, while I give him the dose? When he is like this, quite out of his senses, it is very difficult for me to manage him without assistance.’
‘I am entirely at your disposal, Frederica. Did you eat your dinner?’
‘Yes, and drank the glass of wine you provided for me, cousin. Miss Judbrook told me that you brought over a bottle from the Sun. Thank you! it has made me feel as fresh as a nosegay!’
‘I’m happy to hear it,’ he said dryly. He moved away, but after watching her struggles to control Felix, and to keep his body covered, he came back again, saying: ‘Let me try what I can do! No, leave him to me! I succeeded last night, and may yet be able to do so.’
She yielded her place to him, and he sat down, possessing himself of Felix’s burning hand, and speaking to him in the compelling voice which he had previously used to such good effect. It did not this time recall Felix to his senses; but it seemed to Frederica that although there was no recognition in the fevered eyes the implacable voice at last penetrated the mists. Felix grew quieter, moaning, but no longer trying to fling himself about. He fought against the medicine, but Alverstoke held him clamped against his shoulder, and Frederica was quick to tilt the mixture down his throat when he opened his mouth to utter a wild, incoherent protest. He choked, coughed, and burst into spasmodic sobs, but gradually these ceased, and he sighed wearily. Alverstoke laid him down again, and said softly over his shoulder: ‘Go to bed, Frederica!’
She blinked, and whispered: ‘I shall lie down presently on the truckle-bed. Pray don’t –’
‘You will go to bed in your own room. I’ll wake you at midnight – before, if I should see any need! Oblige me by sending for Curry, and telling him to put the horses to then.’
‘You cannot drive back to Hemel Hempstead at that hour!’