Heirs of Ravenscar. Barbara Taylor Bradford

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СКАЧАТЬ that Creopin mixture, for inhaling. I bought it in London recently.’

      ‘Is Creopin better than Friar’s Balsam, do you think, Mother?’

      ‘I’m not sure, Ned, we’ll ask the doctor when he gets here,’ Cecily replied, and began to attend to her grandson, spooning the raspberry mixture into his mouth.

      After a moment, Edward touched Elizabeth’s arm and whispered, ‘Let’s go outside for a moment, darling.’ Taking her arm, he guided her to the door. Once they were in the corridor alone, he pulled her into his arms and held her close, stroking her hair. Against her cheek, he said, ‘Do try not to worry. We’ll get him well, Elizabeth, I promise.’

      ‘Do you promise me that, Ned?’

      ‘Oh, I do, Elizabeth, I do promise you he’ll soon be as right as rain.’

      Elizabeth let her body relax against his, comforted by his presence, his warmth and his love. When it came to his children’s welfare she trusted him implicitly. Also, Ned’s self-assurance, his confidence in himself, his belief that he could control everyone and everything had always made her feel safe. Some thought these characteristics reflected his arrogance. She knew otherwise; and no one knew him better than she did.

THREE

      ‘Mr Deravenel wishes me to take you upstairs straight away, sir,’ Jessup explained to the doctor, after putting his hat and coat in the hall cupboard. ‘If you’ll come this way, please.’

      ‘Thank you, Jessup,’ Peter Leighton answered, and followed swiftly on the heels of the butler, crossing the Long Hall to the grand staircase.

      Before they had reached the nursery floor, Edward, who had heard their voices, was standing at the top of the stairs, impatiently waiting for them.

      ‘Good morning, Dr Leighton,’ he exclaimed at the sight of the doctor, and added, ‘Thank you, Jessup.’ With a brief nod Edward dismissed the butler, who hurried off down the stairs.

      As the doctor stepped onto the landing, he thrust out his hand and shook Edward’s. ‘Good morning, Mr Deravenel. So, Young Edward’s poorly, is he?’

      ‘Yes. My wife thinks it’s Spanish flu. He’s got a fever, a hacking cough. Earlier, there were flecks of blood in his handkerchief, my wife tells me. As you can imagine, we’re extremely worried. I can only add that we are very glad you happen to be staying with the Dunbars this weekend, so close to us.’

      ‘Very fortuitous indeed,’ Dr Leighton answered, then asked, ‘How are the other children? Are they showing any signs of infection?’

      ‘No, they’re not, but I would like you to see them, once you’ve seen Young Edward.’

      ‘Of course, of course, that’s understood, Mr Deravenel.’ Dr Leighton gave Edward a smile of encouragement and continued, ‘I’m afraid Spanish flu is extremely virulent, as no doubt you know from the newspapers and the radio, but it hasn’t been striking down children or the elderly, as flu usually does. This new strain appears to infect young adults mainly. Mostly young men between twenty and thirty. As I parked my car in the stable yard just now, I noticed your brother, and I should point out that he could be a candidate for this particular virus. I think I ought to take a look at him also before I leave.’ Then the doctor finished, almost under his breath, ‘Unfortunately there seems to be no remedy for Spanish flu. No one knows how to treat it.’

      Observing the look of apprehension crossing Edward’s face, the doctor took his arm and murmured, ‘Look here, there’s no point in my beating about the bush, Mr Deravenel, you have to know the facts. But let us hope your little son has not contracted this terrible illness and that he either has a very bad cold or bronchitis. They’re bad enough, I know, but at least they are treatable. And curable.’

      ‘I understand, and please don’t apologize for telling me the truth. However unpalatable the truth might be, I prefer to hear the worst, so that I know what I’m dealing with. I hate surprises. Let’s go to Young Edward’s room shall we? You can examine him and then check on the rest of the brood.’

      When they entered the bedroom a moment later, Elizabeth and Cecily turned around, politely greeted the doctor and then stepped away from the bedside.

      ‘I shall go along and look in on the other children,’ Cecily announced. ‘Give you a little breathing space in here, Dr Leighton.’

      The doctor nodded, offered her a grateful smile as Cecily slipped out; Elizabeth moved closer to her husband, who was standing near the door of the bedroom, took hold of his arm, leaned into him.

      Elizabeth explained to the doctor, ‘The coughing seems to have abated, Dr Leighton, since my mother-in-law managed to spoon down a raspberry vinegar mixture.’

      Peter Leighton glanced at her and nodded. ‘It’s often those old-fashioned remedies that work the best, you know.’ As he spoke he took a stethoscope out of his medical bag, bent over Young Edward, noting at once that the boy was feverish and had a glazed look. He listened to his chest, then put a thermometer in his mouth, held it there for a few seconds.

      After reading the thermometer, he said, ‘His temperature is a bit high, but that’s to be expected. I’m going to turn him over, Mrs Deravenel. I want to check his lungs.’

      ‘Do you need my help, Doctor?’ she asked, her eyes pinned on the doctor, a worried expression on her face.

      ‘No, no, there’s no problem.’ Dr Leighton laid the little boy on his side, lifted his pyjama top and put the stethoscope on his back, listening acutely. A moment or two later he repositioned the child, and covered him with the bedclothes. After opening his mouth gently, the doctor used a wooden tongue depressor to look down Young Edward’s throat.

      Finally straightening, and turning to Edward and Elizabeth, Dr Leighton said, with some relief, ‘He has bronchitis. It’s not Spanish flu.’

      Elizabeth put a trembling hand to her mouth and swallowed back a sob. She looked up at Edward, sudden tears of relief glistening on her blonde lashes, and attempted to smile at him without much success.

      ‘You’re certain?’ Edward said softly.

      ‘I am, Mr Deravenel. He has all the symptoms. Let me explain. Bronchitis causes obstruction to the flow of air in and out of the lungs, and interferes with the exchange of oxygen between the lungs and the blood, hence the hacking cough. The airways are continuously inflamed and diseased, and are filled with mucus. And sometimes, after a fit of coughing, flecks of blood appear in the mucus, from the strain of coughing. I’m going to telephone the chemist in Scarborough and prescribe an excellent cough mixture, as well as an expectorant and a fever powder which will help bring down the fever. The chemist will send his son up to Ravenscar with the medications. In the meantime, you can continue to give him the raspberry vinegar mixture until you have the cough syrup.’

      ‘Thank you, Dr Leighton. Now, what else should we do for him?’ Elizabeth asked.

      ‘Keep him warm, but not hot. Aim for an even temperature, and let him rest quietly. Give him plenty of liquids, particularly beef tea and chicken broth – warm liquids are best,’ the doctor explained.

      Edward cleared his throat, looked over at the doctor and said, ‘What СКАЧАТЬ