Wednesday, 03 December 2008

• The Little Particulars of the Circumstance

  ne morning, very soon after the dinner at the Musgroves, at which Anne had not been present, Captain Wentworth walked into the drawing room at the Cottage, where were herself, Mr Robinson the apothecary, and the little invalid, Charles, who was lying on the sofa.
  
  The surprise of finding himself almost alone with Anne Elliot deprived of his manners of the usual composure: he started, and could only say, "I beg your pardon. I thought the Miss Musgroves had been here—Mrs Musgrove told me I could find them here," before he walked to the window to recollect himself and feel how he ought to behave.
  
  "They are upstairs with my sister—they will be down in a few moments, I dare say."
  
  He continued at the window; and after calmly and politely saying, "I hope the little boy is better," was silent.
  
  Anne turned back to Mr Robinson, the apothecary, who had come to check on the young patient.
  
  The man glanced towards Captain Wentworth. "As I was saying before the interruption, the boy's spine is undamaged and he is doing well enough in his recovery. I am heartened that my instructions have been carried out with such scrupulous attention." He removed his glasses and put them in his breast pocket. "It is not always the case when I make recommendations."
  
  Anne suspected her sister's delicate health made it necessary for Mr Robinson to make rather a lot of calls to the Cottage, but she doubted Mary did more than enjoy the notice, with no intentions of following his orders. Mr Robinson once again looked over his little patient. He frowned and pulled up the boy's shirt. "How long has this rash been evident?"
  
  She came closer. "I saw it last night. It is a little more acute this morning. I think it may be—"
  
  Robinson grunted and sighed heavily. He put on his glasses and began to carelessly prod and turn the boy this way and that. Anne was appalled that he wholly disregarded Charles's sharp cries. He touched a place or two, and then looked over the tops of the spectacles. "You say it is more intense?" Anne nodded. "Was this rash on him the other day?"
  
  "No. I am not sure when it appeared, but I saw it yesterday evening, around seven."
  
  He opened a small notebook and flipped through a few pages. He sighed again. "There is a pocket of fever in Crewkherne. It became evident just a week or so ago. There is fear it is smallpox." He turned around and looked to the Captain's position at the window. "When did you arrive? Come through Crewkherne did you?"
  
  For a moment, Wentworth did not realize he was being addressed. "Yes I did, sir, under a week ago. But I did not leave the carriage."
  
  "But it did stop?"
  
  "Yes, the driver delivered something to the apothecary. There were no other stops."
  
  Robinson’s brows rose markedly. "And you spoke with him after?"
  
  "Yes, when I left the carriage. I had arranged especially to be dropped at Kellynch Hall. It was out of his way, and I paid him and gave him something extra for his men." The Captain glanced at Anne. "I wasn't in the town to speak of."
  
  Again Robinson breathed heavily. "Didn't have to be. It's the driver of that very line, William Denton, who's got the fever. Pretty bad as I hear. A physician there thinks it may be small pox." He stood, looking to Anne and then the Captain.
  
  Wentworth stepped closer. He glanced towards Anne and stopped short. He spoke in low tones, glancing at Little Charles. "This is as close to the child as I have ever been, sir."
  
  Now Anne stepped closer. "He came to visit Little Charles the day before last." Captain Wentworth was indeed no neared to the boy now than he was the other morning, but Anne thought Mr Robinson should know all the particulars.
  
  Wentworth cast a stern look Anne's way. "I can't be held responsible for making him ill. It would seem reasonable that I should be ill myself if I am the cause of the boy's illness."
  
  Robinson did not acknowledge Wentworth, but turned immediately away. "Where did you say Mrs Musgrove is at?" Anne indicated the door opposite the double doors to the public part of the house, and said she was up the stairs. Robinson glowered, muttering to himself, and roughly moved between them. He closed the door, locked it, and put the key in his own pocket.
  
  Anne looked first at Charles and then to Wentworth. To the apothecary, she said, "But why have you locked this door? My sister and the Musgrove girls are upstairs."
  
