Authors: A Dissembler
Emily, her arms around the shoulders of her little sisters, remained standing in the centre of the room, staring around her in wonderment. ‘This is such a big room Marianne and so very smart. Are you sure it is acceptable for us to sit here? Should we not go to an anteroom?’
‘It is rather daunting, is it not? I have never been in here before; I had no idea how formal it was. I think the library would be more pleasant and we can find the girls something to read to occupy their time whilst we wait.’
They were glad to leave the splendour of the cut velvets, silk and damask covered furniture and huge formal portraits and retreat to the more homely book-lined library.
Eleanor ran across to the desk. ‘May we draw on this paper, Marianne?’
‘Of course you can. There’s plenty more in the desk drawer and pencils too.’ Pleased the girls had found something to take their minds off their brother she turned her attention to Emily.
‘Emily, come and sit with me—tell me what happened.’
‘What happened? Did you not see?’ Emily’s voice was perplexed.
Marianne shook her head. ‘No, I felt unwell and, not wishing to disturb anyone, decided to come back here.’
‘On your own? How could you, Marianne? Anything could have happened. Mama is always saying that on race days at Great Bentley there is a surfeit of undesirables and it is unsafe to walk about without a servant in attendance.’
‘I came to no harm; everyone was too occupied with the race to take notice of me. But I promise I will not do such a foolish thing again.’
Emily managed a small smile. ‘Good and as Mama believes you returned with Tom let us leave her in ignorance of the truth. She has enough to worry her at the moment.’
* * * *
The afternoon dragged on and still there was no news from the sick room. The trays sent in were mostly left untouched. Around five o’clock they heard voices in the passage outside the library. Marianne was instantly on her feet and had the door open before the visitor could knock.
‘Edward, where have you been all this time? We have been anxious about your absence.’
The young man, his face grey, his clothes muddy, appeared aged above his years. ‘I had to go back home to alert the staff and send people to remove Bess from the Green, supervise, you know…’ his voice trailed off and he swayed a little.
Marianne took his arm. ‘Come and sit down, you look fagged to death. Emily, fetch Edward some food and drink, there is plenty left on the trays.’
* * * *
Edward handed Emily, hovering anxiously by his side, his empty plate. ‘Here, Emily, thank you, I feel much better.’ He waited until she had moved away before speaking quietly to Marianne. ‘Is there any news? How is Charles?’
Marianne shook her head. ‘We have heard nothing. Indeed we thought you were someone coming with information.’ She stood up. ‘As you are here, will you sit with the girls, and then I can go and find out what’s happening?’
Without waiting for his permission she left the room and hurried along the corridor to the rear of the property where she hoped to discover some encouraging news about Charles. She entered the small sitting room adjoining the bedchamber and found Lord Grierson alone. He turned from his position at the window at her entrance.
‘Ah! Marianne, I was about to send for you. How are my little girls? Are you taking care of them for me?’
‘Yes, Papa. They are with Edward; he has returned from his task and is remaining in the library with them until I return.’
He nodded and rubbed his eyes. ‘It is a bad day, my dear, and no mistake. Such a waste! Such a tragedy!’
Her heart shrivelled. Seeing her distress he moved forward. ‘No, no, my dear. Charles is not dead. His condition is grave but he is holding on. His mother is with him, and the doctor.’
‘Thank God! Has he regained his senses?’
‘He has not, but at least Dr Jones was able to set his leg whilst he was unconscious. That was a blessing. I broke my arm as a lad and still remember the agony involved.’
‘Have you eaten or drunk anything since you arrived, Papa?’
‘Yes, Blake sent a tray. I am waiting for the doctor to come out and then I will take the girls home. You will stay and support your mother, will you not?’
‘I shall, of course. I think Edward should stay as well. I can send him with news when we have it.’
‘I shall be glad when Sir Theodore returns from Colchester for I cannot be certain the Whittle family have received the news of their son’s untimely death until he does.’ He frowned. Was he recalling the fatuous speech Sir Theodore had made at the scene of the accident? ‘He is a pleasant enough young man, but more like my dear Emily than Edward or Charles. I should have sent Edward then I could be sure the matter would be handled correctly.’
