‘I don’t think she should have all that!’ I exclaimed.
‘Oh, we’ve woken up, have we, Miss Rose? And still questioning my medical competence? Anyone would think you were the trained nurse, not me!’
‘You gave her an awful lot, even if it’s harmless,’ I said.
‘It’s just to top her up. It makes her feel better, doesn’t it, dear? She likes it,’ said Nurse Budd, stroking Beth’s tear-stained cheek in a way that turned my stomach.
‘Likes it,’ Beth mumbled. She looked dazed.
‘You have given her too much,’ I said.
‘Nonsense. It was just a tiddly spoonful,’ said Nurse Budd.
While she was struggling to get Beth dressed, I peered at the bottle. It was difficult to gauge through the dark glass, but it seemed there was only an inch or so left. Nurse Budd had opened the new bottle only yesterday.
I had to tell Mama and Papa – but would they even come down to breakfast together after last night? As I went into the dining room I felt sick with nerves. Grandmama was sitting at the end of the table, wearing a black woollen frock with a large cameo brooch pinned at the neck, making calm conversation with the Lord and Lady Provost. The Lord Provost had a little lump of porridge stuck to his moustache. It wobbled unattractively every time he spoke.
The daughter sat beside her mother, her brown hair tied in an elaborate topknot which didn’t become her. She kept looking at Rupert, but he was giving his plate of bacon and eggs his full attention. They were the only guests to have put in an appearance.
‘Good morning, Rose,’ Grandmama said. ‘What would you like to eat? There’s porridge of course, and kedgeree, and bacon and eggs, and Scotch pancakes, and I dare say Cook will do you a kipper if you’d like one.’
‘I’m very partial to kippers, but the taste does linger,’ said the Lady Provost, and began to list her culinary likes and dislikes. The Lord Provost yawned, clearly knowing it by heart. Grandmama nodded politely like a perfect hostess, though I saw her stifle a yawn.
I took one rasher of bacon and a spoonful of scrambled eggs, though I really didn’t want anything.
‘Come and sit beside me,’ Rupert said eagerly, still ignoring the poor daughter.
‘Where’s everyone else?’ I said.
‘The ball didn’t finish until gone two. Some of them are still asleep or feeling poorly.’ Rupert lowered his voice. ‘I drank several glasses of wine myself but my head doesn’t hurt a bit.’
‘Where are Mama and Papa?’ I whispered.
Rupert shrugged. ‘They haven’t put in an appearance yet.’
‘And Mr Walker?’
‘Grandmama said he breakfasted early with Grandpapa and they’ve gone for a ride together.’
‘They’ve gone for a ride?’
‘Yes, I just said. They could have waited for me!’
‘Mr Walker has gone for a ride?’
‘Do stop repeating things, Rose. You’re sounding like Beth.’
‘But does Mr Walker ride? I can’t imagine him on a horse, he isn’t that sort of a person,’ I persisted.
‘Perhaps he wants to canter over to Lord Mackay’s castle to see the beguiling Miss Wentworth,’ said Rupert.
‘Do you think so?’ I said miserably.
‘Who knows?’ Rupert leaned over and whispered, ‘Do you think Papa’s gone with them to see Lady Hirst?’
‘Don’t joke about it, it’s horrible,’ I said, laying down my knife and fork, unable to eat.
‘Don’t you want that bacon?’ asked Rupert, spearing it with his fork and adding it to his pile.
‘Rupert, dear, I don’t really think we want nursery behaviour in here,’ said Grandmama. ‘There’s plenty more bacon in the serving dish if you’re still hungry.’
‘Perhaps you’d like a little more, Portia?’ Grandmama asked the Lord and Lady Provost’s daughter.
‘Oh, our Portia eats like a little bird,’ said the Lady Provost. ‘That’s why she’s so slender.’
‘Skin and bone,’ said the Lord Provost. ‘But she’s fit and healthy, aren’t you, lassie?’
Poor Portia was now a painful crimson. They were discussing her like a brood mare.
‘She loves her Scottish dancing, don’t you, Portia?’ said her mother. ‘She’s very light on her feet, isn’t she, Rupert?’
