of feeling and decency would not do,” Sidmouth replied, taking the chair Dag-liesh had vacated. In sitting, he adjusted it slightly so as to place Fielding at his back. I am rewarded entirely by finding you much improved, under Dagliesh's care. He is a surgeon's assistant of some ability—and should have been a physician,8 I believe, had his fortune been the greater. With time and Mr. Carpenter's careful instruction, however, he is likely to possess such a practice and home as will make all apology unwarranted.”
“Considering the many cases you put him in the way of, I do not doubt it,” Captain Fielding said drily. “You might almost be taking a finder's fee.”
Sidmouth sat back, his face grave and his lips compressed. Cassandra looked conscious, and coloured.
“Indeed, Mr. Sidmouth engaged Mr. Dagliesh's services on my sister's behalf, Captain,” I interjected, “and we are heartily glad he did so. For as strangers to Lyme, we could not have had the choosing of a surgeon; and Mr. Sidmouth's valuation of his friend has been amply proved, in Cassandra's regained health.”
“I am very sorry—I did not intend—that is to say, I knew nothing of it,” Captain Fielding stammered, in some mortification.
“I wonder if that is not often the case,” Mr. Sidmouth rejoined quietly, his eyes upon mine.
Captain Fielding rose with some effort on his game leg, and reached for his hat. “I must beg leave of this pleasant abode, Miss Austen,” he said, with a bow to Cassandra, “and hope that my business does not detain me too long. I look forward to diis afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” Mr. Sidmouth enquired, stiffening.
“Indeed.” Captain Fielding looked all his satisfaction. “I am to drive the young ladies about Charmouth once they have done visiting Crawford's fossil site.”
Mr. Sidmouth consulted the large pocket watch that hung from the chain of his waistcoat; and very handsome it was, too. “Then you had best be about your business, Fielding,” he replied smoothly, “for you should not wish to find the party gone upon your arrival. I came, it is true, to enquire after Miss Austen's health; but having been assured of its excellent tendency, I am free to broach my second errand.” He turned his attention to Cassandra and me. “I am come in Crawford's barouche expressly to fetch the Miss Austens, and their father; we are all to be of the party, Fielding, you see. Quite a delightful affair; and it is a pity you shall miss it.”
The transformation of Captain Fielding's face was singular to behold, but there was nothing to be said; and with a bow to myself, and the barest of nods for Sidmouth, he turned for the door. It being evident that the entry was never to be without bustle, the poor Captain encountered my father and mother there, only just returned from the Golden Lion; and upon hearing them successful in their errand, and Henry and Eliza behind, I knew Mr. Sidmouth should be rewarded in his scheme. My father was only too happy to be saved the trouble of hiring a rig; the offer of Mr. Crawford's barouche was gladly accepted; and so, with an air of suppressed triumph not unwarranted by events, Mr. Sidmouth helped my family to their places. My mother alone remained behind, declaring herself untempted by the prospect of rocks, and extremely dirty ones at that; and not all the attractions of a ride in an open carriage, in delightful weather, could persuade her.
“And the barouche is filled, besides,” she pointed out, as she came to the street to wave goodbye. “I do not think that Jane shall find a place.”
“I am afraid the interior «very much occupied,” Mr. Sidmouth said, surveying the four faces turned expectantly my way, “and I should not like to worsen your sister's delicate health, by incommoding her further. It seems you have but one choice, Miss Jane Austen—to remain at home, or ride up front with me.”
At my hesitation, he approached, and added in a low ered tone, “I was denied the felicity of a dance last evening, for reasons I shall not ask. You cannot be inclined to disappoint all your family, who wait upon your decision. Do 1 presume too much, Miss Jane Austen of Bath—or will you do me the honour of sitting on the box?”
1 If one can judge by the appearance of Austen's extant manuscripts—Sanditon, for example—she made a habit of writing on small sheets of folded paper, which could be readily hidden if a visitor intruded upon