Black Sheep by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online Page A

practitioner to enjoy Selina’s favour. She begged him not to encourage the sufferer to think herself hovering on the brink of the grave. He promised to reassure Selina, and very nearly lost his most lucrative patient by telling her, in hearty accents, that nothing worse had befallen her than what he was tactless enough to term a touch of influenza .Before he had time to prophesy a speedy recovery he realized that he had fallen into error, and, with a dexterity which (in spite of herself) Abby was obliged to acknowledge, retrieved his position by saying that, although he would ordinarily consider the illness trifling, when it attacked persons of such frail constitution as Miss Wendover the greatest care must be exercised to ensure that no serious consequences should attend it. He recommended her to remain in bed; promised to send her within the hour a saline draught; approved of such remedies as extract of malt for a possible cough; goat’s whey, to guard against consumption; laudanum drops in case of insomnia; and a diet of mutton-broth, tapioca-jelly, and barley-water, all of which she had herself suggested; and left the sickroom tolerably certain that he had restored her wavering faith in his skill. He told Abby, apologetically, that neither these remedies nor the depressing diet would do any harm, and with this she had to be content, resigning herself to the inevitable, and deriving what consolation she could from the reflection that for some days at least there was no danger that while she danced attendance on her sitter Mr Calverleigh would be strengthening his hold on Fanny’s youthful affections.
    The eldest Miss Wendover showed every sign of enjoying a protracted illness, for although the fever soon abated she maintained a ticklish cough, and, after an attack of heart-burn, threw out so many dark hints to her entourage about cardiac nerves that Fanny became quite alarmed, and asked Abby if poor Aunt Selina’s heart had indeed been affected.
    “No, dear: not at all!” responded Abby cheerfully.
    “But—Abby, I have sometimes wondered if—Abby, does my aunt like to be ill?”
    “Yes, certainly she does. Why not? She has very little to divert her, after all! It makes her the centre of attention, too, and how unkind it would be to grudge it to her! The melancholy truth is, my love, that single females of her age are almost compelled to adopt dangerous diseases, if they wish to be objects of interest. Not only spinsters, either! You must surely have observed how many matrons, whose children are all married, and who are so comfortably situated that they have really nothing very much to do, develop the most interesting disorders!”
    Her eyes as round as saucers, Fanny asked: “Do you mean that my aunt will lie on a sofa for the rest of her life?”
    “No, no!” said Abby. “Sooner or later something will happen to give her thoughts a new direction, and you will be surprised to see how quickly she will recover!”
    In the event, this happened rather sooner than could have been expected. Shortly after noon one day, Abby entered her room to find her seated bolt upright on the day-bed, to which, support-ported by her maid, she had tottered an hour before, eagerly perusing the crossed sheet of a letter just delivered by the post.
    “Oh, dearest, whatever do you think?” she exclaimed, in accents startlingly unlike those with which she had greeted her sister earlier in the day. “The Leavenings are coming to spend the winter in Bath! Good God, they may have arrived already! Mrs Leavening writes that they mean to put up at the York House while they look about them for lodgings, and depend upon us to advise them, for they were never in Bath before, you know! I wonder if the lodgings the Thursleys hired in Westgate Building—but they are in the lower part of the town, of course, and though it is a broad street—and anything here ,or in Pulteney Street, or Laura Place, might be above their price—not that Mrs