The Woman in White (57 page)

After giving us some useful directions about the management of the
patient, and mentioning that he would come again in five days'
time, the physician withdrew to consult in private with Mr.
Dawson. He would offer no opinion on Miss Halcombe's chances of
recovery—he said it was impossible at that stage of the illness
to pronounce one way or the other.

The five days passed anxiously.

Countess Fosco and myself took it by turns to relieve Mrs.
Rubelle, Miss Halcombe's condition growing worse and worse, and
requiring our utmost care and attention. It was a terribly trying
time. Lady Glyde (supported, as Mr. Dawson said, by the constant
strain of her suspense on her sister's account) rallied in the
most extraordinary manner, and showed a firmness and determination
for which I should myself never have given her credit. She
insisted on coming into the sick-room two or three times every
day, to look at Miss Halcombe with her own eyes, promising not to
go too close to the bed, if the doctor would consent to her wishes
so far. Mr. Dawson very unwillingly made the concession required
of him—I think he saw that it was hopeless to dispute with her.
She came in every day, and she self-denyingly kept her promise. I
felt it personally so distressing (as reminding me of my own
affliction during my husband's last illness) to see how she
suffered under these circumstances, that I must beg not to dwell
on this part of the subject any longer. It is more agreeable to
me to mention that no fresh disputes took place between Mr. Dawson
and the Count. His lordship made all his inquiries by deputy, and
remained continually in company with Sir Percival downstairs.

On the fifth day the physician came again and gave us a little
hope. He said the tenth day from the first appearance of the
typhus would probably decide the result of the illness, and he
arranged for his third visit to take place on that date. The
interval passed as before—except that the Count went to London
again one morning and returned at night.

On the tenth day it pleased a merciful Providence to relieve our
household from all further anxiety and alarm. The physician
positively assured us that Miss Halcombe was out of danger. "She
wants no doctor now—all she requires is careful watching and
nursing for some time to come, and that I see she has." Those
were his own words. That evening I read my husband's touching
sermon on Recovery from Sickness, with more happiness and
advantage (in a spiritual point of view) than I ever remember to
have derived from it before.

The effect of the good news on poor Lady Glyde was, I grieve to
say, quite overpowering. She was too weak to bear the violent
reaction, and in another day or two she sank into a state of
debility and depression which obliged her to keep her room. Rest
and quiet, and change of air afterwards, were the best remedies
which Mr. Dawson could suggest for her benefit. It was fortunate
that matters were no worse, for, on the very day after she took to
her room, the Count and the doctor had another disagreement—and
this time the dispute between them was of so serious a nature that
Mr. Dawson left the house.

I was not present at the time, but I understood that the subject
of dispute was the amount of nourishment which it was necessary to
give to assist Miss Halcombe's convalescence after the exhaustion
of the fever. Mr. Dawson, now that his patient was safe, was less
inclined than ever to submit to unprofessional interference, and
the Count (I cannot imagine why) lost all the self-control which
he had so judiciously preserved on former occasions, and taunted
the doctor, over and over again, with his mistake about the fever
when it changed to typhus. The unfortunate affair ended in Mr.
Dawson's appealing to Sir Percival, and threatening (now that he
could leave without absolute danger to Miss Halcombe) to withdraw
from his attendance at Blackwater Park if the Count's interference
was not peremptorily suppressed from that moment. Sir Percival's
reply (though not designedly uncivil) had only resulted in making
matters worse, and Mr. Dawson had thereupon withdrawn from the
house in a state of extreme indignation at Count Fosco's usage of
him, and had sent in his bill the next morning.

We were now, therefore, left without the attendance of a medical
man. Although there was no actual necessity for another doctor—
nursing and watching being, as the physician had observed, all
that Miss Halcombe required—I should still, if my authority had
been consulted, have obtained professional assistance from some
other quarter, for form's sake.

