I'm skipping a bit here. The 'gang' has gone to Brighton. The events surrounding that trip are, how shall I say it? Under construction.
Alice Needs Help.
Alice and Cynthia
spent their first morning in Brighton exploring the city. Cynthia
needed a new gown, one that was suitable for a court ball at the
Regent’s pavilion. Her few muslins were worn from too much use in
the country, and had never been as elegant as she deserved. They
surveyed the various stylish mantua makers to see who had the best
styles. They settled on Madame Antonia’s where both of them had
their measurements taken for gowns. Then, exhausted with their
efforts, they looked for refreshments.
The Princess’s
Choice Tea1
shop catered to the quality trade. Alice was so clearly quality that
the waitress almost fell over herself welcoming her and her genteel
companion to a table. The tea was excellent, as were the sweet
biscuits. The only sour point in the whole experience were the two
sharp pins that scratched the two women as they seated themselves at
the table. The waitress apologized and then went back into the
kitchen to berate the maid who set the table. Her voice carried into
the tea room. The tea made for an elegant interlude on a perfect day.
Neither Alice nor
Cynthia noticed the man who followed them back to Lord Wroxham’s
town house. By the time they arrived at the house, Alice was feeling
tired. She begged Cynthia’s leave to take a nap rather than read
with her as had become their habit. Cynthia said, “I hope you are
feeling better, but Mrs. Radcliffe can wait until tomorrow.”
At dinner Alice
looked hot and flushed. She didn't last to the pudding, and tried to
make her excuses. Then when she rose, she stumbled and collapsed. She
was hastily rushed to her room where she lay shivering even though
she was wrapped in her blankets and comforter. Clearly she was in the
grip of a severe fever. The local apothecary was immediately called
give his opinion and prescription.
“Lord Wroxham,
I'm sorry to say that your sister has an infectious complaint. It
could be the scarlet fever.”
James blanched.
Infections were a serious threat, not just to his sister, but to
everyone in the house. He asked, “What can we do?”
“I'll send a
boy around with my best medicine, a crescent saline draught. It
sometimes works. You should send for a physician as soon as you can.
Meanwhile, keep her isolated2
so that the infection doesn't spread.”
“What are her
prospects?”
“It is in the
hands of the lord.”
“That bad.”
The apothecary
frowned. Then he bowed and excused himself.
Lord Wroxham
returned to the drawing room where Freddy and Cynthia were waiting.
They could see from his demeanor that it was not good news. Freddy
asked, “Will she recover?”
Lord Wroxham
poured himself a large brandy. “I don't know. The apothecary wasn't
optimistic.”
“Is it
infectious?”
“He thinks it
could be scarlet fever. Freddy, can you take Miss Morris away so she
doesn't catch it?”
“Now?”
“Tomorrow
morning should be fine. You can use our townhouse if you want.”
“James,”
Freddy said, “I'll see to it. Will you be well?”
“I don't know.
Alice is my sister. She's all the family I have left. I must stay.”
Cynthia listened
to this exchange with increasing concern. She stood and demanded, “I
need to see Alice.”
“What can you
do, Miss Morris? It's infectious and I don't want you to get ill as
well.”
“I won't. She's
my friend too and maybe I can help.”
Lord Wroxham
stood firm in his opinion. “No Miss Morris, Cynthia, you cannot
stay. It is too dangerous. You will leave early tomorrow with Mr.
Alverston. Please go to your room. I'll send Hannah to get you
packed.”
Cynthia started
to argue, then she seemed to think better of it. She said, “I'm
feeling tired, Lord Wroxham. Please send Hannah in the morning.”
“I hope you are
not infected.” Cynthia flashed him a smile. By now he knew her well
enough to realize she was up to mischief. He thought it likely that
she intended to secretly visit Alice despite his orders not to. So he
warned her, “Alice's door will be locked. I will have the key. She
is not to be disturbed and you are not to risk your health by
visiting her.”
Cynthia curtsied,
and said, “Yes. My Lord.”
“I mean it
Cynthia.”
“I know,
James.”
Later that night,
after the household was sound asleep, Cynthia crept out of her room.
The simple warded lock on Alice's room opened easily to her pick.
Cynthia entered and was dismayed with what she found. Alice was
bright red, running a high fever and hallucinating. She opened her
communicator and called up Chris.
“Chris, you
awake?”
“Of course
Cynthia. What are you doing about at one in the morning?”
“It's Alice,
Miss Wroxham. I think she's dying of scarlet fever.”
“You can lose
your ship if you interfere. You know the rules.”
“I'll stay here
if I need to. Alice is my friend. Now what should I do? I brought the
med-kit.”
“Plug in my
diagnostic lead, I'll tell you if there is a chance.”
“Thank you.”
She followed his instructions and waited while Chris analyzed the
patient.
“Cynthia, I
have good news and bad news for you.”
“It's late. I'm
tired, just tell me what to do.”
Chris gave her
detailed instructions. She injected Alice with the combination of
drugs that Chris specified.
