Chapter Fourteen
Following yet another breakfast where Lavinia made no appearance, Miles walked over to the parsonage. He found his sister, Charlotte, in the front yard, cutting some hollyhocks. Hearing his approach, she looked up and smiled at her brother.
“Miles, what a nice surprise,” she said. “I am afraid Frederick is out just now. He is condoling with Mr. Grant after the loss of a prize pig.”
“I see. You did not feel the need to accompany him on this errand of mercy?” Miles replied, with a grin. “I sincerely hope word does not get out of such a lack of compassion on your part.”
Charlotte laughed easily. “In truth, I did consider it, but decided my time was better spent in the garden. In addition, Frederick walked over to the farm and, with my current girth, such a long walk is not appealing just now.” She cut another hollyhock, then said, “Let us go inside. You have eaten, I suppose, but I can offer you tea, if you like.”
“It is not tea I am seeking but consolation from my sister. For I am nearly as low as Mr. Grant is over his lost pig.”
Charlotte’s smile disappeared. She set her shears down in her basket and took his arm. “Come inside at once.”
They entered the back parlor and took seats. Sally, the maid, poked her head in to ask if her mistress wished for anything. Charlotte pointed to the basket of hollyhocks and asked Sally to please put them in water.
“Now,” Charlotte said to Miles when they were alone. “What has you so dispirited? Is it little Dickie? I thought he was better.”
“He is. Well, to a certain degree, at least. His fever is long gone, but he continues to have these seizures.”
“Oh, dear. What does Dr. Baker say?”
“That he may grow out of them. Or, he may not. Worst of all, there appears to be no remedy, or medicine, to help. Dr. Baker could ask the apothecary to produce a draught to cause a sort of stupor, but that is no condition in which to have our son grow up.”
Charlotte leaned forward. “Certainly not. I am so very sorry, Miles. May I inquire as to how… severe these fits are?”
“I cannot say for I have nothing with which to compare them. He stiffens, then shakes in a most frightful way, then goes all limp. I believe they seem less severe than at first, but perhaps that is due to the fact that we have become more accustomed to them. He has perhaps six a day.”
“Lavinia must be beside herself.”
“Indeed, she is. So much so, that—well, now I come to the key point of my distress.” He raised his face and exhaled slowly.
“Lavinia has refused to leave Dickie’s side since his illness came on the night of the assembly.
She spends hours in the nursery, ever watchful in case of another fit. She will not be apart from him.”
Charlotte frowned, considering. “She was at church this past Sunday, was she not?”
“A fact which I brought up to her, but she informed me that she only attended in order to pray for Dickie.” Miles abruptly stood and paced the room, running a hand through his dark hair.
“She will not come downstairs to dine but takes all her meals in the nursery. And, forgive my being so specific, but she has not shared my bed once since Dickie became unwell. I miss my wife, Charlotte, and I do not know what to do.”
“I assume you have spoken to her of your feelings?”
Miles gave a short bark of a laugh. “Much good it did me. I might as well have been the gardener speaking to her as her own husband. She paid me no heed, whatsoever. Indeed, she has accused me of being an uncaring father for not spending every minute of every day alongside her in the nursery.”
Charlotte sighed, and shook her head. “This is all very distressing. To accuse you of being neglectful is an indication that she is not in her right mind. She knows what a loving and doting father you are. Indeed, she has oft mentioned it to me in the past. Has her lady’s maid—Ellen, isn’t it—spoken to her?
Often a suggestion comes more easily from someone who is not a relation. ”
“I do not know.”
“And what of our father? Has he any advice for you?”
“He only says to give her time. But, Charlotte, the crisis is past us now. How long am I to wait?”
“I have no idea.” Charlotte shook her head sadly. “Do you wish for me to ask Frederick to go to her when he returns? Perhaps pastoral guidance may be of some use.”
“Thank you, Charlotte, but, in truth, I was hoping you might speak to her. My belief is she may take a suggestion more willingly from you than anyone, as you are so close. Do I ask too much?”
Charlotte rose, went to her brother, and laid a hand on his arm. “Not at all. I am happy to do whatever I may to assist. I will go to her at once.”
“I need not tell you where to find her,” Miles said, with a trace of bitterness in his voice.
“Shall we walk over together?”
“I cannot face her just now, and it would arouse her suspicion if you walked in with me,” Miles said.
“Alone, you can pass your visit off as just an act of sisterly affection. I will go into Doddington. I am in need of some exercise and diversion just now. Perhaps it will help my mood.” He nodded and moved towards the door. “Thank you, Charlotte.”
Charlotte went directly to Clayton House.
She let herself in, glancing at her father’s study, just off the entry hall.
Perhaps she might ask his advice before proceeding to the nursery.
The door to his study was closed, however, which Charlotte took as a sign that her father did not wish to be disturbed.
She climbed the stairs and moved towards the nursery, dreading the encounter.
Miles was correct; she and Lavinia had grown closer than ever these past months, but Charlotte knew her sister to be rather high-strung at times, and even prone to sharp words.
Outside the nursery door, Charlotte took a deep breath, then exhaled and fixed a look of concern and love on her face.
She pushed the door open, and peered in.
