Sister Royal

About the Book

Beryl Rosslyn Aylmer, known from childhood as Bride, is suffering from seizures. Her young brother, Bonny, calls in Dr. Gildredge, but quickly realises he has made a mistake, for he takes an immediate dislike to the man. Dr. Gildredge is determined to become famous throughout Europe, and diagnoses a rare condition in Bride that he will attempt to treat, and write about it in the medical journals -- whether she recovers or not. Dr, Gildredge soon sees that the only way to keep control of Bride's treatment is to persuade her to marry him, and also stop young Bonny from seeing her. As is to be expected, the outcome is far from straightforward. This story by Margaret S Haycraft is a very readable mix of romance and revenge.

Sister Royal

Margaret S. Haycraft

1855-1936

White Tree Publishing

Abridged Edition

Original book first published 1899

This abridged edition ©Chris Wright 2018

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-03-2

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

wtpbristol@gmail.com

Full list of books and updates on

www.whitetreepublishing.com

Sister Royal is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this abridged edition.

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Book

Author Biography

Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

More Books from White Tree Publishing

About White Tree Publishing

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Books for Younger Readers

Author Biography

Margaret Scott Haycraft was born Margaret Scott MacRitchie at Newport Pagnell, England in 1855. She married William Parnell Haycraft in 1883 and wrote mostly under her married name. In 1891 she was living in Brighton, on the south coast of England, and died in Bournemouth, also on the south coast, in 1936. She also wrote under her maiden name of Margaret MacRitchie. Margaret Haycraft is currently our most popular author of fiction.

Margaret was a contemporary of the much better-known Christian writer Mrs. O. F. Walton. Both ladies wrote Christian stories for children that were very much for the time in which they lived, with little children often preparing for an early death. Mrs. Walton wrote three romances for adults (with no suffering children, and now published by White Tree in abridged versions). Margaret Haycraft concentrated mainly on books for children. However, she later wrote several romances for older readers. Unusually for Victorian writers, the majority of Margaret Haycraft's stories are told in the present tense.

Both Mrs. Walton's and Margaret Haycraft's books for all ages can be over-sentimental, referring throughout, for example, to a mother as the dear, sweet mother, and a child as the darling little child. In our abridged editions overindulgent descriptions of people have been shortened to make a more robust story, but the characters and storyline are always unchanged. Eliza Kerr is another Victorian writer whose stories deserve to be republished, and White Tree Publishing is releasing several of her books in abridged form.

A problem of Victorian writers is the tendency to insert intrusive comments concerning what is going to happen later in the story. Today we call them spoilers. They are usually along the lines of: Little did he/she know that.... I have removed these when appropriate.

£100 in 1899 may not sound much, but in income value it is worth £12,000 pounds today (about US$15,000). I mention this in case the sums of money in this book sound insignificant!

Chris Wright

Editor

NOTE

There are 16 chapters in this book. In the last third are advertisements for our other books, so the story may end earlier than expected! The last chapter is marked as such. We aim to make our eBooks free or for a nominal cost, and cannot invest in other forms of advertising. However, word of mouth by satisfied readers will also help get our books more widely known. When the story ends, please take a look at what we publish: Christian non-fiction, Christian fiction, and books for younger readers.

Chapter 1

Stephen Gildredge M.D.

Take my advice, Master Bonny, and call in the new young doctor from Sycamore Villa. He's got a long string of letters after his name, and folks say he's a wonderful hand at operating and using of the knife.

But he won't use any knife to Bride. He isn't going to hurt her, is he, Mrs. Corbell?

Bless you, no, my dear. Nobody's a-going to use no knife to your sister. Don't you be frightened, Master Bonny. But Corbell is quite of my opinion that it's your duty to have medical advice, notwithstanding as Miss Bride herself has objections, knowing the medical man expects his fee; and well we know doctors has to live, my dear, the same as the rest of us.

I wish old Dr. Downley hadn't gone away, Mrs. Corbell.

Him as attended your poor ma, my dear? You wouldn't have him working for ever, would you, and him in his eighty-second year? Seeing the old gentleman's retired, it seems to me we'd better put the case in the hands of Dr. Gildredge, for he's clever, though abrupt. Wonderful good he did to Johnnie Ward's inside, to be sure. Number 15, across the way, my dear -- and that not three months ago.

You see, Mrs. Corbell, said the boy, thoughtfully, there isn't one of father's pictures left now, and I don't believe Bride's got any money to pay doctors. But there's my bright shilling that you gave me at Christmas for doing the errands. Won't that be enough if he comes just only once?

Doctors' charges varies considerably, said the landlady, shaking her head. "Leppard & Holman is seven-and-six a visit, but then they drives a pair, and none but the quality sends for them. Of course, my dear, Miss Bride could be out-patient at the hospital, but the hours wouldn't suit, for it's just her teaching time. Or you could have Mr. Neary, as is parish, but I've never forgot how sharp he spoke to my Preddy when groaning with colic, blessed lamb, last Michaelmas. I can't recommend his manners, and the drop of peppermint as I give the dear babe did more good, I warrant, than his nasty powders."

