Noise from the hallway came to their ears. Mimi ran to the door of her bedroom. Jones and the stable boy were carrying what looked to be an unconscious Mr Hancock past the door. They moved down the hall towards their employer’s chamber.
“Papa!” Mimi called out to her father, but he did not answer or stir. The knocker on the front door thumped rapidly a number of times. Everything was in chaos happening at the same time.
“That would be the doctor. Oh dear, Jones is occupied.” Mrs Gauthier ran from the room to go downstairs and answer the door.
“Come, Miss. There we go. Over your head now. There.” Giselle twisted Mimi’s wet hair into a low chignon and secured it. “Now, wrap this shawl around you, Miss. Let us go down the hall to find out what has happened.” She took Mimi by the hand, and they exited the room.
*******
Mimi ran through the door and straight to her mother. Marie was softly crying into a handkerchief. She sat in the corner of the sofa against the wall near the fireplace. Jones stoked up the fire and sent the stable boy back out to the mews to ready the carriage if it might be needed.
“Maman? Qu’est qui s’est passe? What has happened?”
“Your father fell out of his chair in the sitting room. He was reading the newspaper. Camille was in the kitchen. She heard him hit the floor. She got to him in seconds, but he was already unconscious.”
“But what is it that’s happened to him? Why is he not awake? Why is he unconscious? What is it?”
Footsteps clipped up the stairs and down the corridor towards the chamber. Marie and Mimi looked up. The doctor and another young man stood in the doorway.
“Ah. Doctor. How good of you to come so quickly. We don’t know what has happened to my husband. He was reading, and then he was on the floor.” Marie’s voice was shaky, and Mimi could tell her mother was trying to keep her emotions in check.
“Has he been feeling unwell of late?” The doctor looked from Marie to Mimi to Giselle. He didn’t waste time with salutations.
“I don’t believe so. He said nothing if that were the case. He appeared quite normal this morning. He’d gone out for a ride, early. Then he read the paper as he waited for me to join him for breakfast.”
“Mm-hmm. Well, Mrs Hancock, if you feel up to it, you may stay for my examination. But no one else, but my assistant here, is to be in the room. I’m sorry.”
“Of … of course.” Marie looked at Giselle and Mimi. She nodded and the two exited the bedchamber straightaway.
“I don’t know what to do Giselle. He looks so, so pale. So ghost-like.”
“Shh, Miss. Don’t. Come let us go to the sitting room. It’s warm by the kitchen. There seems to be a chill in the house this morning. Would you like some tea?”
“Oh, yes, Giselle. Will you make it?”
“Yes, Miss.”
The knocker on the door sounded again, and they heard Jones run down from the third floor to answer it. The voices of the Warrens reached down into the sitting room. The footsteps came down the stairs, and then the bearers of the voices appeared.
“Mimi, you poor, poor dear.” Lavinia Holstead Warren, the former actress was still, at forty, very beautiful and exceedingly compassionate and charming. Mimi could easily believe the rumour that every man who had ever played opposite Lavinia in a play had fallen madly in love with her. The same as many a rich man had done. Including members of the peerage.
But, Lavinia, independent and well off from her former career, had also made a small fortune from guest appearances at salons and public readings. She’d had no need of any man’s money and didn’t give a fig about her place in society. She was very insightful as well as intelligent. She knew there was really no being raised up from having been an actress no matter how famous, rich or well liked one was.
Lavinia Holstead could have married a Duke and been called a Duchess while living the pampered life of one. But she would still have been merely a former actress, and that occupation would have haunted her standing within the ton. And the standings of her children.
As it was, she had relished her freedom. Lavinia had been free to marry whomever she pleased. For love. And so she had, and her generally happy demeanour was genuine. The deep friendship she and her husband shared had been strengthened by the bonds of a passionate and abiding mutual love.
“Has the doctor said anything? Mimi?”
Lavinia took the girl’s hand between her two. “You are cold, child. Come. Sit by the fire.” Lavinia led her to a chair by the hearth.
“The doctor? Umm, I don’t know. My mother is with them. I reckon as soon as she knows anything she’ll alert us to it.”
“Mimi!” Richard strode into the room as if he would lift her off of her feet in an embrace. He stopped just short of her. She wanted him to take her in his arms. Instead, he spoke. “What says the doctor?”
“No one knows anything yet, dear,” Lavinia spoke.
“Yes, of course, Mother.” Richard bowed his head.
Mimi couldn’t see straight. Her stomach felt queasy, and her excitement for the events of the previous night was long forgotten.
“There, there. Mimi. He’ll be alright. Don’t fret.” Richard sat in another chair near her. Lavinia sat at the table on the other side of the small room and poured herself a cup of chocolate from the pot Camille had left on the table and occupied herself with some needlepoint she’d brought along in her reticule.