  "I understand. I will use the back entrance and go up to tell them what I suspect. I don't want you spreading anything to them if they are not already infected." He passed by Wentworth without a glance. "Where is the younger boy and his father?" he asked, as he picked up his bag and moved towards the double doors.
  
  "Charles took Walter and they are at the Mansion with his parents, I believe." Anne did not like the direction the circumstances were moving.
  
  "Right, right." He stepped out of the drawing room and turned to them. "I shall go up to tell the ladies, and then to the Mansion to see that Mr Charles stays put. No sense risking anyone else." With that, he stepped out and closed the double doors with a bang. She could hear him speaking with someone. Wentworth moved closer to listen. Mr Robinson was giving instructions to the maid that no one was to go into the drawing room and those inside were not allowed out.
  
  Anne and the Captain stared at one another as they listened to his footsteps fading away. "So, the maids are trapped as well. Though we must all remain apart." He walked back to the window and held aside the lace curtain. "It will be an interesting few days." He looked back at Anne and smiled.
  
  In their previous meetings, he had been all politeness. The encounters had been cool and distant exchanges that left her feeling empty and hurt. This easy smile directed at her made her light-headed. She did not reply but went to sit with little Charles.
  
  The whole circumstance was shocking, and a not just a little frightening. She needed some time and solitude in which to order her emotions. The Captain’s presence made calm and rational thought impossible. She buttoned Charles's nightshirt and saw him comfortable. He turned over to sleep. She stood but with Frederick in the room, she had no place to move that did not put her closer.
  
  Before Wentworth could say anything, they heard the front door open. A man's voice called, "Hello."
  
  "We are in the drawing room." Wentworth held the door handles, which was sensible, as the unknown visitor of course tried to open them. "I can't allow you in, I'm afraid."
  
  "Who is this?" The doors rattled violently.
  
  Anne joined Captain Wentworth at the door. "Mr Hayter, I am afraid the apothecary thinks we may have small pox, and he has ordered little Charles and me to remain in here." She glanced to Wentworth, and was about to continue when she was cut off.
  
  "Who is with you? Is that you, Cousin Charles? I was told your sisters are here as well."
  
  She glanced at Wentworth and was shocked to see him grinning. He also spoke before she had a chance. "No, this is Captain Wentworth. Charles is at the Mansion. I'm surprised you didn't see him. Mrs Charles and both the Miss Musgroves are upstairs. Mr Robinson should be telling them just now about our predicament." He was enjoying what he knew would be Hayter's distress at their unusual and highly inappropriate circumstance. He looked down at her and the little smiled faded to nothing.
  
  For a moment, Anne felt badly that his merriment was curtailed just by looking in her direction. "Mr Hayter, I am certain this will all be cleared up directly. I am sure the rash Mr Robinson thinks to be small pox is merely due to the washerwoman's ill rinsing of the clothes. It is the soap left in the garments you see."
  
  Wentworth chuckled.
  
  "Why do you laugh? You heard Mr Robinson say he is known for being overcautious."
  
  His eyes sparkled. His dear face was as appealing as it had ever been. "Why did you not tell the apothecary about the soap when he made his preposterous declaration?" Wentworth leant against the doors. The handles were silent.
  
  Anne felt he was challenging her, and ridiculing her conclusion. "I had no chance. You saw him. He said what he said, locked the door and left us. Do you imagine I wished for my nephew and me to be locked up in this little room together?" She could feel heat rising into her cheeks.
  
  He cocked his head to the side. "It is not as if the two of you are alone in here."
  
  The heat in her cheeks was almost painful now, and her whole being quaked at his suggestion. "Surely you are not insinuating that I am glad you and I are here together?" She had spoken rather louder than was prudent considering all the members of their little fellowship. "I am no happier than you over this—this—."
  
  "Interesting state." Wentworth stepped away from the door, returning to the window. "I have no idea what motivates the feminine mind, any more than I know what might make you happy. Or not." He lifted the lace curtain and looked out.
  
  

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