“What now?”
“We wait.”
“Will it work?”
“It will, but
it won’t be easy on her. Even in the best of cases it will take her
a while to recover and you may have to treat complications.”
Cynthia walked
back to the door and shut it. She locked herself in. Then she sat in
the corner and waited. The time hung heavily on her and she dozed
off.
The sun was just
barely beginning to peak over the horizon, when she woke with a
start. What she had been worrying about crystallized. She called up
Chris and asked, “It's not scarlet fever, is it? It's sand fever.”
“Ah,” he
replied, “You twigged that didn't you? That was my good news.”
“What the he-
he- hell is she doing with sand fever in 1810 on Earth? She'll
recover, even if we don't do anything. I know I did. It wasn't fun,
but it isn't usually fatal.”
“I didn't want
to tell you about this, but there is a Xylub advance party in
Brighton.”
“That would
sort of spoil my day. I suppose that was your bad news. Do you know
more?”
“I picked up
their transmissions. It's difficult for me to be more specific while
I'm beached in Iceland.”
“You could have
warned me.”
“They aren't
looking for you. They're-”
“I know what
they're doing. Harem slaves from a pre-space world. They tried to
infect us at that tea-shop yesterday, didn't they?”
“Yes. Ma'am.”
“Too bad for
them then, that I've already had it.”
Alice stirred and
sat up, “Cynthia, what are you doing here?”
“I am looking
after you.”
“The apothecary
said I was infectious. That I must be left alone.”
Cynthia smiled,
“I'm sure he did. How do you feel?”
“I ache all
over. It's like someone's been pummeling me, or I fell off my horse
and it walked on me.”
“That's sand
fever for you. It's going to hurt for the next few days. Today will
be the worst. You will get better.”
“Cynthia?”
“Yes?”
“Before I sat
up, I was listening to you. Who were you talking to?”
“You were
hallucinating with the fever.”
“No I wasn't. I
was last night, I know because you were here and attached something
to me. Then you stung me. You wouldn’t have done that, would you?”
Cynthia stopped
talking.
“Cynthia? I
wasn't hallucinating, was I?”
“No you
weren't. I'm going to sting you again in a few moments. It will make
go to sleep. You will feel better when you wake up.”
“Who are the
Xylub? You weren't imagining things when you told us about a harem
rescue when we first met, were you?”
“The Xylub are
an interesting, amoral set of beings.” Her conditioning stopped her
from adding, “Great in bed, but utterly untrustworthy. The sort who
will make love to you all night on a beach under the stars while
promising undying fealty, and then steal off with your money and
clothes before the sun rises in the morning.” After a short pause,
she said, “No I wasn't making it up; my imagination doesn't hold a
candle to the weirdness of reality. When you're better I'll tell you
more. First though, you need to sleep.” She pulled out the injector
and stung Alice again. Alice quickly drifted off into a sleep so deep
that she was barely breathing.
“Chris,” she
said, “That blaster you gave me?”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
“It's a toy,
isn't it?”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
“Next time I
ask for one, I want a real one. You know I'm not trigger-happy.”
“You have used
your blaster on every one of the last five times you went planetside,
Ma'am.”
“I had to.
Darned assassins. I'm going Xylub hunting after Lord Wroxham comes
down and chews me out for exposing myself to Alice's 'infectious
complaint'.”
“With what?”
“The machete
from the survival kit, and, if he has them, one of My Lord's dueling
pistols.”
“If you must.”
“We can't have
Xylub hunting humans, can we?”
“I suppose not,
Ma'am.”
“No we can’t.
This is why I have a Letter of Marque.”
They would have
continued their discussion but Cynthia heard the key being put in the
lock and, more important, two voices on the other side. It was the
apothecary and Lord Wroxham. She quickly grabbed the fireplace poker
and stood quietly next to the hinges so that she would be behind the
door when it opened.
As he opened the
lock, Lord Wroxham said, “It is so good of you to come this early
Mr. Smith. I'm afraid my sister is still in a bad way.” Lord
Wroxham focused his attention on his sister. She seemed, if anything,
to be in a far worse condition than last night.
“I warned you
that her disease might progress in such a fashion.” He practically
rubbed his hands in glee. Sand fever, although almost never fatal,
often depressed the vital signs of its victims to where they seemed
dead. That's why the Xylub used it for kidnapping. Nearly dead bodies
tend not to put up much of a struggle. This practice avoided
unnecessary damage to the goods. When Lord Wroxham looked at him,
none of his excitement was visible. “I've sent for my good friend
Dr. Wesson. He may be able to help.”
“Is there
anything we can do?”
“Let me check
how she is breathing.” He walked to the bed and listened carefully
to Alice's chest. When he straightened and turned to report to Lord
Wroxham, he saw Cynthia standing by the door with the poker in her
hands at the ready. He responded by shouted, “Oh Crap!3
It's her.” Then he vanished in a shimmer of sparks. Cynthia
immediately held her hand to her earring and shouted, “Chris!
