# The Semi-detached House/Chapter 5

CHAPTER V.
There was no doubt, as Mr. Greydon had said, that Blanche was very delicate, and she was one of those exciteable people whose health fade when their spirits are depressed, and who expand into strength when their minds are at ease. She caught a slight cold by lingering near the river on a damp evening, and when Aunt Sarah paid her weekly visit to Pleasance, she found Blanche stretched on the sofa, pale and shrunk, with red eyes and hot hands, a feeble attempt at a cap at the very back of her head, and much Mechlin lace, and soft muslin and pink ribbon, professing to be an invalid's dressing-gown.
"My dear child, what is the matter?"
"All sorts of things. Aunt Sarah. In the ​first place, I am very ill, Aileen has sent for Dr. Ayscough. Now just hear my cough."
"A failure, I think," said Aunt Sarah, "an attempt at a cough, rather than the thing itself."
"Then my throat is so sore. Do you think it will turn to that sore throat with the difficult name. It kills people so rapidly, Aunt Sarah, that there will be no use in telegraphing for Arthur; he could not arrive in time."
"Very well, my dear, then I will not send for him, besides I am not absolutely convinced that you have diphtheria."
"Then after all I said to Edwin, he brought Colonel Hilton here again yesterday; he said he could not help it, that Colonel Hilton would join him in his ride, and I have written to tell Arthur, and I know he will think I am flirting, and then he will begin to flirt himself. I assure you, Aunt Sarah, he did once before, just because Colonel Hilton rode with me. He owned it, so it is not one of my fancies."
​"Just lend me your scissors, Blanche; this netting-silk knots so, I must cut it. I think it most likely, my dear, that Arthur—there! another knot—what was I saying? Oh, that though Arthur might be jealous, as a lover, of every man you spoke to, it is not very likely, that with his good sense and warm feelings, and with the dependence he must have in your affection, he will suspect you of encouraging any attentions of Colonel Hilton. However, I am glad you write and tell him everything."
"Of course I do, and as you say, dear Aunt, it is very different now we are married. Arthur must know that I could not care now for anybody's admiration but his," and Blanche sat up on her sofa, and slipped off her little cap, and began to revive.
"But then I have not told you my worst misfortunes. I have had no letter for three days, and those dreadful Miss Hopkinsons began to play on their pianoforte this morning, and actually played the Dead March in Saul, and it gave me all sorts of shocking ​presentiments. I thought Arthur must be ill because he did not write—and in short, Aunt Sarah, I have made up my mind to go to Berlin, and have sent for Dr. Ayscough to tell him I am going."
There was a pause, "Aileen goes with me, Aunt Sarah, and if Edwin can get leave, he will go part of the way with us." Another pause. "Why don't you speak, Aunt Sarah?"
"My dear, I have nothing to say, your plan seems so complete, I can suggest no improvement; but I think you had better not begin to pack up till your doctor comes—and here he is. Lady Chester seems nervous today, Dr. Ayscough, and will be the better for a talk with you," and Aunt Sarah withdrew.
"Well, what is it? You must tell me quickly, as I have not five minutes to spare. Why ain't you dressed and out in the garden? It would be a fine day for a row on the river."
"I have got a bad cold and a sore throat ​but that is of no consequence," said Blanche, trying to look dignified. "What I wanted to tell you is, that I am very uneasy about Lord Chester, and I am going to join him at Berlin."
"To join him at Berlin, eh?" said Dr. Ayscough, feeling her pulse in an absent manner, as if he had not the remotest idea that Blanche had a wrist, or that he had got hold of it. "And Lord Chester is ill, is he?"
"How can I know? I have not had a letter from him these three days—not a line!"
"Oh!" said Doctor Ayscough, and it was a satisfied Oh; expressing that he was now completely master of the case, and that the red eyes and fluttering pulse were precisely the symptoms he should expect to find.
"You are like my patient, Mrs. Armistead, her husband went with yours, I think—hers is a case of inflamed eyes; and when I told her not to use them, she said, 'she was not the least called upon to do so, as luckily she has ​not heard from Mr. Armistead for some days, so she was not obliged to write to him.'"
"What a horrid woman! but still it is a comfort to know she has had no letters either. But I want to consult you about my journey."
"When do you start?"
"This afternoon, if you think I am equal to it," said Blanche, who began to want, at least, a shew of opposition.
"You would not go, I presume, if you did not feel quite equal to it," said Dr. Ayscough, coolly. 'But there is only one more train to Folkestone this afternoon—you must make haste. Do you go by Ostend?"
"I suppose so; but Edwin will settle all that, I expect him soon. To say the truth, I do not well know my way to Berlin. It is a long journey, isn't it, Doctor Ayscough?"
"That depends upon who undertakes it. Miss Grenville goes with you?"
"Yes."
"And that little flighty French maid, who always calls calomel 'le calmant,' and has about as much idea of being useful as that ​Dresden figure. Well, I wish you well through it; I have left a prescription for your cold in case you do not get off to-day. Of course you have your passports ready?" He felt certain she had not.
"Passports!" said Blanche eagerly, "no, that I haven't. I never thought about them, must I have a passport?"
"It is generally considered necessary for travellers on the continent."
"Well then, I can't go to-day."
"I never supposed you could," said Dr. Ayscough, laughing. "I will come and see how the cold goes on to-morrow, and perhaps this evening's post may bring a letter; and then you will not start for Berlin till the afternoon. Good morning."
