A Debutante In Disguise

‘Good Lord, it is like a morgue in here,’ Letty said impulsively.

‘Not the best turn of phrase perhaps, Doctor.’ The voice came from a form just visible within the gloom.

‘Lady Beauchamp?’

As her eyes adjusted to the low light, Letty recognised Elsie. She lay on a daybed and gave a wan smile. ‘You are Dr Hatfield?’

‘Yes,’ Letty said. She must keep in mind that the doctor had never met the woman.

‘My brother wanted me to see you. I suppose that must mean you are the best. He always gets the best.’

‘Your brother is kind,’ Letty said.

‘That adjective is not frequently used to describe my brother, at least within the last year. Although he was different before.’

Letty curbed a flicker of curiosity. She longed to talk about Lord Anthony. Indeed, the man at the garden party had seemed in stark contrast to the young gentleman at her debut.

But Lord Anthony was not her patient and, even in the dim light, she could see that Elsie was not improved. Her face had a roundness she didn’t like and her speech lacked the brisk clarity she had recalled from their previous encounter. In fact, there was a listless apathy which seemed quite contrary to the woman she remembered.

‘Is it possible to open the curtains so I might better examine you?’ she asked.

‘No, please. The light makes my head worse.’

‘Your headaches are worse?’

‘Yes. So much.’

‘Very well. I will ask your maid to light a candle. Close your eyes if you must.’

She heard the striking of a match and the maid’s movements as she lifted the candle to provide a small, puddle of light.

Within its amber glow, she could discern the woman. She lay on the daybed, her eyes scrunched tight shut against the limited light.

‘I am glad you have your feet up. But keep them elevated higher than your heart.’ Letty took a pillow from an armchair opposite, placing it under Lady Beauchamp’s feet. ‘May I see your ankles?’

Lady Beauchamp acquiesced. Gently, Letty lifted her skirts. As she had surmised, her ankles had swollen. Her feet were so distended that she had discarded her slippers.

She let the skirt fall back with a soft swish. ‘You have headaches, you said. Blurriness of vision?’

‘Terrible headaches, but my vision is not impaired.’

‘And what treatment has Dr Jeffers recommended?’

‘Leeches for my headaches. Limited fluid. Rest.’

‘Leeches?’ Letty muttered. That treatment had gone out with the ark.

‘What would you suggest?’

Letty paused. Truthfully, she knew that birth was the only ‘cure’ and Elsie was only in her seventh month. She also knew her condition to be serious, but feared that increased anxiety would aggravate her symptoms.

‘No leeches. Plenty of water. Rest with gentle walks when you feel able. Bland food. Meat and eggs. I will also prescribe a draught from the willow tree. We will start with the water now.’

‘I can have water?’ Elsie asked.

‘Yes.’

Elsie smiled. ‘Then I do not care if you call this whole house a morgue. It is a morgue. In fact, it is a mausoleum to George, Edgar and Tony.’

‘Lord Anthony? But your brother is alive?’

Elsie looked down. In the candlelight, Letty saw the shimmer of tears just visible under the lashes. ‘Perhaps. But he is so changed. Sometimes I hardly recognise him.’

Again Letty had to curb that quick sharp pulse of curiosity.

‘Perhaps he is still adjusting to his injuries.’ She turned to the maid. ‘Do you have a jug for water?’

The girl bobbed a curtsy and hurried from the room. The opening of the door brought a welcome draught of cooler air.

‘Also, this chamber is too hot. At least during this warm weather. Is there a cooler room you could spend time in?’ Letty asked.

Elsie shrugged. ‘I suppose. The house is gargantuan.’

The maid re-entered, handing over a glass of water. Letty gave it to Elsie, watching her relief as she took a sip.

Then she turned back to the maid. ‘Make sure her ladyship spends time in a cooler area.’

‘Yes, sir. The other side of the house is usually in shadow.’

‘Good, make certain that she goes there and keeps her feet up. And she can drink. But not too much all at once.’

‘What will happen if I drink that whole jug?’ Elsie asked, with greater energy, eyeing the jug which the maid had put upon a dressing table.

‘I am uncertain, but I believe in moderation.’

Elsie giggled. ‘You are an unusual man.’

Letty stiffened. ‘How so?’

‘You said the word “uncertain”. So unusual for a man and a doctor,’ Elsie added with another tiny giggle.

But it should not be unusual, Letty thought. There was so much doctors did not know—the mysteries of physiology and disease. The exact method involved in the spread of disease and how one could help the human body to withstand illness.

‘Doctor?’ Elsie queried.