Silent running, Silent running!”
She was too late.
Her earrings were now just pearl earrings, and the communicator was
just a diary. The Xylub had released a neutrino pulse and fried her
communications. She sat at the foot of Alice's bed and wept.
Lord Wroxham sat
next to her and tried to comfort her. She cried on his shoulder,
which he found both disquieting and oddly interesting. He also found
himself feeling relieved that he wasn't wearing his best jacket.
“What is it Miss Morris?”
“I'm stranded,
alone.”
“What
happened?”
“Those bl-
bloody Xylub. They pulsed the planet as they left. I'm stuck on this
damned primitive backwater.” She resumed weeping.
“What is
happening with Alice, will she live?”
Cynthia looked up
at him. Then she seemed to pull her emotions back into control. Her
tears stopped. She said, “I'm sorry. This emotional display is just
not seemly.”
“Cynthia, there
are times you need to cry.”
“No there
aren't. I don't know what's come over me.”
He gave her a
hug. “It will be fine. I don't mind you crying on my shoulder. This
isn't my best jacket anyway.”
She ignored him.
Indeed, she pushed him away and said, “You must be worried about
your sister. She's fine. I gave her a sedative before you came in.
Her disease hurts like he- he- had-,” she paused, “is extremely
painful so it's best if she's asleep.”
“What's a
sedative?”
“A drug that
makes you sleep. She'll wake up this afternoon. She'll still be sore
for a few days, but the worst will be over. You don't need to send
Freddy away.”
“How do you
know?”
“She has sand
fever.”
“Never heard of
it.”
“I'd be shocked
if you had. It's not from Earth. The only reason I'm not lying
half-dead upstairs is I've already had it.”
“Oh, and these,
what was it, xub? What was that about?”
“Xylub. One of
the less pleasant species out there. They can pass as human if they
try, but are bad news all around. I'm sorry you had the pleasure of
meeting one of them.”
“What was he
doing here?”
“They are
masters of se- se-, the things husbands and wives do. It was
selecting young females for its harem.”
“It?”
Cynthia took a
deep breath, then tried to explain. “The Xylub have a complex set
of genders. At least four. So 'he' isn't really appropriate.”
“Four genders?
Wonder how they do it. Sounds like life there is interesting.”
“It's not.
They're also amoral, thieving and treacherous. I ha- had more than
one mission there. They were the only times I was ever truly scared.”
“Are you scared
now?”
“Worried. I'm
alone, without any warning if they come again.”
“But not
scared?”
“No.” She
gave his hand a squeeze. “Really, I'm not.”
Lord Wroxham
quietly asked her, “Cynthia? I know you have been chatting all the
time with your friend Chris. Is that really gone?”
“Yes, and I
don't know if they took him out too.” She started to cry then
controlled herself.
“Is there any
other way you can talk to him? I'm a fairly wealthy man, and if it's
just a matter of money.”
Cynthia smiled at
him, and then hugged him. Again it was a surprisingly pleasant
experience for both of them. “Thank you, There is, but you can't
buy what I need. A hundred, maybe even as little as fifty years from
now, we could easily do it. But not now and not here.”
He released her
and asked, “Try me. What do you need?”
“Power. Ten
kilowatts of power, and it has to be electric power.”
“A what of
what?”
“More energy
than London burns in a month all put together in one place at one
time.”
“Is that all?”
“A mile or so
of copper wire, some thin copper sheets and plate glass, insulators,
a galena crystal or iron filings. We can just go down to the local
shop and buy them. Can't we?”
“No, but I can
get them made if it would help you.”
She squeezed his
hand, then hugged him once more. “James, you're very generous. I
wish you could help me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I suppose if I
filled your hall with galvanic piles, then maybe.”
“It could be
arranged. I have some friends in the Royal Academy who would love to
try.”
Cynthia pulled
herself closer to Lord Wroxham's reassuring warmth. “I suppose,
next you'll tell me that we could just hire a ship to visit Iceland
and find Chris that way.”
“I wasn't, but
only because I didn't know he was in Iceland. When would you like to
go? It might be cheaper than all those piles. Less messy too.”
Cynthia began to
recover her normal spirits, which meant that it was just as well that
Hannah knocked gently on the door frame to attract their attention.
She was very well trained and would never comment on her master and
mistress's behavior. Nonetheless, she was scandalized to see Lord
Wroxham and Miss Morris sitting so closely together on Miss Wroxham's
bed. It was decidedly unseemly and confirmed her opinion that Miss
Morris was an altogether too forward young lady. She coughed her
disapproval then said, “If Miss Morris is to leave with Mr.
Alverston this morning, her clothes need to be packed now. I'd be
very glad to get started.”
Freddy walked
into the hall behind Hannah and she respectfully withdrew to give him
room at the door. “James, I spent the night thinking. I'm no
poltroon. Alice would never forgive me when she recovered if I fled
while she lay at death's door. Why don't we just put Miss Morris in a
local lodging for safety while Alice is ill?”
