Page 21 of The Sisters of Sea View
Mamma shook her head. “I don’t want to be a bother ... or add to our expenses.”
“Your health is far more important. Don’t even mention it.”
“Very well. I don’t wish to worry anyone.”
“Too late, Mamma! I was terribly worried when you did not respond to my repeated pounding and calling. In fact, I feared the worst.”
“I am sorry, my dear. What a burden I am to you.”
“Not at all, Mamma. We love you. And we want you to be well cared for. But please leave off with the sleeping draught.”
5
A Lady of a very good Family and Fortune, had frequently been attacked with a Colic Complaint. She had had the advice of the best physicians in London, and had often gone to Bath in the Spring, and drank the Tunbridge Waters in the Autumn.
—Dr. Richard Russell,
A Dissertation Concerning the Use of Sea Water in Diseases of the Glands
Later that morning, Sarah walked into eastern Sidmouth to visit Fran Stirling. Reaching the marketplace, she knocked at the door of Broadbridge’s Boarding House. Soon she was warmly welcomed and shown into a cozy parlour that smelled of furniture polish and freshly laundered linens. Miss Stirling wore a frilly bib apron, which she quickly removed upon receiving her and hung behind the door. Apparently even the owner of a well-established guest house had to do domestic chores from time to time.
Miss Stirling insisted on serving tea, and when they were both settled, Sarah asked if she knew of a doctor she might recommend.
Miss Stirling beamed. “I know the very person.”
She told Sarah that Sidmouth boasted one physician, Dr. James Clarke, as well as several surgeons and apothecaries who seemedto flock to the area to serve the medical needs of the many visiting invalids.
They talked for a few minutes longer until Mr. Farrant stopped by to see if the banister he’d tightened was holding up well.
“Oh yes, perfectly sturdy,” she assured him.
It seemed like a flimsy excuse to call, yet based on the gleam in Miss Stirling’s eyes, the man’s visit was welcome. Sarah knew it was time to take her leave.
After departing Broadbridge’s, she stopped by the office of Dr. Clarke and requested he call on Mrs. Summers at Sea View.
He came later that afternoon, and Mamma asked Sarah to stay while the doctor examined her. Sarah sat across the room, twisting her fingers as the older man listened to Mamma’s heart and lungs through a tube, felt her pulse, looked into her eyes, and asked a series of questions.
When he was finished, Mamma asked, “Well, Dr. Clarke?”
“You are weak, as you know. You said your previous doctor diagnosed colic, but I also detect glandular issues of a pulmonary nature. No wonder you rarely feel strong enough to venture from bed nor to partake of life’s pleasures.”
Sarah spoke up. “She is always stoic, though—are you not, Mamma? Even cheerful.”
“Thank you, my dear. I do try.”
The doctor remained sober. “That shows great strength of character, ma’am, if not of body.”
“Well, what do you recommend?” Sarah asked. “Is there no treatment, no medicine that might help her?”
“Indeed there is. Inhaling the salubrious sea breezes frequently suspends the ravages of disease. Also, the use of sea water might be of great service in preventing bilious colics and the most dangerous distempers, and in preserving the lungs....”
Sarah listened closely yet barely understood half of what the man said.
Mamma interjected, “I have been sitting outside in the walledgarden, taking the air. Though I am protected there from the worst of the wind.”
He nodded. “That is a start. But I believe it is the combination of sea air and sea-bathing that produces the best effect for every disorder of the stomach, lungs, and blood.”
Mamma’s face fell. “I ... see.”
