by Locke, Laura
Matilda smiled, listening to her great aunt and uncle talk.
“Yes, Tertia. I had not forgotten. But do not forget we'll be wanting the carriage shortly...Bert's coming to take our great-nephew to Brighton.”
“I hadn't forgotten,” Tertia said stiffly. “My memory is in fine working order, I'll have you know...”
Matilda would have smiled at their good natured banter, but the thought of the Brighton trip brought back worrying memories.
“What is it?” Henry asked, moving closer. Matilda sighed.
“I just remembered. Father is meant to go to Brighton next week. And Mother...” she paused, then pulled his sleeve so he could bend down and she could speak quietly. “Mother said we would borrow Lord Epworth's carriage.”
Henry looked down at her, face clouded.
“But Mattie...isn't he..?” he paused when Matilda stiffened beside him. They both looked to the door. Lord Epworth had just arrived, Pauline and Mother beside him.
He noticed Matilda at once, and came across the room. Matilda saw his eyes narrow when he saw Henry, and she tensed. If he says anything about him I'll...
“My lady,” he said, bowing. He was, she noticed, wearing a brown velvet coat that had belonged to Lucas. The small fact that it failed to match his elegant velvet trousers made her want to laugh. It served him right.
“Lord Epworth.”
“I was just talking with your mother,” Alexander continued smoothly, “and she mentioned some matters which concern you. If you would care to join us?”
Oh, my. He has been talking to my mother, and he already speaks as if he is a member of the family?
Matilda glanced up at Henry, and saw a flash of worry cross his blue eyes. She smiled, trying to be reassuring.
“I'll be a moment. Excuse me.”
Henry nodded, though the worried frown did not leave his face. Matilda walked behind Lord Epworth to her mother. Pauline was talking to a young lady, but was strategically close by.
“Ah, there you are, Matilda,” Mother said gently. “Now. We were talking, Alexander and I. He suggested, and I think he is quite right in this, that the strain of being here – what with your father's illness and all – is too much for a delicate lady. He suggests that you visit him at Warrington House. I think it's a marvelous idea.”
Matilda felt stunned. “I...”
“Of course, I would not keep you longer than a week, my lady. I understand you feel duty to your family. A noble quality,” Alexander added, nodding to her. Pauline suppressed a shudder. The last thing she wanted was to spend any time around this man, without the assurance of her family close by.
“I...”
“Lord Epworth has been so kind, Matilda,” her mother said carefully. “I think it would be churlish to refuse such an offer.”
Matilda heard the steel in her mother's voice and her heart sank.
“I...only for a week,” she murmured. She saw the way his eyes narrowed, and the color appear in her mother's cheeks, and realized how rude she must have sounded. “I mean...apologies, Lord Epworth. It is a generous offer. I would be pleased to accept. You must understand...my Father...I...”
“Of course, my lady,” he said kindly. He squeezed her hand and Matilda tensed. His eyes did not look kind. They were hard and cold, like flint.
He says one thing, but always he means another. He speaks kindly, but his eyes are not kind.
“Mother, I...” she turned to look at her mother. She nodded, indulgently. At that moment, Matilda felt her head spin. Her corsets – too tight, as usual – dug into her and her chest closed up. She felt herself falling back, back...head whirling.
“Alexander! Catch her! Oh!”
Matilda heard her mother's voice, shrill and alarmed, glancing off the fog in her brain. Then the blackness rose up and claimed her and she heard no more.
Chapter 13
“Tildie? Tildie!”
Matilda heard, faintly, her sister's voice, cutting through the fog in her brain. She opened her eyes. Her head hurt, the light that shone through the windows blinding her. She closed her eyes again.
“What?” she murmured.
Pauline laughed, her voice ragged with relief. “What do you mean, what? We were so worried...” she sighed, clasping Matilda's hands in her own warm ones.
Matilda shuffled back towards the pillows, leaning back. She opened her eyes and focused, slowly, on her sister's face. Her sight was blurred and swimming, and she could not quite make out anything besides her sister's tranquil face and worried frown.