Realizing how
much he was breaching good decorum, and much to Cynthia's
displeasure, Lord Wroxham rose, and said, “Hannah, Freddy, Miss
Morris will be staying here. Miss Wroxham is not infectious and will
recover.”
Freddy replied,
“She looks dashed ill, almost dead lying there. What did Mr. Smith
say?”
Cynthia answered
him, “Nothing. Da- da-. That idiot. It's not scarlet fever. I've
sedated her. She's in a deep sleep. I'm sure she won't mind if you
want to listen to her breathing or take her pulse.”
“So you're now
Dr. Morris too? Who ever heard of a female doctor? James, we need to
find a real doctor for Alice.”
Cynthia erupted
in anger, “My basic training at the Academy makes me more qualified
than any of your blasted quacks, and all I have is general first aid.
I wouldn't trust one of your bloody doctors to tell the time of day.
They have no idea of what causes disease, barely understand the
circulation of blood and their idea of medicines will kill you.”
Freddy jumped back from her onslaught and Lord Wroxham, seeing her
passioned explosion, looked at her in a new light. She wasn't just a
bit of fluff. Cynthia stopped herself, took a deep breath and then
said, “I'm sorry for that outburst. My temper is too short. It's
just that I've been up all night with Alice and”
Lord Wroxham
continued for her, “Cynthia had some terrible news. A bereavement
in her family. It arrived by express this morning. Hannah, would you
take her to her room?”
“Sir.”
Cynthia gave him
a defiant glance and was about to object when he said, “Cynthia,
Freddy and I will watch Alice. We'll tell you if anything happens,
and I won't let anyone quack my sister. It really would be best for
you and for Alice if you rested.”
Cynthia was still
asleep late in the afternoon when a gentle knocking on her door woke
her. She asked, “Who is it?”
Alice quietly
opened the door and said, “Can I come in? I’ve brought a copy of
Miss Edgeworth’s ‘Belinda’. I thought we could read it
together. We missed yesterday’s reading.”
“It would make
a welcome change from all those Gothic romances. I think we’ve had
enough excitement for a long while.”
“Me too.”
“How are you
feeling?”
“Sore.”
“I’m pleased
you’re walking. It took me two days to be able to walk when I had
it.”
“You've had
this disease?”
“Years ago.
Nasty though. I still remember the pain.”
Later in the
afternoon, Hannah interrupted their reading when it was time to dress
for dinner. She was bursting with the news that had spread through
the servant’s grapevine. “Miss Morris, Miss Wroxham, have you
heard?”
“No, I
haven’t.”
“I guess not.
You being asleep and all. That tea shop, the Princess’s Choice.
It’s gone!”
Alice said, “What
do you mean gone?”
“It’s like
the whole building just vanished. And that Dr. Wesson, he was
treating Mrs. Robertson for her hysteria. She was just getting to her
crisis when he up and vanished. Her maid says it was like he turned
into a bunch of sparks.”
Cynthia asked,
“Any news about Mr. Smith, the apothecary?”
“No, he’s
missing too. Could it be a French plot?”
Alice gave
Cynthia a hard stare, then said, “Is there something you should
tell me about this?”
Cynthia smiled,
shrugged and said, “It's nothing to do with me, unfortunately.”
Later that night,
Hannah was helping Cynthia prepare for bed by brushing her hair. She
would brush it out, then dust in a small amount of powder and brush
that out. It kept the critters at bay.
She was quiet,
but finally had to ask, “Miss Morris?”
“Yes, Hannah.”
“Miss Wroxham
told me what you said to her. About those things. Is that true?”
“Unfortunately,
it is. They shouldn't be here, not now.”
Hannah sniffed.
“You stopped them, didn't you?”
“I didn't do
much. He left before I could even brain him with the poker.”
The next few
words were difficult for Hannah. “Miss Morris, are you aware that I
haven't always approved of you?”
“You didn't?”
“Thank you for
saying that, but I'm sure you are. I wish to apologize. I've known
Miss Wroxham since she was a little girl, she's almost my daughter.”
“I could tell,
Hannah. It didn't surprise me. I like her too.”
“I guess I was
a little jealous of your friendship. Thank you for helping her.”
Dr. Cynthia.
Young gentlewoman
after young gentlewoman came down with the mysterious fever. The
local apothecaries and doctors were helpless in preventing its
spread. Even the Prince was considering leaving Brighton, and that
would bring the season to an abrupt and premature end. Eventually
news of Miss Morris's miraculous cure of Miss Wroxham spread via the
servant's gossip to one of the stricken mothers.
Lady Westerly had
her footman knock at the Wroxham's while her carriage waited outside.
While she waited for the door, she recounted how much she disapproved
of Lord Wroxham. He had always overlooked her dear Mary, no matter
how much she had put her in his way. Now it seemed that she might not
have another chance. The Wroxham's doorman admitted her.