He shan't come to Bride, Mrs. Corbell. Nobody unkind shall be my sister Bride's doctor.

Of course not, deary, said the good woman, looking admiringly at the glowing face, earnest and resolute, upturned to her own. Not but what I hear the new young man at Sycamore Villa is a bit sharp and abrupt, but we've got to remember that he's a beginner, and so it's likely he'll be cheap. I've no doubt he'll do wonders for Miss Bride, my dear, and we'll manage to pay his little bill -- Corbell and I. We both feels the sooner Miss Bride sees a medical man the better. We don't like the looks of the poor young creature, and where's her appetite, Master Bonny? She don't eat enough for to nourish a fly that's well and hearty.

I'll go at once, Mrs. Corbell, said Bonny Aylmer. "She's only got me, you know, in all the wide world now, and I mean to look after her. She shall have a real clever doctor, though I have to take out every penny I've got in my moneybox."

Bless the boy! said motherly Mrs. Corbell, watching eight-year-old Bonny striding with decision down the street. Troubles has come to the little chap early, hut once Miss Bride gets back her strength, things will brighten for the two of them. I don't understand them fainting fits, though as Mrs. Collier with her own lips said to me yesterday evening, they're a deal too much like them trances as we reads about in the newspapers, as folks falls into in foreign parts. I always had a horror of them trances, and I don't know but what I'll leave Corbell instructions for to have me cremated when I passes hence. As Corbell often says, it don't matter what becomes of the body when the soul's out of it. But, then, there's the expense. I've heard tell it costs a goodish bit, and I wouldn't like to deprive the little ones of what I've put by for them, the dears, in the Post Office.

Meanwhile Bonny Aylmer hurried along towards Sycamore Villa, Tydebridge. He soon distinguished the doctor's house, detached in a semi-detached neighbourhood, and bearing itself with an air of gentility between the abode of the local rate collector and that of the registrar of marriages.

The large door at Sycamore Villa had no less than five bells, marked respectively, Surgery, Night, Visitors, Servants, Trades people and Parcels. It was further adorned by a shining brass plate, and a red lamp that at eventide gave a glimmer of brightness to the most sedate-looking of the dwellings in a somewhat cheerless road.

Bonny searched carefully among the bells, and meaning to ring Surgery, which was out of order, announced himself with clamorous electric resonance as Trades People and Parcels.

A small red-haired maiden appeared in the area, and, seeing him empty-handed, told him, You'd better not come here playing tricks with Dr. Gildredge's bell. Dr. Gildredge had a boy reprimanded at the police court only yesterday for aiming at his red lamp, and next time, they told him, it would be a fine. Dr. Gildredge isn't the sort to stand any nonsense, and boys is a great nuisance, playing in the road and interrupting of him in his studies.

The little girl was so small that Bonny was quite struck to hear the flow of language. My sister's ill, if you please, he said, politely, and I want to see the doctor.

Ring 'Night,' she said, disappearing into the lower regions. 'Surgery's' broke -- by Mrs. Tomlin, what rang to tell the doctor as how Jimmy Tomlin had got a marble into his nose.

Bonny rang Night, and the front door flew open, revealing the doctor's manservant, between whom and Bonny there was recognition, but who, deeply conscious of livery, assumed an air of patronage, and graciously invited the visitor into the consulting room.

No, thank you, Teddy, said Bonny, I'm quite well myself. At least, I had a cold, but Bride got me some liquorice, and I'm nearly cured. I have come to say my sister Bride, Miss Aylmer you know, 11, North Terrace, at Mr. Corbell's, who works at the Stores----

Will you please to make an entry in the address book? asked the fourteen-year-old footman, as though already too heavily oppressed mentally by the vast area of his employer's practice. Bonny wrote slowly and in round, clear hand: If you please, Dr. Gildredge, come as soon as possibul to my sister Bride, at 11, North Terrace, and I, Reginald Frank Aylmer, will pay your fea.

I'm in the third standard now, Teddy, he remarked, confidentially, as he handed back the book. But Teddy was debarred from social communications in that hall of learning by the dignity of office, and by the consciousness that the door of the consulting room stood ajar.

Shut the front door, Coley, called an authoritative voice. Let the boy leave his message and go.

Dr. Gildredge was deep just then in a German treatise on catalepsy, and the murmur of the boyish voices disturbed the workings of his brain.

Coley received the book from Bonny with a bow, and the child left, much awed by his livery and the calm polish and dignity of his bearing.

Nevertheless the heart was sore and anxious, and something inside Bonny's throat was so greatly swollen that he had to blink hard to keep back the tears of dread and suspense. What would Dr. Gildredge tell him when he had seen his sister Bride -- his precious sister, who seemed wasting away to a shadow, and on whom fell these strange, terrible faints that people whispered were the beginning of the end? Would she -- brave, busy, always cheerful, tender, and self-forgetting -- have a long illness like mother, an illness that would end----?