“Where am I? What happened..?”
“You're upstairs in your bedchamber. You collapsed. Doctor Jarrow said it was nerves. And he recommended using a weaker corset,” she added, laughing shakily. “Oh, Matilda! You have no idea how worried I have been...”
Matilda bit her lip and squeezed Pauline's hand gently. She felt guilty. She had been so obsessed about her own concerns that she had not even thought about Pauline and her own difficulties.
“I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to scare you.”
“Well, I did get quite a scare. But as long as you are well. I don't want to keep you awake, though...Doctor Jarrow said you'd likely be tired.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight of the clock.”
“In the morning?” Matilda said, incredulous. Had she slept all night since tea the other day?
“Yes,” Pauline nodded. “Apparently it's often like this after a shock...you'll feel tired for a few days, Doctor Jarrow said. But, Tildie, what happened?”
“I don't know,” Matilda said quietly. “It wasn't a shock, not exactly. I think everything just caught up at once.”
“All the worry and everything. I understand. Oh, Tildie! You're like Papa. I think mayhap you should go with him when he goes to Brighton.”
Matilda smiled a little sadly. “I'd like to, Sister. But I can't go gallivanting off to the seaside and leave you here alone with Mother and...all this,” she said, spreading her hand in a gesture that was meant to encompass all the troubles facing them. Her arm ached and she put it down again. “Everything's sore,” she added, feeling weary.
Pauline frowned worriedly. “Poor Tildie! Perhaps you should try some of the medicine the doctor left. He said you would need sleep and it would help you find your rest.”
“No. Thank you, Pauline,” Matilda said firmly. “But I want to have a clear head.”
“Yes.” Pauline nodded. “I understand.”
“What happened after I collapsed?”
Pauline frowned. “Well, Mama let out a cry and asked Alexander to carry you upstairs...I'm sorry, dearest, but there was no-one else about to do it, so...”
“Go on,” Matilda said grimly, wishing she didn't have to think about Alexander's hands on her unconscious body.
“Well, he brought you upstairs and Henry and Lucas followed Mother and I along. Henry said he'd fetch the doctor. The look Alexander leveled his way would've melted lead, but...” Pauline paused, then, seeing Matilda frown. “Nothing was said, though, dearest. Mother agreed and he went. Then Doctor Jarrow came up and, well, nothing much else happened,” she added, lifting her shoulders in a helpless gesture.
“Thank you,” Matilda said gently. “And thank you for sitting with me. You must have been here for hours,” she added, noting the three teacups littering the bedside table, one lightly stained with rouge where Pauline had drunk from it after the tea-party.
“We took turns, Lucas and I. I sat here until ten of the clock, then Lucas took over. I came in about half an hour ago to relieve him.”
“You took turns to keep watch on me? All night?” Matilda felt her heart clench.
“Yes,” Pauline said, taking her hand. “What with Father so ill, and...” she bit her lip. “I didn't want to take any chances.”
“Thank you,” Matilda said warmly. She lay back on the pillows, looking up at the ceiling.
“I'll leave you to rest now, dear. Shall I send in Mrs. Marwell with
a tray?”
“Thank you, Pauline. That would be perfect,” Matilda said quickly, noticing that her stomach was grumbling – she had barely eaten anything since luncheon the previous day. No wonder she felt shaky!
After Mrs. Marwell had delivered the tray of toasted bread and tea, Matilda lay back, sipping tea and thinking about the events of the previous day.
“I have never fainted before in my life.”
It was likely the stress, she assured herself. But still. The disorientation, the fogginess she felt even now, the weariness...
It's like Father's illness.
She shook her head. Her father was tired. Overworked. Doctor Jarrow himself had said it. And she was probably overwrought herself. To say nothing of suffocated.
“Stella is too enthusiastic with her corsetry,” she murmured to herself, a wry grin on her face.
She would speak to her.
The rest of the day passed quietly. Mother visited, but seemed subdued and left a pile of periodicals on the bedside table for her to read. “For,” she had said, “a bit of light diversion is just what the doctor ordered.” Matilda had flipped through some of the Women's Gazette, but found all the writing about dresses and parties and balls a little flippant.
