Page 23 of A Devilish Element
Eliza flung wide the door to Jane’s chamber. Jem settled her on the bed, then stood back to give Bell the space to do his work.
“Is she deranged?” Linfield remained on the threshold and did not cross it.
“Her heart’s racing,” Eliza said, which Bell confirmed with the press of his fingers to the pulse point in her throat. Although, it was clear enough that the rise and fall of her chest was unnaturally rapid. A sheen of perspiration peppered her brow and upper lip.
“It’s to be expected after a shock. But you must endeavour to gather your wits, Lady Linfield. Such dramatics are undignified in one of your standing.”
“She was here, I’m telling you,” Jane beseeched him. “Her face…it was.” She grasped his coat, though it was not clear if it was to pull him closer or to raise herself up. “Cruel. Hideous, cruel. She wants us gone, all of us, but me especially. This is her house. She means us ill, dreadful ill. You must believe me, doctor…Eliza…husband. Please.”
Linfield remained stoically distant. “Might you not sedate her? She’s clearly of unsound mind.”
Eliza shot Linfield such a look of horror the viscount actually took a step back into the corridor.
“Fetch a glass,” Bell instructed. Wine was procured, and added to it, a dropperful of sweet delirium. “Drink this, Lady Linfield. It will help rest your mind.” She did so meekly, then fell almost instantly limp against the pillows.
“You really believe an opiate the best recourse?” Eliza snapped, her hand coming to her hips as she faced Bell across the bed. “But then I suppose you’re inclined towards your master’s viewpoint. Willing to dismiss her alarm as the frailty of her mind, rather than making any attempt to discern the truth of the matter.”
“I’ve a bloodletting knife, if you’d prefer more invasive means. And pray, do not attribute to me views I have in no way expressed. Being in Lord Linfield’s employ does not grant him mastery of my mind. I am certain Lady Linfield did see something. As to the nature of that something, as you yourself implied, there is most likely a rational and completely ordinary explanation for it.”
Jem could not be certain of it, but he thought he saw a flicker of amusement about the doctor’s lips, as if he found in Miss Wakefield some merit where he had not supposed to find it. But didn’t he know that all too well himself? Eliza had never been an ordinary miss. Simpering ways and embroidery, warbling like a lark, they were as much of an anathema to her as to the two men of science she currently stood between. “Perhaps we ought to investigate,” he remarked. “See if there isn’t a simple explanation for whatever she saw.” He sought Eliza’s gaze, and her approval, but she was busy smoothing the covers over her friend’s still form. “If you are done here, Bell?”
“Will you sit with her?” Bell enquired of Eliza. “Or should I have the housekeeper send someone up? It’s unlikely she’ll stir, but it’s best if someone remains with her just in case.”
Eliza took a wary perch upon a nearby chair. “I’ll stay. I’m not certain there’s help enough at Cedarton for any of the maids to be spared.”
“But nor can you be expected to tend her the whole night through,” Jem said.
“I’ll speak to Mrs Honeyfield.” Bell asserted. “If her mind is still tender come daybreak, additional help will have to be found, though I’m sure she will wake quite herself again.”
“More likely with a head as thick as a woolly mammoth hide, and thoughts like treacle,” Eliza huffed under her breath.
Jem found he couldn’t disagree with her. He greatly disliked any concoction that meddled with his ability to reason properly. It was why he’d stayed clear of the parties held by Davy and his ilk, who made utter tits of themselves breathing nitrous oxide vapours from a green silk bag. Well, not so much Davy himself; he was far too busy recording the nonsense his experimental gas caused—euphoria, laughter, priapism. “Bell, a word.” He followed the doctor out into the corridor. “Did you read Davy’s pamphlet on nitrous oxide?”
Ludlow Bell stopped and turned towards him, his gaunt face pulled into a form of rigidity that might be down to derision or fascination, and which caused Jem to hesitate for fear of discovering which. “You’re not about to suggest I treat Lady Linfield’s malaise with such an analgesic?”
“God no! I was thinking of Linfield’s issue. I did mention it to him, and while I don’t know if Davy specifically mentions it, I’ve heard from others that one of the pleasures of the gas comes from the raising of one’s flagpole.”
His observation was met with a dry chuckle from Bell. “You’ve a strange mind to think of such things at a moment like this. Are you truly suggesting that I have Linfield inhale and then mount his wife?”
“Is it any more ludicrous an idea than treating him with leeches? Or his suggestions?”
“Indeed not. But your timing is… interesting. Though, I suppose it would also get you out of a tight spot, or should I say from sliding into one. Very well, I will investigate this gas, but as previously discussed, we both know there are simpler methods.”
“Out of the question,” Jem replied.
“He’d be a happier man for it, and we’d all get away from this place sooner. It’s going to be devilish cold once the snow falls.”
“Let me state this bluntly, if it’s a prick up his arse he needs, it need not be mine. Perhaps as his physician…”
Bell waved aside the notion. “You’re the fellow he has on retainer for that purpose.”
Jem rounded on him, hand planted flat across the physician’s chest. “I’m his tutor. My purpose is to teach him Greek and algebra. You’re the one who’s employed to keep him in merry health.”
Bell remained quiet a moment before releasing a snort. “You’re an intriguing case, Mr Whistler. I don’t believe you were quite so mired in moral quandaries before today. I’d take care if I were you. A wise man in your situation might choose to downplay their partiality for a certain recent arrival to Cedarton.”
Jem shot a look back down the corridor. Jane’s door was now closed, but it was the other occupant of that room that his thoughts turned to. He might dislike Bell for it, but the man was right. He would never exchange matrimonial oaths with Eliza, he had nothing to offer her but friendship, and Linfield was already spitting jealous.
“He’s a cur, but he’s a cur with a near bottomless purse.”
