by Lisa Campell
“I will choose to take that as a compliment,” he responded.
“As you should.” Eliza closed her eyes and let Sebastian’s strong, steady heartbeat lull her off to sleep. She dreamed of endless pleasure, of his body close to hers, and for once, woke up to a reality that matched her fantasy. She lay dozing in his arms, reveling in her newfound sense of contentment. At long last, she felt that Sebastian matched what was in her heart. It was wonderful to have experienced what it was like to be loved by him, but she cherished the things he had confided even more.
And of course, his declaration of love. Nothing sweeter fueled her heart and soul.
The second time she awoke, the bed was empty beside her. Eliza stretched and went to wash and dress. Her sleep had been deep and fulfilling; she felt truly rested for the first time in weeks. Her problems had never seemed so distant, nor so small.
When she came down to the dining room, Sebastian had already seated himself in his habitual chair, a cup of coffee steaming before him. He smiled and winked at her as she sat down across the table. The post had come—an envelope lay under his left hand. Eliza craned her neck to see the front. She arched an eyebrow. The writing was unfamiliar.
The servant-girl brought Eliza her tea, and a delicious pastry. She watched Sebastian open the letter, extract a page of parchment and read the first few lines. The calm, relaxed light in his gorgeous blue eyes dimmed as he read. By the end, no trace of a smile remained on his face.
Eliza lowered her teacup. Her heart sped up in her chest. “What is it, Seb?” A hundred awful possibilities flashed through her mind.
“It’s Teresa,” Sebastian said grimly. “She’s sick with lung fever. The nuns say she’s been asking for me.” He didn’t have to articulate the implications of this news. The concern was writ large on his face. “I think we should go and see her. Will you come along?”
“Yes, darling. Of course I will.”
Breakfast was finished hastily, and husband and wife were preparing to leave before the dishes were even cleared. Sebastian did not speak much as they waited together for the carriage to come around. Eliza worried, but she stayed quiet. Strangely, she wasn’t nervous. Not this time. Whoever Lady Teresa Campden turned out to be, Eliza was already determined to accept her wholeheartedly. It was the least she could do for her beloved husband.
“I had hoped you might meet her under happier circumstances,” Sebastian admitted, once they were well on their way to Monk Sherborne, the tiny town where Teresa lived. “She has days that are better than others. Sometimes she’s quite lucid. I’m afraid that may not be the case this time.”
“It’s all right.” Eliza squeezed his hand. “And if you want to be alone with her, I understand. This must be very difficult for both of you.”
Sebastian rubbed his face. “She’s never asked for me before,” he muttered. “What if that means she knows she’s dying? Why didn’t they tell me earlier that she was sick?”
Eliza chose wisely to say nothing. Everyone knew how quick and dangerous lung fever could be. It was more than possible that Teresa, in her weakened state, was a prime victim for the disease. She might even be gone when they reached the home, if her condition was as dire as Sebastian feared.
All of these unspoken things hung heavy in the silence between them. But unlike prior times of trouble, stoic Sebastian leaned into Eliza’s support. Rather than pushing her love away, he embraced and returned it, holding her close as the carriage rumbled up the long, tree-lined drive. The rest home was a large, stately building in the center of a peaceful, verdant lawn. A stable boy ran up to help their driver with the horses, and two more doormen stood guard at the front.
Eliza stood by while Sebastian gave his sister’s name. Presently, the guards stepped aside to allow him and Eliza through. He gestured for her to follow.
Inside, the rest home looked like a typical manor house, except for the fact that it felt so sterile and sad. Nuns moved quietly up and down the halls, disappearing in and out of patient doors. Every so often, Eliza heard sounds, some of them disconcerting. A cough, a sneeze, a painful, wrenching cry. One poor woman sobbed out a flood of words Eliza couldn’t understand. Shocked, she glanced at Sebastian.
“Try not to think about it,” he said softly. “That’s the only way I get by.”
A physician holding a black bag stood outside the room that had been designated as Teresa’s. He recognized Sebastian.
“Lord Dain,” he said, as they shook hands. “So good of you to come.” Sebastian gestured to Eliza.
“Mr. Locksley, I’d like you to meet my wife, Lady Dain.” The physician, a solemn, taciturn professional, inclined his head.
“My Lady,” he said deferentially. Then, “I’m sorry to tell you so, My Lord, but Lady Teresa isn’t faring well. She’s been with fever for a few days now, and her delirium is worsening. It’s possible she may yet recover, but…” His expression was grave. “I shan’t say my hopes are high.”
Sebastian nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Locksley. May we see her?”
“Please.” Like the guards before him, the physician stepped aside. “The nuns think she might calm if she sees you, and I’m inclined to agree.”
Sebastian stepped into the small, quiet room, Eliza on his heels. The first thing she noticed was the distinct smell of sickness in the air. It brought back memories of suffering with fever as a child while her mother sat beside the bed and laid cool compresses on her forehead. Poor Lady Teresa had had no one to sit by her through so many hours of suffering. Eliza was glad she and Sebastian had arrived.
