Frederica (40 page)

He said, pleasantly, but with a faint touch of hauteur: “Why should you, indeed? I fancy you must be Miss Judbrook: I am Lord Alverstoke. I should like to see the doctor, if you please.”

Miss Judbrook was so much overcome that she dropped a slight curtsy, and said: “Yes, my lord!” However, she was a redoubtable woman, and she made a swift recovery. “I hope I’m not an unfeeling woman, my lord, nor one as doesn’t know her duty, but it’s none of my business to be nursing boys which fall out of balloons, and I can’t and I won’t undertake it, as Judbrook should have known, instead of having him brought here without a word to me, let alone calling Betty out of the dairy to sit with him!
I’m
not going to do her work, so he needn’t think it! I’m sure I’m very sorry for the young gentleman, but as for having him laid up here, as bad as he is, and having to be sat with, and waited on hand and foot, I haven’t the time nor the patience to do it, which I told Dr Elcot to his head. And if Mrs Hucknall sets foot inside this house I leave it, and that’s flat!”

“Yes, well, all these matters can no doubt be arranged—when I have had word with the doctor!” said Alverstoke.

Miss Judbrook sniffed resentfully, but his evident boredom disconcerted her. She said, rather more mildly: “I’m sure I hope so, my lord! The doctor’s in my parlour—mussing it up with his splints and his bandages, and bowls of water, and I don’t know what more beside! This way!”

She opened a door on the left of the passage, saying: “This is my Lord Alverstoke, wanting to see you, doctor, and the little boy’s brother. And I’ll be obliged to you not to slop any more water on to my new carpet!”

“Oh, go away, woman, go away!” said the doctor testily.

Contrary to Jessamy’s eager expectation, the doctor and the second of the two aeronauts were the only people in the room. The aeronaut, his brow adorned with sticking-plaster, was sitting in a chair by the table, while the doctor was bandaging his splinted forearm.

“Felix?” Jessamy blurted out. “My brother?”

The doctor paused in his task to direct a penetrating glance at him from under his bushy brows. “His brother, are you? Well, there’s no need for you to be in a stew: he hasn’t managed to kill himself!” He transferred his gaze to Alverstoke, and favoured him with a nod. “Good-day to you, my lord. Are you related to the boy?”

“Cousin, and—er—guardian!” said Alverstoke.

The doctor, continuing his work, said: “Then you’ll give me leave to tell you, my lord, that you’re a mighty careless guardian!”

“So, indeed, it would appear,” agreed Alverstoke. “How badly is the boy hurt?”

“Early days to tell you that. He suffered a severe concussion, cut his face open, and sprained a wrist, but there are no bones broken, barring a couple of ribs. Badly bruised, of course. He came round half-an-hour ago. Complained of headache. Which might mean—”

“That would be the altitude!” said his present patient. “Many people suffer from acute headache when—”

“I’m not an ignoramus!” growled the doctor. “Keep still!”

“Is he—has he—injured his brain?” asked Jessamy, as though he dreaded to hear the answer.

The doctor shot another of his piercing looks at him. “No reason to think so. He wasn’t himself—couldn’t expect him to be—but he knew what had happened to him, I think. Sang out that he
couldn’t,
and some gabble about falling.”

Again the aeronaut intervened, addressing himself to Alverstoke. “I thought he was safe, my lord! Everything was going well till we started the descent! That was when we veered. You see, when you drop down close to the earth—”

“Yes, I understand that you frequently meet winds that were not encountered at higher altitudes,” interrupted Alverstoke. “Also that you were blown amongst trees. Never mind why! just tell me, if you please, what happened when you became entangled with—an elm tree, wasn’t it?”

