The Grand Sophy Read online

  He was a good deal shocked by her appearance, and found it difficult to believe Cecilia’s assurance that when the fever had passed the patient would speedily recover her lost weight. Nor could he feel that old Nurse was competent to have the command of a sickroom. Cecilia agreed to this, but comforted him by saying that it was Sophy who was in command.

  ‘Dr Baillie says that no one could manage better, and, indeed, Charles, you would not doubt it could you but see how good Amabel is with her! She has such resolution, such firmness! Poor Nurse does not like to force the little dear to do what she does not wish to, and then, too, she has old-fashioned notions that will not do for Dr Baillie. But our cousin, he says, may be trusted to obey his directions implicitly. Oh, you could not wrest her away from Amabel! It would be fatal, for she frets if Sophy is too long absent from her room.’

  ‘We are very much obliged to Sophy,’ he said. ‘But it is not right that she should be doing such work! Setting aside the risk of infection, she did not come to us to act as sick-nurse!’

  ‘No,’ Cecilia said. ‘She did not, of course, but – but – I don’t know how it is, but she seems to be so much a part of our family that one does not consider such things as that!’

  He was silent, and she left him, saying that she must go to their mother. When, later, he saw Sophy, and attempted to remonstrate with her, she cut him very short.

  ‘I am delighted you are come home, my dear Charles, for nothing could do Amabel more good. Your poor Mama, too, needs the support of your presence. But if you mean to talk in that nonsensical style I shall soon be wishing you a thousand miles off !’

  ‘You have your own engagements,’ he persisted. ‘I daresay I must have seen as many as a dozen cards of invitation on the mantelpiece in the Yellow Saloon! I cannot think it right that you should forgo all your amusements for the sake of my little sister!’

  Her eyes laughed at him. ‘No, indeed! What a shocking thing that I should be obliged to forgo a few balls! How shall I survive it, I wonder? How delightful it would be in me to be demanding my aunt’s chaperonage at parties with the house in this upset! Now, pray do not let me hear any more on this head, but instead of vexing yourself with such absurdities, try what you may do to divert my aunt’s mind! You know her nervous disposition, and how the least thing upsets her constitution! The charge of keeping her soothed and calm falls upon poor Cecy, for your Papa, if you will not be offended with me for saying so, is not of the smallest use in such a crisis at this!’

  ‘I know it,’ he responded. ‘I will do what I may: I can well imagine how arduous a task Cecilia finds it. Indeed, I was shocked to see her looking so fagged!’ He hesitated, and then said, a little stiffly: ‘Miss Wraxton, perhaps, might be of service there. I would not suggest her entering Amabel’s room, but I am sure, if she would sit with my mother sometimes it must be of benefit! The tone of her mind is such that –’ He broke off, perceiving a change in his cousin’s expression and said with some asperity: ‘I am aware that you dislike Miss Wraxton, but even you will allow that her calm good sense must be of value in this predicament!’

  ‘My dear Charles, do not eat me! I have no doubt it is just as you say!’ Sophy replied. ‘Try if she will come to this house!’

  More she would not say, but it was not long before Mr Rivenhall had discovered that his betrothed, while sympathizing most sincerely with his family on their affliction, had no intention of exposing her person to the dangers of infection. She told him, clasping his hand fondly, that her Mama had most expressly forbidden her to enter the house until all danger should be past. It was true: Lady Brinklow herself told Mr Rivenhall so. Upon learning that he had had the imprudence to visit Amabel, she became visibly alarmed, and begged him not to repeat the visit. Miss Wraxton added the weight of her own counsel. ‘Indeed, Charles, it is not wise! There can be no need for you to run such a risk, moreover. Gentlemen in sickrooms are quite out of place!’

  ‘Are you afraid that I may take the disease, and convey it to you?’ he asked, in his blunt way. ‘I beg your pardon! I should not have come to call upon you! I will not do so again until Amabel is well.’

  Lady Brinklow hailed this decision with obvious relief, but it was going too far for her daughter, who at once assured Mr Rivenhall that he was talking nonsense, and must always be a welcome caller in Brook Street. He thanked her, but took his leave of her almost immediately.

  His opinion of her was not improved by finding, upon his return to Berkeley Square, that Lord Charlbury was sitting with his mother. It soon transpired that he was a regular visitor to the house, and, whatever his motive might be, Mr Rivenhall could not but honour him for his indifference to the danger of infection.

  Another regular called was Mr Fawnhope, but since his only object in coming was to see Cecilia, Mr Rivenhall was easily able to refrain from succumbing to any feelings of gratitude towards him for his intrepid visits. But Cecilia was looking so worn and anxious that, with rare restraint, he curbed his bitter tongue, and made no reference whatsoever to her lover’s frequent presence in the house.

  Had he but known it, Mr Fawnhope’s visits were affording Cecilia quite as little pleasure as he could have desired. It was midway through the second week of Amabel’s illness, and that she was very seriously unwell Dr Baillie did not waste his time denying to her nurses. Cecilia had no inclination towards any form of dalliance, and no interest in poetic drama. She carried up to the sickroom a remarkably fine bunch of grapes, saying in a low tone to Sophy that Lord Charlbury had brought them for Amabel, having sent all the way to his country seat for them. He was said to possess some of the finest succession-houses in the country, besides a pinery which, he promised, should yield the best of its fruits to Amabel, as soon as they should become ripe enough to be eaten.

  ‘How very kind! said Sophy, setting the dish upon a table. ‘I did not know Charlbury had called: I had thought it was Augustus.’

  ‘They were both here,’ Cecilia replied. ‘Augustus wished to give me a poem he has written, on a sick child.’

  Her tone was non-committal. Sophy said: ‘Dear me! I mean, how charming! Was it pretty?’

  ‘I daresay it may have been. I find I do not care for poems on such a subject,’ Cecilia said quietly.

  Sophy said nothing. After a moment, Cecilia added: ‘Although it was impossible for me to return Lord Charlbury’s regard, I must always be sensible of the delicacy of his behaviour, and the extreme kindness he has shown us in our trouble. I – I wish you may be brought to reward him, Sophy! You are in general above-stairs, and so cannot know the many hours he has spent with my mother, talking to her, and playing at backgammon with her, only, I am persuaded, to relieve us a little of that duty.’

  Sophy could not help smiling at this. ‘Not to relieve me, Cecy, for he must know that the care of my aunt does not fall upon me! If a compliment is intended, you must certainly take it to yourself.’

  ‘No, no, it is mere goodness of heart! That he has an ulterior motive I will not credit.’ She smiled, and added quizzingly: ‘I could wish that your other beau would do half as much!’

  ‘Bromford? Do not tell me he has ventured within a hundred paces of the house! I should certainly not believe you!’

  ‘No, indeed! And I have it from Charles that he avoids him as though he too were infected. Charles makes a jest of it, but Eugenia’s conduct he does not mention.’

  ‘It would be too much to expect of him.’

  A movement from the bed put an end to the conversation, nor was the subject again referred to by the cousins. Amabel’s illness, reaching its climax, banished all other thoughts from their heads. For several days, the gravest fears possessed the minds of all those who continually saw the invalid; and old Nurse, obstinately refusing to believe in new-fangled diseases, brought on one of Lady Ombersley’s worst attacks of nervous spasms by confiding in her that she had recognized the complaint from the start as being typhus. It took the combined exertions of Lady Ombersley’s son, daughter, and phy