Ragged Rose. Dilly Court

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       Chapter Five

      The kitchen was deserted, but the kettle singing on the range was a sure sign that Mrs Blunt had not retired for the night. Rose helped Cora to a chair. ‘Sit down and dry your eyes. I’ll go and find out what’s happening.’

      ‘It must be Mama.’ Cora raised a tear-stained face. ‘We shouldn’t have left her.’

      ‘I’ll find out. Stay there and try to keep calm.’

      Rose discarded her bonnet and shawl as she hurried from the room, making her way to the entrance hall where Dr Grantley and her father were deep in conversation. The sound of their deep tones echoed through the otherwise silent house.

      ‘What’s wrong, Papa?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Has Mama been taken worse?’

      Seymour’s thin features were sharply outlined by the shadows cast by the flickering gaslights, and his face was ashen. ‘I’m afraid so. Mrs Blunt is with her now.’

      ‘I’ll go up, shall I, Vicar?’ Dr Grantley moved to the foot of the stairs without waiting for a response. ‘I know the way.’ He lumbered up the staircase and the treads creaked beneath his considerable weight.

      ‘Why are you home so late, Rose?’ Seymour demanded angrily. ‘I’ll have words with Polly for keeping you girls out until all hours. She will have to hire more help if she cannot run her establishment without you and Cora.’

      ‘It wasn’t Aunt Polly’s fault, Pa. We lost track of the time.’

      ‘Well, it isn’t good enough. I don’t want my daughters roaming the city streets late at night.’

      ‘I’m truly sorry that you were worried, Pa.’ Rose could see that her father was upset and unlikely to be mollified by excuses. ‘Shall I go upstairs with the doctor? I’ll ask Mrs Blunt to make you a cup of tea or a tisane to calm your nerves.’

      He seemed to shrink before her startled gaze, and his shoulders stooped as if burdened by an unbearably heavy weight. He dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘Yes, Rose, that would be for the best. I think I might go to my study and rest for a while.’

      The temptation to put her arms around him and give him a hug was almost irresistible, but Rose knew that her father was not the sort of man who welcomed personal contact. Even as a child she could not remember any outward demonstrations of affection on his part. As far as she was concerned, Papa had always been a slightly aloof figure of authority. Billy had always been his favourite, and no matter how hard Rose tried to please her father it had never seemed to be enough, but it was a shock to see him bowed and bent like a gnarled tree battered by a gale. She made a move to follow the doctor. ‘I’ll take care of Mama, and I’ll send Mrs Blunt to you.’

      ‘Where is Cora?’ Seymour demanded anxiously.

      ‘She’s in the kitchen, Pa.’

      ‘You must take care of her, Rose. She’s delicate, like your mother, and I worry about her health. Going out in the night air isn’t good for anyone with a weak constitution.’

      ‘Cora is perfectly well, Papa. I wouldn’t allow her to do anything that might compromise her wellbeing.’ Rose waited until her father went into his study before continuing upstairs to her parents’ bedroom.

      Mrs Blunt was standing by the bed with a doleful expression on her face. She gave Rose a reproachful look. ‘Your ma was taken ill an hour or more ago. She was calling for you.’

      Rose approached the bed, keeping a respectful distance from the doctor, who was using a stethoscope to examine his patient. Eleanor lay amongst the pillows like a broken flower, her long hair spreading out around her head in a halo of pale gold. Seeming to sense her daughter’s presence, she opened her eyes and her bloodless lips curved in a hint of a smile. ‘Rose,’ she whispered. ‘Where were you?’

      ‘No talking, please, Mrs Perkins.’ Dr Grantley shot a warning glance at Rose before continuing his examination.

      ‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ Rose said softly. ‘I was delayed, but I’m here now.’ She turned to Mrs Blunt. ‘My father looks very tired. I’m sure a cup of tea would revive him, or one of your excellent camomile tisanes.’

      ‘Yes, of course, Miss Rose.’ Despite her meek response Mrs Blunt managed to convey her reluctance with a twitch of her shoulders and a loud sniff as she left the room, but Rose was too concerned with her mother’s health to worry overmuch about offending their housekeeper’s sensibilities.

      Dr Grantley folded the stethoscope and replaced it in his medical bag. ‘Your mother needs rest and quiet, Rose.’ He leaned over the bed, fixing Eleanor with a stern gaze. ‘I’ll give you some laudanum, which will help you to sleep, Mrs Perkins, and I’ll call again in the morning.’

      He took a small glass bottle from his bag and handed it to Rose. ‘One or two drops diluted in water will ease the pain.’ He snapped the lock shut and headed for the door, beckoning Rose to follow him. ‘Your mother is very unwell. She has a delicate constitution and I’m afraid that the polluted air in the city has taken its toll on her health.’

      ‘What can we do to make her better, Doctor?’

      ‘I would advise good food, country air and above all rest, but I fear that is out of the question.’ He stroked his beard, frowning. ‘Unless, of course, you have relatives who dwell in the countryside, or a family friend who lives out of town and would care for Mrs Perkins during her convalescence?’

      ‘I don’t think so, Dr Grantley. My grandparents died several years ago and Mama has only one sister, but she lives in Old Street.’

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