No, Bonny refused to believe it. He clenched his hands and shook his head, putting away the thought of trouble to come.

God won't take Bride away from me, he said to himself. "Dad has gone and Mother has gone, He wouldn't take Sis away, He couldn't. I'll go and get her a banana with my halfpenny. Sometimes she eats fruit when she doesn't care for her meals, and a banana's very nice when it hasn't gone bad."

Dr. Gildredge came early in the afternoon to 11, North Terrace. The young practitioner, determined in coming days to be known far and wide, and resolved already that the front rank of the profession should be his if stern hard work and tireless research could reach it, had only resided a few months in Tydebridge, and possessed no practice at all compared with that of the other doctors of the popular, busy country town. But his personality, and two or three cures of specially intricate cases, were gradually telling upon Tydebridge opinion.

He's a bit of a bear, said some, but the cleverest of the lot. None of the others have Gildredge's qualifications.

Wonderfully clever, but not at all gentlemanly, said some of the Tydebridge ladies, and then it would be added that his brusque, uncourtly ways were not to be wondered at. Did not his father marry his cook or scullery maid or somebody? It must be a great drawback to the young fellow that his mother was not a lady -- not one that Tydebridge could be expected to call upon.

Yes, my dear, said old Miss Elizabeth Balmer, of The Grange, to Mrs. Savory, of Tydebridge Manor, they come from Northpoint, where Cousin Selina lives, you know, so I am well informed concerning them. One would like to have called -- but really, she was his cook, you know, his general servant, indeed, for the old gentleman was a sad failure professionally, and always poor. Cousin Selina says he meant to write a book on 'Nerve Roots' --- or some similar subject -- and he was making notes for it all his life. They lived in a ruin of a house, and the woman, who idolised him and thought him the greatest genius of the age, used to take in sewing to keep the boy at the grammar school. Cousin Selina says he was always as sharp as a needle, complaining when he was a little fellow that they did not give him lessons long enough. Think of that! And he went to the Medical College entirely on his scholarships.

Poor young man! said Mrs. Savory. His mother will always be a social drawback to him, yet one must admire his chivalry in keeping her in his home.

Dr. Gildredge was received in North Terrace by Bonny, who was away from the Board school that afternoon by special permission. Bonny politely attempted to shake hands, and received the doctor's hat and stick, eagerly trying to tell him about Bride's strange fainting fits, and how he was Bride's only relation, and yet Bride wouldn't obey him and stop teaching till she got well again. Perhaps, if the doctor advised her...."

But Dr. Gildredge brushed him impatiently aside, and Bonny took a dislike to him on the spot. They faced each other for a moment -- the boy excited, impetuous, trying to hide the tears that kept stealing to dim the brightness of his gaze; and Stephen Gildredge, with fair, straight hair, keen cold eyes of grey, and clever, authoritative face, whereon Bonny, trying with timid heartbeats to read his expression, could find no gleam of sympathy or compassion.

How I wish I'd had the great fat man that goes to No. 10! thought Bonny, in self-reproach for bringing aught ungentle near the life he loved the best. I hate this Dr. Gildredge -- he's horrid; and he shan't have the bright shilling. No, I'll change it at the milk shop for the dullest one they've got.

Where is the patient? asked the doctor. Nothing annoyed him more than to feel the value of his time insufficiently appreciated.

If you please, sir, said Mrs. Corbell, advancing from the kitchen regions, the young lady's in the front attic, what's their parlour since they give up the drawing room floor, as Mr. Aylmer took when they first come here.

What is amiss with the patient?

It's the faintnesses, sir. They grows upon her. She lies for hours like as if she was dead, for all the world like a trance.

A trance? Nonsense! Nothing of the sort.

Well, sir, of course you'll know just what's wrong with poor Miss Aylmer, for it's well known in the Terrace what a cure you made of the little boy at No. 15. It's spoke of to this day, and Corbell and me, we felt anxious Miss Bride should be seen by one as is making such a name for himself in the place. But Miss Bride do fall into a trance, sir -- it's that and nothing else, if you was to carry me to the stake the next moment for saying of it.

Is the patient hysterical? How old is she? How does she earn her living?

She's nineteen, Doctor, and she's a teacher. She knows a wonderful deal of book-learning. But she's never been in no hysterics all the three year they've lodged under my roof. She's one of the quiet sort -- a gentle-spoken young lady, one anybody might take to, and it do seem sad to see her fading away like a poor broken lily that's blown upon by the cold winds of autumn.

What did Miss Aylmer's parents die of? asked the doctor, nipping impatiently the poetic turn to the conversation.

Well, sir, said Mrs. Corbell, subduing her voice as they neared the attic, "her pa were an invalid as long as I knew him. He were an artist, and I've heard say wonderful talented, but he were quite a cripple with rheumatic fever, sir, which it isn't to be expected as them artists can sit on camp stools in damp fields and among the marshes a-painting of the cattle, and not feel it afterwards in their bones. And her poor ma --