Chapter 7
The knock on Cecelia's bedroom door that evening was not one she had expected. Having taken supper in her room, she had anticipated being left alone, at least until morning.
Exhaustion and disappointment were her only friends as she laid upon her bed, wondering what she was going to do about her father's final wish. There was very little she could truly do, not since Lord Cumberland had taken away her last hope.
Was the idea of chaperoning her truly so awful?
The question had plagued her all afternoon and well into the evening, and by the time the knock came, she was in no mood to speak with anybody.
“Leave me be, Mary!” she called from the bed, hoping that would be the end of it.
Yet, when the door clicked open, she groaned deeply. She ought to have pretended she was asleep. Maybe then she would have been left alone.
The sound of someone clearing their throat in the doorway made her sit up.
Upon seeing Mrs Rhodes, the housekeeper, she shuffled off the bed.
The woman's face was grave. It left Cecelia more than a little concerned.
“Is all well, Mrs Rhodes?”
“May I come in, My Lady?”
The tone of the woman's voice made Cecelia nod immediately.
She stood straight and adjusted her gown, wishing she had changed into her night things hours ago.
“Is something the matter?” Cecelia asked as the housekeeper entered with a curtsey.
“I'm afraid it is your mother, My Lady,” the housekeeper explained, and Cecelia's insides twisted. What had her mother sent the housekeeper to tell her now? Was she to go and plead with Lord Cumberland herself? Perhaps her mother had succeeded in finding her another chaperone.
The dowager countess never gave up once she had a bee in her bonnet.
“She has taken ill, My Lady,” Mrs Rhodes said, her head bowed low. “I took the liberty of calling for Doctor Danham.”
Bile rose in the back of Cecelia's throat. If a doctor had been called, it had to be serious.
“Why did you not come to me before?”
Mrs Rhodes' face flushed a little at that. “Your mother requested me not to, My Lady, but given the circumstances, I thought it best.”
Cecelia grabbed her shawl from where she had left it at the end of the bed. The evening had turned chilly, and she wrapped it tightly around her shoulders before she instructed, “Take me to her.”
Mrs Rhodes curtseyed silently before turning on her heels to escort Cecelia to her mother's room.
“How long ago did you call for the doctor?” Cecelia asked as they walked.
“A few hours ago,” Mrs Rhodes said, her hands clasped before her. The tension in the woman's shoulders told Cecelia everything she needed to know. This was serious.
“I expect he shall be here momentarily, My Lady,” the housekeeper continued as if she wished to reassure her.
As soon as they entered her mother's bedchamber, Cecelia wished to turn around and run.
The oppressive sense of something wrong was almost too much for her to bear.
Seeing her mother lying in bed, quite still, a sheen of sweat upon her face, made her feel ill herself.
“Mrs Rhodes, please will you bring my sisters to me?”
The housekeeper silently curtseyed and left the room to do as instructed.
Cecelia crept to her mother's bedside and sat upon its edge. Reaching for her mother's hand, she shivered. Though slick with sweat, her hand was hot to the touch, almost too hot to hold.
“Mama, can you hear me?” Cecelia asked, feeling like a little girl as she prayed inwardly her mother would be alright.
No response came save for a murmur, her mother's face screwing up as if she were in deep pain.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Cecelia squeezed her mother's hand.
“It's going to be alright,” she assured her mother. “Doctor Danham is on his way.”
At least, she prayed he was.
When the door opened again, Cecelia glanced around to find Mrs Rhodes and Mary.
Her sister was dressed in her night things. Her dressing gown looked as if it had been tied in a hurry. She adjusted her shoulder nervously as she looked at their mother.
“How is she?” Mary asked, approaching the bed hesitantly.
“It's okay, come,” Cecelia insisted, offering her hand. She glanced at Mrs Rhodes and asked, “Where is Catherine?”
“She was sleeping, My Lady,” Mrs Rhodes said, her head bowed, “I can wake her if you wish me to.”
Cecelia shook her head. At least one of them should get some rest. If anything serious were to happen, they would need their strength.
“I shall go downstairs and see if there is any news on the doctor then,” Mrs Rhodes said gently, and Cecelia gave her a grateful nod.
Once the housekeeper was gone, Mary started to speak, “Is … is she going to … like Daddy?”
Cecelia knew what she was trying to say, and it broke her heart, bringing tears to her eyes.
Yet, she would not allow them to fall.
“No,” she said firmly. “We must not even think it.”
Mary pursed her lips, and Cecelia drew her onto the bed, guiding her sister's hand to their mother's.
“We must stay with her and let her know we are here.”
Mary nodded, and Cecelia moved to give her sister more space on the bed.
Taking a seat in the armchair opposite, she watched the two of them, praying all would be alright.
***
The night passed by in a blur with Doctor Danham checking their mother several times, retiring to a guest room to rest in between checks.
Cecelia and Mary remained with their mother always, holding onto hope as the doctor explained that if she made it through the night, all would likely be well.
