Never Doubt I Love Read Online Free Page B

equivocation, “are unscrupulous charlatans who charge outrageous fees for the privilege of practicing upon their unfortunate patients while they live, and have lately taken to cutting them up when they die from such practicing! It would surprise me not in the least to discover that in many cases they cut people up before they are deceased! I myself enjoy excellent health, doubtless because I have never permitted a physician to lay his hands upon my person. ’Faith, but I would as soon admit a wild boar to one of my musicales as to allow such a quack to cross the threshold! I see that your face bears an incredulous expression. Do you perhaps doubt the veracity of what I have said?”
    Pierced by a militant glare, Zoe stammered, “No, no, ’Tis just that—well, I know Papa would become vexed with old Dr. Edgeware when he would insist that port wine was injurious, but he is such a gentle man. I cannot think he would cut people up.”
    â€œThat is because your horizons are small and your thoughts ill-formed. You may believe whatever I tell you. All doctors are half-mad and will stop at nothing to exercise their knives. I have heard tales from sensible men that even I could scarce credit. Only last month a retired general of my acquaintance told me that he encountered a physician leaving the hospital late one night, with a long parcel under his arm. When the general enquired what the young fellow carried, he had the effrontery to admit that he had chanced to cut off the wrong leg of one of his patients, but that it was just as well because he could now take it home and use it to determine how toenails grow!”
    â€œGood … heavens…!” gasped Zoe.
    â€œJust so. Now, you will suppose, since you have no experience, that I mean to reach London tonight. Not so. I never undertake a journey that will leave me fatigued. We shall overnight at High Wycombe, which is in the valley of the Wye. It is a fairish town of great antiquity and is mentioned in the Domesday Book. I would not be surprised if some of my ancestors stayed there at that time. In ancient days it was a Roman camp. I tell you these things to elevate your mind, for although it does not do for a lady to be clever, neither must she appear a stupid … In point of fact…”
    On and on she went.
    â€˜Goodness me,’ thought Zoe. ‘I wonder whatever the sister will be like!’
    *   *   *
    The Three Horse Inn was a charming old Tudor establishment advantageously located on the Oxford-to-London road some distance northwest of High Wycombe. When the carriage rumbled into the cobbled yard Zoe was surprised to find that they were expected. A footman hurried to escort them inside. The host bowed himself double and assured Lady Buttershaw that her own sheets were already upon the beds, and that Miss Grainger had been allocated the adjoining chamber. “Her woman,” he added, “is waiting for her. If you will be so good as to come this way, my lady.”
    Astonished, Zoe accompanied Lady Buttershaw up the stairs. “How very kind in you, ma’am, to have re-hired Daisy for me. When my step-mama turned her off—”
    â€œI am acquainted with no one called Daisy. These stairs are atrocious. You should have a more modern flight put in, host. I would not be surprised but that you are infested with woodworms. I shall leave you the name of an excellent architect.”
    By the time the host, apparently acquainted with her ladyship, had murmured his thanks, they had reached the first floor. Following him along the narrow passage, Zoe said, “But, ma’am, there is no need to impose upon your woman. I can manage my own toilette, and—”
    â€œâ€™Tis painfully obvious that you can do no such thing,” retorted my lady, her withering glance sweeping Zoe from head to toe. “Nor have I the slightest intention of requiring either my abigail or my dresser to