At St Mungo's ....
Nov. 19th, 2008 12:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_luciusSadly, not how I wished to end the day.
Minerva, Horace, by now you ought to have received my messengers. Please make every effort to catch Miss Parkinson before she can read about this here.
It is difficult to organise my own thoughts. Singularly ironic, the time of year and the similarity of circumstance - though as yet, no one will be dying. But I'm skipping round and getting ahead of myself.
Chronological order, then.
Well, it's no secret that my goddaughter has been digging herself a hole to China lately with her antics. Not surprisingly, the subject has come up a few times to-day, including the Minister herself expressing her deep sympathies on what she referred to as my 'unfortunate responsibility' and a millstone.
I confess I am just as shocked as any that her behaviour should so soon turn again to an inappropriate attitude. But she has always been a willful and spirited child, two qualities that often combine to cause grief in the adults who must guide her education.
I had already determined that clear discipline was required and had Crispin rearrange the latter part of my afternoon so that I could confer with her mother to alight on a remedy that might prove effective. Crispin confirmed with her just a few hours before we were to meet.
When I arrived, there was no answer to the bell - not even Rosa's house elf. The house was not charm-locked, however, so I was able to enter without spellwork. Immediately the hair on the back of my neck stood up in warning. I made my way to the parlour, the sitting room, even the dining room, and saw no one. My unease grew, but I ventured upstairs, wand at the ready. And that's where I found her.
She was alive, but unconscious. There was no sign of injury or struggle. She clearly had suffered some sort of collapse. I called her elf back and sent him straight on to St Mungo's for healers. They responded immediately, which the healers now tell me probably saved her life.
As I write this, I still do not know how long the healers will wish her to remain in their care. Pansy will be informed by her professors and, if the healers allow it, I shall arrange for her to come down to London for a visit. That ought to cheer them both and give Rosa strength to recover.
For now, there is not much else to do but entrust her to the healers and their capable ministration.
I am exhausted beyond belief and yet can't sleep. I should go back to St James' and get some rest. I just keep thinking about that other November, and how frightened Amanda was, even though we expected it would be coming sometime around the end of the year.
Well, as I said, the situation is somewhat dissimilar. It's St Mungo's and not the Manor; I am no longer the seventeen-year-old suddenly in charge of his family; there is no need for urgent action or too much disruption of Pansy's already overset routine. More to the point, the healers are certain they can help Rosa make full recovery - just not certain about how long it will take. One other thing is clear: The course I had thought might be suitable now seems the obvious solution.
Perhaps a nightcap and reading will force my eyes to close.
Minerva, Horace, by now you ought to have received my messengers. Please make every effort to catch Miss Parkinson before she can read about this here.
It is difficult to organise my own thoughts. Singularly ironic, the time of year and the similarity of circumstance - though as yet, no one will be dying. But I'm skipping round and getting ahead of myself.
Chronological order, then.
Well, it's no secret that my goddaughter has been digging herself a hole to China lately with her antics. Not surprisingly, the subject has come up a few times to-day, including the Minister herself expressing her deep sympathies on what she referred to as my 'unfortunate responsibility' and a millstone.
I confess I am just as shocked as any that her behaviour should so soon turn again to an inappropriate attitude. But she has always been a willful and spirited child, two qualities that often combine to cause grief in the adults who must guide her education.
I had already determined that clear discipline was required and had Crispin rearrange the latter part of my afternoon so that I could confer with her mother to alight on a remedy that might prove effective. Crispin confirmed with her just a few hours before we were to meet.
When I arrived, there was no answer to the bell - not even Rosa's house elf. The house was not charm-locked, however, so I was able to enter without spellwork. Immediately the hair on the back of my neck stood up in warning. I made my way to the parlour, the sitting room, even the dining room, and saw no one. My unease grew, but I ventured upstairs, wand at the ready. And that's where I found her.
She was alive, but unconscious. There was no sign of injury or struggle. She clearly had suffered some sort of collapse. I called her elf back and sent him straight on to St Mungo's for healers. They responded immediately, which the healers now tell me probably saved her life.
As I write this, I still do not know how long the healers will wish her to remain in their care. Pansy will be informed by her professors and, if the healers allow it, I shall arrange for her to come down to London for a visit. That ought to cheer them both and give Rosa strength to recover.
For now, there is not much else to do but entrust her to the healers and their capable ministration.
I am exhausted beyond belief and yet can't sleep. I should go back to St James' and get some rest. I just keep thinking about that other November, and how frightened Amanda was, even though we expected it would be coming sometime around the end of the year.
Well, as I said, the situation is somewhat dissimilar. It's St Mungo's and not the Manor; I am no longer the seventeen-year-old suddenly in charge of his family; there is no need for urgent action or too much disruption of Pansy's already overset routine. More to the point, the healers are certain they can help Rosa make full recovery - just not certain about how long it will take. One other thing is clear: The course I had thought might be suitable now seems the obvious solution.
Perhaps a nightcap and reading will force my eyes to close.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-19 01:58 pm (UTC)She has been out of immediate danger since a little after 9:00 last evening; still they believe that to release her would put her in jeopardy of a relapse. The cause of her condition, however, will take a little longer to remedy and they expect to keep her for at least four days to purge her system of the bad humours to which it has been subjected.
As I'm sure you can imagine, the next day or two will be most uncomfortable for her. There is no need to bring Miss Parkinson down to witness her mother's ordeal, to say nothing of missing her schoolwork for all that time. I will arrange a Portkey for her on Friday, Minerva. Once she has finished her lessons for the day, with your permission, she may come to London for the week-end and see her mother then.
Regarding your other observation: Yes, that is my hope as well. Regrettable as it is, surely this incident will serve to provide Pansy with a more sober demeanour and make her mindful of her duty to family and state. It is a dismal commentary, though, if it takes a scrape of this magnitude to curb her.
My inclination last night has this morning become determination. I must make the arrangements, but I believe that the Christmas holidays shall also give us the opportunity to ensure Pansy's reform.
If only she can avoid heaping more trouble upon herself until then!