Chapter 1 #2
The room fell silent as we crossed the threshold, and for one perilous moment, I worried we had come at the wrong time.
But Morris would never have let us make such an error.
The room itself was remarkably unchanged, and even the air still smelled of the rose-petal potpourri my mother loved, though it was dark in here—much darker than I remembered it ever being before.
The curtains were drawn shut, and aside from a gas lamp in one corner of the room, the only other light source was the blazing fire in the hearth.
Or perhaps I had simply grown used to our light and airy house on Corfu.
Regardless, I had to squint a little in the gloom and wait for my eyes to adjust.
My father was seated on the dark green brocade sofa, my mother next to him, while Dolly, my sister-in-law, was in a high-backed armchair.
I cleared my throat as I gripped Tommy’s shoulders. “Hello, there.”
My mother was the first to speak. “It’s Minerva. Hello,” she said in the cool, controlled voice that had echoed in my head all these years. Then she rose with that perfect smoothness I remembered so clearly from childhood and beckoned to Tommy. “Come over here, Thomas. Good heavens, you’re big.”
Tommy pulled out of my grip and rushed over. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Grandmama and Grandpapa.” He said this with a charming little bow, and my mother actually beamed at him.
“Aren’t you the dearest thing,” Dolly cooed.
“Yes, very polite,” my mother added, smiling her approval.
I will admit to feeling a twinge of jealousy just then, as I could barely remember my mother smiling at me in such a way. But then, Tommy was a remarkably charming child.
“Well, don’t hover in the doorway, Minerva,” she scolded, in the tone I was much more familiar with. “Come here and join us. Your sister is upstairs, but she will be down shortly.”
I did as she bade, and as I approached, I could feel my mother’s sharp blue eyes skimming over me in assessment.
She was widely considered one of the most beautiful women of her generation and had never failed to point out all the ways in which I failed to measure up.
Even now, with her hair far more white than blond, she was still stunning.
“Agatha mentioned you were looking well,” she said, sounding a touch reluctant, after I gave her a kiss on both cheeks. Then her eyes narrowed. “Though you have too much color. Don’t you wear hats in Greece?”
“Yes, Mother. But the sun is quite strong there.”
She made a hum of uncertainty, as if she wasn’t sure I knew of what I spoke.
“Well, I think you look simply marvelous,” Dolly said as we embraced. She still had the same cherubic face I remembered, though her brown hair was now streaked with silver at her temples.
Dolly and I had never been close, as she was about six years older than me. When she married my brother Jack, the age difference had made them seem positively ancient. But as I returned her easy smile, I hoped we could be friends now that I was in London.
“Thank you. How is my brother?” Who was noticeably absent.
“Oh, you know. Busy as usual,” Dolly said with a sigh. “He so wished he could be here tonight, but something came up. We’ll have to have you over soon so you can have a proper catch-up.”
Jack was the MP for Kensington, though there was no limit to his political aspirations. I gave her an understanding smile. “I’d like that.”
Then I turned to my father, who had yet to speak or even look at me, and noticed the black, lacquered cane by his side. “Hello, Father.”
As I bent down to kiss his cheek, I could make out the deep grooves lining his forehead and bracketing his mouth.
While my mother had been a great beauty, my father had a keen financial mind.
I never knew exactly what he did, only that he made already wealthy people even more money.
In my memories, he was a tall, imposing man who rarely smiled.
And though I didn’t expect any of them to look the same, it was still a shock to see how frail he had grown during my absence.
His eyes finally met mine as I pulled back, but they remained strangely blank.
I cleared my throat, which had grown thick with emotion. “How are you?”
He blinked slowly, and a spark of recognition finally ignited in his gaze. “Minnie?” His voice was a paper-thin version of what it had once been.
I smiled, unable to contain the rush of joy that swept through me. “Yes, it’s me.”
Then he frowned. “What are you doing here?” He sounded much closer to his old self now, and thus this resembled more of a demand than a question.
“I—”
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he insisted, and I drew back, feeling rather hurt.
“Hush now, Bertie,” my mother cut in. “I told you Minerva was back from Corfu. You’ve just forgotten.”
But my father ignored her. Instead, he kept staring at me with a look of agitation until I had to turn away.
“Is he all right?” I asked my mother.
She balked, as if this was a ridiculous question. “Your father is fine. He’s just a bit forgetful these days. Perfectly normal at his age.”
I very much wanted to point out that this reaction seemed far more than a bit forgetful, but my mother had never responded well to being challenged.
“Thomas, some of your cousins are upstairs in the nursery,” she continued. “Would you like to join them?”
Tommy nodded enthusiastically, and my mother tugged the bellpull by the hearth.
“I’m afraid my eldest boys are all away at school, but John is still at home,” Dolly said. “He’s five now. And there’s Franny, of course. She’s eight, just like you, Tommy.”
“A boy his age really should be at school, you know,” my mother cut in. “Perhaps Jack can get him in at Harrow. The term has already started, of course, but I’m sure he could easily catch up.” Then she addressed my son directly. “Isn’t that right? A bright boy like you?”
Tommy looked perplexed by the question.
“Mother …” I began. But then Morris entered the room and saved me from having to defend my educational choices to a woman who thought it completely normal to send her boys away to school at six.
“Madame, supper is served.”
“Excellent. And show Thomas to the nursery,” my mother said, with a wave of her hand.
Tommy shot me a nervous look, and I gave him a smile. “It’s all right,” I said softly. “I will see you afterwards.”
He nodded and walked over to Morris. “Follow me, Master Thomas,” the butler intoned, then turned on his heel and exited the room, with Tommy trailing behind.
As my mother helped my father to his feet, I approached Dolly. “How long has Father been … forgetful?” I asked under my breath.
“Hard to say,” Dolly said, as she frowned in recollection. “It’s been little things here and there over the years. I don’t think anyone really noticed the full extent until more recently.”
“I see.” I would need to harangue my brother about this whenever he deigned to meet with me. “And the cane?”
“Since the fall, certainly,” Dolly said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“What fall?”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but before she could respond, my mother called to us from the doorway. “Come along, girls. I won’t wait any longer for Delia.”
We exchanged a look and followed my parents to the dining room.
I could admit that my father, now on his feet, moved well enough, but it was still shocking to see how much slower he had become.
In all of my mother’s letters, she had never mentioned anything about my father’s declining health.
But she didn’t seem to see it very clearly herself, or want to—or perhaps I simply hadn’t prepared myself for the inevitable.
Time certainly hadn’t stopped while I was away.
Life moved on, quite quickly in fact. And I needed to catch up.