I should really get up and find out what is going on.
It was, after all, only a week before her father would set of to Brighton, and there was a lot she had to plan.
She dragged herself out of bed, feeling exhausted, and wrapped herself in a silky nightgown. After Stella had dressed her in a plain linen day-dress, she walked slowly downstairs. Aunt Tertia was in the drawing-room, a cup of tea beside her.
“Aunt,” Matilda said gently.
“Hello, dear,” Tertia smiled, a warm grin on her soft, pretty face. “Good to see you recovered. I hope your head does not ache terribly.”
“It does a little,” Matilda admitted.
“Mm. I recall fainting not too long ago. Wanted to stay abed all week. It tires one out, so.”
“It does,” Matilda nodded. “Aunt?”
“Mm?”
“I wanted to ask if you have heard anything about Father?”
“He seems well, dear,” her aunt Tertia nodded. “Honorius and I were talking to your mama, and we have all decided it would be best if he left sooner. Your mother is in correspondence with Bert, who says he can be here the day after tomorrow. The sooner the better, agreed?”
“Tomorrow? Oh...” Matilda covered her mouth with her hands. That seemed too soon! And yet...“Yes, Aunt. You are right. The sooner he leaves, the better.”
“Well, quite so, dear. I do think it's best. The longer he's there, the faster his recovery will progress.”
“Indeed.” Matilda paused. She remembered something. “Lord Epworth. He...”
“He was very distressed by your collapse, my dear,” Aunt Tertia said, fondly. “He seemed most put-out. He told your mother you had been working far too hard. Your mother said she would do her best to relieve your anxieties.”
“Oh.” Matilda let out a breath. That was a surprise. “But...but he said nothing more about loaning us the carriage?”
“Not as far as I know, no,” Aunt Tertia said, frowning, as if surprised by Matilda's interest in such a minor thing. “Your mother mentioned that the sooner he leaves, the less worried you'll likely be, and he agreed. But I don't think a carriage was mentioned.”
“Oh. Thank you,” Matilda said, breathing out a sigh of relief. Somehow, the idea of her father being able to go down in their own carriage was a relief. She knew it was silly, but she mistrusted Lord Alexander. The less involved he was with her father's health the better.
She talked with Tertia a while, then walked off, still tired, to practice at the pianoforte. She talked with Pauline and they spent much of the afternoon together, laughing and playing cards.
The next two days passed slowly but smoothly – the warning to keep her calm seemed to have been taken to heart, and there were no more outings or parties planned for those days. Not having to see Alexander was a relief. Matilda found herself relaxing, helping to plan their father's departure to Brighton.
Uncle Bert arrived the day before their departure. The family had a supper with him that evening and Father attended. Matilda noted that he looked a little better. He knew who they all were and what time of year it was. He even teased Uncle Bert about the ride they had gone on two months before.
I think he's starting to recover.
Matilda felt relief flow through her like a wave. She smiled at Pauline, who nodded, catching her thought.
“He looks good.”
“He does.”
The carriage departed early the next morning. Matilda embraced her father in the hallway, wincing as she held his frail, wasted body to her own firm young one.
“Goodbye, father,” she whispered into his ear. She tried to hold back tears, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt as if she might not see him again. “Fare well.”
“Goodbye, daughter,” he said, smiling up at her fondly. His face was yellowish, his eyes bright in the greyish skin that ringed them. “Take care. Be good, now.”
She smiled at him, throat too tight for speech. Beside her, Lucas and Pauline were silent, each of them alone with their grief.
Her father embraced Pauline and she, too, smiled at him, eyes bright with tears. Matilda came to stand beside him and together they watched the coach roll slowly down the drive. They waved until its bulky form was out of sight.
Matilda sighed, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. “He's gone,” she whispered to Pauline and Mother, as they walked up the steps to the door.
“He'll be away for a fortnight only, dear,” her mother said reassuringly. “And he'll return healthy.”