‘Yes, you’re a very fine dancer, Portia,’ Rupert was obliged to say, giving her a cursory nod. He gave me a little kick under the table to indicate his horror.
Papa came into the dining room looking pale and weary. We waited for Mama, but she didn’t appear.
‘Good morning, Edward,’ said Grandmama.
‘Good morning,’ Papa said tersely. He bent down and murmured something in her ear.
She frowned. ‘Is that really necessary?’ she said in an undertone.
Papa whispered something else, and Grandmama sighed irritably and rang a little bell. A maid appeared almost instantaneously.
‘Would you send for a doctor, please, Mary? Perhaps it had better be Dr Grimes, though he’s further away. Dr Macdonald seemed a little the worse for wear last night. I believe Dr Grimes is a Rechabite, and therefore teetotal,’ Grandmama said.
The maid bobbed off importantly.
‘Oh dear, I do hope one of your grandchildren hasn’t been taken ill,’ said the Lady Provost.
Papa came and sat down heavily beside me. He looked so ill that I reached out and took his hand.
‘Are you all right, Papa?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Yes, my dear. Just a little tired, that’s all,’ he said. ‘It’s your mama who’s rather unwell.’
‘My daughter’s been in fragile health since her last confinement,’ Grandmama said quickly, ‘but I’m sure she’s not seriously ill. She just needs a little tonic.’
‘Oh, I do understand,’ said the Lady Provost. ‘I was bothered with my nerves for a full year after Portia was born. Perhaps I could go and give her a little womanly advice after breakfast?’
‘I’m sure she’ll be up soon,’ Grandmama said firmly. ‘Rose, go to your mother and wait with her until the doctor comes.’
I hesitated. I knew that Mama wouldn’t want me there under any circumstances. I hoped Papa would make some excuse for me, but he was nodding.
‘Yes, go to Mama, dear,’ he said.
I looked at Rupert imploringly, but it wouldn’t have been considered proper for him to come with me. I was the eldest daughter. It was my duty.
I trudged up the stairs, wondering what on earth I should do or say. I hated the thought of being alone with Mama, especially if she was in bed. I knocked timidly at her door. There was no response. I knocked again, and heard a low moan from within. I pushed the door open, alarmed.
The curtains were closed but I could see well enough in the half-light. The bedroom was in turmoil, Mama’s white dress thrown on the carpet, a pillow flung into a corner, the water jug in pieces. Mama was lying face down on the bed, fists clenched on either side of her head, her nightgown rucked up and showing her plump legs.
‘Oh, Mama,’ I said, trying to cover her up.
‘Leave me alone!’ she mumbled.
‘Let me help you tidy up. They’ve sent for a doctor,’ I said, opening the curtains.
Mama moaned and put her hands over her face. Her fingers raked her long tangled hair.
‘Can I brush your hair, Mama, and help you wash your face?’ I asked.
‘Get out of my room, do you hear me!’
‘I’m just trying to help, Mama,’ I said, grappling with her white dress.
‘I don’t want your help.’ She reared up and I saw that her eyelids were swollen, her eyes bloodshot. Her nose was red too, her cheeks stained with tears. Her nightgown was torn at the neck, the skin beneath it red. She smelled strongly of perspiration – Mama, who was always so fragrant!
‘Oh, Mama, I’m sure you have a fever,’ I said. ‘Thank goodness the doctor is coming.’
‘A doctor can’t help a broken heart,’ s
aid Mama, clutching her chest. ‘Oh the pain, the unbearable pain!’ She sounded so melodramatic that I was embarrassed as well as anxious. I felt my mouth twitch.
‘You’re laughing at me!’
‘No, I’m not, I’m feeling sorry for you.’
‘I don’t want your pity.’ Mama sat up properly and gave me a push. ‘Go away!’
So I stood helplessly outside the door. Grandmama sent Morag to see if she could prepare Madam for the doctor’s visit, but Mama shrieked at her too.
‘She’s off her head, miss,’ Morag murmured to me, and scurried away. I walked up and down the corridor wondering what on earth to do.
Suddenly I heard a light pattering of feet on the servants’ staircase and hurried towards the dividing door. It was Clover, running down to the kitchen for milk for Phoebe’s bottle.