The matter did not seem to strike Sir Percival in that light. He
said it would be time enough to send for another doctor if Miss
Halcombe showed any signs of a relapse. In the meanwhile we had
the Count to consult in any minor difficulty, and we need not
unnecessarily disturb our patient in her present weak and nervous
condition by the presence of a stranger at her bedside. There was
much that was reasonable, no doubt, in these considerations, but
they left me a little anxious nevertheless. Nor was I quite
satisfied in my own mind of the propriety of our concealing the
doctor's absence as we did from Lady Glyde. It was a merciful
deception, I admit—for she was in no state to bear any fresh
anxieties. But still it was a deception, and, as such, to a
person of my principles, at best a doubtful proceeding.

A second perplexing circumstance which happened on the same day,
and which took me completely by surprise, added greatly to the
sense of uneasiness that was now weighing on my mind.

I was sent for to see Sir Percival in the library. The Count, who
was with him when I went in, immediately rose and left us alone
together. Sir Percival civilly asked me to take a seat, and then,
to my great astonishment, addressed me in these terms—

"I want to speak to you, Mrs. Michelson, about a matter which I
decided on some time ago, and which I should have mentioned
before, but for the sickness and trouble in the house. In plain
words, I have reasons for wishing to break up my establishment
immediately at this place—leaving you in charge, of course, as
usual. As soon as Lady Glyde and Miss Halcombe can travel they
must both have change of air. My friends, Count Fosco and the
Countess, will leave us before that time to live in the
neighbourhood of London, and I have reasons for not opening the
house to any more company, with a view to economising as carefully
as I can. I don't blame you, but my expenses here are a great
deal too heavy. In short, I shall sell the horses, and get rid of
all the servants at once. I never do things by halves, as you
know, and I mean to have the house clear of a pack of useless
people by this time to-morrow."

I listened to him, perfectly aghast with astonishment.

"Do you mean, Sir Percival, that I am to dismiss the indoor
servants under my charge without the usual month's warning?" I
asked.

"Certainly I do. We may all be out of the house before another
month, and I am not going to leave the servants here in idleness,
with no master to wait on."

"Who is to do the cooking, Sir Percival, while you are still
staying here?"

"Margaret Porcher can roast and boil—keep her. What do I want
with a cook if I don't mean to give any dinner-parties?"

"The servant you have mentioned is the most unintelligent servant
in the house, Sir Percival."

"Keep her, I tell you, and have a woman in from the village to do
the cleaning and go away again. My weekly expenses must and shall
be lowered immediately. I don't send for you to make objections,
Mrs. Michelson—I send for you to carry out my plans of economy.
Dismiss the whole lazy pack of indoor servants to-morrow, except
Porcher. She is as strong as a horse—and we'll make her work
like a horse."

"You will excuse me for reminding you, Sir Percival, that if the
servants go to-morrow they must have a month's wages in lieu of a
month's warning."

"Let them! A month's wages saves a month's waste and gluttony in
the servants' hall."

This last remark conveyed an aspersion of the most offensive kind
on my management. I had too much self-respect to defend myself
under so gross an imputation. Christian consideration for the
helpless position of Miss Halcombe and Lady Glyde, and for the
serious inconvenience which my sudden absence might inflict on
them, alone prevented me from resigning my situation on the spot.
I rose immediately. It would have lowered me in my own estimation
to have permitted the interview to continue a moment longer.

"After that last remark, Sir Percival, I have nothing more to say.
Your directions shall be attended to." Pronouncing those words, I
bowed my head with the most distant respect, and went out of the
room.

The next day the servants left in a body. Sir Percival himself
dismissed the grooms and stablemen, sending them, with all the
horses but one, to London. Of the whole domestic establishment,
indoors and out, there now remained only myself, Margaret Porcher,
and the gardener—this last living in his own cottage, and being
wanted to take care of the one horse that remained in the stables.