Marianne bit back her denial of Cousin Theo’s shortcomings. ‘He is a kind gentleman; I am certain he will have dealt with Mr and Mrs Whittle respectfully.’
‘You are right, my dear. I am over anxious about Charles and this is making me needlessly apprehensive.’ The chamber door opened and both froze, waiting for the doctor to emerge.
‘Lord Grierson, it is neither good nor bad news I bring you. Your son is still in a coma but his vital signs are strong which is on the positive side—and his leg is set. I believe it will heal well, the fracture was not as severe as I had first thought.’
Marianne felt the icy fear begin to dissipate. Charles was not dead; he was fighting for his life. ‘However,’ Dr Jones continued, ‘I shall not be sanguine until he recovers consciousness. There is nothing more I can do here. I shall return tomorrow, first thing, but do not hesitate to call me out if there should be any change in his condition.’
‘Good man. It is no worse than I expected. Charles is a strong boy; he will not give in without a fight.’
Dr Jones glanced at Marianne. ‘Are you going to help Lady Grierson with the nursing, Miss Devenish? Mr Grierson requires constant supervision—he must not be left alone for a second.’
‘I am, Dr Jones. I nursed my mother through her last illness and I am aware of the duties involved.’
‘Excellent. I can leave confident all is as it should be. I bid you good day, Lord Grierson, Miss Devenish. Until tomorrow morning.’ The door closed quietly behind him and Lord Grierson sighed noisily and blew his nose.
‘Are you sure you can do this, my dear? It is a hard and unpleasant task for a young girl. I would not ask Emily to do what you are offering.’
She touched his arm lightly. ‘I would not have volunteered if I was not capable. When you return to Frating Hall can you arrange for Jane, my maid, to organize the packing of the necessities I shall need for my stay here? Mama will need her belongings packed as well.’
‘Of course—I had not thought of that. Promise me you will send word if there is any change in his condition?’
‘I will. Perhaps Edward should go with you now and then he can escort Jane and Mary back. It could well be dark before they are ready to return.’
‘You are a good girl. It is a godsend you so fortuitously become part of our family. My Emily is a dear child, but not up to such heavy tasks as this.’
* * * *
The footman, summoned by Marianne, appeared to escort Lord Grierson to his family, leaving her alone to compose herself before entering the sickroom. The curtains were drawn, allowing only a dim light to intrude into the room. Lady Grierson sat quietly by the still form in the large mahogany bed. She raised her head, her face sunken, and summoned up a smile.
‘Have you come to sit with us?’
‘I have, but may I suggest you take a short respite from your duties whilst Charles is quiet? I am accustomed to nursing and can take care of him in your absence.’
‘Thank you, child. I shall not be long. And you have Blake on hand if you should need anything.’
Marianne nodded a greeting to the housekeeper, sitting unobtrusively by the servants’ exit, a pile of mending beside her. She prepared to settle down beside the bed, checking first that Charles’s forehead was not fevered and his toes were not turning blue beneath the bandages. Satisfied her patient was comfortable she sat on the chair, still warm from Lady Grierson’s long vigil.
* * * *
The next three days passed in much the same way. Theo offered what support he could—which wasn’t much. He was concerned that his ward had persuaded Lady Grierson to take the day shift while she sat up at night. Marianne’s maid shared this watch giving her mistress a break every few hours. Blake was doing the same for Lady Grierson.
Marianne was therefore not available most of the time. On Wednesday he decided to stroll in the rose garden. It was here he found her sleeping on a rustic bench.
He was shocked by her pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. She was too young to bear such heavy responsibility—what were the Griersons thinking of? Forgetting he was supposed to be a feckless creature of the
ton
he scooped her up and, holding her tenderly, strode back into the house.
Taking the stairs two at a time he arrived at her bedchamber, shouldering his way in, having no hands free to use the knob. Jane, dozing in a chair by the window, jerked awake, startled by his sudden entrance.
‘Miss Devenish is not to sit up with Mr Grierson anymore. In future my man and I will do the nights. It is better that a male is in attendance.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jane stammered.
‘You look as fatigued as your mistress. It is time you both took a break from nursing. It would not do to have further invalids in the house.’
Theo gently placed his burden on the bed and left Jane to remove her shoes and stockings. He lingered for a moment, his gaze intent on the sleeping girl, then nodded and left. He met Dr Jones leaving the sickroom.