He was waylaid in the hall by Aunt Sarah, who had somehow taken a diphtheria alarm, and by Aileen, who was frightened out of her senses at this sudden journey, and her responsiblity for her sister's safety.
"What do you think of her throat?"
"Ah, bye the bye, her throat, I have not ​thought about it, there is nothing the matter with it."
"And this dreadful journey," Aileen said, "of course you have stopped that?"
"No, I have rather encouraged it."
"Oh dear, have you? what shall I do if she is taken ill on the road? and nothing but that silly Justine to help us, and I felt so sure you would stop it."
"There is nothing to stop, my dear Miss Grenville. Your sister has got into one of her nervous moods, because she has not heard from Lord Chester, She knows as well as I do that she cannot undertake the journey; if she had been opposed, she would have worked herself up to the attempt. Give her the composing draught I have ordered; she will probably hear from Lord Chester by this evening's post, and to-morrow we can have a good laugh at her;" and he hurried off.
Blanche was, in truth, rather disappointed that he had made so light of her ailments and her heroism, but continued reading her Bradshaw, and coughing till post time; then ​there came two letters from Arthur; one that had taken its natural course, and another that had gone a round by some Dulham in Yorkshire.
"Now is not that so like the Post Office?" she said, "letters that are of no consequence are always delivered directly, but when Arthur writes to me, they send his letters all over England. Arthur is quite well, and thinks that he shall get away before the three months are over, and Madame von Moerkerke is grown quite plain. Poor woman, after all she was a good-natured little thing; and Arthur says just what you said, Aunt Sarah, about Colonel Hilton. I declare my throat is better, and if you will ring for Justine, Aileen, I will dress. What a horrid smell of smoke there is!"
There certainly was, Justine came up quite "éperdue," and in a high state of affected suffocation; leaving the doors open to let all the 'smoke in, and shutting the windows to prevent it from going out. She had always heard it was right to shut the windows when the ​house was on fire; and her eyes watered so, she really could not see to fasten mylady's hooks and eyes, and mylady's gown was all awry at last.
"But is the house on fire?" said Blanche, half laughing, "because if it is, we may as well make our escape."
"No," said Aileen, who had just run up stairs, "it is not on fire, but something has gone radically wrong with the kitchen flue, the smoke keeps pouring into the house, instead of going up the chimney, like well-behaved smoke; even the drawing rooms are quite untenable."
"And my room gets worse every moment. We must take refuge in the summer-house, Aileen,"
"But it is raining, and your cold?"
"Oh, that is not much, and anything is better than this. Give me heaps of shawls, Justine, and then we will rush into the drawing-room, and save our beloved Aunt Sarah, and carry her off to our wretched little asylum in the garden. Where are my letters? we ​will take them with us; and now, Aileen, I am ready."
They found all the servants in a state of dismay, ill-temper, and soot, and it really became necessary to leave the house, much to Aunt Sarah's dismay, who thought it a dangerous experiment, However, they settled Blanche on a hard bench, about as comfortable as a gridiron, and in a summer-house, half-trellis, half-earwigs, and Aileen glided backwards and forwards under an umbrella, bringing cushions, and cloaks, and clogs, and finally Aunt Sarah's netting; and the important butler came to announce that he had sent into the village for a person who understood the chimney and its strange ways; he really could not undertake it, and the smoke, as he phrased it, gained upon him every minute. So, as Blanche said, they seemed likely to pass their afternoon in a mitigated shower bath; but just then, a portly figure was seen coming up the gravel walk, and Mrs. Hopkinson, in very short petticoats, displaying a pair of feet that left large impressions on the soaked ​gravel, a shawl tied over her cap, and with a black mittened hand, holding a blue cotton umbrella, presented herself.
She began the set speech which she had been composing ever since she took her resolution of offering shelter to the Pleasance ladies. "I heard accidentally through my cook," (Blanche pinched Aunt Sarah,) "that your kitchen was on fire, and I came to ask if your Ladyship would not take shelter in my parlour. But, good gracious me!" she exclaimed, in her natural manner, as she furled her umbrella and entered the arbour, "what a place for you ladies to be in! why it's all of a slop, and dripping so. There! there's a great drop gone down my collar, Why, you'll catch your deaths. Do, for goodness sake, come into my house, Now, ma'am, take my arm—of course you've got your clogs on, and do wrap your shawl well round you."
"You are very kind," said Blanche, "but—"
"Very kind, indeed," interposed Aunt Sarah, "perhaps you will give Lady Chester ​your arm, and Miss Grenville and I will follow, I am sure we are extremely obliged to you. Aileen, just pick up my netting mesh, it is in that puddle. Now, Blanche."
And before Blanche could name any objections, she found herself under the blue umbrella, her hand under Mrs. Hopkinson's fat arm, and both of them wading through the little rivulet that usually passed for the gravel walk. "There," said Mrs. Hopkinson, as they reached her door, "now, my girls will take care of you; and as I am wet through, and can't well get wetter, I'll just step back and tell your maid to send you some dry things, and as I know that kitchen of old, I daresay I can give your servants a useful hint about the smoke."
The Miss Hopkinsons were as hospitable as their mother, a fire was lighted in the best parlour, a sofa wheeled round for Blanche, who was looking pale and blue, slippers and dressing gowns produced, hot wine and water administered, and when Justine arrived with dry cloaks, they quietly withdrew, and left the ladies to their own devices.
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