‘And since when did I behave in such a way?’
‘That is true, but he was very insistent.’ He smiled and patted her hand. ‘All right, what is it you want to know?’
‘Have any letters arrived for me while I have been ill?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I haven’t seen any. There are none on the hall table. Why? Is something wrong, because if so —’
‘No. I was just — I have been feeling very dull lying in bed all day long and was looking for something to read.’
‘I could bring you one of mother’s fashion magazines.’
‘Something interesting.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can find. The Gazette?’
‘I suppose I might be allowed that provided nothing remotely exciting has happened in Brighton in the last week.’
She looked so despondent that he leaned over and hugged her. ‘Just get well, my dear.’
‘And while you are here, why don’t you go and see Mr Merridew, who gives his final performances as Hamlet this week? It is very entertaining. Perhaps you could make a sketch of the theatre and the stage and the actors in costume. Even people who scorn the theatre like to see pictures of it. Such a subject would be ideal for readers of the Journal.’
‘Perhaps I could,’ said Richard, looking unusually pensive. Mina was reminded that Nellie Jordan had, before her marriage graced the popular stage. A performance as Ophelia in a burlesque of Hamlet, in which Nellie had torn off most of her clothing during the mad scene was, so Mina had been assured, still talked about in certain circles.
Richard had been about to say more, when Rose arrived announcing the arrival of Dr Hamid.
‘I shall go and sit with Mother,’ said Richard, looking a little queasy at the sight of the doctor’s medical bag. ‘She will be overjoyed to know that you are better.’
‘Try not to borrow money from her,’ Mina pleaded.
He smiled. ‘But if she offers, it would be such an insult to refuse.’
‘Well this is quite a change!’ said Dr Hamid, with the brightest and least forced smile Mina had seen since the start of her illness.
‘I feel so much more myself,’ she said, trying to sit up into something that approached an upright position. Miss Cherry returned and she and Rose hurried to assist. It was still an effort and her wretched chest would keep hurting, but Mina was feeling considerably less apprehensive about the prospect of a tragically early death.
An examination of her pulse and temperature confirmed that Mina was improving, and when Dr Hamid listened to her lungs, he was markedly less worried than previously. ‘You are making good progress,’ he said, ‘but,’ he added warningly, ‘that is no reason to be complacent. You must still take great care and remain in bed for some little while longer until there is no further danger of a relapse. From now on we must concentrate on building up your strength.’
He delivered fresh instructions to Rose on the feeding of the patient, and supplied a small book on invalid diet, which he asked to be directed to the cook. Mina only hoped that cook would not find it too confusing as did any request to prepare something not in her usual limited repertoire. Mina was getting a little tired of insipid broths and would have preferred a refreshing drink of Dr Hamid’s specially spiced aerated fruit beverage, which was available at the Baths, but that, like so many of the things she liked were currently denied her.
‘What do you hear when you listen to my lungs?’ asked Mina.
He hesitated, and she could see that he was debating with himself how much he ought to say. ‘The sound initially was like the burning of a log fire, which is not what one normally expects of a healthy lung. But you will be pleased to know that the flames are much reduced.’
‘I would improve much faster if I had some occupation for my mind,’ she hinted.
‘Well, we must think of something, then. Do you like acrostic puzzles? I can have some magazines sent over to you.’
‘I would rather study the household accounts. I haven’t seen them in over a week.’
‘Oh, that is out of the question. But I understand that your cook is managing things from day to day for now, so you need not worry about that. She is a trustworthy woman, is she not?’
Mina was obliged to admit that this was the case.
‘I have a little book of readings,’ said Miss Cherry, helpfully, producing a small volume from her apron pocket. ‘The Young Woman’s Companion. It is a treasure trove of useful information. I read it to all my lady patients.’
‘That would be far more suitable,’ said Dr Hamid.
‘I would prefer it,’ said Mina, trying to insert a little bite into her weakened voice, ‘if you would allow me to see any letters that have arrived since I became ill. I am sure there have been some. In fact, if you were to tell me that there are none, I would refuse to believe it.’
‘Hmm,’ said Dr Hamid, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers on his sleeve indecisively.
‘Many of the letters I receive are very amusing,’ Mina went on. ‘I could do with some amusement. And there is family news as well. My brother Edward often writes to me from London. I worry about my family all the time. You know I do, and I would only worry more if I had no news.’
‘I suppose,’ Dr Hamid said reluctantly, ‘that I might agree to the letters if only to prevent the possibility of your getting out of bed and trying to retrieve them yourself.’ He made the decision. ‘Very well. But we will take this slowly. Rose, on my instructions, has been keeping back any letters addressed to you, but if you have another comfortable night, I will approve your seeing them.’ He turned to speak to Rose. ‘If Miss Scarletti continues to improve, then tomorrow morning you may bring her letters, but you must only allow her to see them one at a time. Once Miss Scarletti has read the first one, you and Miss Cherry must judge if it is safe to allow her the next, and so on.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mina. ‘How is Mother?’
Dr Hamid closed his medical bag with a snap. ‘Your mother will live to be a hundred, but I cannot persuade her of that. I fear that I must now make another attempt.’
Once he had gone, Miss Cherry settled herself in a chair beside the bed and, opening her little book, proceeded to read selected portions aloud, regaling Mina with such essential subjects as the cultivation of the pansy, the habits of birds and how to make ornamental papers. She would not, however, permit Mina to read it for herself, and Mina suspected that even in such a turgid volume there might be matters considered too stimulating for an invalid. She longed for something more diverting but dared not say so.
Mina’s family were under the impression that her main amusement was writing gently moral tales for children under her own name, brought out almost as an act of indulgence by Scarletti Publishing. Her writing career had certainly begun in that way, with heart-warming stories designed to ease the gentle soul of her younger sister Marianne, who had died from consumption at the age of fifteen. In recent years, however, she had found her true vocation as a prolific author of bone-chilling adventures featuring ghosts, demons and witches. These were published by the Scarletti Library of Romance under the pseudonym Robert Neil, and enjoyed some moderate success. Even her brother Edward was unaware of her secret identity since works of short fiction were the remit of his business partner Mr Greville.