Her sister-in-law sat on the carpet with little Dickie, who was on his back, gurgling happily as Lavinia dangled a toy mouse over him.
Upon first appearance, Charlotte thought he looked very well, indeed.
“Good morning,” she said softly, as to not startle either of the occupants. Lavinia looked up in surprise, and managed to smile.
“Charlotte, I am happy to see you,” she said. “You have come to see my darling boy?”
“And you.” Charlotte stood a moment, waiting for Lavinia to come off the floor and join her on a nearby bench.
But when her sister stayed on the rug, Charlotte used a chair to help ease herself down beside her and her nephew.
“I somehow missed speaking with you at church last Sunday, and have been worried about your spirits. You are… well?”
“As well as one may expect when a darling and most beloved son is plagued by such terrible fits as my poor Dickie is.” Her voice cracked a moment and she closed her eyes tightly before clearing her throat and continuing, “I keep wondering why has God forsaken me? I pray for my son’s healing day and night and yet there is little change. ”
“There is some improvement, though, is there not?” Charlotte asked. “His fever is gone, he no longer cries endlessly, and perhaps there are fewer fits than when this affliction first came on? Indeed, he looks quite content just now.”
“Content, yes, but only until the next episode comes upon him. He seizes perhaps one or two times less than before. But, oh, sister—it tears my heart to shreds to see him suffer a fit. You cannot know the depth of my misery.”
Charlotte placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“As an expectant mother myself, I can understand some of what you feel. For I know how it would pain me to ever see my future son or daughter in some sort of agony that I am unable to ease.” When Lavinia did not respond, Charlotte looked around the nursery before asking, “Where is Becky, your nursery maid?”
Lavinia gave a sniff. “Oh, that useless thing. I have sent her home. She does not know how to help poor Dickie when he is at his worst. She may as well be a statue in the corner for all the good she does me. No, I will take care of my son—at least for now.”
“But, if you were to bring her back, you could at least go outside for a brief walk now and then, or join the family for meals. It cannot be healthy for you to stay up here all hours of the day… and night.”
Lavinia studied Charlotte, narrowing her eyes. “Did Miles send you here to speak to me?”
Charlotte thought briefly about telling a small lie, but, instead, she gently squeezed Lavinia’s forearm. “Dearest—he misses you.”
Lavinia snatched her arm away. “He knows where I am. He is welcome to come join me in caring for our son,” she said fiercely. “Let him show how much he misses me by staying with me.”
“But, Lavinia, that would hardly be productive for him to sit and watch Dickie every hour of the day. He has much work on the estate to do to help our father. And forgive my frankness, but I do not think it healthy for you, either, to spend every moment inside. You look thin and wan. When was the last time you went out of doors and felt the sun on your face?”
“I have to be here!” Lavinia cried. “I cannot let him suffer a fit without my being here.” At his mother’s angry shout, Dickie began to cry.
Lavinia picked him up and held him close, glaring at her sister.
“You had best leave me, Charlotte. You do not understand what a mother’s love requires. Perhaps after you give birth you will.”
“Very well, Lavinia. I will come visit again, soon.”
Lavinia did not reply, rocking her still-wailing child. After a moment, Charlotte clumsily rose from the floor and left the two alone.
I have no happy news to share with my poor brother. I will speak to Frederick about this. Perhaps he can speak reason to Lavinia.
By the time Miles walked into Doddington, he was warm and thirsty.
He considered going to the tea shop, but realized he desired a more potent beverage.
Thinking a moment, he strode with purpose to the ale house that he had frequented with some regularity before he had married Lavinia.
Called The Queen’s Larder, the place had a loftier title than its environs—so far from London—displayed, but at least it was clean and the food was, in fact, quite tasty.
As he entered the dim room, the odors of ale and fried onions felt familiar and comforting. He took a seat at a small table in a corner. He hoped he would not see anyone he knew and be forced to make conversation. He was in no mood for pleasantries.
The bar maid came over. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Miles Kendall. We haven’t had the pleasure of your company for some time. You are most welcome, sir.”
Miles peered up at her, recognizing her, although it had, indeed, been some time since he had last spoken to her.
What was her name? Melly? No, Daisy. Yes, that was it.
An attractive enough thing, with a broad face, rosy cheeks, and light brown curly hair that spilled from under her cap.
He could not help but notice her ample bosom nearly spilling out of her low-cut dress, as well.
“Daisy, isn’t it?” Miles said. “Well, I suppose it has been some time since I was here. You know how busy married life can be.”
Daisy laughed. “No, in truth, I do not, sir, for I have not had that particular pleasure. Well, I confess I know of some of the pleasures of married life, but as for having a husband of my own? Thank you, no.”
Miles blinked as he took in her meaning. Such a lack of decorum to speak so, but then, what more might he expect? She was a server in an ale house. Still, her attentions to him, coupled with a sweet smile and sparking eyes, brightened his mood somewhat.
“Well, one must take one’s pleasures where one can, eh?” he replied, jauntily. “Just now, I desire the pleasure of an ale and a pretty girl to take my mind off things.”
“Lucky for you, I can supply both.” And with a wink, Daisy flounced off to get him a mug of ale.