clipped, mid-Atlantic accent.
Pru nodded. “Well, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, anyway,” she said. “Look, Mr. Purefoy, I don’t see how you are to blame. I’m very grateful to you for your assistance, I’m sure.”
“Assistance,” he muttered under his breath, hating himself. “I’ve sent for the doctor, of course. Dr. Wingfield is the best physician in London. He has attended my family for years.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Pru said appreciatively.
“No, it isn’t. I’m not kind. I’m the most selfish, thoughtless ass!”
“Well, I think you’re rather wonderful,” said Pru, smiling up at him.
Suddenly, he felt no need to confess to this lovely girl the full extent of his guilt. Let her hate me tomorrow, he decided. “Come,” he said. “I’ll take you to your sister.”
By this time, Briggs had found a female servant to look after Patience. A nightgown had been found for her, and her wet clothes had been taken away. Warm and dry, Patience lay still in the bed, her breath shallow. Pru kissed her on the forehead and stroked her hair.
“How peaceful she looks! All she really needs now, sir, is rest, I’m sure,” Pru said confidently. “She hasn’t been eating very well or sleeping, you see. The sea voyage was very hard on her.”
“I hope you’re right, Miss Waverly,” he said uneasily. “I hope it is nothing that won’t soon mend.” Leaving the sisters alone, he went downstairs to meet the doctor.
James Wingfield had known Max since the latter was a small boy. “What the devil have you done now?” the physician greeted him, not mincing words.
Max quickly gave him the facts. “It was a harmless prank,” he added defensively. “How was I to know she couldn’t swim?”
“You might have enquired, sir, before you drowned her!” Wingfield snapped. “These damned parties of yours! Someone’s going to get killed one of these days.”
“I’ve learned my lesson,” Max said contritely. “No more wild parties. My friends will be disappointed, of course, but my mind is quite made up. Look here, Wingfield!” he went on as the doctor started up the stairs to his patient. “Lady Waverly’s sister is with her now. She’s a mere child. It would only upset her if she knew—knew what I have done. Surely, there’s no cause for that?”
“You should have been beaten regularly,” Wingfield said grimly. “Your uncle indulges you too much. And so do I,” he added roughly. “No, I won’t tell the child you tried to drown her sister.”
While the physician examined his patient, Max sat with Pru in the hall outside the room. “He’s just going to tell us she needs her rest,” Pru said. Rather sleepy herself, she suppressed a yawn.
Dr. Wingfield, however, came out of the patient’s room looking very grave. “I’m afraid your sister is suffering from severe anemia, Miss Waverly,” he told her. “It is very serious.”
“You mean she doesn’t remember anything?” Pru said, puzzled.
Wingfield had no patience for ignorance, and he spoke rather brusquely. “Anemia, Miss Waverly, not amnesia.”
“Can’t she have both?” Max murmured.
“Let us hope not, Max,” Wingfield said coldly. “Her ladyship is suffering from a deficiency of iron in her blood. She’s also severely undernourished. Has she lost a great deal of weight recently?”
“Well, yes, of course she has,” said Pru. “She used to be quite healthy.”
“The Waverlys have just come over from America,” Max explained. “Lady Waverly suffered greatly from mal de mer.”
“Mal de mer?” Pru repeated, pronouncing it “moldy mare.” “The ship’s doctor said it was only seasickness!”
“A long voyage without proper nourishment can lead to all sorts of difficulties,” the doctor said. “Your sister is very weak, child. When is the last time she ate any solid food?”
“This morning,” said Pru. “She ate a very good breakfast. But then she was carriage-sick,” she added,