“Is Lord
Wroxham available?”
“I will see.
Ma'am. If you would come this way.” He escorted her to front parlor
and then passed the word to his superiors.
A few minutes
later, Lord Wroxham arrived. “Lady Westerly. What brings you to my
humble abode?”
Since his 'humble
abode' was fashionably painted and furnished in the first stare, she
understood the satire in his message.
“My Lord
Wroxham, is it true that your sister had this awful fever?”
“It is. She has
recovered. Indeed, I believe that she and her friend Miss Morris are
planning to go sea bathing this afternoon. To help their
constitutions.”
“I find a
little sea-bathing to be so bracing.” She hesitated, then bluntly
came to the point. “I was told by my maid that Miss Morris cured
your sister. Could she see my daughter?”
“I'll see if
she is willing.” He bowed and gracefully left the room. Alice and
Cynthia were enjoying the remains of their breakfast in the back
parlor. Freddy, exhausted from a late and expensive night of whist at
the Prince Regent's still slept. Alice was the first to notice her
brother and his distraction, “James? What is it?”
He hesitated,
then said, “Miss Morris, I'm afraid the news of your cure has
spread.”
“So?”
“I have Lady
Westerly waiting for you in the front parlor. She would like you to
see her daughter.”
“If it's really
the sand fever, there isn't much I can do. She'll eventually get
better, or she won't.”
Alice broke in,
“You cured me, didn't you?”
“The medicines
I gave you sped your healing, but as long as you didn't get quacked
by one of the local doctors, you would have healed by yourself. I
know I did.”
“So could you
see her? Consider it as a favor.”
“Mother of one
of your amours?”
“God forbid,
Mary Westerly was, is one of the most insipid young ladies of my
acquaintance.”
Alice countered
him, “No she's not. I like Mary.”
“She is.”
“Is not.”
“Maybe she's
not trying to impress you as a matrimonial candidate.”
“If so she’s
doing an excellent job of it.”
Alice added,
“Maybe she's not interested in you, but has to show willing for her
mother.”
“In any case,
God preserve me from marrying her.”
Alice replied,
“While it may come as a shock to you, My Lord, I'm sure she has the
same prayer.”
While they argued
Cynthia thought. She stopped them by saying, “The problem seems
simple to me. The right thing for me to do is nothing. How do I cure
her by doing nothing?”
“Sugar pills?”
“What did you
give me when I was ill?”
“Willow bark
tea. With a little ginger.”
“That's the
thing. Let's go beard this dragon in our den.”
Lady Westerly was
relieved to hear more than one person approach the parlor. Lord
Wroxham entered, followed closely by Alice and Cynthia. He bowed and
said, “You know my sister Alice. May I present our guest, Miss
Cynthia Morris.”
Cynthia stepped
forward and curtsied, “Lady Westerly, I am delighted to meet you.”
Lady Westerly
came right to the point, “Can you do anything about my daughter?”
“Maybe. It
depends why she's ill.”
“I was told you
cured Miss Wroxham. Did you?”
“I helped nurse
her through a difficult stage of the disease. If your daughter has
sand fever, I'd be happy to help.”
“Sand fever?”
“A disease from
the West Indies, where I was before I returned to England.”
“Miss Morris,
you are awfully fair for someone who spent much time in the Indies.”
“Did I say
Indies? How forgetful of me. It's an Eskimo disease, from my time in
Nova Scotia.”
“Whatever were
you doing there?”
“My late father
was trying to find the Northwest Passage. I'm sorry to say he didn't,
and I was sent to live with the head of his family Lord Petersborough
after he disappeared in a blizzard and my mother died of frostbite.
My mother and I thought he was eaten by a polar bear.”
“Old Lord
Petersborough? I find that hard to believe.”
“He found me
too active for his comfort and recommended me to Lord Wroxham. So
here I am.”
“That's quite a
tale, young lady.” Lady Westerly turned to Lord Wroxham. She gave
him an icy stare and said, “I presume you believe her?” He gave
Cynthia a teasing smile, which caused her to hold her breath, but
replied, “Absolutely, and I checked her references.”
Alice added,
“Lady Westerly, if you would give us time to prepare, I'm sure both
Cynthia and I would be happy to accompany you to see your daughter.”
“My carriage is
waiting outside.”
Cynthia was quick
on the uptake, and said “I'm sorry, Lady Westerly, I didn't realize
you were so worried. I apologize for my persiflage. Alice, if you're
coming with me, let's go.” Then she strode out towards the main
door. Alice and Lady Westerly followed.
Lady Westerly led
the way once they arrived at her townhouse. When they finally arrived
at her daughter's room she gave Cynthia an anxious look and said, “I
do hope you can help. I'm at my wit's end about her.”
“If it's what
Miss Wroxham had, I'll be able to. Otherwise, I'm not sure.”
They opened the
door and found Miss Westerly lying on the bed with the local surgeon
preparing to bleed her. Cynthia shouted, “What are you doing to
her?”