‘What news? Is Mr Grierson awake?’
‘The patient is conscious but has now developed a fever; the next few hours will see a crisis, one way or the other.’
‘He could die?’
‘That is a possibility—yes, I am afraid that he could. He is too restless and it is aggravating his condition. Unless he can be calmed down I fear he will not survive the night.’
* * * *
Theo tapped on the door and waited until Lady Grierson’s abigail appeared to let him in. The room was suffocating, the smell of sickness thick enough to taste. He strode to the windows and flung them open, ignoring the protest from beside the bed.
‘Charles has a fever, he needs to be cool. It is like an oven in here, Lady Grierson. It will make him worse.’ Cursing under his breath that he had not checked on the doctor’s efficiency before this, he prayed he had not left his intervention too late.
Lady Grierson left her post and joined him by the cool air that was flooding in freshening the fetid atmosphere. ‘Are you certain this will help? Dr Jones thinks we need to keep poor Charles warm in order to force his fever to break.’
‘The man is an idiot!’ He turned to Mary. ‘Fetch my man, he will know exactly what to do, he nursed me through something similar a year or so ago.’
Almost too late he remembered who he was supposed to be. He beamed and nodded. ‘I recall that fresh cold air and cool bed baths did the trick, Lady Grierson, but I have no idea how to go about administering a bed bath. Fresh air I have managed. Vincent and I shall take care of Charles. I know little of such matters but my man will tell me what to do. You ladies need some respite from your duties.’
Lady Grierson laid a hand on Charles’s brow. ‘I do declare already he seems a little cooler—the poor boy has been calling for Arabella. He loves her you know, Sir Theodore. He has done since he was Edward’s age but she is beyond his touch. I fear nothing will ever come of it.’
Vincent, his bag of medicines in his hand, hurried in. He took one look at Charles and nodded. ‘If you will excuse us, Lady Grierson, Sir Theodore and I can take care of this. I have some special bark which reduces fever when made into a draught. It is being prepared in the kitchen at this very minute.’
Theo escorted Lady Grierson and her maid from the sickroom promising to send a message up immediately if there was any deterioration in Charles’s condition.
‘Well, sir, I hope we have not been called in too late. Shall I check his leg whilst I am bathing him?’
‘Do that, Vincent. God—I cannot believe I allowed that quack free rein. But he seemed so confident, and he certainly dealt with Lady Arabella competently.’
He stood aside as his manservant slipped back the heavy comforter and examined the splintered limb. ‘This is excellent, sir. No problems here. The man knows how to set a leg, that’s for sure.’
‘Thank God for that! And I suppose treating fever with more heat is an accepted approach, albeit an old-fashioned one.’
Between them they sponged Charles from head to toe in tepid water, then Vincent administered the medicine that arrived from the kitchen. The fourth time Charles called out for Arabella, Theo swore. ‘God dammit! Why does the wretched chit not come to see Charles? He would be far less restless if she was here to soothe him.’ He stepped thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes half closed, running his fingers absently through his hair. ‘You can manage with Blake for a while, Vincent?’
Yes, sir, of course I can.’
‘Then I shall drive out to Bromley Hall and fetch Lady Arabella back. Even if I have to abduct her—she will be here before dark.’
* * * *
Luckily it did not come to that, for Theo encountered Lady Arabella riding her docile cob around the park, her face pale and her eyes red and puffy. He expertly halted his phaeton and leant down to speak to her.
‘Lady Arabella, I have come to beg you to accompany me back to Bentley Hall. Charles is desperately ill and calling for you. I don’t think he will last the night without you there to comfort him.’
She did not hesitate. ‘I will come, sir.’ Theo’s tiger jumped down and took the reins of her mare. He then handed her into the carriage. ‘Take Starlight back to the Hall and tell my parents where I have gone,’ she instructed him.
The lad glanced up at Theo, who nodded. ‘Very well, your ladyship.’
‘You will have to walk home, Jim.’ He tossed the boy a sixpence. ‘Take your time. I will not expect you back before morning.’ Theo flicked his whip—the four matched chestnuts sidestepped and the phaeton turned. He snapped his whip again and the horses surged forward.