“Teresa, I came as soon as I could.” Sebastian spoke gently, in a voice unique to any Eliza had ever heard from him. He crossed immediately to the chair positioned by the bedside and sat, reaching out to take the bony hand of the lady in the bed. She was so frail that Eliza could hardly believe she was alive, were it not for the scarlet, feverish flush of her face and the drops of sweat on her forehead.
The lady mumbled something unintelligible. Her eyes opened and shifted blearily around the room, settling at last on Eliza. They were the same color as her brother’s, though dulled by illness. Her hand lay limp in Sebastian’s.
“I’ve brought someone to see you,” he continued quietly. “I think you’ll like her very much. This is my wife, Eliza.”
Eliza approached the foot of the bed. “Good morning, Lady Teresa. It’s lovely to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” She smiled brightly at Lady Teresa’s wan, largely unresponsive face. The blue eyes shifted once more. They seemed to clear just slightly.
“Eliza?” Teresa’s voice was hoarse and raspy, barely more than a whisper. “A pretty name,” she croaked, falling silent again. With her other hand, she attempted to gesture at the side of the bed opposite Sebastian. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Eliza pretended she’d heard everything as clear as a bell. “Thank you so much. I would love to sit.” She slipped into the only other chair and scooted it up next to the thin mattress. Lady Teresa’s hands were clammy and cold, but Eliza’s smile never faltered. Her heart swelled with sympathy for both brother and sister. She had been there once before, looking into Matthew’s eyes across their mother’s sickbed.
“How do you feel, sister?” Sebastian asked. He did not mention that he had just received a dire report from the physician, though if she had been awake, Lady Teresa must have heard some of it. She simply shook her head, an action that thoroughly exhausted her. The grating burble of a terrible cough welled up from deep in her chest. Its force ricked her feeble body such that Eliza thought she might snap in two.
Lady Teresa reeled for a moment, recovering. Then she shrugged her shoulders just barely, as if to say, I guess that answers that.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Eliza wanted to know. She yearned to find some way to help this poor lady, who was so close to her deathbed, wring a few more moments of joy from a bleak lifetime. “Some water, perhaps?” There was a pitcher and a small glass on the beds
ide table. Encouragingly, Eliza began to pour.
Lady Teresa was silent at first. She gradually nodded her head and tried to sit up in the bed. Sebastian reached to help her, cradling her head with the tenderness of a father holding a newborn. Eliza’s heart melted and ached simultaneously at the sight.
She brought the cup to Lady Teresa’s pale lips, holding it steady for the duration of one small sip. Sebastian held his sister up long enough for the water to be swallowed, just to make sure she wouldn’t choke. Lady Teresa took as deep a breath as she could manage and motioned for more.
Eliza obliged. She watched Lady Teresa take tiny, birdlike sips from the very edge of the cup, until her exhaustion won out and Sebastian lowered her back to the bed. It was clear even in her current state that Lady Teresa had once been a beautiful lady. So much like her younger brother.
Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian was filled with fear for his sister. He had never seen her so fragile, so close to the mortal edge. She was lingering just outside of death’s doorstep. He wondered when the letter would come informing him of her passing, and how he would feel. It seemed all but inevitable.
His sister’s condition was the one dark spot on a life otherwise resplendent with new happiness. In his wildest dreams, he imagined Teresa recovered, perhaps even living somewhere other than the depressing confines of the rest home, and all of them together around a table. Eliza always featured prominently in these flights of fancy, for it was because of her that Sebastian felt his new life possible.
She had brought him a previously unattainable joy, one he had accepted would be forever out of his reach. The deep love they shared, as well as the fierce pleasure, was enough to drive the worst of his misgivings from his mind, particularly in the moment. He no longer wished to be shackled to his to his family history.
He allowed himself to find comfort in the arms of his wife. Though terrified that their union might produce a child, he allowed her embrace to take him over. Perhaps, it wouldn’t happen. He had always been so careful, and he just wanted the pain and fear he was in to be blotted out. He wanted to think positively. But he had never had cause to.
When he could force his thoughts to align in positivity, Sebastian felt selfish and paranoid for still not wanting to take the leap. Eliza, he knew, would make absolutely the most wonderful mother in the world. He could just see her holding a baby in her arms, a child with her thick dark hair and bright eyes.
But those moments were fleeting. More often, Sebastian was consumed by thoughts of his sister’s looming mortality. He had known since his earliest memories that Teresa could die; in fact, it had often seemed to be a certainty, as counted upon as anything else in his young life. One day, he fully expected to come home from Colchester Manor and find her upstairs sickroom empty, the mattress stripped bare of linens. Would they talk about her from that moment forward, or would she have disappeared entirely?
Teresa had done neither. Defying all the grim odds stacked against her, she’d hung on stubbornly to life, for years after the physicians expected, even though those years could not be filled with much more than strife. Sebastian visited her as regularly as he could manage in the rest home. He’d sworn never to become inured to her peculiar longevity. He should have known better than anyone not to take her for granted.
