Chapter Seven
William,
Forgive my impertinence in writing to you, but I desperately need to speak with you.
I would not ask if the situation were not dire.
I will be taking turn after turn this morning in the little park where I first saw you weeks ago, hoping you can meet me there.
Please come and speak with me. I need your help.
— FB
William dressed quickly and rushed directly to the peaceful little green. She was not making the endless circuits she’d said she would be but sat on a bench, back bent, head in her hands.
He sat beside her. She’d struggled with her composure at the theater the evening before.
He’d assumed upon spotting her a posture of such dejection that he would find her in the same state of emotional upheaval, but when she looked up at him, it was not tears he saw, but the dark circles of one who’d not slept.
“Angelina?” he guessed.
“Her health has taken a turn. We do not know of a reliable physician here in Town who might look in on her and help us decide what is best to be done. You have been here every Season for years. I so hope you can recommend one.”
Though the request was phrased quite calmly and logically, she did not entirely hide her fear.
The park was empty. He felt safe in reaching out to her for a moment. He wove his fingers around hers. “I do know an excellent man of medicine and will gladly send him to look in on your sister.”
“Thank you.” She breathed the words out in a whoosh of incomplete relief.
He kept her hand in his. “What else can I do?”
“I haven’t the first idea. At the moment, we are focused on discovering if we would do best to take her home directly or remain here and hope she can regain her strength.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “I hadn’t thought she would worsen so quickly.”
He swallowed against the lump that formed at the all-too-familiar words. His father had said precisely that in the hours before his mother had passed away, to be followed by him mere days later. The quick descent into illness and sudden anticipation of loss dredged up a great many heavy memories.
His mind screamed at him not to put himself through another experience like the one he’d endured a half decade earlier. A servant could be sent to fetch the doctor. Word could be sent in a day or two to see how Angelina was faring. He could keep his distance.
He would do well to do precisely that. Yet he remained as the minutes ticked on, unwilling to abandon her.
“I should probably return home. I do wish to be with Angelina, but . . .” She sighed.
“You are worn thin. A moment’s respite is more than justified.”
She smiled tremulously up at him. “You are very kind.”
“I have been where you are,” he said quietly.
“With your parents?” Redness rimmed her eyes, and she took a shaky breath.
“Perhaps Angelina’s outcome will be different from theirs.” He offered the reassurance, though he doubted she truly believed the empty hope he offered her.
“How have you endured it?” she asked.
“Not very well, I’m afraid. I haven’t been home in years.”
Felicity’s brow pulled low. “Because of them?”
“Because they are everywhere at Carlisle Manor, everywhere in Lindsworth. Being there without them is agonizing.” He’d never told anyone that.
“I wish you would come back.”
That set him on his feet once more. “You are asking more than you realize. I cannot endure it. I can’t.”
She stood as well, calmer than she’d been since he’d found her on the bench.
“I’ve missed you these past years, but I understand.
I’ll not press you to return.” Her shoulders set, and she assumed once more the resolute posture he’d come to recognize as hers.
“Thank you for sending us your recommended physician, and thank you for your kindnesses these past weeks. You have given us, Angelina especially, a tremendous gift.”
“You are speaking as if I won’t be seeing you again.” The idea left him as uneasy as the suggestion of returning home.
“I do not imagine we will be in London much longer, and you are never home.” Her smile was sad but not accusatory.
“I cannot,” he repeated.
“I know.” She reached out and set a kind, tender hand on his face. “Think of us now and then. And please take care of yourself, William.”
Before he could tell her that he worried more over whether or not she was taking care of herself, that he thought of her more and more often of late, she slipped away. He watched her go, his heart aching at the sight of her leaving him behind.
What could he do? He knew avoiding home was not logical or likely healthy, but was grief ever rational?
***
Dr. Benton called on William that night. His heavy expression told William all he needed to know, but he asked for details anyway.
“I’ve advised the family to return to their country home. Miss Banbury needs rest more than anything else.”
“Will resting improve the state of her health?”
“For a time.”
That was not very reassuring. “Then you concur with the evaluation of the other physicians with whom they have consulted.”
Benton nodded. “It is a wasting illness. Her coloring is poor, her energy fearfully low. She bruises far too easily, and those bruises do not fade as quickly as they ought. Though we haven’t a name for her condition, we do know what comes of it.”
