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‘You shall have her directly,’ promised Alverstoke.
‘I want her now!’ stated Felix. ‘Tell her!’
‘Yes, I will.’
A short silence fell. Alverstoke hoped that Felix was sliding back into sleep, but just as he was about to move away from the bed he found that Felix was looking at him, as though trying to bring his face into focus. Apparently he succeeded, for he murmured, with a sigh of relief: ‘Oh, it’s you! Don’t leave me!’
‘No.’
‘I’m so thirsty!’
Alverstoke raised him again, and he gulped down the barley-water thankfully; and, this time, when lowered on to his pillow, dropped asleep.
It was an uneasy sleep, however, and of short duration. He woke with a start, and a jumble of words on his lips. He was evidently in the grip of a nightmare, and it was not for several moments that Alverstoke’s voice penetrated it. He said then, vaguely: ‘Cousin Alverstoke,’ but an instant later moaned that he was cold. The Marquis began to look a little grim, for the hand which clutched his was hot and dry. He spoke soothingly, and with good effect: Felix lay quiet for a while, but he did not shut his blurred eyes. Suddenly he said, in a troubled voice: ‘This isn’t my room! Why am I in this room? I don’t like it! I don’t know where I am!’
The Marquis answered matter-of-factly: ‘You are with me, Felix.’
He spoke instinctively, uttering the first words that came into his head, and thinking, an instant later, that they were singularly foolish. But, after blinking at him, Felix smiled, and said: ‘Oh, yes! I forgot! You won’t go away, will you?’
‘Of course not. Shut your eyes! You are quite safe, I promise.’
‘Yes, of course, as long as you’re here, because then I shan’t fall,’ murmured Felix hazily. ‘I know that!’
Alverstoke said nothing, and presently had the satisfaction of knowing that Felix was asleep. Carefully withdrawing his hand from the slackened hold on it, he moved away, to alter the position of the candle, so that its flickering light should not fall on Felix’s face. It seemed to him that the boy had dropped into a more natural sleep; but his hope that this would endure was speedily dashed, and he did not again indulge it. For the rest of the night Felix, even to his inexperienced eyes, grew steadily worse, his face more flushed, and his pulse alarmingly rapid. There were intervals when he dozed, but they were never of long duration; and when he woke it was always in a state of feverish excitement bordering on delirium. He seemed to be suffering considerable pain; in one of his lucid moments he complained that he ‘ached all over,’ but when Alverstok
e bathed as much of his brow as was not covered by the bandage, he was relieved to have his hand struck away. ‘It’s not my head!’ Felix said angrily.
A second dose of the saline mixture produced an alleviation, but Alverstoke hovered a dozen times on the brink of summoning Judbrook, and telling him to send for Dr Elcot. Only the doctor’s last words, which had been a warning that Felix might become feverish, and the knowledge that he could still recall the boy’s wandering wits, restrained him.
With the dawn, the fever abated a little, but not the pains. Felix wept softly, and moaned: ‘Frederica, Frederica!’ At five o’clock, the Marquis heard the creak of a door being cautiously opened, and went swiftly out of the room to intercept Judbrook, who was tiptoeing along the passage, with his boots in his hand.
Judbrook was very much shocked to learn that Felix, far from going on prosperously, was extremely ill. He promised to send one of his lads to the doctor’s house in Hemel Hempstead immediately, saying that it was only a matter of four miles, and the lad could ride there on the cob. He took a look at Felix, and upon hearing that more barley-water was needed, ventured to suggest that a cup of tea might do good. The Marquis felt doubtful, but Felix, whom he had thought to be asleep, said, in the thread of a voice: ‘I should like that,’ so he nodded to Judbrook.
‘You shall have it in an ant’s foot, sir!’ said Judbrook, adding, under his breath: ‘At all events, it won’t do him any harm, my lord!’
The Marquis felt still more doubtful when the tray was brought to him. He was not, like his friend Lord Petersham, a connoisseur, but he profoundly mistrusted the mahogany brew which issued from the pot, and fully expected Felix to reject it. Felix did not, however, and it seemed to refresh him; and when, an hour later, Dr Elcot arrived, he merely said: ‘As long as you didn’t give him hot wine, I’ve no objection. Now, my lord, before I go in to him, what’s amiss? You’re looking a trifle out of frame yourself: had you a bad night with the boy?’
‘A very bad night,’ replied Alverstoke, somewhat acidly. ‘As for what’s amiss, I trust you will supply the answer! He has been extremely feverish, sometimes delirious, and he complains all the time of pain – he says it is all over him, but it doesn’t appear to be in his head, thank God!’
‘Dutch comfort!’ growled the doctor.
He stayed for some time in the sickroom; and, at the end of a long and careful examination, said cheerfully, as he drew the bedclothes over Felix again: ‘Well, young man, I don’t doubt you’re feeling pretty down pin, but you’ll hold for a long trig! Now I’m going to give you something to make you comfortable.’
Felix was not delirious, but he was not by any means himself. He had objected violently to the doctor’s examination, saying that it hurt him to be touched; and had only submitted when the Marquis had commanded him to do so. He now revolted against the evil-looking potion Dr Elcot had measured into a small glass, and the Marquis, prompted by a significant glance from the doctor, again intervened, taking the glass from Elcot, and administering the dose himself saying, when Felix jerked his head away: ‘You are becoming a dead bore, Felix. I dislike bores; so, if you wish me to remain with you, you will do as I bid you – and at once!’
Cowed by this threat, Felix swallowed the potion. He said anxiously, as Alverstoke lowered him, and withdrew his supporting arm: ‘You won’t leave me, will you?’
‘No.’
Felix seemed to be satisfied; and after a few minutes the lids sank over his eyes. Dr Elcot touched the Marquis on the shoulder, and led the way out of the room. ‘Children of your own, my lord?’ he said, as he closed the door.
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Oh! Thought you must have: seem to know how to handle ’em. Well, it’s what I expected: rheumatic fever. No use asking me how serious it may be, for I can’t tell you yet. What I can tell you is that he needs to be carefully nursed. You told me his sister would be coming to do that: is she to be depended on? You’ll pardon me if I’m speaking too freely: it’s a matter of the first importance.’
‘You may repose complete confidence in Miss Merriville,’ replied Alverstoke. ‘She is a woman of excellent sense; and she has stood to Felix in the relationship of a mother ever since his childhood. Now, I know nothing of illness, so I must request you to enlighten me. I collect that this rheumatic fever is more serious than I had supposed?’
‘It might have serious consequences,’ replied Elcot. ‘However, the boy’s a fine little fellow, and I should rather think he has an excellent constitution, so we won’t alarm his sister. When does she arrive?’
