Frederica (42 page)

“None better,” agreed his lordship. “I trust I shall be able to come to terms with Miss Judbrook, however—which is a matter I wish to discuss with you. As for my dinner, pray tell her not to put herself to any trouble over it! Cold meat and cheese will do very well. But bring it to me here, if you please!”

“I was thinking that I could stay with the young gentleman while your lordship was in the parlour?”

Alverstoke shook his head. “No. Very obliging of you, but if the boy were to wake, and see only a strange face, it might alarm him,” he said tactfully.

“Just as you say, my lord. There’s just one other thing, which—Well, I’m fairly put about to know what to offer your lordship to drink!” Judbrook disclosed. “Barring the cowslip-wine Polly makes—and she says it ain’t fitting—we don’t have any wine in the house. I could send one of my lads down to the alehouse, but I doubt—”

“On no account! Unless you have no beer in the house either? That’s all I want—and I
do
want that!”

“Oh, if that’s so, my lord—!” said Judbrook, his mind relieved of care. “I’ll bring you up a mug straight!”

He also brought up a second tray, loaded with the mute witnesses to his sister’s mettle; and by the time the Marquis had disposed of a meal which began with a bowl of excellent soup, and included a dish of hasty mutton, and two pigeons roasted on a spit, the long summer’s day had begun to close in, and he had had the satisfaction of seeing his charge stir a little, slightly altering his position, and turning his head on the pillow. He then entered into lengthy negotiations with the farmer, whose reluctance to accept any payment for his hospitality would, under different circumstances, have bored him intolerably; and sent for Miss Judbrook, to compliment her on her culinary skill, in the hope that a little flattery now would, later, benefit Frederica. She gave him no reason to congratulate himself on this manoeuvre, for although she was civil, her countenance remained forbidding, and never more so than when he told her that she would shortly be relieved of all responsibility by the arrival of Miss Merriville at Monk’s Farm. Judbrook then showed him where his own bedchamber was situated, adjured him to rouse him at need, supplied him with a number of candles, and left him to while away the night-hours as best he might, only reappearing (in his bedgown, for which he blush-fully begged pardon) to give his lordship a bottle containing the saline draught brought by the doctor’s man.

The Marquis resigned himself to hours of tedium; but he had not many of them to endure. Long before even the earliest farm-worker was awake, he would readily have compounded with fate for a week of tedium in exchange for the anxiety which beset him as soon as the effects of laudanum began to wear off. At first only restless, muttering unintelligibly, but sinking back into a slumber, Felix grew steadily harder to quieten, passing from a state of semi-consciousness to a confused realization of his aches and pains, and of his strange surroundings. He uttered his sister’s name, from a parched throat, and struggled to free his arms from the blankets, hurting his sprained wrist, and giving a sharp cry; but when Alverstoke took his other hand in a firm clasp, and spoke to him, he seemed to recognize him. His ringers clung like claws; he stared up into Alverstoke’s face, and panted: “Don’t let me fall! don’t let me fall!”

“No, I won’t,” Alverstoke said, stretching out his hand for Dr Elcot’s saline draught, which he had poured out at the first sign of agitation. “You are perfectly safe now.” He disengaged himself, and raised Felix, setting the glass to his lips, and saying: “Here’s a drink for you! Open your mouth!”

“I want Frederica!” Felix said, fretfully turning his head away.

He responded, however, to the note of command in Alverstoke’s voice when he said again: “Open your mouth, Felix! Come! do as you’re bid!” and Alverstoke, whose small experience of medicines included none that were not extremely nasty, gave him no chance to recoil from the dose, but tilted it ruthlessly down his throat.

Felix choked over it, but after his first slightly tearful indignation, he seemed to grow more rational. Alverstoke lowered him on to his pillow, and withdrew his arm. “That’s better!” he said.

“I want Frederica!” reiterated Felix. “You shall have her directly,” promised Alverstoke. “I want her
now
!”
stated Felix. “
Tell
her!” “Yes, I will.”

A short silence fell. Alverstoke hoped that Felix was sliding back into sleep, but just as he was about to move away from the bed he found that Felix was looking at him, as though trying to bring his face into focus. Apparently he succeeded, for he murmured, with a sigh of relief: “Oh, it’s you! Don’t leave me!” “No.”

“I’m so thirsty!”

Alverstoke raised him again, and he gulped down the barley-water thankfully; and, this time, when lowered on to his pillow, dropped asleep.