He looked up at
his visitors and said, “Dr. Weston believes her humors are out of
balance and recommended a thorough bleeding.”
“Well stop it
right now. That is completely the wrong thing for Miss Westerly.”
He asked, “Lady
Westerly, what is your opinion?”
“I've asked
Miss Morris to come and give her opinion. She is uniquely experienced
in this disease.”
“Oh. She is, is
she?”
“Yes I am. How
many of your other patients have the illness?”
“All the one's
I've bled.”
“How thoroughly
do you wash your fleem?”
“Well,” he
paused, “I always wipe it off between patients, and I usually
sharpen it.”
“Did it ever
occur to you that you might be spreading the disease?”
“No. I'm just
adjusting their humors. It will cure them.”
Cynthia appeared
to turn her gaze heaven-ward while she prayed for strength. In fact
she was cursing the surgeon, his morals, manners, and general
understanding of human biology. Unfortunately her conditioning was
interfering with her speech. While this undoubtedly deprived her
companions of a much expanded and colorful vocabulary, it left a much
better impression than her words would have. Eventually she
controlled herself and said, “Mr. I'm sorry I didn't catch your
name.”
“Mr. Davis. I'm
a fully qualified surgeon, and not just a barber-surgeon. I'll have
you know that.”
“Yes, yes, Mr.
Davis, I understand that you're qualified, and you're not happy that
a young woman is telling you what to do. Tough. This disease, like
many, is spread by blood. When you don't properly clean your
instruments you will harm your patients.”
“What would you
have me do?”
“At least boil
the knife between patients, and don't handle the blade with your
fingers.”
“Maybe I'll try
that, then maybe I won't. It sounds like magic to me. Are you going
to let me get on with it?”
“No. Please let
me examine Miss Westerly before you hack her up.” Cynthia forced
her way past the man and started to look at Mary. It didn't take long
for her to make a diagnosis. “That is sand fever. Her pulse and
responsiveness are exactly right.”
Mary stirred in
response to Cynthia's prodding. “Who are you?”
“I don't think
we've met, but I'm one of Miss Wroxham's friends. Miss Morris.”
“Oh. I hurt.”
“I'm not
surprised. It is going to hurt worse soon. Alice, did you bring that
recipe?”
“The one with
the willow bark?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Davis
exploded, “Not that old wives' tale about using willow bark for
fever and pain! Now get out of my way young lady and let me bleed the
patient.”
Lady Westerly
stopped him. “Mr Davis, you bled my daughter yesterday and she's
worse today. Why do you think it will work?”
“It's what we
do to treat fevers. Balance the humors in the body. They are out of
balance, and your daughter has too much blood so it is important to
bleed her. If she were jaundiced, we'd try to remove the bile.”
“When did she
last eat?”
Lady Westerly
answered, “The day before yesterday.”
“Since she
hasn't eaten for two days, how did she get more blood?”
Mr. Davis didn't
have an answer for this. Lady Westerly continued, “I'd like to try
Miss Morris's approach. It can't hurt. If Mary isn't better tomorrow
you can bleed her then.”
Cynthia inspected
Mary's arms while this conversation was underway. She found where
Mary had been bled the day before, and called attention to it. “Mr.
Davis, is this where you bled Miss Westerly yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“See how it is
red, inflamed?”
“It usually
does that as a part of the healing. Why?”
“That's from
the filth on your knife. Lady Westerly, I'll need some hot salt water
for a poultice, a fomentation to draw it out before it can harm your
daughter.”
Mr. Davis
assembled every tiny bit of his dignity, drew himself to his full
height and announced, “I will not stay here and watch this amateur
endanger your daughter's health, Lady Westerly. I will return this
afternoon, and I hope by then you will have seen the error of your
ways.” He bowed and left the room. A footman escorted him out and
shut the door behind him.
Cynthia smiled,
“Well, that's that. Alice, would you give the prescription to Lady
Westerly. The willow bark is the most important part, and the ginger
helps make it potable.”
Lady Westerly
stared intensely at Cynthia, before she said, “I hope you are
correct, young lady.”
“Other than
being butchered on her arm, your daughter is already on the mend.”
It was an hour
after the midday nuncheon when both Mr. Davis and his associate Dr.
Joyce paid a visit to the Westerly residence. Mr. Davis brought his
friend to help argue with this recalcitrant woman and get her to see
sense. If he didn't bleed Miss Westerly there was no telling what
would happen to her.
What did happen
to her was exactly what Cynthia expected. She was sitting up in bed,
having consumed a pint of the willow tea. Her fever was down, her
spirits were high and she was listening intently as her friend Alice
was reading from a Gothic romance. Cynthia was in another room
explaining to Lady Westerly how she expected Mary to progress over
the next few days. “She may occasionally relapse into a fever, but
the willow tea will help with that.”
“I'll make sure
we have a supply ready.”
“And she'll
feel very achy. Almost as if someone had beaten her with a cudgel.”