“Yes—that is, it may have been an elm, my lord! I don’t know anything about trees. When Mr Oulton saw that we weren’t going to clear it, which we should have done, if the valve hadn’t stuck, when he tried to close it, he shouted to
me
to grab hold of a branch, and climb out of the boat on to it. ‘You first, Beenish, and lend the boy a hand!’ he told me. Which I did, and it was easy enough, and there wasn’t much danger either, as long as the weight was taken out of the boat, so that it wouldn’t break through the branches, and crash down on to the ground. The valve being open, and the gas escaping pretty fast, there was no fear the balloon would rise again, you understand. And the little chap wasn’t a scrap afraid! That I’ll swear to! Cool as a cucumber, he was, and thinking of nothing but ways of controlling balloons! ‘Don’t be in a worry about me!’ he said. ‘I shall do!’ Which I never doubted, my lord! There was Mr Oulton, helping him to climb out of the boat, and I was just thinking he wouldn’t want me to lend him a hand when he suddenly seemed to lose his head. At least—I don’t know, but I can’t think what else it could have been, for it looked to me as if he had hold of the branch all right and tight, though it all happened so quickly, of course, that I can’t be sure of that. All I do know is that he cried out: ‘I can’t!’ and—and fell! My lore], I swear I did my best! I tried to grab hold of him, but I lost my balance, and the next thing was that 7 fell out of the tree!”

Jessamy, who had been listening to him in gathering incredulity, exclaimed: “
Felix
?
Why, he climbs like a cat!”

“Young man,” said the doctor, “if you don’t know why your brother couldn’t grasp the branch I can tell you! His hands were numb with cold, that’s why!”

“O my God!” uttered Beenish. “He never said—”

“Don’t suppose he knew it. Knew they were frozen. Didn’t know he couldn’t use ‘em. Only a boy—excited too!”

Beenish, looking at the Marquis, was plainly torn between a feeling of guilt and a desire to exculpate himself from blame. He said: “My lord, it wasn’t our fault! Maybe I should have sent him about his business, but he wasn’t doing any harm, and as Mr Oulton said himself, he’s such an intelligent little fellow—not like most of his age, only wanting to see the balloon go up for the marvel of it, and not caring for what makes it rise, or—”

“Pray don’t think I blame you!” said the Marquis. “If anyone is to blame it is I, for he was in my charge.”

“Not your blame! Mine—mine!” Jessamy said, in a stifled voice.

“The thing was, my lord, we never suspected what he meant to do! But I can’t deny I did say we should be happy to take him up with us, never dreaming—He begged us to, you see, and Mr Oulton answered him a bit sharply, telling him he was much too young, and—well, he looked so
hurt
—if your lordship knows what I mean?—”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said the Marquis grimly.

“Well, that’s how it was, my lord! I told him we couldn’t take him without his father’s consent—and Mr Oulton bore me out! Yes, and it was him which said if we took up a boy which was under age, without his Pa’s consent, we should be clapped into jail, not me!” A reminiscent grin stole over Mr Beenish’s face. “And damme if the little rogue didn’t throw it up at him, when we’d hauled him into the boat! ‘It’s all hollow!’ he told Mr Oulton, game as a pebble! ‘You won’t be clapped into jail,’ he said, ‘because I haven’t
got
a
father!’ “ A chuckle escaped him. “Pluck to the backbone!” he said. “
His
nerves won’t ever lose their steel! When I saw him clinging to that rope, and the balloon rising fast, as they do, my lord, I thought he was bound to take fright, and do something silly, and much good it was for us to shout to him to hold tight! But he did, and we got him in, like you saw. Ay, and he enjoyed every minute of the flight, even though the teeth were chattering in his head!” A groan from Jessamy made him turn his head. “We did the best we could, sir, but there wasn’t much we
could
do.”

“No, I know. And you saved him. I—I am very grateful. Sir, where is he? Can I see him?”

“Oh, yes, you can see him!” replied the doctor. “He’s upstairs, snugly tucked into bed: first door to the right of the stairs. You go and sit with him, and tell the girl I left there that she can go back to the dairy. He’s sound asleep, and don’t you dare try to rouse him! And don’t fall into despair because his head’s bound up! I’ve had to put a couple of stitches in his face!”

“No,” said Jessamy humbly. “If he wakes shall I call you?”

“He won’t wake: I’ve drugged him, for I want him to sleep for as long as possible. Off with you!” He watched Jessamy hurry out of the room, grimaced at Alverstoke, and adjusted the sling he had knotted round Beenish’s neck. “I’ve done with you now,” he said. “Let it be a lesson to you! If the Almighty had meant men to fly He’d have provided us with wings! You’d best sit still for a while.”

“Oh, this is nothing!” Beenish said cheerfully. “I’m in a capital way, doctor—thanking you for what you’ve done! I only wish the little fellow hadn’t had the worst of it. I’ll be off now to see if they’ve rescued the balloon.”

