書蟲6級《白衣女人》8．高燒

8．Fever

While I lay unconscious in my illness, I knew nothing, of course, of the events happening around me. It was only much later that I learnt from other people what had happened.

When I eventually returned to Limmeridge, Fanny told me about the letters and the night she had left Blackwater.

You left me at about seven, miss, and at nine o'clock I had another visitor — the Countess! Yes, I was so surprised. But she was very kind. She saw that I was upset at leaving and insisted on having some tea with me. So I drank my tea, and five minutes later I fainted — for the first time in my life! When I woke up, it was about half an hour later. A lady from the hotel was looking after me as the Countess had had to go home. I checked the letters in my dress, miss, and they were both there, quite safe.

And just as you told me, in London I posted the letter to Mr Kyrle, and as soon as I got to Limmeridge, I delivered the other letter personally to Mr Fairlie. I told him all about being dismissed by Sir Percival and everything, and what had happened at the hotel, but, well, he didn't seem very interested, miss.'

That last piece of information did not surprise me in the least. Had Laura's uncle ever been interested in anybody except himself? When I went to talk to him, he was full of excuses.

My nerves, dear Marian, remember my nerves! Yes, of course I will tell you about the letters, but please don't get excited and go around banging doors! Try to stay calm.'

I suppose my letter about Laura upset you,' I said.

Of course it did, dear Marian! What was I to do? You told me Laura needed to escape from her husband and to come to Limmeridge. But suppose Sir Percival had come after her? Think of the noise, the arguments, the banging of doors! That's why I wrote to you, to beg you to come here first by yourself, to talk the matter over with me.'

I never saw that letter, of course, as it arrived at Blackwater when I was unconscious with fever.

And Mr Kyrle wrote to you as well, didn't he?' I said.

Yes. He wrote to say he had received an envelope addressed to him in your handwriting, but which contained only a plain piece of paper without a word on it. He had written to you about it, and had received no reply. Why he expected me to explain this mystery, I had no idea. And that's what I told him.'

So helpful, I thought bitterly. But there was no point in saying anything. 'And were you surprised not to hear from me again?'

Indeed I was, until my sister's foreign husband, that extraordinary Count Fosco, came to see me. Such a huge man!' said Mr Fairlie, his eyes closing at the memory. 'But surprisingly quiet on his feet. Anyway, he explained how ill you were, dear Marian, which was why you hadn't replied to my letter. I was extremely shocked and sorry to hear about your illness. But the Count did talk so much — I thought he would never leave!'

And he persuaded you to write to Laura,' I said, trying to keep my voice calm and quiet.

Yes, he urged me — in fact, practically ordered me — to invite Laura here at once. She was too nervous and upset to be of any use to you in the sick-room, he said, and the situation with Sir Percival was growing more dangerous every day. There was no trouble with the journey, because he and his wife had just rented a house in London. So Laura could travel up to London, stay the night with them, and travel on to Cumberland the next day.'

So you wrote the letter and gave it to him,' I said.

Where was the harm in it? In any case, I never for a moment thought that Laura would leave you alone when you were so ill. And how was I to know what shocking event was about to take place? No one could possibly say that I was to blame …'

*　　*　　*

I know now exactly who was to blame, but it took quite a time to put all the different pieces of information together. When I first began to be aware of my surroundings again during my recovery, I knew nothing, of course, about the letters. I knew only that I was not in my usual bedroom and there was a foreign lady looking after me. I had no idea who she was and she would not answer any of my questions. So I was very relieved a few days later when the familiar face of Mrs Michelson appeared.

Oh, Mrs Michelson,' I said, 'I'm so glad to see you. Please tell me what's been happening.'

You've had typhus fever, Miss Halcombe. You've been very ill. But you're getting stronger now, I'm happy to say.'

Typhus! No wonder I feel so weak. And my sister, Lady Glyde — I do hope she didn't catch the infection?'

No, no, she didn't.'

Mrs Michelson would not look me in the face, and I began to feel worried. Was she afraid to tell me something?

Is my sister ill? Please, Mrs Michelson, I must know!'

No, she's not ill. But... but she's not here. She went away yesterday to London, and is going on to Limmeridge today.'

I stared at her. Laura gone? I could not believe it. What did it mean? Had something terrible happened? I remembered the conversation I heard during the night on the verandah roof, and my heart filled with fear.

And Sir Percival …?' I could not finish my question.

Sir Percival left the house last night, to go abroad,' she said. 'The Count and Countess have gone to London, and the servants have all been dismissed, except for a cook and the gardener. You and I are the only people living in the house, Miss Halcombe.'

The shock of this news was so great that I felt faint. Mrs Michelson hurried to fetch me a glass of water.

Oh, Miss Halcombe, I'm sorry,' she said. 'Try not to worry. You must rest now, and try to sleep a little.'

Later, when I felt stronger, we talked again. 'Tell me everything you can remember, from the day I fell ill,' I begged Mrs Michelson. 'I must know what happened.'

