papers and letters and things; I know, because I went down yesterday, when he had the lid open, and he started like a coward when he saw me, and shut it to. Well, I thought 1 would see what there is in that safe, and I stole down to the cellar last night with my bunch of keys, to try whether any one of them would unlock it.”
“Oh, Laura!” broke forth Lucy, shocked and pained beyond expression. “How could you think of such a thing?”
“Wait until you have a husband like Mr. Carlton, who puts your temper up with his underhand ways, and then see what you would ‘think’ and do,” retorted Lady Laura.
And Lucy ventured no further remonstrance, for she had once been a child under Laura’s control, and was somewhat in awe of her still.
“I went in the dark, lest the servants should see me,” proceeded Lady Laura, “taking some wax matches with me, to light when I got down. All went well; I tried the keys (none of which fitted, so I was baffled there), and blew out my lights to come back again. We have to go down three steps in coming out of the drug-room, where the safe is, and mount two to get into the cellar—wretched incapables the builders must have been, to make you go down steps only to come up again! Well, Lucy, I slipped on something at the top of these three steps, something sticky, it seemed, and down I went to the bottom. I could hardly get up at first, for pain in my foot, and a regular fright I was in, fearing I must call the servants; however, I did succeed in crawling back. There’s the history.”
And a very creditable one! Lucy sat in wonder.
“I have told it you out of bravado,” continued Laura, who seemed to be in a reckless mood, “and you may repeat it to Jane, if you like. When he came home he wanted to know how I had done it. ‘Slipped,’ I answered; and he got no more out of me.”
A silence ensued, which Lucy broke. “We heard a rumour, Laura, that Mr. Carlton was likely to give up his practice here. Frederick Grey mentioned it.”
“He says he shall. I don’t know. Of course London’s the best field for a medical man. Talking of Frederick Grey, what’s the reason that Mr. Carlton dislikes him so much?”
“I know nothing about it,” replied Lucy.
“I heard him going on to Mr. Jefferson about Frederick Grey’s being down here interfering with the practice. There never was any love between them. Young Grey used to say Mr. Carlton drove his father from the town.”
“As he did,” returned Lucy, quietly. “At least it was so reported in the old days, I remember. But that is all past and done with. Frederick Grey is not interfering with Mr. Carlton’s practice.”
“No; Mr. Carlton would see him far enough away, rather than allow that. Lucy! are you ill? Your eyes look heavy, and your cheeks are flushed.”
Lucy had been bending her head upon her hand for the last few moments, as she had done earlier in the morning at her sister Jane’s.
“I got up with a headache,” she replied, lifting her eyes wearily. “I thought the air, as I came along, might have done it good, but it has not, and my throat is getting sore.”
“Throat getting sore!” echoed Laura. An instant’s pause, and she started from the sofa in consternation, forgetting her lameness, seized her sister, and drew her to the light of the window.
“Lucy! it cannot be! You are never going to have the fever!”
But Lucy was going to have the fever. In fact, Lucy had got the fever. And Lady Jane did not know of it until night, when she was expecting Lucy home; for Laura, from carelessness or from some other motive, never sent to tell her. At nine o’clock the footman was dispatched with the news, but it was Mr. Carlton who sent him.
Lady Jane could not believe it. It was simple Jonathan, and she did think the man must have made some mistake. Lady Lucy was in bed, he said. She had been taken ill soon after reaching their house. Mr. Carlton was out then, but on his return he pronounced it to be the fever, and ordered her instantly to bed. He had charged Jonathan to give his respects to Lady Jane, and to assure her that every care and attention should be paid to the invalid.
Now nothing in the world could have been much less welcome than this news to Lady Jane Chesney. To her mind there was something underhanded in their thus taking possession of Lucy, and she complained privately to Judith. Apart from Lady Jane’s anxiety for Lucy, she had an unconquerable aversion to her lying ill at Mr. Carlton’s, to her being attended by that gentleman, or to herself becoming an inmate, however temporarily, in his house, which she must do, were Lucy to remain. She took a moment’s counsel with herself, for Lady Jane was one who rarely did things upon impulse, then attired herself for walking, and proceeded to Mr. Carlton’s, taking Judith with her, and ordering her own footman to go as quickly as he could to Mr. Grey’s and bring back that gentleman to Mr. Carlton’s.