“He will not be. Richard, I saw him. He was horribly still and looked to be a strange colour. Something akin to a candle. It was terrible to see him like that, Richard. I’m frightened. I think my father is to die this day.”
“Don’t say that, Mimi! Don’t even think it, my love.”
“Oh, what will we do? Maman and myself? We have never worked. Not even in the house. While we live moderately, we live quite well. We’ve always had a few servants. My mother’s family did also. My father’s family were in the butcher business. I come from a long line of hard workers. Ambitious workers. I suppose I could learn to sew clothing, although all I know of that, at the moment, is mending. My grandmere was a seamstress. Or, possibly, I could become a governess. I had an excellent education.” Mimi kept talking in this vein until she became exhausted and tears began to slide down her face.
Richard sat very still. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mimi. Or your maman. I will take care of you. Always.”
Mimi smiled wanly through her tears. “How will you ever take care of me, dear Richard? You are not your father’s heir.”
“I am not, but I have been promised an annuity. For the rest of my life, once I turn eighteen, in November, I am to receive 250 pounds yearly from my father’s investments.
“I plan on becoming a barrister like my older brother, George. I could give you a very comfortable life, Mimi. I’ve been making plans. I will go to university in the autumn. By the time you are twenty-one, and legally marriageable, I will be collecting at least 4000 pounds yearly from my law practice gratuities.”
Mimi said nothing. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Richard handed her a handkerchief from his waistcoat.
*******
“Mademoiselle! Come quickly.” Camille hurried into the sitting room from the kitchen.
Mimi stood. “I must go now.”
“Yes. Remember, Mimi, I am here. I will take care of you forever.”
She nodded once, glanced at Lavinia, and turned towards Camille in the doorway.
“Come, Mademoiselle Mimi.” Mrs Gauthier appeared to put her arm around Mimi’s shoulders and walked her up the servants’ staircase to the third floor where the bedchambers were.
Mr Warren was sitting on one of the chairs that had been placed in the hall outside of the room. Her father’s business partner stood as Mimi and Mrs Gauthier approached. The bedchamber door was open, and Marie was inside the room still sitting near the bed and weeping softly to herself.
Mimi went to her mother. “Oh, Maman. Please don’t c
ry.”
“I can’t help it, mon ange. The doctor says it is your father’s heart.”
“But, what does that mean? When will Papa be better?” Although Mimi worried about her father dying, seeing him in the bed made it seem impossible to her that he would actually do so. Although Mr Hancock retained the ghostly pallor of earlier, his breathing was peaceful. He looked to be asleep. “What does the doctor say, Maman?”
Fresh sobs emitted from Marie. “He says your father will not survive until tomorrow. He might not wake up, even.”
Mimi knelt on the floor near her mother’s chair. She reached her arms around Marie’s neck and held her close. “Oh, Maman, I am so sorry.”
Mimi knew her mother would have a very difficult time letting Mr Hancock go. She knew that she would have to be strong and take care of Marie. Her mother was already showing the strain of living without her beloved husband.
But taking care of Marie could serve to keep Mimi from crawling too far into her own grief. It would be impossible for Mimi to give in if she had to take care of her mother. She looked up over the back of the chair her mother reclined in. Mrs Warren and Richard had come upstairs. Lavinia sat with her husband in the hall, and Richard stood in the doorway looking at Mimi. His gaze rested on her from where he was rooted, strong and tall. His eyes seemed to echo what he’d told her in the sitting room, “I love you, Mimi. Don’t worry about anything. I will take care of you. Forever.”
Chapter 4
The day after the attack on his heart, Joseph Hancock peacefully went to meet his maker. Then followed a week of whirlwind activity.
The furnishers had come and prepared the drawing room on the second floor for the vigil. Black baize fabric was draped all around. Sweet smelling beeswax candles burned at the head and foot of the coffin and in the sconces along the walls. The curtains were drawn, and all the furniture had been pushed along the walls.
Mimi and her mother both dressed in black bombazine and crepe, had sat on a sofa by the far wall of the dining room next to the windows. The dining and drawing rooms were separated by pocket doors, one of which had been pushed open. The coffin was visible from where the two women were seated in the dining room.
Guest after guest came into the house, entered the dining room and gave their condolences to the Hancock ladies. Then they made their ways into the drawing room to pay their respects to the deceased.
Marie had been so overcome with grief and worry that Mrs Gauthier had been forced to hire watchers to sit with the body. It had been clear to everyone, who’d seen him that Mr Hancock was, indeed, quite dead.
However, the protocol was the protocol, and Marie had been unable to bear being near her deceased husband, much less to look at him. His was the face that after this day she would never look upon again until it came to be her time to answer the summons from Heaven.
Someone had to sit with Joseph Hancock. The servants had been too busy with all their usual work, as well as the extra cleaning and cooking. That along with the added necessity of moving many of the furnishings and then making the mourning and funeral arrangements had left everyone exhausted. Jones had hung a mourning wreath on the front door and sent out the invitations for the church service and cemetery. Everyone had been very busy. And very sad.