Well, Miss Halcombe, on that first morning a servant found you, lying on your bed in a fever, holding a pen tightly in your hand. The doctor was called at once, a Mr Dawson, who said you were very ill. The Countess and I acted as your nurses — Lady Glyde wanted to help, but she was so upset at seeing you unconscious that she couldn't stop crying.

Sir Percival and the Count were concerned about you too, though they seemed worried about something else as well. In fact, the Count spent three days down by the lake, at that old boat-house, and I remember he came in once when I was going through the hall. Sir Percival came rushing out of the library, saying, "Have you found her?" I didn't hear the answer and I have no idea who they were talking about.'

I had a very good idea who they were talking about, but it was obvious that Mrs Michelson didn't, so I said nothing.

Your fever got worse,' Mrs Michelson went on. 'The Count said we needed a nurse to help us, so Madame Fosco took the train to London and came back with Mrs Rubelle.'

Is that the foreign lady who was looking after me before you appeared, Mrs Michelson?' I asked.

Yes, that's right. She didn't say very much, but she was a capable nurse. I had no complaints about her work. Mr Dawson, the doctor, was suspicious of her because she was recommended by the Count, and he didn't like the Count at all.'

Why was that?' I asked.

The Count had a lot of medical knowledge, you see, and he was always suggesting to Mr Dawson ways of reducing your fever. Mr Dawson called it interference and got quite angry about it. But in fact, miss, the Count recognized you had typhus fever before Mr Dawson did. He — the Count, that is — went away to London for a week, and when he came back, he took one look at you and said "Typhus". Mr Dawson sent to London for another doctor, who came and said the same thing. Then we had a very worrying ten days, when your life was in danger, but at last the doctor said you were through the worst and with good nursing care you would recover. Lady Glyde was so overcome by this happy news that she became ill herself and had to be put to bed.'

My sister has always had delicate health,' I said.

Yes, she's not strong. Anyway, Miss Halcombe, it was at this point that disturbing things started to happen. First, the Count and Mr Dawson argued again so fiercely that Mr Dawson left, saying he refused to offer his services any more. Next, Sir Percival told me that he was going to close the house. As soon as you and Lady Glyde were able to travel, he said, you would be going away for a change of air. He told me to dismiss all the servants, except a girl to do the cooking, and a gardener. Imagine! Just like that! I tell you, Miss Halcombe, if I hadn't felt so sorry for you and Lady Glyde, I would have resigned at once!

The last thing was very strange indeed,' said Mrs Michelson, shaking her head. 'Sir Percival said that you and Lady Glyde would benefit from a stay at the seaside town of Torquay. He told me to go there to look for a suitable house to rent, and told me how much money I could pay. Well, I knew it wasn't enough, and I wish now that I hadn't gone, but he was my employer so I thought I had to obey his orders. I returned yesterday, after two days away, and told Sir Percival that it was impossible to find a house at such a low rent. Sir Percival showed no interest in my news at all. He just said that the Count and Countess had left Blackwater Park for their new house in London.'

Mrs Michelson looked at me anxiously. 'I think you'll find the next part of the story very upsetting,' she said. 'Poor Lady Glyde was cruelly deceived by her husband.'

You don't surprise me,' I murmured. 'Please go on.'

After seeing Sir Percival, I went upstairs to see you and Lady Glyde. Your sister, though still very weak, was feeling better and wanted to get up and go and visit you in your room. I helped her to dress and as we went down the passage, we met Sir Percival.

"If you're going to see your sister, you won't find her," Sir Percival says. "She left the house yesterday with Fosco and his wife. She decided to go with them to London, on her way to Limmeridge. Mrs Rubelle went too, to look after her on the journey. You can look in her room if you don't believe me."

I was shocked and amazed by this, and Lady Glyde's face went as white as a sheet. She almost ran down the passage and threw open the door to your room. It was empty.

Then she cries out to Sir Percival, "Marian was much too ill to travel. Even if she did go, she would never leave without saying goodbye to me first. And why would she go to Limmeridge alone, leaving me here at Blackwater Park?"

"Because your uncle won't receive you till he has seen your sister first," says Sir Percival. "Have you forgotten the letter he wrote to her at the beginning of her illness?"

All through this interview, Miss Halcombe, I thought Sir Percival seemed very strange — jumpy and nervous, not at all his usual self. And now he just turned and walked away. Lady Glyde was shaking with fear, and looked at me with terror in her eyes. "Something's happened to my sister. I must follow her — I must see that she's alive and well with my own eyes. Please, Mrs Michelson, come down with me to Sir Percival. Stay with me, please!" She held my arm so tightly that I had to go with her.

Sir Percival was in the dining room, drinking. He drank at least four glasses of wine while we were in there, Miss Halcombe. Lady Glyde was very brave, I thought. She said, "If my sister is well enough to travel, then so am I. Please allow me to follow her at once by the afternoon train."

Sir Percival was so rude and rough with her. "You can go tomorrow," he said. "I'll write to Fosco. He can meet you at the station and you'll stay at his house overnight."

