Slumber

by Felicity Harper

  Clementine was not about to admit the truth of his words. “My Father will pay you for your assistance,” she answered and, even as she spoke, she could hear how petulant she sounded.

  “I shall pretend you didn’t say that,” Gilbert said tightly. There was an angry set to his face as he flicked the reins and the horse set off again. Guiltily, Clementine took her seat next to Gilbert.

  “I’m truly sorry for saying that. That was uncalled for.”

  “You have to understand, Clementine, that, right now, what you need is someone who will do everything they can to help you. You do not need a playmate.”

  “I do understand,” she said repentantly. “Honestly I do. What should I do to help?”

  “There are a few things you could try, though I cannot predict their outcome.” He turned the gig through the gates of Rosenly Crown Estate. “Hetty said the ghost shouted ‘boo’ at her,” he added with an arch smile, “It occurred to me that, if Hetty heard you, maybe others can too.”

  “Yes she did!” Clementine giggled, remembering Hetty’s hysterical reaction. “I hadn’t thought about the significance of that.”

  “It might be that the longer you are away from your corporeal body, the stronger your spectral energy becomes.”

  They rounded the last bend in the elm-lined road which led to the Palace. The King’s Guard had mounted a cavalry picket at the entrance and Clementine could see her father descending the stone steps to his own horse. Is Papa leaving? she wondered.

  “Gilbert!” the King greeted him. He looked weary and years older than he had the last time Gilbert had seen him. “Have you news?”

  “I’m afraid not, Your Majesty,” Gilbert said, “though I have some theories I am working on.” He jumped down from the driver’s seat. “You are leaving?”

  “Yes. I had a missive from a Witte Wieven, a wise woman from the Kingdom of Saxonly. She says to bring her the potion that is keeping Clementine alive and she will try to replicate it.”

  “Can you not send someone else? Surely it would be better for you to stay here with your daughter?”

  “My daughter is not here. Her body lies in that Tower Room but I can feel she is gone.” His voice caught and he took a deep breath. “I must do what I can to keep her alive until a cure can be found,” he continued, placing his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “You understand?”

  “Yes, of course.” Gilbert gestured at the horses. “You intend riding all that way?”

  “It’s faster than the carriage - and what is a little discomfort compared to what is happening to Clementine?”

  “Then I shall wish you a safe journey. And know that I shall continue to do all I can to help you both.” Gilbert glanced at Clementine and saw she was watching her father miserably. “In fact, with your permission I would like to examine Princess Clementine’s body. I should like to see for myself if there are any signs of injury or trauma that might explain how she came to fall into the Slumber.”

  “Of course.” The King called for his physician. “See to it that Mr Thackeray has access to my daughter - but only Mr Thackeray. Keep everyone else but my sister, niece and Agnes out of that room,” he instructed.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Help her, Gilbert,” the King pleaded - and then he swung up onto his horse and galloped away.

  They followed the physician up the winding staircase and into the Tower Room where Agnes sat watching over Clementine’s sleeping body.

  “Mrs Lane, the King has given Mr Thackeray permission to examine the Princess,” the physik told the old nurse.

  “Good day, Mr Thackeray,” Agnes greeted him warmly. She had grown fond of the serious young man in the time he had been tutoring her dear Lemmie. “I have missed hearing the Princess’ tales of your befuddling lessons,” she teased, looking sadly at the bed where Clementine lay. “If anyone can help her, ‘tis you.”

  “I shall do whatever I can, Mrs Lane,” Gilbert promised. “And, when you are with Princess Clementine, perhaps you could try talking to her. For those in Slumber, it can help to hear the voices of their loved ones.”

  “Oh I will, Mr Thackeray! Anything that might help,” Agnes said tearfully. “Is there anything I can do now to assist you?”

  “Yes, you can go downstairs and have a cup of tea. It wouldn’t do for you to make yourself poorly.” He glanced at the physician for support.

  “Yes, quite right,” he agreed dourly. “I will let you know when you are needed.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” Agnes replied. She patted the Princess’ arm. “I shall be back soon,” she promised her young charge. Clementine stared miserably after her dear old nurse and sighed. While she had been enjoying herself in Gilbert’s house, she had quickly forgotten her father; and Agnes; and her cousin; and her aunt, too, for that matter. She felt rotten now.

  “I have to wake up, Gilbert.”

  Gilbert turned from his examination of her body. “I take it you have looked for any signs of injury?” he asked the physician.

  “Of course,” the doctor replied haughtily. “I examined the Princess personally on the very day it happened.”

  “And you found nothing that might indicate the cause?”

  “No. There is the curse, of course, but even that is said to require an injury that punctures the skin.”

