my lady. What shrieks she gives every now and then! — and nobody knows what’s the matter but ourselves; and every body in the house is asking me why a surgeon is not sent for, if my lady is so much hurt. Oh, I can’t answer for it to my conscience, to have kept the matter secret so long; for to be sure a physician, if had in time, might have saved my lady — but now nothing can save her!” And here Marriott burst into tears.
“Why don t you give me the laudanum?” cried Lady Delacour, in a loud peremptory voice; “Give it to me instantly.”—“No,” said Miss Portman, firmly. —“Hear me, Lady Delacour — you must allow me to judge, for you know that you are not in a condition to judge for yourself, or rather you must allow me to send for a physician, who may judge for us both.”
“A physician!” cried Lady Delacour, “Never — never. I charge you let no physician be sent for. Remember your promise: you cannot betray me — you will not betray me.”
“No,” said Belinda, “of that I have given sufficient proof — but you will betray yourself: it is already known by your servants that you have been hurt by the overturn of your carriage; if you do not let either a surgeon or physician see you it will excite surprise and suspicion. It is not in your power, when violent pain seizes you, to refrain from —————”
“It is,” interrupted Lady Delacour; “not another scream shall you hear — only do not, do not, my dear Belinda, send for a physician.”
“You will throw yourself again into convulsions,” said Belinda. “Marriott, you see, has lost all command of herself — I shall not have strength to manage you —— perhaps I may lose my presence of mind — I cannot answer for myself — your husband may desire to see you.”
“No danger of that,” said Lady Delacour: “tell him my ankle is sprained — tell him I am bruised all over — tell him any thing you will — he will not trouble himself any more about me — he will forget all that passed to-night by the time he is sober. Oh! give me the laudanum, dearest Belinda, and say no more about physicians.”
It was in vain to reason with Lady Delacour. Belinda attempted to persuade her: “For my sake, dear Lady Delacour,” said she, “let me send for Dr. X——; he is a man of honour, your secret will be perfectly safe with him.”
“He will tell it to Clarence Hervey,” said Lady Delacour: “of all men living, I would not send for Dr. X——; I will not see him if he comes.”
“Then,” said Belinda, calmly, but with a fixed determination of countenance, “I must leave you to-morrow morning — I must return to Bath.”
“Leave me! remember your promise.”
“Circumstances have occurred, about which I have made no promise,” said Belinda; “I must leave you, unless you will now give me your permission to send for Dr. X——.”
Lady Delacour hesitated. “You see,” continued Belinda, “that I am in earnest: when I am gone, you will have no friend left; when I am gone, your secret will inevitably be discovered; for without me, Marriott will not have sufficient strength of mind to keep it.”
“Do you think we might trust Dr. X——?” said Lady Delacour.
“I am sure you may trust him,” said Belinda, with energy; “I will pledge my life upon his honour.”
“Then send for him, since it must be so,” said Lady Delacour.
No sooner had the words passed Lady Delacour’s lips than Belinda flew to execute her orders. Marriott recovered her senses when she heard that her ladyship had consented to send for a physician; but she declared that she could not conceive how any thing less than the power of magic could have brought her lady to such a determination.
Belinda had scarcely despatched a servant for Dr. X— — when Lady Delacour repented of the permission she had given, and all that could be said to pacify only irritated her temper. She became delirious; Belinda’s presence of mind never forsook her, she remained quietly beside the bed waiting for the arrival of Dr. X— — and she absolutely refused admittance to the servants, who, drawn by their lady’s outrageous cries, continually came to her door with offers of assistance.
About four o’clock the doctor arrived, and Miss Portman was relieved from some of her anxiety. He assured her that there was no immediate danger, and he promised that the secret which she had entrusted to him should be faithfully kept. He remained with her some hours, till Lady Delacour became more quiet and fell asleep, exhausted with delirious exertions. —“I think I may now leave you,” said Dr. X——; but as he was going through the dressing-room, Belinda stopped him. —“Now that I have time to think of myself,” said she, “let me consult you as my friend: I am not used to act entirely for myself, and I shall be most grateful if you will assist me with your advice. I hate all mysteries, but I feel myself bound in honour to keep the secret with which Lady Delacour has entrusted me. Last night I was so circumstanced, that I could not extricate her ladyship without exposing myself to — to suspicion.”
Miss Portman then related all that had passed about the mysterious door, which Lord Delacour, in his fit of drunken jealousy, had insisted upon breaking open.
“Mr. Hervey,” continued Belinda, “was present when all this happened — he seemed much surprised: I should be sorry that he should remain in an error which might be fatal to my reputation — you know a woman ought not even to be suspected; yet how to remove this suspicion I know not, because I cannot enter into any explanation, without betraying Lady Delacour — she has, I know, a peculiar dread of Mr. Hervey’s discovering the truth.”
“And is it possible,” cried Dr. X— — “that any woman should be so meanly selfish, as thus to expose the reputation of her friend merely to preserve her own vanity from mortification?”
“Hush — don’t speak so loud,” said Belinda, “you will awaken her; and at present she is certainly more an object of pity than of indignation. — If you will have the goodness to come with me, I will take you by a back staircase up to the mysterious boudoir. I am not too proud to give positive proofs of my speaking truth; the key of that room now lies on Lady Delacour’s bed — it was that which she grasped in her hand during her delirium — she has now let it fall — it opens both the doors of the boudoir — you shall see,” added Miss Portman, with a smile, “that I am not afraid to let you unlock either of them.”
“As a polite man,” said Dr. X— — “I believe that I should absolutely refuse to take any external evidence of a lady’s truth; but demonstration is unanswerable even by enemies, and I will not sacrifice your interests to the foppery of my politeness — so I am ready to follow you. The curiosity of the servants may have been excited by last night’s disturbance, and I see no method so certain as that which you propose of preventing busy rumour. That goddess (let Ovid say what he pleases) was born and bred in a kitchen, or a servants’ hall. — But,” continued Dr. X— — “my dear Miss Portman, you will put a stop to a number of charming stories by this prudence of yours — a romance called the Mysterious Boudoir, of nine volumes at least, might be written on this subject, if you would only condescend to act like almost all other heroines, that is to say, without common sense.”
The doctor now followed Belinda, and satisfied himself by ocular demonstration, that this cabinet was the retirement of disease, and not of pleasure.
It was about eight o’clock in the morning when Dr. X—— got home; he found Clarence Hervey waiting for him. Clarence seemed to be in great agitation, though he endeavoured, with all the power which he possessed over himself, to suppress his emotion.
“You have been to see Lady Delacour,” said he, calmly: “is she much hurt? — It was a terrible accident.”
“She has been much hurt,” said Dr. X— — “and she has been for some hours delirious; but ask me no more questions now, for I am asleep, and must go to bed, unless you have any thing to say that can waken me: you look as if some great misfortune had befallen you; what is the matter?”