Lady Glyde's hand began to tremble violently on my arm. "I would rather not stay at the Count's house," she said.

Sir Percival then got very angry. "Why not?" he shouted." What's wrong with sleeping at your aunt's house? Your sister slept there last night to break her journey, and so will you. That's what your uncle, Mr Fairlie, wants you to do as well. Here — there's a letter from him. I forgot to send it up to you."

Poor Lady Glyde was shaking so much that she gave me the letter to read to her. It was very short. I remember it, word for word: Dear Laura, please come whenever you like. Break the journey by sleeping at your aunt's house. Sorry to hear of Marian's illness. Your fond uncle, Frederick Fairlie.

Lady Glyde didn't try to argue any more, and we went back upstairs. It seemed quite a sensible plan to me, Miss Halcombe, and I couldn't understand why Lady Glyde was so terrified of Count Fosco. She walked up and down her room, whispering, "Poor Marian — in that horrible man's power! I must find her, even if I have to follow her to Count Fosco's house."

The next day I helped Lady Glyde get ready and went with her to the station. "If Marian has already left for Limmeridge, I won't stay at the Count's house," she told me. "I'll go and stay with Mrs Vesey, my old governess." As the train pulled away, I saw her pale, frightened face at the window. I felt so sad for her.

Then I came back here. Imagine my surprise, Miss Halcombe, when I saw Mrs Rubelle walking in the garden! "What are you doing here?" I said. "You went to London with the Foscos and Miss Halcombe!" And then it all came out. You were still in the house. While I was out of the way in Torquay, they moved you to a room in an unused part of the house and kept you hidden. You must have been in a very deep sleep when they moved you. Perhaps they drugged you — I don't know. Then Sir Percival appeared and gave me this explanation. It was all for his wife's own good, he said. She needed a change of air, and would not have gone to Limmeridge if she had known that you were still in the house. He spoke in such a violent, angry way that I did not dare to express my opinion.

So you see, Miss Halcombe, that was how poor Lady Glyde was deceived. It was wicked and cruel. I would have resigned my position immediately, but Sir Percival told me that Mrs Rubelle was leaving and there would be no one to look after you if I left too. So, naturally, I stayed. Sir Percival left last night, as I told you. The gardener said he seemed half mad. He called for his carriage, and drove away like an escaped criminal, saying his house was a prison and he would never return to it. I hope and pray, Miss Halcombe, that I never see that man again.'

Poor Laura — how she must have suffered! There was nothing I could do. I could not go after her as I was too weak even to stand. I hoped desperately that she had found out about the deception and would write soon to tell me that she was safe.

*　　*　　*

A letter came a few days later, but it was not for me, and not from Laura. It was for Mrs Michelson from Madame Fosco.

Mrs Michelson came into my room with the letter in her hand. Mr Dawson, who had agreed to be my doctor again now that the Count had gone, was behind her. I took one look at both their faces, and sat up in bed, terrified.

What is it?' I gasped. 'You have some dreadful news for me. I can see it in your faces.'

Mrs Michelson sat down on the edge of the bed and took my hand. 'Your poor, dear sister, Lady Glyde...' she began.

The room began to darken around me, as though night was falling, and the words seemed to come from a great distance.

... was taken seriously ill when she arrived at her aunt's house in London, and died the next day, very suddenly. She is to be buried at Limmeridge, in her mother's grave.'

*　　*　　*

Kind Mrs Michelson nursed me through my second illness, with Mr Dawson's help. I was not able to travel for more than three weeks, but eventually I found the strength to leave that hated house and return to Limmeridge. Mrs Michelson and I travelled together to London, where I went to see Mr Kyrle. To him I revealed the terrible suspicions in my mind about the circumstances of my sister's death. He was most concerned and promised to make enquiries for me.

I went on to Limmeridge House and a few days later Mr Kyrle wrote to me there. He had taken statements from several witnesses, he said, and was convinced that nothing suspicious had happened. He sent copies of the statements for my information. This was the one by the Count's cook, Mrs Hester Pinhorn:

I was recently employed as a cook by the Count and Countess Fosco at 5 Forest Road, St John's Wood. One day near the end of July, the Countess's niece, Lady Glyde, arrived at the house. She immediately fell ill. I saw her lying on the sofa, her face all white. I ran out for a doctor and came back with Mr Goodricke. He examined her and said she had a very serious heart disease. During the night she got worse. Then, at about five o'clock the next day, she lost consciousness. The doctor went in and, after putting his hand on her heart, announced that she was dead. He said that, as the Count was a foreigner, he himself would go to record the death at the district office. The Count and Countess were very badly affected by the lady's death. The lady's husband was abroad, so they arranged the funeral themselves, which took place in Cumberland.

I was still very weak from my long illness, and despair nearly overtook me at this point. I had no friend to turn to, and no idea what to do next. I went every day to the churchyard, to put flowers on the grave and to read again those sad, sad words.

In Loving Memory of Laura, Lady Glyde

Wife of Sir Percival Glyde, of Blackwater Park, Hampshire

Born 27th March 1829

Died 25th July 1850