‘Oh, Clover,’ I said, rushing over. ‘Everything’s so awful! Mama and Papa had a terrible argument last night, and now Mama’s ill and acting so strange and I don’t know what to do.’
‘I heard the crying and shouting. I got up to comfort the children. Nurse sleeps so soundly she never wakes for anything. They were all crying, even Algie. I had to climb into his bed and hold him close before he’d stop. What on earth was it about?’
‘The Honourable Louisa Mayhorne was invited to the ball by mistake – well, she’s Lady Hirst now, one of Lord Mackay’s guests from London. She’s the woman Papa used to paint. He was very fond of her.’ I lowered my voice. ‘Actually I think he was in love with her. And he still is – it was obvious from the way he was looking at her last night. Mama ran out of the room in tears, right in front of everyone.’
‘But I thought your mama was besotted with Mr Walker?’ Clover said.
‘Yes, but he doesn’t care for her.’
‘Does he care for you?’ she whispered.
I shook my head. ‘No, I’m just an amusing child to him,’ I said. ‘He danced with me, but then he went off with a beautiful red-haired girl called Miss Wentworth.’
‘She’s considered beautiful and yet she’s got red hair?’ said Clover. ‘I’ll have to tell Hetty Feather that!’
‘We had such a good time playing Charades at Christmas, you, me and Hetty, didn’t we?’ I said.
‘Yes, we did,’ said Clover. ‘It was like we were three friends.’
‘We are friends, aren’t we, Clover?’
‘Yes, we are.’
‘And we’ll stay friends, no matter what?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m so worried about what will happen now. What if Mama and Papa never make up? What if Papa goes off with this Louisa? We will all have to stay with Mama and I’d much sooner be with Papa. And what about you? Papa said he was going to give you art lessons. How will he do that if he doesn’t live with us?’
‘I’m sure they will make up. All couples have their differences. My pa and Mildred often had arguments but they stayed together, though Megs and me wished she would clear off!’ said Clover.
‘You’re such a comfort, Clover. No wonder the children all love you so, even Beth. I’m worried about her too. Nurse Budd is giving her much too much of that Godfrey’s Cordial, but she keeps telling me she’s a trained nurse and knows what she’s doing.’
We heard firm footsteps coming along the main corridor.
‘That might be the doctor! I’d better go,’ said Clover. She ran down several steps, and then turned. ‘Ask him about Beth’s medicine. He’s a doctor, so he’ll know.’
It seemed like a good idea, but Dr Grimes was a thin, dour man who barely acknowledged me when I went back down the corridor. A maid led him into Mama’s room and then seemed all set to hurry away again.
‘You must stay with your mistress,’ Dr Grimes said sternly.
‘Yes, sir, but the lady’s not actually my mistress, and I’m needed downstairs, if you please,’ she gabbled.
He tutted and looked at me. ‘Are you the afflicted lady’s daughter?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Then you come in with me. I need a chaperone.’
‘But Mama doesn’t want me with her,’ I said.
‘Nonsense, girl,’ said Dr Grimes briskly, and I had to follow him into the room.
I hoped that Mama’s sense of propriety might have made her sit up and look respectable to receive the doctor, but she was still lying groaning on the bed. I cowered in a corner, frightened and embarrassed, but Dr Grimes seemed quite at ease.
‘Good morning. Mrs Rivers, I believe? I am Dr Grimes, here to examine you. Sit up properly please,’ he said briskly. ‘Now, tell me, are you in any pain?’
‘Here!’ said Mama, clutching her chest dramatically. ‘My heart is broken.’
‘Is it indeed? Well, let’s find out.’ He approached Mama with his stethoscope.
She finally sat up, but fidgeted this way and that, still moaning.
‘Keep still, madam,’ Dr Grimes commanded.
He listened to her front and back while I watched, repelled but fascinated. Then he straightened up, shaking his head at Mama.
‘Your heart seems to be beating very steadily so I hardly think it’s broken,’ he said. He grasped her plump wrist and took her pulse.
I tried copying him, feeling for my own pulse. Dr Grimes looked down Mama’s throat, peered into her ears, even prodded her tummy. He made her look from side to side and asked her how many fingers he was holding up.