And yet, somehow it had happened. He’d slipped into the comfortable assumption that his sister had found a way to live forever, or at least a normal lifespan. Seeing her so close to the end rattled him to his core. If he spent too long thinking about it, he grew morose and moody. Slowly but surely, the distance between him and Eliza began to creep its way back in.
“Are you all right, love?” It was a question she asked him at least once a day, and his answers grew less and less ready. The guilt he felt for spending any amount of time away from Teresa at all while she might be dying haunted him. He wanted to head back to Monk Sherborne and take up residence in the room with her, just so she wouldn’t be alone.
“I’m fine,” he would tell Eliza, with that air of unspoken aloofness that she hadn’t heard since the beginning of their marriage.
Finally, she pressed him to elaborate. “I don’t think you are, Seb,” she told him gently. “And that’s all right. I just want you to be able to talk to me about these things. I meant it when I said I’d be here for you as long as you needed.”
“I know.” Sebastian often grew irritable or impatient during these exchanges, and he did not know why. Eliza was only trying to connect with him on a level that would allow her to understand what he was going through, what he was thinking. She had lost her mother so young. If anyone could empathize with his struggles, it would be his loyal, loving wife.
Yet, Sebastian couldn’t bring those feelings all the way to the surface. He bottled them up when they threatened to ignite, shoved them down into a safe place. Now that he was forced to confront the idea of a reality without his sister, one in which her condition had claimed her, he didn’t know if he could do it. And if she died, how would he ever bring new life into the world, knowing it could be cut so ruthlessly short?
Eventually, Sebastian gave into the strain. Eliza was sitting in the living room when he told her he was packing to leave for another, more extended trip to Monk Sherborne. “I think you should stay here this time,” he said. The words came out a little more bluntly than he’d intended. Surprise, followed by a shadow of hurt, crossed Eliza’s face.
“You’re certain?” She paused. “The house would be well taken care of in our absence. How long do you think we would be gone?”
Sebastian placed his hands on her shoulders. “Trust me, Eliza. You should stay.” He kissed her, but the touch of their lips was brief. “This isn’t something I want you to see.”
“Sebastian, I don’t know what that means.” Her voice was more sad than angry. “I know you must be hurting. Let me help you.”
The truth was, Sebastian didn’t want Eliza to be there if Teresa died. The moment of her passing was one he felt, for some reason he couldn’t quite explain, should remain between brother and sister. He wasn’t ready to expose the raw nerve of his grief to another set of eyes. Not even if they belonged to his wife.
“Please don’t be offended,” he told Eliza. “This has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I need to have this time with my sister. Just us.” He hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. “When she’s gone, I’ll return, and we will pick up where we left off. I don’t think it will be very long.”
Sadness flooded Eliza’s eyes. “Sebastian…” Before he could sidestep her, she came forward and wrapped him in her arms, tightly, for a few long moments. “If this is what you need, I’m happy to grant it,” she said in his ear. “But don’t you dare forget how much I love you. You’re allowed to be scared in my presence. You’re allowed to hurt. I don’t want you to think that you ever need to shut me out.”
Sebastian held her in return, soaking in her warmth and the sweetness of her voice. These were things he would need to sustain himself on the journey back to Monk Sherborne. And then, from there, on the journey by Teresa’s side into her next life.
Then he let go and left her standing there in the sitting room. The process of packing didn’t take long; he was serious about how short a time Teresa had left. If she was anything like she had been the last time they’d seen her, she was nearly ready to release from her mortal coil. Sebastian wanted desperately to be there to escort her into eternity.
He needed to be there.
Eliza saw him off from the front door of the manor. She looked lost and lonely, the wife of a soldier going off to his wartime fate. Sebastian kissed her once more. Her hand lingered on his chest until he pulled away. As the carriage rolled down the drive, he couldn’t look back.
A small voice in his head tried to warn that he was making a mistake. He silenced it. The way things were could not be helped. Teresa was dying; Eliza was not. One of the two most important ladies in his life would still be there for him
to return to. At the moment, his duty lay with his sister.
For the rest of the ride out to Monk Sherborne, Sebastian refused to think of anything other than what he might find in Teresa’s room at the home. Would he arrive too late? Sebastian closed his eyes and steeled his resolve. If that was what this last trip came to, so be it.
But he prayed for more time.
In this instance, Sebastian’s prayers were answered. When he entered, she was sitting upright, looking out the window. Signs of fever no longer burned her face or shook her body. She turned at the sound of his footsteps.
“Sebastian!” Though still rough, her voice came through much clearer.
He blinked. “I can’t believe how well you look.”
She managed a weak smile. “Neither can I. The fever broke yesterday afternoon. Today I can breathe better. Maybe tomorrow they will tell me I’m going to live.” She attempted a chuckle, then looked past him toward the door. “You didn’t bring your wife today. I liked her very much.”
