But Weeks is growing impatient. "Take it, Miss Childs," she orders.
Obediently I swallow the draught down, and Weeks moves on.
Perhaps it's just as well to have a good night's sleep, ready for my meeting with Dr. Bull.
I was overcome by shock today, but it will be different tomorrow. I will insist that Dr. Bull arranges for me to see Mr. Sneed. And if that doesn't work, there's always the letter. I'm sure Eliza was warning me not to give it to Weeks to post. But if I ask Weeks for paper, she'll expect a letter. I'll have to work this out.
Six Years Earlier
I was on my way from the kitchen, where I'd been to borrow some more things I needed, when I caught my name. I pressed my ear to the dining room door and I heard Mamma say, "I'm worried about Louisa, Edward."
I heard a "Hmm?" from Papa and I knew he was reading the newspaper.
"She's getting out of hand."
I suppressed an "Oh" of outrage. What had I done? Lately I'd been trying very hard to be good.
"She's untidy, careless, but the worst of it is that she keeps taking things from the kitchen without asking. Cook has been complaining. And I don't know what she does in her room but the result is shocking disorder for poor Mary to clean up. You shouldn't encourage her to do these experiments."
I held my breath. Would Papa tell me to stop?
"Why shouldn't I encourage her? She's so keen to learn. You know how eagerly she asks questions and she understands my explanations so readily. You've got admit she shows far more initiative than Tom did at her age. Her incendiary experiments were most enterprising."
I breathed again. I knew he would understand. These days he made more time for me and he seemed to enjoy our sessions together as much as I did.
"How can you take it so lightly, Edward! It's a miracle she didn't burn the house down."
Mamma always exaggerated so. The match had only made a small hole in the oilcloth.
I was pressing so hard on the door, my ear was beginning to hurt. Swapping to the other ear I heard Mamma say, with a sigh, "I thought having a girl would be a pleasure. And easier, too ... but Louisa's turning into such a tomboy. If she doesn't grow out of it, I'm afraid she might—" Mamma didn't finish her sentence, and I wondered what it was that "I might." But then she said, "Perhaps if she had another little girl to play with, an example to follow, she might learn more becoming ways."
I gritted my teeth. I wasn't a little girl, I was nearly eleven, which was very nearly grown-up. And I didn't play anymore; I had too many important things to do. Papa had recently given me my very own copy of "Science for Boys" and it was giving me lots of ideas.
"Perhaps she is too much on her own, now that Tom's away ... I'll speak to Mitchell. He has a daughter about the same age as Lou." Papa's voice was suddenly louder as if he was coming towards the door. I fled upstairs, wondering about this girl. Would she be like Grace? I hoped so.
***
The first thing I noticed about Charlotte Mitchell was her hat: a perfect miniature replica of the pork pie hats, made of felt and trimmed with a feather, that I had seen ladies wear in church. The second thing was her hair which fell to her shoulders in a cascade of perfect blonde ringlets. I couldn't think who she reminded me of and then I remembered the doll Evelina, long since consigned to the dustbin.
I had asked Mary to show Charlotte to my room when she arrived. I knew that ladies received visitors in their best rooms and as far as I was concerned mine was the best room in the house because it had my own things in it. Mary raised her eyebrows at my request but she complied, even going so far as to announce, "Miss Charlotte, Miss Louisa." Then she spoilt it by biting her lip to stop herself smiling and I had to glare at her.
Now Charlotte stood just inside the doorway as if wary of venturing farther. I had risen to my feet as I had seen Mamma do when a guest arrived but now I hesitated, not knowing what to do next.
After some minutes of mutual silence, I remembered my manners. "Would you like to take off your hat? And your gloves?"
She looked at me as if I had uttered the most shocking suggestion in the world.
"Mamma says it's the mark of the truly genteel lady that she never removes her hat and gloves in company."
I stared at her in amazement. I'd never heard anything so silly. And I was already tired of playing at ladies and wanted to do something interesting. A hat and gloves could only get in the way. But I knew one had to make a guest feel comfortable so I didn't say anything.
I thought she would like to see my treasures, and I started with my most precious possession, a gift from Grace, in pride of place on my chest of drawers.
She stared in incomprehension. "Why did your cousin give you a ship?"
I thought it was obvious. This creation in blue and white glass seemed like a miracle to me. "Look how delicate it is—the ropes are as fine as hairs. The pennant seems to be flying in the wind and see, there are even tiny sailors in the rigging."