As Sir Richard went forward uncertainly into the room, he said quite normally: “I got the sherry for you, Grandfather.” Bella burst into a pantomime of little signs and twitches–Don’t say anything, Keep it from him, Leave it all to me. Edward asked blinking: “What on earth’s the matter with you, Bella?” Like the rest of the family he called his grandmother by her Christian name. Peta knelt to pick up the broken glasses. “She’s telling us not to tell you that you’ve had one of your little passing-outs, darling.” Edward looked pleased. “Good Lord–have I?” His clenched fists relaxed on the arm of the chair. Bella, however, pushed past them all and ran to him. “My poor boy! How do you feel now, darling? Just keep quiet, don’t worry, let yourself go …” and immediately the hands curled again; he went very white and after a moment, sitting staring at her, he suddenly pitched forward fainting onto the parquet floor. Philip forced Bella aside and kneeling beside him, took the slack wrist.
