“Oh-what shall I do?” she wailed. “Whatever shall I do? There must be another doctor in Reading.”
The door of a private parlour opened, and a tall gentleman dressed in the first fashion came out. Upon seeing Miss Mallow, his first thought was to dart back into the parlour and close the door, but when he observed her agitation, he stepped nobly forward to involve himself in her problem.
“Miss Mallow-my dear Miss Mallow-what is the matter?” Mr. Seville asked in alarm. Returning from Bath to London, he too stopped at “The George” to break his trip.
“Mr. Seville! How glad I am to see you!” she said. He feared she was about to throw herself on his bosom in a fit of tears. The dreadful thought struck him that the hussy was staging a scene to ensnare him, but her agitation soon freed him from that worry.
She told him her story in a distracted manner, breaking into sobs in the middle of it. “You great thundering cloth-head,” Seville turned on the clerk in wrath. “You know perfectly well Dr.Knighton is put up at this very inn. Summon him at once!”
The clerk, seeing Miss Mallow was “connected,” as he politely phrased inferior persons who knew superior ones, became more civil. “He particularly asked not to be disturbed,” he said, but with an eye already running over the ledger to discover his room.
“Get him at once, moron,” Seville shouted. “Give him my name.”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk bowed meekly, and ran up the stairs himself to summon the doctor. Seville and Miss Mallow too ascended to the sick lady’s room. Within three minutes Knighton had arrived with his black bag, administering magic liquids and reassuring words of hope.
“This is not the first case I’ve had tonight,” he said. “There was bad food served here. Shellfish, I fancy, is the culprit. Did your mother eat oysters, Miss Mallow?”
“Yes, she did.”
“That’s it. They are the cause. Mrs. Dacres had them, too-thought they tasted odd, and ate only two. She was not nearly so ill as your mother. I have already told the proprietor to take them off the menu. We will pull your mother through, never fear. I think she has rid herself of them all. She was sick to her stomach, you say?”
“Yes-dreadfully,” Prudence answered.
“Good. Good, the sicker the better. We want to make sure they are all out. I’ll administer a saline draught.”
There was a great bustle and commotion. Knighton sent for his valet who came with more chemicals. Miss Mallow hovered about the bed, then went into the adjoining room, her own room, to talk to Mr. Seville, to assure him and be assured by him that all would be well with Dr.Knighton on hand. So very fortunate he had been there.
At length the invalid was settled down, her stomach purged of poison, a draught administered to calm her, but no laudanum. Knighton thought it best that she remain with normal consciousness, lest any severe pain occur later. It was nearing ten before he left, only to be called away to another oyster eater, caught before the warning was out. “I shall look in on your mother again before I retire,” Knighton promised Prudence.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said with deep gratitude. “I don’t know what we should have done without you. Be sure to send me your bill.” She began to write out her address at Bath.
“It is an honour to serve the creator of The Composition and such books,” he said. “I read all your works and like them immensely. In fact, I shall tell you a little secret. The Prince of Wales likes them, too, and means to have you to visit him. They were recommended to him by his mother, Queen Charlotte. She allows her daughters to read them. It is unusual to find a novel suitable for young ladies that is still entertaining,” he laughed. “In fact, I should not be surprised if you are given permission to dedicate your next to the Prince. And in lieu of a bill, I shall request you to autograph my copies when you return to London.”
“I shall be very happy to,” she said, staring at him with a smile of great delight on her face. The Prince of Wales-Queen Charlotte! To think of the Royal Family reading her stories, and liking them!
After Knighton had bowed himself out, she turned to Seville. “Dear me, what an honour. I did not expect anything like this.”
“It is not in excess of your merits,” he bowed formally. For a moment he regretted his opera dancer. Miss Mallow, as he had been one of the first to divine, was on her way up in the world.
“Indeed it is! I never looked for such honour. To dedicate a book to the Prince Regent! It is beyond anything great.”
“You are too modest. Dr.Ashington had high praise for your works in that fine review he did last month.”
She acknowledged this praise with an external smile and an inward sneer. "This is not the time to be wallowing in my own glory,” she reminded herself. “I must go to Mama. How can I ever thank you for your kind help, Mr. Seville? I should have been lost without you. Only think, a physician at the inn all the time, and the clerk not telling me. Mama might have died for all he cared."
“I mean to speak to the proprietor about that. Serving tainted food, and then doing nothing to help the victims. Maintain a haughty and injured manner, Miss Mallow, and at the very least you will have your stay without expense.”
“I should never have thought of that,” she said, but once it was mentioned, it seemed a good idea, and no more than was her due.
“You are not up to snuff at all,” Seville told her. Looking at her tired, wan little face, he came at last to believe it. Here she stood in her bedroom alone with a man, seeing no more impropriety in it than if they were at a ball. The fear that she was trying to trick him here at the inn had long since faded. “I shall go down and speak to the proprietor at once. Demand anything you want of the inn-don’t fear the cost. You will be staying a few days till your mama is recovered, and shan’t pay a cent for it. I’ll look in before I retire, after Knighton’s visit, to see all is well for the night. Your servant, ma’am.” He bowed and left, and put such a bee in the owner’s ear that he was all for removing Miss Mallow and her mother that very moment to the best suite in the inn.
With all restored to peace and quiet-Mama sleeping soundly in the next room with the servant standing guard and the most famous doctor in the country coming later to check her-Prudence allowed herself a few moments to consider her latest achievement. She was to be recognized by the ruler of the land. Possibly to dedicate her next book to him. She had arrived! She knew Miss Burney and Wordsworth and Coleridge, Dr. Ashington had reviewed her in Blackwood’s Magazine, the king’s physician admired her and wanted an autograph instead of her money. Her cup was overflowing, or should be. But the contents came all from one side-on the personal side it was empty. The contents of the other side were filling a suite at Finefields, and showing no intention of leaving it. She sighed, and took up a paper to read till Knighton returned.
It got to be eleven o’clock, then eleven-thirty, and still Knighton did not come. Seville tapped at the door and asked if he had been yet. “No, and I am so sleepy. I wonder if he means to come.”
“Yes, he said he would come. I'll order you a cup of tea to keep you awake,” Seville said, and went to do so. When he returned, Knighton had just arrived. He was with Mrs. Mallow, and found she progressed satisfactorily.
“She will be weak for a few days. I don’t advise you to move her before two days. I leave tomorrow, but I’ll give you the address of a local physician. Mention my name, and he will be happy to come at a moment’s notice.”