Mr Hancock had been a good and kind man and employer. Everyone who’d been acquainted with him, in any capacity, had thought the world of him. He had not an enemy in the whole city of London that anyone knew of, and the arrival of the black rimmed letters announcing his death to various family friends and acquaintances brought sorrowful comments from all who received them.
The Warrens arrived at the Hancocks’ townhouse before anyone else. Lavinia, after cupping Mimi’s face in her gloved hand, had gone to Marie. Mimi heard Lavinia offering words of condolence to her mother.
Richard had come to Mimi and stood idly by, fidgeting as a small child might do. “My darling. May I get you something? Some lemonade perhaps?”
Mimi had shaken her head. She’d wanted nothing more than to run away from the house she’d been born in. Away from the tears and the hushed voices and the darkness. Everywhere she’d looked, the void left by her father’s absence had threatened to engulf her. And her only recourse was to go to Paris with her mother.
*******
Mimi and Marie sat in the sitting room behind the kitchen drinking tea. They were both chilled and exhausted as was everyone in the house. But it was finally over. Mr Hancock had been laid to rest. It had rained the whole way to the cemetery and all through the words of Eulogy the Reverend had spoken. The two ladies held their stockinged feet close to the hearth to warm them and shared a lap robe.
Nancy came in to check on the ladies and see if they required anything. She stoked up the fire and added more coal as she spoke.
“No thank you, Nancy. We are fine. Please close the door behind you when you leave. It will keep the heat in, and I have a few things I must discuss with my daughter.”
“As you wish, Mrs Hancock. Ring if you need anything, Madame.”
“I will, dear.”
“What do you need to discuss with me, Maman?”
“Well, mon ange, I have sold your father’s half of the bank to Mr Warren.”
Mimi gasped, and her hand went to her heart. “Maman! No.”
“It is what your father wished, Mimi. He actually had it put into his will when it was revised. Of course, it was all after the bank partnership was formed.”
“Very well. You and I don’t know anything about banking!” Mimi laughed, and Marie worried that her daughter must be on the verge of hysteria. She’d been acting strange all day. Or, maybe Marie had just become aware of it, so lost in her own grief as she’d been.
“And, dear heart, there is something else.”
“What else could there be? What is it, Maman? Tell me.”
“My sister, your aunt Marguerite, has invited us to go and stay with her in Paris. Things are peaceful there now. Travel would be safe, and we can live at her house as long as we want, or need. And the best part is we can take Jones and Nancy, Camille, Mrs Gauthier, and Giselle. No one has to be left behind. We have enough money with the sale of the business, and later the house, to keep everyone together. If trouble should resume in Paris, we will go, along with my sister’s family, to our cousins in Belgium.”
Mimi sat up straight and began to shake her head. “Ah non, Maman. Ca ne marche pas! It doesn’t work! We must stay in London. I don’t want to move to Paris. My life is here, Maman! Please. Don’t make me leave my home. Please. Maman, you must listen to me.”
“Darling. It’s the only thing we can do. It is our only option if we are all to keep together. If we stay here in London, I will need to let some of the staff go.”
“In Paris, I will have easier access to some of the vineyards in the south that belonged to my father. My sister only informed me of them a year ago. She thought I knew about them. You and I may be in better straights than I originally thought, but I need to go to Provence to check on things. I can’t possibly leave you behind. It isn’t done. Even if Camille were to stay, it would still be unseemly for an unmarried young woman to live alone. Now, hear me, darling. My sister has offered to sell her share of the vineyards in the south. She has no interest in wine production.”
“I have none, either. I will not go. London is my home. This house is my home.”
“Your father and I were seriously considering the move, mon ange. My vineyards are on a moderately sized piece of land. Your father recently bought the land adjoining it, and on the other side is the land belonging to Marguerite.
“Your father had a mind to be of the gentry one day. Even if in France.” Marie wiped a tear from her eye. “Everything your dear papa did was from a desire to make me happy and to provide financially for your future.”
“But, as wonderful as that thought is, Maman, those plans were made without consulting me. At all. Would you and Papa actually have left London before I was married and se
ttled? You would have waited to be gone. Would you not have? By then I would have my own life. Now, I will be nothing better than a spinster daughter, or cousin or niece, living with family members who want me to die so they can get to any money I might have.”
“Mimi! I’m shocked. Your father and I would never have left you until you were financially settled. And by that, I mean until you were married. To a gentleman. But there are still gentlemen in my country of birth. Men who have built themselves up much as your dear father had done.
“You are just 17. I see the way young Warren looks at you. He’s a nice boy. I nearly love him as my own son. But I have higher hopes for you, darling. I’ve had word that Duke Hertford is residing in Paris these days. It wouldn’t hurt for your acquaintance with him to be reignited, so to speak.”
The Lost Love of a Stunning Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 5
