Bone House_ A Novel - Betsy Tobin [14]
Some time later Lucius bustles in with his usual fanfare, apparently unaware that he has been summoned on my behalf, rather than hers. He raises an eyebrow when she informs him, but gives a brief nod and turns to me. He examines me with care, out of deference to her, but in truth appears unimpressed, thus doubling my already acute embarrassment. My mistress hovers to one side as he takes my pulse.
“She is out of humor, is she not?” she demands of Lucius.
“Her color is pale, it is true. And her pulse is a trifle weak, but I can find no other evidence of ailment,” he replies in a clipped tone.
Lucius bids me open my mouth and examines my tongue and teeth, and peers down my throat as best he can, causing me not a little discomfort. My mistress strains to see over his shoulder, making me feel at once like a herd animal being sold at market. After a moment, Lucius straightens and he replaces his instruments in their carrying case.
“One need only look at her to see that she is not herself,” says my mistress in a slightly defensive tone.
“Perhaps,” says Lucius inconclusively. He takes my hands and examines the palms, pressing on their centers with each of his thumbs. Then he takes my chin firmly in his hand and lifts it so as to look into my eyes.
“Her eyes are tinged with yellow,” says my mistress. Lucius grunts in response but says nothing.
“It is a sure sign of green sickness,” she continues. “She is of the age, to be certain.”
At this I blush so fiercely that I must lower my head. My mistress needs only hear of some young woman being in a state of distress than she has diagnosed a fit of green sickness, that which occurs when a young maid’s natural passions are left unattended.
“Please, mum, I am well,” I stammer. “It is nothing but a touch of tiredness.”
Lucius clears his throat and stands.
“I suspect that she is right,” he says. “But I will prescribe a remedy which will purge her of the green, should it indeed be present in her blood.” My mistress gives a satisfied sniff and nods at me knowingly. I sigh and close my eyes for a moment. Lucius ferrets around in his black bag until he finds a vial with some grayish powder inside, and instructs my mistress in its preparation. He advises me to remain in bed for the remainder of the day, and says that he will look in on me the following morning on his rounds, a comment that quite evidently pleases my mistress, who would surely have him visit daily if she could. It occurs to me that she has invented the entire incident at my expense simply to create a diversion, but I am too tired to feel angry. As Lucius turns to go she asks after the boy.
He looks at her uncomprehendingly.
“The Long Boy,” she says.
He nods. “I saw him first thing this morning. He is much restored. Eating now, and talking sense. The fever is gone. It appears my treatment was a great success,” he adds in a satisfied voice.
I think of the vial of camphor, sitting untouched on the table of the cottage, and of my mother’s herbs. Lucius looks at me.
“Your mother has been very devoted in her attendance to him,” he adds in a measured tone.
“She was there this morning?” I ask. He nods.
“You are very charitable, Lucius, to donate your services to such an unfortunate case,” says my mistress, perhaps a trifle goadingly.
Lucius turns slowly to her, his eyes narrowing slightly, and appears to be weighing up his answer. “She retained my services some time ago,” he says finally, one eyebrow raised.
“Dora?” asks my mistress. Lucius nods.
“Before she died?” I ask, propping myself up on one elbow.
“Yes,” he says, turning to me. “In the event that some misfortune should befall her, she did not want the boy left unattended.”
“She said this?” I ask.
“In so many words. It was extremely prudent of her, for she had no way of knowing,” he says matter of factly.
“No, of course not,” murmurs my mistress. “How could she?” And with that she turns to me, and locks her gaze on mine. I feel the heat rise in my face, and my mistress looks at me strangely.
And then the room begins to spin.
When I regain