The bedclothes heaved, and the bed shook; violent emotion of some kind was overwhelming Lady Dowager's son. Not the ghost of a smile -- though he was at liberty to indulge his sense of humour as things were now -- appeared on the wooden face of Frederick. He laid out his shaving materials, and waited until Mr Fitzmark's beard was ready for him.
Otto rose again above the horizon of the bedclothes. He looked completely exhausted -- but that was all. The altar of appearances, waiting for the sacrifice, claimed and received the necessary recognition. Having first got out of bed -- by way of separating himself from irreverent associations possibly lurking in the mind of his valet -- Otto posed, as the French say, in an attitude of severe propriety.
'Drop the subject,' he said.
Frederick gently lathered his master's chin, and answered, 'Just so, sir.'
V Otto breakfasted in his own room.
His mother's maid brought word that her ladyship was ill in bed, with a sick headache: she would see Mr Fitzmark towards luncheon time. The valet not being present to draw his own conclusions, Otto privately extracted information from the maid. Miss Doctor Pillico would professionally visit Sir John, at her usual hour -- two o'clock. And in what part of the house would Sir John receive her? He looked at himself in the glass when he put that question. The maid began to understand the nature of his interest in the medical young woman. She took the liberty of smiling, and answered, 'In the library, sir.'
Towards two o'clock, Otto called for his hat and cane, and said he would take a turn in the garden.
Before he went downstairs he once more surveyed himself in the glass. Yes: he could not have been more becomingly dressed -- and he looked, in his own delicate way, surprisingly well. His auburn hair and whiskers; his fair complexion; his sensitive mouth, and his long white hands were in perfect order. In the garden he met Young John, sulkily smoking.
'How is Bess?' he asked indulgently. Young John answered, 'I don't know; I've not been on speaking terms with my sister since yesterday.' 'And how is your father?' Young John answered, 'I don't care. He told me last week I was a sulky lout, and he has not apologised yet; I don't speak to him, either.' Otto left his half-brother, cordially agreeing with his half-brother's father.
The library opened, by means of French windows, on the terrace. He picked a flower for his button-hole, and sauntered that way. The windows being open, he entered the room in a genial impulsive manner. 'Ha, Sir John, how are you? Oh, I beg your pardon!'
Sir John was seated bolt upright in his chair, looking at vacancy, and drawing in and puffing out his breath in a highly elaborate manner. A finely-developed young woman, with brown hair and eyes, and warm rosy cheeks, dressed to perfection in a style of severe simplicity, was sitting close by him. Her arm was around his neck, and her ear was at his breast. So absorbed was this charming creature in listening that she held up a pretty plump little hand, in mute entreaty for silence. 'Yes,' she said, in clear, positive tones, 'you confirm my diagnosis, Sir John; I persist in saying that your medical attendant has mistaken the case.' Her bright resolute eyes, turning towards Otto, softened as they rested on his beautiful hair and his sensitive lips: a little increase of colour deepened the delicately ruddy tint of her cheeks. 'Pray excuse me,' she resumed, with a captivating smile; 'I am, in a professional point of view, naturally interested in Sir John. His life is public property: if I make any mistake here, I disgrace myself -- and my cause! -- in the eyes of the nation.' Otto's countenance preserved a gravity worthy of his valet. 'Permit me to introduce myself,' he said, 'before I renew my apologies. I am Sir John's step-son, Otto Fitzmark.' The charming Doctor bowed with a look of modest interest. Sir John did what he had done from the first -- he sat in solemn silence, looking foolish. It was not everybody who remembered that he had once been Lord Mayor of London, and who attended to him as a famous personage. It was also the first occasion (for at least forty years past) on which he had felt the arm of a handsome young woman round his neck, and the head of a handsome young woman on his breast. Add that the fair physician had said, on the first day of her attendance, 'It is a rule of mine never to accept fees from public characters' -- and the catalogue of Sir John's overwhelming emotions will be complete.
'I can only atone for my intrusion in one way,' Otto proceeded. 'Permit me to hope for an early opportunity of improving our acquaintance -- and to return to the garden.'
'Not on my account, Mr Fitzmark! In any other case, my visit would be at an end. But I am perhaps morbidly anxious to "make assurance doubly sure" (the words of Shakespeare, I think?) in the case of Sir John. Besides, I have the prejudice of the world against me; always on the look-out for an opportunity of asserting that a woman is not fit to be a doctor.'
This seemed to be the right place for a burst of enthusiasm: Otto did it with perfect tact and dexterity.