“Sounds
horrible.”
“It is. Have
her exercise gently at first, overdoing it will leave her in pain.
I'm much more worried about that inflammation from where she was
hacked up. So keep up with the fomentations.”
The surgeon and
the doctor were introduced and the four of them proceeded to Mary's
room. One look at the patient convinced them that she was improving.
Mr. Davis said, with a smug look, “You see, Lady Westerly, that
bleeding I performed on your daughter yesterday has cured her.”
Cynthia clenched
her fists, but bit her tongue. Some levels of arrogant ignorance were
unassailable.
When Alice and
Cynthia returned home in the late afternoon, Freddy was finally
awake. Alice noticed something was wrong with him and asked, “Freddy,
what is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? You
didn't drink too much again last night, did you? You look like you
did that time in London.”
“No I didn't
drink too much.” He paused, “Alice.”
“Yes?”
“I'm going to
have to rusticate.”
“What?”
“I lost more
last night than I can afford. All of this quarter's allowance and
next quarter’s. Then some.”
“Oh.”
“Lord White has
my vowels. M'father will pay them, but he'll insist that I stay with
the family in the country.”
Alice stifled a
sob, “Your father doesn't approve of me, does he?”
“He doesn't
approve of anyone in the ton. Thinks you're all flighty, unsuitable.
Said I'd soon be run off my feet if I went to London.”
Cynthia listened
to this melancholy discussion with growing anger. “Mr. Alverston,
how much did you drop?”
“Two-thousand,
five hundred, three and eight.”
“I'm sure Lord
Wroxham would loan you that.”
“I have my
pride. I won't put the bite on James.”
“Then there is
one option left. Are you invited to return to the tables?”
“Oh yes, they
said I was welcome back tonight. As long as I wanted to try to
recover. They said it was just bad beginner's luck.”
“Take me with
you.”
Alice shot out,
“Cynthia!”
“Alice, I’m
not going dancing with him or anything silly like that. It can't have
been a fair game if he lost that much. I've knocked my way around
more than a few card sharps.”
Freddy replied,
“It must have been, Lord White, the Prince and Lord Grey where at
the table. All honorable men.”
“Freddy,
honorable men do not gull-catch. How often have you gambled before?”
“Other than
chicken-stakes whist at college?”
“Yes, only
high-stakes gambling.”
“That was my
first time.”
“Let tonight be
your last.”
That evening,
Freddy and Cynthia slipped out and found their way to the Pavilion.
Freddy led her to the back room where the prince and his cronies were
engaged in private pursuits. Lord White effusively greeted them,
“Back for a rematch, Mr. Alverston?”
“Yes.” he
replied. His grim visage hid his internal qualms.
“And I see
you've brought a pretty eyeful with you. What is your name miss?”
“Miss Morris.
Miss Cynthia Morris. If I'm backing my friend, I thought it best to
watch the game.”
“Do you have
the blunt?”
Cynthia pulled a
roll of banknotes from her reticule. “I think these will do, don't
you?”
Freddy hurriedly
whispered in her ear, “Miss Morris! No! That must be all your
money.”
She replied in an
equally furtive way, “Don't worry, they're counterfeit. No point in
risking real money with these card sharps.”
Freddy blanched,
but joined the table with the two Lords and the Prince. The Prince
surveyed his partners and noticing Cynthia, said, “I say, Mr.
Alverston, if you would be my partner then I could watch your elegant
companion from across the table.”
“If you wish,
your highness.”
“I'm not known
as 'the man' for nothing.” As he was fat, blotchy and his obvious
corset creaked as he breathed, Cynthia was not favorably impressed
with 'the man'. The decided ‘odor of nobility’ that was barely
masked by primrose and lavender water didn’t help.
The play began,
and as before, Lord White seemed to have uncanny luck while Freddy
could barely hold his own. Cynthia tapped him on the shoulder, “Mr.
Alverston, would you let me play in your place?”
Lord White
started to object, when the Prince overruled him. “I always enjoy
playing with the fair company.” Cynthia kept her thoughts of “I'm
sure you do, and given your health, I'll bet playing is about all you
can do.” to herself. Instead, she gracefully replaced Freddy at the
table, and said, “Now we should have some amusement.”
She may have
enjoyed it, but Lord White and Lord Grey did not. Their uncanny luck
vanished with her play. An hour later she rose and curtsied before
saying, as she handed Lord White a few bills, “I believe this
covers Mr. Alverston's vowels.”
Still in shock,
he nodded.
“Does it?”
“Yes.” He
produced them, then tore them in two.
“Thank you.”
She turned to Freddy and handing him a small bundle of notes said,
“Mr. Alverston, please take these with you. It's a small profit. I
strongly suggest you invest it in entertaining Miss Wroxham. She was
most distressed by your plight, and that may help to make amends.
Please do not gamble again. I may not be able to rescue you next
time.”
“Yes, what are
you planning to do?”
“I believe the
Prince wanted to show me his etchings. I have heard that he has
exquisite taste. I shall return later.”