  “Can you tell me what you know of that day, Doctor … I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”

  The doctor looked surprised but pleased. “Fellowes,” he supplied, losing some of his haughty demeanour. “By the time I was called, the Princess had been laid out on the settle in the drawing room. I was told she had been eating breakfast when she had a sudden fit and collapsed.”

  Gilbert looked up from his examination. “A fit?” he queried.

  “Apparently so. I examined the Princess but could find nothing that might have caused such a thing. There has been no history of such occurrences; there were no signs of her having choked; no bites or stings that I could find and no cuts upon her person,” he explained gravely. “I am at a loss to explain it.”

  “And what are your thoughts on this curse, Dr Fellowes?”

  “I have a degree in medicine, Mr Thackeray. I know little of curses.”

  “Neither do I,” Gilbert confessed and the two men shared a look of mutual, scholarly scepticism. “Who was with the Princess on the morning she collapsed?”

  “Her cousin, Lady Evangeline.”

  “Would it be possible for me to speak with her?”

  “I can certainly make the request.”

  As Fellowes went in search of Evangeline, Gilbert was left alone with Clementine. “Did any of that sound familiar?” he asked her.

  “I remember having breakfast with Evie,” Clementine told him. “And there was something - something I so nearly remembered when the doctor was talking - but it was gone before I could capture it.”

  “Don’t worry for now.” Gilbert finished his examination of her left arm and gestured Clementine over. “Before Dr Fellowes comes back, I want you to try climbing into your body.”

  Clementine wrinkled her nose. “Oh, I’m not sure that I want to,” she said warily.

  “Come now, Clementine: there’s nothing to fear.”

  “Not for you, maybe,” Clementine muttered but she floated up onto the bed and climbed into her body.

  “Very good!” Gilbert said. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Can you hear me?” Clementine popped up through her head.

  “Yes - perfectly well, thank you.”

  “I meant, can you hear me through your ears?” Gilbert asked, trying not to smile.

  “Oh! I don’t know!” She laid back down. “Try it again.”

  Gilbert leaned over and whispered into her ear: “You have a big nose for a Princess.” Clementine sat up abruptly, clutching her pert spectral nose.

  “I do not have a big nose, Gilbert Thackeray! Take that back!”

  Gilbert l
aughed. “Did you hear that through your perfectly proportioned ears?”

  “Not that I could tell. You seemed to be speaking from above me,” she said crossly. She was still annoyed with him for his remark about her nose.

  “Stop being such a baby, Clementine,” Gilbert teased. “You must know you have a perfectly lovely nose.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Women!” he said. Then: “Quickly! Climb down! I can hear your cousin coming. Say nothing for now.”

  The door flew open and Lady Motley entered with Evangeline and an apologetic looking Dr Fellowes in tow. “Mr Thackeray!” she said imperiously, “Would you care to tell me what it is you are doing to my niece and why you have asked to see my daughter?”

  “Of course, Lady Motley,” Gilbert said. He lifted Clementine’s right hand to examine it. “I am examining Princess Clementine for signs of injury or trauma. As for your daughter, I wish to ask her a few questions.”

  “As you wish, Mr Thackeray,” Evangeline said graciously. “Anything that might help my dear cousin.”

  “You do not have to speak to this - tutor - Evangeline!” Lady Motley turned on Gilbert. “My brother might have given you permission for this …“ she waved her hand dismissively, “this … charade but that doesn’t give you the right to interrogate my daughter.”

  “I would hardly call it an interrogation, my Lady,” Gilbert said calmly. “It is just a few questions to try to establish the cause of Princess Clementine’s sudden collapse.”

  Evangeline placed a restraining hand on her mother’s arm. “I don’t mind answering Mr Thackeray’s questions, Mother.”

  “Thank you, Lady Evangeline. Now, from what I understand, you were having breakfast with the Princess when she became unwell.”

  “No exactly unwell, Mr Thackeray,” Evangeline said with a sad smile. “It seemed to me that one moment she was well and the next she simply fell to the floor in a dead faint.”

  “Can you think of anything that might have precipitated such an occurrence?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head in puzzlement. “Clementine was her usual happy self. If anything, even more so that usual. My uncle had written to say he would be home soon and the Duke of Glossop had made his intentions clear.”

  “That’s a family matter, Evangeline,” Lady Motley rebuked her daughter. “I do not see that it has any relevance here.”

  “Who knows what might have affected the Princess, Lady Motley? Perhaps she became overwrought with all the excitement.”

  “Not that again!” Clementine complained but Gilbert ignored her and Lady Motley’s “harrumph!”.

  “I wish I knew what it was, Mr Thackeray,” Evangeline said wistfully, “but I have told you all I know.”

  “There! Are you satisfied now, Mr Thackeray?” Lady Motley demanded and, without waiting for an answer, she whisked her daughter away. Gilbert looked questioningly at Dr Fellowes, who shrugged and followed them out.