“More guts than brains!” said the doctor, as the door shut, behind Beenish. “Balloons—! What next, pray?”

“Felix might furnish you with the answer: I can’t,” replied Alverstoke, stripping off his driving-coat, and casting it over a chair. “Now, doctor, if you please! How seriously is that boy hurt?”

The doctor, packing the instruments of his trade into his bag, said gruffly: “Ask me tomorrow, my lord. I wasn’t shamming it when I told you it was early days yet. Not but what I would have done so, while that brother of his was here! I know his kind, and I don’t want him on my hands as well. More nerves than flesh! Well, the other one—what do you call him? Felix?—ay, well, he’s broken no bones but what I told you, and you’ve no need to trouble yourself over a couple of ribs. He’s suffered a severe shock, however—which is why I’ve given him pretty well as much laudanum as he can hold! In general, I don’t do so—don’t believe in it!—but in such cases as this it’s of the first importance to keep the patient quiet. I don’t set much store by the headpains, but there’s no knowing yet, and if you’re thinking of removing him from here, my lord, you’ll do it against my advice!”

“Rest assured, doctor, that I have no such intention!”

“Good! But, unless I’m much mistaken, the boy will need careful nursing, and there’s the rub. Judbrook is a decent fellow, but that sister of his can’t be depended on,, and the devil of it is I can’t send in a nurse. There’s only one hereabouts, and she has a cross-birth on her hands—”

“If,” interrupted his lordship, “you are referring to a Mrs Hucknall, we need not waste our time in discussing her merits! Miss Judbrook has already informed me that when Mrs Hucknall enters the house,
she
will leave it. Let me reassure you on one point at least! Tomorrow, either Felix’s aunt, or, more probably, his sister, Miss Merriville, will come here to nurse him. Now tell me, without roundaboutation, what it is that you fear!”

Dr Elcot, strapping his bag, did not answer for a moment. He was frowning heavily, and at last said: “That boy, my lord, was cold to the marrow!”

“My guardianship is of very recent date, but I have it, on the authority of Miss Merriville, that Felix is subject to some chest-complaint, which she called bronchitis.”

The doctor snorted. “Oh, yes! A new word for an old complaint! If nothing worse than that befalls him, he may think himself fortunate! I’m saying no more until I know more, my lord. We shall see! Polly Judbrook is a cross-grained spinster, but at least she had enough sense to wrap the boy up in blankets, and to put a hot brick to his feet. He’s a stout-looking lad, too—an excellent constitution, I should suppose!” He added brusquely: “Send for one of your London practitioners, if you choose, my lord: I’ve no objection! He can tell you no more, at this present, than I can, and he wouldn’t give you any other directions. Keep the boy warm, and quiet, let him drink as much barley-water as he likes—I’ve told Polly to make some, and she’ll do it, never fear—and if he should be feverish, give him a saline draught! I’ll make one up, and send my man over with it. No hot wine, mind, or any other old woman’s remedy!” He paused, and eyed the Marquis doubtfully. “I take it your lordship means to remain with him?”

“Naturally! But as I have little or no experience of illness, and have never before attempted to nurse a sick person, I shall be obliged to you, doctor, if you will tell me exactly what I am to expect, and to do; and where, in case of need, you are to be found.”

“Anyone here could tell you that; and if there were to be any alarming change in the boy’s condition Jud-brook would send one of his lads to fetch me. I might come, too,” he said, with a flash of mordant humour, “for you look to me like a rational man, my lord: not one to fly into a great fuss because a sick boy might become a trifle delirious when the drug wears off. His case isn’t desperate. I’ll visit him in the morning.”

When the doctor had gone away, the Marquis spent several minutes considering his situation. It was certainly unusual; and while he was prepared to deal with it without losing either his head or his sangfroid, he could have wished, glancing at the few scribbled reminders the doctor had given him, that these instructions had been rather more extensive. He looked a little ruefully at the paper, before folding it, and slipping it into his pocketbook, and going out to find Curry.

“Properly in the briars we are, my lord!” said Curry. “They tell me—Betty, and the old griffin—that Master Felix is going to cut his stick, but I hope and trust that ain’t so?”

“No, I think not. Curry, I’m going to send you back to London.”