‘For pity’s sake, why are you asking such silly questions?’ Mama said, suddenly sounding herself again. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my sight!’
‘Exactly, madam. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. I have been meticulous in my examination.’
‘But I have such pain, in my heart and in my head.’
‘I dare say. You are clearly very distressed and have been crying a great deal. But no matter what the cause, you will not recover lying here. I suggest you get a maid to bring you a restoring cup of tea and prepare you a hot bath. You will feel much better.’
‘You don’t understand! My husband, the father of my seven children, is in love with another woman,’ Mama declared tearfully. ‘He vowed that it was over, and I was fool enough to believe him, but then he brought her to my parental home, making a fool of me in front of everyone.’
I burned all over. How could Mama of all people, so conscious of decorum, blurt this out in front of a complete stranger.
‘That’s not true, Mama,’ I said desperately.
‘Why do you always have to contradict me, Rose?’ she wept. ‘I saw that woman flaunting herself. I saw the expression on your father’s face.’
‘But it was all a mistake. Grandmama didn’t know that she was Louisa Mayhorne. It was nothing to do with Papa. Oh, please, don’t let it distress you so,’ I begged her.
‘There! I think your daughter is talking sense,’ said the doctor. ‘I cannot help you any further, madam. I cannot counsel you on personal matters. I suggest you call a minister if you need spiritual help. Good day.’
He bowed stiffly and walked out of the room. I followed him, too cowardly to stay with Mama.
Papa was hovering on the stairs, looking very anxious. ‘How did you find my wife, Dr Grimes? She seems beside herself. She has been in this state all night long. Have you given her something to calm her and help her sleep?’ he asked.
‘I can find nothing physically wrong with her. I don’t believe in prescribing medicine for unhappiness. I’m sorry I cannot help you any further, sir,’ he added, seeing Papa’s despair.
‘Dr Grimes, please may I consult you about something?’ I asked timidly.
He sighed. ‘I was called here on your mother’s behalf, child. I came as a special favour, even though this is a holiday and I’d sooner be at home with my family. Do you have a physical ailment?’ He hesitated. ‘Perhaps you should consult your nurse.’
‘It’s about my sister’s nurse,’ I said. ‘She gives her this medicine, Godfrey’s Cordial.’
Dr Grimes raised his eyeb
rows. ‘Nurses often use these wretched patent medicines when babies have colic. I certainly don’t recommend it.’
‘She’s not an infant, she’s ten.’
‘Well, she certainly shouldn’t be taking it at her age, but the occasional teaspoon shouldn’t harm her,’ said Dr Grimes.
‘It’s not an occasional teaspoon. It’s a very large dose, morning and night – a whole bottle since we’ve been here,’ I said.
‘Good Lord! Are you sure, Rose?’ Papa asked. ‘Nurse Budd is a trained professional.’
‘Then she must know what she’s doing, and that makes the matter worse,’ said Dr Grimes. ‘Do you have any idea what the main ingredient in Godfrey’s Cordial is? Opium! If what your elder daughter is saying is true, then your nurse is giving your younger child the kind of dose an addict would take in an opium den. I’d better examine the little girl immediately.’
‘Oh dear Lord,’ said Papa, shaking his head in horror. ‘Yes, yes, of course.’
We trooped off to the amber room and Papa opened the door. Nurse Budd was dozing in her chair. Beth was gazing at the display of amber, muttering, ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten,’ and stabbing at the glass with her finger.
‘Please knock before you enter!’ Nurse Budd said, rubbing her eyes and adjusting her cap. ‘Who is this strange man?’
‘I am Dr Grimes. I have come to examine the child in your care,’ the doctor said coldly. He approached Beth, who cowered away, covering her face the way she always did with strangers. ‘There’s nothing to be worried about, little girl. This isn’t going to hurt,’ he said.
‘Hurt!’ Beth repeated, whimpering.
‘My daughter’s troubled,’ said Papa. ‘She’s very set in her ways and cannot manage to behave in social situations. That’s why we employed a trained nurse.’
‘Yes indeed. I do happen to know what I am doing, sir,’ said Nurse Budd icily. ‘I’m sure Mr Rivers will vouch for the fact that Miss Beth’s behaviour has improved considerably since I’ve been with her.’