Poor Angelina. “Is there anything I might do for her or her family?”
“I have made suggestions for ways they might make Miss Banbury more comfortable: obtaining the services of a maid to look after her, repurposing a room on the ground floor to serve as her bedchamber so she needn’t traverse the stairs in order to participate in family meals and such while she is able. ”
“Her time is short, then?” His parents’ time had been so short, there’d been no opportunity for those arrangements and discussions. He wished he could have done more to make them comfortable and make their remaining time together less heavy and difficult.
“It is difficult to say just how short,” Benton said, “but, yes. I would be very surprised if Miss Banbury lives to see the end of the year.”
Emotion immediately clogged his throat. No matter that he hadn’t been back home in five years and not often before that, he considered Angelina a dear friend, something of a sister. He cared about her and her family. He knew all too well the pain of losing a loved one.
“Thank you for calling on them,” he said.
Dr. Benton stepped to the door. “I only wish there was more I could do.”
“A sentiment I understand well.”
Long after the doctor left, William’s mind fixated on that. What more could be done? Surely there must be something. He couldn’t save Angelina from the fate that awaited her, but he wished he could at least offer comfort or ease some of the family’s burdens. But which ones and how?
He was still sitting at his desk, mind spinning, when Leonard called.
“Yours appears to be a heavy mood.”
William rose for the first time in an hour and paced toward the windows. “Dr. Benton has been to see Miss Banbury. His prognosis is a grim one.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” Leonard joined him at the window. “And the family?”
“They are being stalwart, no doubt. They will be returning to Sussex shortly.”
Leonard didn’t say anything further, but he watched William with a look of expectation. After a moment, William returned the expression with one meant to encourage his friend to speak his mind.
“Will you be returning as well? I have no doubt having you nearby will be a reassurance to them. You can offer assistance and pay calls so they need not feel so isolated. And it will set your mind at ease, being able to see for yourself how the family, and the young lady in particular, is faring.”
William shook his head. “I know how Miss Banbury is likely to be faring. That will be heartbreaking to watch.”
“She is not the young lady to whom I was referring.”
There was no mistaking his friend’s meaning. “I am deeply worried for Felicity. She and her sister are as close as twins. I suspect neither has a single memory that does not include the other. Losing Angelina will fracture her tender heart.”
“And having you nearby will help her hold the pieces together.”
William stepped away quickly. Leonard did not understand what he was asking. “I cannot go home.”
“I think it is time you did— not merely for Miss Felicity’s sake, but for your own. Those ghosts loom larger every year you’re gone.”
“I can’t—”
“You won’t.” He held his hands up and forestalled the objection William was about to make. “I am not attempting to discount the enormity of stepping foot once more in your memory-filled home. I am only saying that I know you, and you are stronger than you think you are.”
How he wished that were true.
“You could not bring yourself to make that pilgrimage for your own sake,” Leonard said. “Make it for hers.”
William rubbed at his sore and stiff neck. “I cannot walk through those doors alone. I know I can’t.”
Leonard sighed, the sound putting William firmly in mind of a person rolling his eyes. “So invite your best friend to go with you. I suspect he can work it into his schedule.”
William looked back, hope warring with fear. “You would do that for me?”
“I helped you sneak out of that pub near Eton before the headmaster caught you, and you are questioning my loyalty?” Leonard’s look of censure was ruined by the laughter lurking in his eyes.
William found he could smile. “We’ve had a few misadventures in our time, haven’t we?”
“Let’s have one more,” Leonard suggested. “We’ll hie ourselves to Sussex, face down a few lingering ghosts, call on a local family of whom we’re very fond, perhaps scout out a pub of questionable reputation. I daresay we’ll enjoy ourselves more than we would if we remained in Town.”
Perhaps it was time. “This won’t be easy.”
“No. I suspect it won’t.” Still, Leonard didn’t sound as though he were backing down.
“Felicity will need support—her parents as well. Angelina, I’m certain, will appreciate having someone call on her. Wasting illnesses are often compounded with loneliness.”
“All true,” Leonard said.
William released a tense breath. “You won’t let me talk myself out of this?”
“I absolutely will not.”
With that, William committed himself to making the soul-shattering journey he’d sworn never to make.
He was going home.