She and Mary took it in turns to dab their mother's forehead with a damp cloth, helping her to drink by dabbing it upon her lips just as the doctor instructed.
And as the first light of dawn came filtering through a gap in the drapes, Cecelia held onto hope.
The doctor arrived once more to check on their mother, and Cecelia felt reassured as her mother finally opened her eyes.
“Doctor Danham, what are you … what are you doing here?”
Her mother's voice was croaky as if she hadn't used it in an age, and Cecelia hurried to get her a glass of water.
“You took ill during the night, My Lady,” the doctor explained, “but all will be well.”
He gave her one final check over before she sank back into exhausted sleep.
“I think the worst has passed,” the doctor explained. “Though she is still very weak and must rest if she is to make a full recovery.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Cecelia said.
As the doctor bent to put all his instruments back into his bag, Mary whispered, “What shall we do now?”
Cecelia raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Surely you see you must find a chaperone now more than ever,” Mary said, sitting on the bed with her mother's hand in hers.
As if she agreed, her mother let out a sort of whimper.
“The debut ball is tomorrow evening,” Cecelia pointed out. “I cannot leave Mama like this.”
“Daddy would want you to see his last wish accomplished,” Mary insisted, “and I know that if Mama were awake, she would say the same.”
Seeing the doctor was prepared to leave, Cecelia rose from her seat. She did not wish to have this conversation right now, not ever.
“Please, allow me to escort you out, Doctor Danham,” she said, gesturing to the door.
“Thank you, Lady Cecelia,” the doctor said, giving Mary a dip of his head before he left the room.
Cecelia felt her sister's eyes on her all the way out of the room, and she knew the moment she returned, their conversation would begin again.
But for now, she took respite in taking the doctor to the front door.
“Do send for me if she takes another turn for the worse,” he insisted, smiling kindly at Cecelia. “Though I do believe that time has passed.”
“Thank you again, Doctor,” Cecelia said, standing on the porch steps to wave him away in his carriage.
She remained there long after he was gone, watching the sky lighten in hues of red, orange, and yellow.
It was sure to be a pleasant day, at least where the weather was concerned.
But inside, she knew nothing was going to be pleasant. Mary was not going to let this go, not with their mother so ill.
And Cecelia could not entirely blame her. After all, how could she deny her father's last wish when the worry of it had so clearly made her mother ill?
Sighing deeply, Cecelia adjusted her gown, the same one she had been wearing since the evening before and resigned herself to returning to her mother's sick room.
Upon doing so, she lingered in the doorway, watching how Mary cared for her. The gentleness of her hand as she dabbed her brow, how tentatively she dripped water onto her parched lips, how she whispered softly to encourage her to get well.
It broke Cecelia's heart all over again to see it.
She could not bear the thought of their losing their mother too. What if that were to happen? What would happen to them then?
No, she could not think that way. She must put all her effort into seeing her mother well and waste no time thinking of the last wish in her father's will.
Silently, she slunk back into the armchair where she had spent much of the night dosing between checking on her mother and sister.
“Perhaps I should get Catherine to take over for a little while,” Cecelia suggested when all had been quiet for a while.
Mary shook her head. “Catherine is a terrible grump when she does not get enough sleep. Mother would not be thankful for that.”
Cecelia laughed, after all, she was right.
“She would thank you to listen to me, though,” Mary continued, meeting Cecelia's gaze. “You cannot let this opportunity pass you by.”
“What opportunity?” Cecelia asked, her insides twisting painfully, “Lord Cumberland insisted he was far too busy.”
Mary cocked her head, brow furrowed.
“The two of you have always been stubborn as nails,” she said, glowering at Cecelia as if she were the wise eldest sister and not the youngest, most innocent of them all.
“I saw the way Georgie looked at you during the reading of Papa's will. I do not think his decision so set in stone as you believe it to be.”
“I'm tired, Mary,” Cecelia grumbled. It wasn't entirely untrue. She had barely slept a wink, and her head was beginning to throb. “I think we should talk about this another time.”
“There is little time left,” Mary pointed out, but Cecelia was done.
She slunk down in her seat and closed her eyes. “Wake me if you have need of me.”
Mary huffed as if she was not pleased to be brushed off so, yet she said nothing else, and Cecelia was relieved.
Sleep quickly came to Cecelia, though she was still somewhere loosely aware of her surroundings. And as the morning came, she sensed Mary moving, slipping from the room as if to take a break from caring for their mother while the two of them rested.
***
Yet, Mary had no intention of taking a break. She was fed up with the stubbornness, of the lack of her sister's willingness to do anything to help their situation.
And so, she had decided to take matters into her own hands.
With the rest of the household deeply concerned with their mother, she found little trouble in dressing and slipping from the house.
Knowing that one of the grooms in the stable had always been keen upon her, she used that sweet relationship to secure herself a horse.
If Cecelia would not speak to Georgie herself, then she must at least try to make him see reason.
She could not let it rest until she had at least tried to do something about their bullheadedness.