She watched as
the prince took the deck of cards from the table and put it in his
pocket. Then she followed him off to one of the galleries where he
displayed his art collection.
When he returned
home Freddy found Alice and her brother in the parlor. He joyfully
exclaimed that Cynthia had rescued him and he even had a small
profit. “Alice, I thought we could go to the theater tomorrow.”
Lord Wroxham
frowned, “Where is Miss Morris?”
“The prince
wanted to show her his etchings.”
“What!”
“She
accompanied him to the gallery.”
“And you let
her go with him?”
“Yes, was I
wrong?”
“Very. Now if
you'll excuse me, I must rescue my ward. I only hope I'm not too
late.”
Lord Wroxham
wasn't too late, but when he forced his way to a room in the far
recesses of the pavilion, he found a distressing sight. The Prince
and Cynthia were playing cards for clothing. She had one glove in
play, while the Prince was down to his corset. As Lord Wroxham pushed
the door open he heard, “Your Highness, I think we've played
enough, I'd much rather you left your corset on.”
“Then I'll play
you for a forfeit.”
“No, I really
must be getting home. My guardian will be worried.”
Lord Wroxham
coughed, and they both looked at him. He bowed, “Your Highness.”
“Lord Wroxham,”
Cynthia gushed, “I'm so glad you are here. I need a witness.”
“A witness?”
She turned to the
Prince and said, “Next time you play strip piquet, please don't use
a marked deck.”
“A marked
deck?”
“How do you
think we came to this, my first glove is still in play against your
corset?”
“Oh.”
“I'm glad you
weren't aware of it, sir. Who gave you the deck?”
“Lord White
usually supplies me. I always do very well when we gamble together.”
“I might
reconsider playing with him, your highness. Now if you'll excuse me,
my guardian probably has some choice words for me.” She rose,
curtsied to the Prince and then to Lord Wroxham, “Don't you?”
He glowered at
her, but said, “On the way home, you wayward piece of baggage.”
Then he too bowed to the prince and they left.
On the way home
he was about to tell Cynthia how much she upset him, when she smiled
at him and said, “Thank you for rescuing me. The prince kept
proposing various forfeits instead of his corset, and as they were
all obscenely biological it was more than a little difficult. He just
wouldn’t take no for an answer. I couldn't think how to end the
game with any degree of politeness or respect. I was about to just
leave.”
“You shouldn't
have gone unaccompanied with him to see his etchings.”
“No I shouldn't
have. You're right. I thought I could handle him. He didn't even get
close to an improper act.”
“It's more your
reputation, dear Miss Cynthia, that you have to worry about. People
will think you're fast.”
“I am fast, but
I'm not easy.”
“You know what
I mean, and you must think of Alice's reputation as well. She cannot
associate with a woman of poor repute.”
She smiled at him
again, which put him off his stride. “I'm sorry James. It's just I
find it so hard to decline a challenge. By the way, would you like
this?” She handed him one of the Prince's fobs. “I don't think
this is part of the crown jewels.”
“Where did you
get that?”
“From a certain
distinguished gentleman's vest.”
“The Prince’s?”
“Of course,
whose else? If he makes a fuss, just show it to him. I'm sure our
evening didn't go the way he planned, and he'd soon like to forget
it.”
“I doubt you'll
be invited to dance at the Pavilion again.”
Cynthia sighed,
“Oh dear. To miss such a hot, overcrowded and not just noisy, but
noisome event. I shall forever be heartbroken.”
“It means
social ostracism.”
She stopped in
the middle of the pavement and turned to face Lord Wroxham. “James,
please listen to me. The Prince was gambling with a marked deck. I
know it. He knows I know it. We won't hear anything about tonight,
because he won't want that rumor spread. It's not something 'the man'
should do, is it?”
“You're sure?”
“He isn't the
first monarch I've crossed paths with.”
“I suppose
you’ve been familiar with many Princes?”
“James,”
Cynthia flashed him a smile, “I’d have played differently with a
handsome young man like you.”
Lord Wroxham's
annoyance with her made him miss her point. “Cynthia, I'm serious
about this. You must behave with the decorum expected of a young lady
of breeding.”
“James, I'll do
my best to conduct myself as you see fit. Mark my words, there will
be no repercussions from this, and we'll be invited to the next ball.
You'll see.”
1This
was a cheeky choice of a name, since the Prince of Wales did not
like his wife, and Brighton was his town.
2Lest
this sound like a modern idea, consider Mrs. Jennings and Mrs.
Palmer's very evident and sensible fear of an infection in 'Sense
and Sensibility' when Marianne is ill. The concept of infection was
understood, but not the mechanism.
3Translators
note. Again. He shouted 'ubut xialen shosha' in the Xylub coastal
dialect. Unfortunately this translates as “The gods are against me
and I'm knee deep in their excrement.” “Oh Crap” is a
reasonably idiomatic translation.
No comments:
Post a Comment