The Invitation

  * * *

  “I SEE NO REASON for alarm,” the doctor said upon completing his examination the following morning. “You have a cough, to be sure, but I can detect no infection. You have no fever. Perhaps it is simply for the sudden change,” he suggested at last. “London is hardly known for its fresh air.” He looked at her a moment more. He smiled but there was a look of mild concern on his brow. He turned then to Aunt Newhaven who had stood as witness at the bedside. “You will send for me if there is any change? There is no need for alarm. She might rest, as a precaution. In fact I recommend it.”

  Aunt Newhaven looked to Abbie then as if this prescription had proved the diagnosis she had suspected all along. “You will remain here, resting, for the time being. Your meals will be brought to you. There will be no need for you to come downstairs at all. Becky will attend you.”

  “But what will I do?” Truly, without an occupation she knew not what to do with herself. She was used to being useful, to serving in some capacity, to being active and using her time to its greatest advantage. This seemed to her no less than a prison sentence.

  “Were you not listening, Arabella? You will rest. That is what you will do. And you will remain here, in this room, until you are entirely well.”

  “But I am—”

  “Tut! That is quite enough. You heard the doctor, and you will obey. Do you understand?”

  Abbie nodded, and her aunt left the room.

  The doctor patted her hand sympathetically. “Rest, my dear. We want you at your best. You will be glad of it by and by,” he added and punctuated this with a wink.

  Did he expect she would soon be so busy she would not know what to do with herself? If only it were so, but she didn’t see how such a thing was possible. Frustrated, and now left, once more, alone, Abbie lay down upon her bed and tried, as she had been bid, to sleep.