Read Online Flowers From The Storm by Laura Kinsale - Free Book Online
Authors: Laura Kinsale
Ads: Link
are you acquainted?” her cousin asked in surprise.
Maddy looked away from the barbaric figure at the window. “Well, yes, Papa and I… it is the Duke of Jervaulx, is it not?”
The words would hardly come out.
“Well, well. Indeed, it is. Master Christian has come to visit us for a spell.”
Master Christian stared at Cousin Edward as if he would like to tear out the doctor’s throat with his bare hands.
Her cousin smiled benignly at his patient. “This is a cheerful coincidence.” He gestured toward Maddy.
“Do you remember Miss Timms, Master Christian?”
Jervaulx’s glance nicked from Cousin Edward to her and back again. Then he leaned on the windowsill, resting his head back against the barred panes.
“His understanding is limited,” Cousin Edward said. “In the scope of a two-year-old child’s. As I say, it appears that he has a history of moral insanity, with a sudden onset of degeneration into dementia. And mania, most particularly when crossed. The apoplexy left him in a state of unconsciousness for two days, and early in the coma his vital signs were depressed to the degree that he was thought lifeless.”
“Yes,” Maddy said in a constricted voice. “That is—we had understood that he had—been killed.”
“It’s an interesting story. This is entirely confidential, of course; you must not speak of it abroad, but the event that excited this state in him was an engagement of honor, fought with pistols. He wasn’t injured, but the sensation of the moment appears to have precipitated the seizure. The doctor had literally declared him deceased and ordered the body to be laid out, but the duke’s dogs created such a frenzy that the mortuary attendants couldn’t touch him.” Cousin Edward shook his head. “One shudders to think, if those animals hadn’t acted as they did. But the noise seems to have reached him in some way—produced enough movement and pulse that life was seen to be preserved. And of course, over time he regained consciousness and the motion of his limbs. But he was left in this state of maniacal idiocy.” Cousin Edward made a note in his book, looked up at Jervaulx consideringly, and wrote again.
He closed the casebook with a snap and handed it to Maddy. “Of course, you know that indulgence and a lack of moral discipline predisposes the mind to irrationality. He doesn’t speak, and his primitive emotions rule him. This is very common in such cases, where the prior foundation is laid in vice and perversity: there’s a breakdown, a loss of moral sense that gives free rein to instinctive appetites and desires, in utter violation of former refined habits. Physically, he’s quite strong—am I right, Larkin?”
The attendant gave an assenting snort. “Aye, that he is. Barring the right hand. You see I’ve only got the left tied up—that’s the one you have to watch for.” He laid down the razor.
“Minimal restraint,” Cousin Edward said, nodding in approval. “Physically he’s vigorous, but otherwise reduced to the animal nature.”
Larkin went to pull the bell. “We’ll see how he feels about shaving today. Yesterday we had to go to the waistcoat and a cradle both.”
Maddy lowered her gaze, unable to bear it. To meet those potent, silent eyes. She felt flung down, beaten, miserable. That he would be here …
He would rather be dead. She could look at him and know it.
She held the book against her skirt. “Will he be cured?”
“Ah—” Her cousin drew his lower lip over the upper. He raised his eyebrows. “I won’t pretend the case isn’t grave. His mother is a very good, benevolent Christian woman, active with great zeal in charities and evangelism in her church. She has suggested to me that her son has a long history of unsubdued self-indulgence and rebelliousness. With such passionate and ill-regulated habits…” He sighed. “Well, what I’ll say is—that if we cannot cure him at Blythedale, it cannot be done.”
Maddy clutched the
Maddy looked away from the barbaric figure at the window. “Well, yes, Papa and I… it is the Duke of Jervaulx, is it not?”
The words would hardly come out.
“Well, well. Indeed, it is. Master Christian has come to visit us for a spell.”
Master Christian stared at Cousin Edward as if he would like to tear out the doctor’s throat with his bare hands.
Her cousin smiled benignly at his patient. “This is a cheerful coincidence.” He gestured toward Maddy.
“Do you remember Miss Timms, Master Christian?”
Jervaulx’s glance nicked from Cousin Edward to her and back again. Then he leaned on the windowsill, resting his head back against the barred panes.
“His understanding is limited,” Cousin Edward said. “In the scope of a two-year-old child’s. As I say, it appears that he has a history of moral insanity, with a sudden onset of degeneration into dementia. And mania, most particularly when crossed. The apoplexy left him in a state of unconsciousness for two days, and early in the coma his vital signs were depressed to the degree that he was thought lifeless.”
“Yes,” Maddy said in a constricted voice. “That is—we had understood that he had—been killed.”
“It’s an interesting story. This is entirely confidential, of course; you must not speak of it abroad, but the event that excited this state in him was an engagement of honor, fought with pistols. He wasn’t injured, but the sensation of the moment appears to have precipitated the seizure. The doctor had literally declared him deceased and ordered the body to be laid out, but the duke’s dogs created such a frenzy that the mortuary attendants couldn’t touch him.” Cousin Edward shook his head. “One shudders to think, if those animals hadn’t acted as they did. But the noise seems to have reached him in some way—produced enough movement and pulse that life was seen to be preserved. And of course, over time he regained consciousness and the motion of his limbs. But he was left in this state of maniacal idiocy.” Cousin Edward made a note in his book, looked up at Jervaulx consideringly, and wrote again.
He closed the casebook with a snap and handed it to Maddy. “Of course, you know that indulgence and a lack of moral discipline predisposes the mind to irrationality. He doesn’t speak, and his primitive emotions rule him. This is very common in such cases, where the prior foundation is laid in vice and perversity: there’s a breakdown, a loss of moral sense that gives free rein to instinctive appetites and desires, in utter violation of former refined habits. Physically, he’s quite strong—am I right, Larkin?”
The attendant gave an assenting snort. “Aye, that he is. Barring the right hand. You see I’ve only got the left tied up—that’s the one you have to watch for.” He laid down the razor.
“Minimal restraint,” Cousin Edward said, nodding in approval. “Physically he’s vigorous, but otherwise reduced to the animal nature.”
Larkin went to pull the bell. “We’ll see how he feels about shaving today. Yesterday we had to go to the waistcoat and a cradle both.”
Maddy lowered her gaze, unable to bear it. To meet those potent, silent eyes. She felt flung down, beaten, miserable. That he would be here …
He would rather be dead. She could look at him and know it.
She held the book against her skirt. “Will he be cured?”
“Ah—” Her cousin drew his lower lip over the upper. He raised his eyebrows. “I won’t pretend the case isn’t grave. His mother is a very good, benevolent Christian woman, active with great zeal in charities and evangelism in her church. She has suggested to me that her son has a long history of unsubdued self-indulgence and rebelliousness. With such passionate and ill-regulated habits…” He sighed. “Well, what I’ll say is—that if we cannot cure him at Blythedale, it cannot be done.”
Maddy clutched the
Similar Books
