She received the duckling from him and restored it to its brethren in the box. “Well, if she is not still brewing possets in the kitchen, I expect you may find her with Bromford in the best spare bedroom,” she replied.
“What?”
“Persuading him to swallow a little thin gruel,” explained Sophy, looking the picture of innocence. “The second door at the top of the stairs, dear Charles!”
Mr. Rivenhall tossed off the glass of sherry, set it down, informed his cousin ominously that he would deal with her presently, and strode toward the stairs, accompanied by Tina, who frisked gaily at his heels, apparently convinced that he was about to provide sport for her of no common order. Sophy went down the passage to inform the harassed Marquesa that although two of the dinner guests had departed, another had appeared in their stead.
Mr. Rivenhall, meanwhile, had mounted the stairs, and had, without ceremony, flung open the door of the best spare bedroom. A domestic scene met his affronted gaze. In a chair drawn up beside a clear fire sat Lord Bromford, a screen drawn to protect his person from the draught from the window, both his feet in a steaming bath of mustard and water, a blanket reinforcing Sir Vincent’s dressing gown over his shoulders, and in his hands a bowl of gruel and a spoon. Hovering solicitously about him was Miss Wraxton, ready either to add more hot water to the bath from the kettle on the hob or to replace the bowl of gruel with the posset of her making.
“Upon my word!” said Mr. Rivenhall explosively.
“The draught!” protested his lordship. “Miss Wraxton! I can feel the air blowing about my head!”
“Pray close the door, Charles!” said Miss Wraxton sharply. “Have you no consideration? Lord Bromford is extremely unwell!”
“So I perceive!” he retorted, advancing into the room. “Perhaps, my dear Eugenia, you would like to explain to me what the devil you mean by this?”
She replied instantly, her color heightened, “Thanks to your sister’s inhumanity — I can call it nothing else — in refusing to permit me to offer a seat to Lord Bromford in the chaise, he has taken a shocking chill, which I only pray may not have a lasting effect upon his constitution!”