“Oh, I pray and hope so,” Matilda said firmly.
She clutched Pauline's hand and they all retired to the parlor. An air of gloom hung over the whole family. Aunt Tertia and Uncle Honorius sat by the fire, Mother opposite. Pauline sat in a wing-back chair, Matilda opposite her. Lucas was at the window, looking out.
“Should we call for some tea?” Pauline asked quietly.
“That,” Mama said fervently, “is a wonderful plan.”
The tea was warm and sweet and did raise Matilda's spirits a little, but nothing could ease her worry for their father.
“I hope he has a safe journey,” she began.
“Oh, he will have, my dear,” Mother said, reassuring. “Mr. Calderwell is driving the coach, and I asked Arthur to ride alongside as an escort. He couldn't have a safer trip.”
Someone knocked at the door. “My lady?”
“What is it, Bertram?” their mother said, glancing at the butler over the rim of her teacup.
“A man to see you, milady. Arthur Howton, the groom.”
“What is it, man?” Lady Braxton said imperiously. Arthur stood before her, silent and afraid.
“Milady. I am sorry. But the coach...” he covered his face with his hands.
“What has happened. Speak up, man! For Heaven's sake! I must know if aught has happened!” Lady Braxton's voice was tight with nerves. Pauline reached across to take her hand.
“The coach came off the road, milady. The axle went clean through. A break. Heaven alone knows how it happened.”
“His lordship..?” Pauline asked.
Their mother had gone white, high spots of color appearing in her cheeks.
“His lordship is well. He hit his head, but he is not unconscious. We have sent for the doctor.”
“Where is he?” Matilda asked, already standing. She had to go to him!
“Downstairs, milady.”
“How long until the doctor gets here?” Pauline asked.
“Well, I don't know, milady. His lordship, when he went to fetch him, wasn't too clear about it, but...”
“His lordship?” Matilda frowned. “You mean, Lord Albert?” She had not thought to ask where Uncle Bert was in all this worry about her father.
“No,�
�� Arthur said, clearly lost in thought. “Not him. There was a man, come upon us in the roadway. He rode up, and when he saw us, stopped at once to help. Tall feller, black horse. Black eyes, too. Don't recall his name. The shock, sorry. It's gone.”
Matilda stared at him. She looked at Pauline. She looked just as worried.
“Not Lord Epworth?” Matilda said, voice a thread of sound.
“Epworth! Aye, that's him! Thank ye, milady.”
“Epworth,” Matilda muttered. She glanced at Pauline, who nodded. Like her, Pauline was clearly not happy with the man's involvement. Matilda stood and hurried to the door.
“Did he say he would go to the village, this Lord Epworth? He's new to these parts...perhaps he doesn't know the doctor..?”
“No, milady. He said that he'd go to his estate.”
“To his estate! But...”
“He said he'd go to his estate, to fetch his own physician Jarvis, who happened by good fortune, to be paying a visit to the manor yesterday evening,” a cultured voice called out. “And here he is. Doctor Jarvis, I present Lady Matilda, daughter of Lord Braxton. That, behind her, is Lord Lucas, his son, and Lady Pauline. I should leave you to them, now. I ought to get back.”
Matilda stared at him. Seeing him here in her hallway, after such a terrible happening, made her feel as if she had woken to a nightmare. She felt as if she knew the man. She couldn't remember why. In all the confusion and horror, though, it could have been imagination.
She glanced back at Pauline, who was rooted to the spot, white and shaking with the shock. Lucas was hurrying down the stairs, their mother beside him.
“Oh, Lord Epworth,” their mother said quietly as she passed him on the stairs, “how wonderful that you were there. What good fortune that you happened to be on the road! Thank you. Thank you.”
“It was nothing, Lady Braxton,” he said gravely. “I did what any person would do. Who would not help the earl in his distress?”
“It is kind of you,” their mother continued. “Now, I must see my husband. Where is he?”
“He is downstairs,” Lord Epworth said, walking down beside her. “I had our man send over some blankets and things, and he seems to be resting in the downstairs parlor.”