With the house left in this strange and lonely condition—with the
mistress of it ill in her room—with Miss Halcombe still as
helpless as a child—and with the doctor's attendance withdrawn
from us in enmity—it was surely not unnatural that my spirits
should sink, and my customary composure be very hard to maintain.
My mind was ill at ease. I wished the poor ladies both well
again, and I wished myself away from Blackwater Park.

The next event that occurred was of so singular a nature that it
might have caused me a feeling of superstitious surprise, if my
mind had not been fortified by principle against any pagan
weakness of that sort. The uneasy sense of something wrong in the
family which had made me wish myself away from Blackwater Park,
was actually followed, strange to say, by my departure from the
house. It is true that my absence was for a temporary period
only, but the coincidence was, in my opinion, not the less
remarkable on that account.

My departure took place under the following circumstances—

A day or two after the servants all left I was again sent for to
see Sir Percival. The undeserved slur which he had cast on my
management of the household did not, I am happy to say, prevent me
from returning good for evil to the best of my ability, by
complying with his request as readily and respectfully as ever.
It cost me a struggle with that fallen nature, which we all share
in common, before I could suppress my feelings. Being accustomed
to self-discipline, I accomplished the sacrifice.

I found Sir Percival and Count Fosco sitting together again. On
this occasion his lordship remained present at the interview, and
assisted in the development of Sir Percival's views.

The subject to which they now requested my attention related to
the healthy change of air by which we all hoped that Miss Halcombe
and Lady Glyde might soon be enabled to profit. Sir Percival
mentioned that both the ladies would probably pass the autumn (by
invitation of Frederick Fairlie, Esquire) at Limmeridge House,
Cumberland. But before they went there, it was his opinion,
confirmed by Count Fosco (who here took up the conversation and
continued it to the end), that they would benefit by a short
residence first in the genial climate of Torquay. The great
object, therefore, was to engage lodgings at that place, affording
all the comforts and advantages of which they stood in need, and
the great difficulty was to find an experienced person capable of
choosing the sort of residence which they wanted. In this
emergency the Count begged to inquire, on Sir Percival's behalf,
whether I would object to give the ladies the benefit of my
assistance, by proceeding myself to Torquay in their interests.

It was impossible for a person in my situation to meet any
proposal, made in these terms, with a positive objection.

I could only venture to represent the serious inconvenience of my
leaving Blackwater Park in the extraordinary absence of all the
indoor servants, with the one exception of Margaret Porcher. But
Sir Percival and his lordship declared that they were both willing
to put up with inconvenience for the sake of the invalids. I next
respectfully suggested writing to an agent at Torquay, but I was
met here by being reminded of the imprudence of taking lodgings
without first seeing them. I was also informed that the Countess
(who would otherwise have gone to Devonshire herself) could not,
in Lady Glyde's present condition, leave her niece, and that Sir
Percival and the Count had business to transact together which
would oblige them to remain at Blackwater Park. In short, it was
clearly shown me that if I did not undertake the errand, no one
else could be trusted with it. Under these circumstances, I could
only inform Sir Percival that my services were at the disposal of
Miss Halcombe and Lady Glyde.

It was thereupon arranged that I should leave the next morning,
that I should occupy one or two days in examining all the most
convenient houses in Torquay, and that I should return with my
report as soon as I conveniently could. A memorandum was written
for me by his lordship, stating the requisites which the place I
was sent to take must be found to possess, and a note of the
pecuniary limit assigned to me was added by Sir Percival.

My own idea on reading over these instructions was, that no such
residence as I saw described could be found at any watering-place
in England, and that, even if it could by chance be discovered, it
would certainly not be parted with for any period on such terms as
I was permitted to offer. I hinted at these difficulties to both
the gentlemen, but Sir Percival (who undertook to answer me) did
not appear to feel them. It was not for me to dispute the
question. I said no more, but I felt a very strong conviction
that the business on which I was sent away was so beset by
difficulties that my errand was almost hopeless at starting.