It was an uneasy sleep, however, and of short duration. He woke with a start, and a jumble of words on his lips. He was evidently in the grip of a nightmare, and it was not for several moments that Alverstoke’s voice penetrated it. He said then, vaguely: “Cousin Alverstoke,” but an instant later moaned that he was cold. The Marquis began to look a little grim, for the hand which clutched his was hot and dry. He spoke soothingly, and with good effect: Felix lay quiet for a while, but he did not shut his blurred eyes. Suddenly he said, in a troubled voice: “
This
isn’t my room! Why am I in this room? I don’t like it! I don’t know where I am!”

The Marquis answered matter-of-factly: “You are with me, Felix.”

He spoke instinctively, uttering the first words that came into his head, and thinking, an instant later, that they were singularly foolish. But, after blinking at him, Felix smiled, and said: “Oh, yes! I forgot! You won’t go away, will you?”

“Of course not. Shut your eyes! You are quite safe, I promise.”

“Yes, of course, as long as you’re
here,
because then I shan’t fall,” murmured Felix hazily. “I know
that
!”

Alverstoke said nothing, and presently had the satisfaction of knowing that Felix was asleep. Carefully withdrawing his hand from the slackened hold on it, he moved away, to alter the position of the candle, so that its flickering light should not fall on Felix’s face. It seemed to him that the boy had dropped into a more natural sleep; but his hope that this would endure was speedily dashed, and he did not again indulge it. For the rest of the night Felix, even to his inexperienced eyes, grew steadily worse, his face more flushed, and his pulse alarmingly rapid. There were intervals when he dozed, but they were never of long duration; and when he woke it was always in a state of feverish excitement bordering on delirium. He seemed to be suffering considerable pain; in one of his lucid moments he complained that he “ached all over,” but when Alverstoke bathed as much of his brow as was not covered by the bandage, he was relieved to have his hand struck away. “It’s not my
head
!”
Felix said angrily.

A second dose of the saline mixture produced an alleviation, but Alverstoke hovered a dozen times on the brink of summoning Judbrook, and telling him to send for Dr Elcot. Only the doctor’s last words, which had been a warning that Felix might become feverish, and the knowledge that he could still recall the boy’s wandering wits, restrained him.

With the dawn, the fever abated a little, but not the pains. Felix wept softly, and moaned: “Frederica, Frederica!” At five o’clock, the Marquis heard the creak of a door being cautiously opened, and went swiftly out of the room to intercept Judbrook, who was tiptoeing along the passage, with his boots in his hand.

Judbrook was very much shocked to learn that Felix, far from going on prosperously, was extremely ill. He promised to send one of his lads to the doctor’s house in Hemel Hempstead immediately, saying that it was only a matter of four miles, and the lad could ride there on the cob. He took a look at Felix, and upon hearing that more barley-water was needed, ventured to suggest that a cup of tea might do good. The Marquis felt doubtful, but Felix, whom he had thought to be asleep, said, in the thread of a voice: “I should like that,” so he nodded to Judbrook.

“You shall have it in an ant’s foot, sir!” said Jud-brook, adding, under his breath: “At all events, it won’t do him any harm, my lord!”

The Marquis felt still more doubtful when the tray was brought to him. He was not, like his friend Lord Petersham, a connoisseur, but he profoundly mistrusted the mahogany brew which issued from the pot, and fully expected Felix to reject it. Felix did not, however, and it seemed to refresh him; and when, an hour later, Dr Elcot arrived, he merely said: “As long as you didn’t give him hot wine, I’ve no objection. Now, my lord, before I go in to him, what’s amiss? You’re looking a trifle out of frame yourself: had you a bad night with the boy?”

“A very bad night,” replied Alverstoke, somewhat acidly. “As for what’s amiss, I trust
you
will supply the answer! He has been extremely feverish, sometimes delirious, and he complains all the time of pain—he says it is all over him, but it doesn’t appear to be in his head, thank God!”

“Dutch comfort!” growled the doctor.

He stayed for some time in the sickroom; and, at the end of a long and careful examination, said cheerfully, as he drew the bedclothes over Felix again: “Well, young man, I don’t doubt you’re feeling pretty down pin, but you’ll hold for a long trig! Now I’m going to give you something to make you comfortable.”

Felix was not delirious, but he was not by any means himself. He had objected violently to the doctor’s examination, saying that it hurt him to be touched; and had only submitted when the Marquis had commanded him to do so. He now revolted against the evil-looking potion Dr Elcot had measured into a small glass, and the Marquis, prompted by a significant glance from the doctor, again intervened, taking the glass from Elcot, and administering the dose himself, saying, when Felix jerked his head away: “You are becoming a dead bore, Felix. I dislike bores; so, if you wish me to remain with you, you will do as I bid you—and at once!”

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.”