  “I shall be back in a moment, Mr Thackeray,” he promised.

  “Good Lord! Your aunt is a curmudgeonly old boot!” Gilbert exclaimed.

  “Gilbert! She has been through a lot. They all have!”

  “Perhaps - but I would have thought your welfare should have been uppermost in their minds even so,” Gilbert said, returning to his examination of Clementine’s hand. He noticed a tiny red mark on her finger and prodded it.

  “Ouch!”

  Clementine flickered in and out of focus.

  “Hold on Clementine!” Gilbert shouted and called Fellowes back in.

  “Do you have some pincers in your bag?” Gilbert asked excitedly.

  The physician hurried across the room and produced a pair of tweezers. “What have you found?” he enquired.

  “I’m not sure yet.” Gilbert slipped his glasses on and probed the wound, occasionally glancing anxiously to where Clementine still flickered. He stretched the skin around the tiny red mark until he spotted a minuscule black dot. “There!” he said and used the tweezers to pinch the skin. Though it was difficult, he ignored Clementine’s cries of pain and pushed and prodded until he worked the thing loose.

  “Do you have something I might put this in?” he asked Fellowes as he very carefully held the tiny object up to the light.

  The physician handed him a small, clear bottle. “Will this do?”

  Gilbert dropped the tweezers into the bottle and pushed the cork home. “I’ll take this to the University,” he said. “They have a microscope there. As soon as I have identified it, I will let you know.” He gave the physician a look of sudden concern. “I can trust you to say nothing for now, Dr Fellowes?”

  “You have my word, Mr Thackeray.”

  Gilbert looked over at Clementine and was relieved to note that her spectral being was steady once again. For her benefit, he added, “I will be back to see her again once I have news.” Clementine pouted but to no avail. Gilbert Thackeray hurried out of the Tower Room with his prize tucked away in his pocket.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I brought the jade silk, the lilac taffeta, the blue muslin and the dove grey velvet as you asked,” the seamstress said, spreading the rich fabrics out on the chaise. “Shall I fit you first, Lady Evangeline?”

  Clementine wandered over to have a look. It struck her as a little odd that her aunt and cousin should choose this time - of all times - to commission a new wardrobe.

  “Will you fit the muslin first?” Evangeline asked excitedly. “I should like a dress exactly like the one you made for my cousin.”

  “Of course, my Lady.” Mrs Harvey draped the muslin across Evie’s slender body. “How is the Princess, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Lady Motley tutted, “I’d rather we didn’t discuss my niece. It’s such a maudlin topic to dwell upon.”

  “Of course.”

  Maudlin? Clementine thought crossly. Did her aunt think it unseemly for others to be concerned with her welfare? And Evie! It shocked Clementine that her cousin had requested a dress exactly like the one she was wearing now. The same dress that was still adorning her cursed body.

  “Can you have the dress be ready for the day after tomorrow?” Evangeline asked the seamstress. “We are to have a garden party. It will be the first since my coming out.”

  Clementine noticed Mrs Harvey’s eyes widen in surprise, as well they might. The Princess could only imagine how furious her father would be if he knew.

  “I dare say I could have the muslin ready by then - but not the others, my Lady.”

  “That will do very well. The rest are not so important as the muslin,” Evangeline said. She glanced at Lady Motley. “I do hope there is a good turn out, Mother.”

  “I’m certain there will be, my dear. The world hasn’t stopped just because your poor, dear cousin is unwell.” Lady Motley smiled sadly. “I’m sure even Clementine would want you to continue your season.”

  “Huh!” Clementine said aloud. The seamstress dropped her pins. “W-what was that?” she asked. Clementine put her hand over her mouth: They had heard her!

  Fearfully, Evangeline turned to her mother. “That sounded like …” she began.

  “One of the servants passing by - nothing more,” her mother said, though Clementine noticed she kept glancing furtively about the room. There was a knock on the door. Evangeline and Mrs Harvey jumped.

  “Enter!” Lady Motley called and then, as the maid entered the room, she added: “See! Just a servant.”

  “His Grace, the Duke of Glossop, is here, my Lady,” the maid said timidly. “Shall I tell him you are indisposed?”

  “Of course not, girl!” Lady Motley snapped. “Show him into the drawing room and tell him we shall be along shortly.”

  While her cousin and aunt readied themselves for the Duke, Clementine raced ahead, eager to see him again.

  Sir Hugo stood in a puddle of golden light looking more handsome than ever. Which mad
e it all the stranger that Clementine should feel so little on seeing him there. He circled the room, picking up objects and turning them over before returning them to their rightful places. He hummed gaily to himself. too, causing Clementine to wonder if he even knew about her condition. After all, he had been away when her … incident … had occurred. She couldn’t help but feel a delicious thrill at the prospect of spying on him as he heard the news.