Page 78 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
“Yes, M’Lady,” he said, a fragile smile on his lips.
Chapter 55
“Lord Peter Lytton,” announced Foster.
Madeline’s heart quickened. It had been a mere twenty-four hours since Papa had taken ill. They had gone by in a blur. And now, the idea of seeing Lord Peter made her dreamlike day even more so.
He was handsome in his blue tailcoat with its brass buttons, and this over a double-breasted waistcoat. He entered the parlour looking serious—even stately—in his attire, especially as it culminated in buckskin breeches tucked into black John Bull boots. He peeled off his brown gloves as he spoke.
“Good morning, Lady Madeline. I came as soon as I heard the news. How is he?”
“He’s alright. The physician is here and we’re tending to him round the clock. He’s awake if you’d like to see him.”
“If it’s not much trouble.”
“Not at all. Dr. Brightman says visitors would help to cheer his spirit. Can I have Foster bring you anything?”
“Thank you, no. I cannot stay for long.”
Madeline bit her bottom lip as she walked slightly ahead of him, self-awareness gnawing at her incessantly.
They ascended the stairs to the upper level when she turned to him. “You know, you were so kind to me when I was recovering from my illness.”
He smiled. “I hope not to make it a habit every time I visit this fine house that it is in service of visiting the sick.”
She chuckled. “I as well.”
She stopped at her parents’ bedroom door, which was ajar, and knocked softly. “Papa? There is someone here to see you.”
He was pale and wizened, made frail in his condition. But his countenance brightened when he recognised Peter.
“Hello, my good man,” he said weakly. His voice was a rasp.
“I’m here for but a short time, My Lord. How are you feeling?”
“I can’t say I’ve felt worse,” Papa said with half a smile. “I do long for some fine food however in place of these swine vittles they’re feeding me.”
“Now, Papa,” said Madeline, “you are to follow Dr. Brightman’s orders.”
“Whatarethey feeding you?” said Lord Peter.
“Oh,” said Papa, “eye of newt or some such. Owlet’s wing perhaps?”
Madeline chuckled. “Gentian and burnet, and gruel of cleavers.”
“Ah yes,” said Lord Peter, “I have an acquaintance whose father suffered a similar attack of the heart. That very remedy did him well indeed.”
“Well,” said Papa, “I’m not so sure it isn’t aggravating my condition by lowering my spirits. But your visit, on the contrary, has done them well, Lord Peter.”
“Thank you, My Lord. Mind, I intend to challenge you to a match at shuttlecock when you’re up to it.”
The man smiled. “You may have to wait. Do not presume to hold your breath in the meantime.”
Lord Peter snapped his fingers. “That reminds me, I saw a conjurer a couple of nights ago at Vauxhall.”
“You were at Vauxhall?” said Madeline.
“Yes, I was.”
