Chapter Twenty-Four
“You will miss the start of the evening’s festivities.” Nia’s quiet objection managed to only further convince Eve that returning to their room after supper to be with her sister had been the right choice.
“You are going to miss all of this evening’s festivities,” she pointed out.
Nia opened and closed her eyes slowly, her eyelids heavy with illness. “It is not your fault that I am laid low.”
“And it is not yours either.” Eve took Nia’s hand as it rested on the coverlet.
“I did very little today,” Nia said, “yet I’m utterly spent.”
“Dr. Wilstead did say you would struggle for a time to sort out what your limits are. Today, you have discovered, surpassed your current limits.”
“I sat in a gig, then sat on a chair, then returned to the house and sat on a chaise longue. How can a day filled with sitting be beyond my endurance?”
“You know as well as I do that sitting in a gig is not the same as sitting on a chaise longue. Tomorrow, we’ll keep to the house, and you’ll feel better. You’ll see.”
Nia’s mouth turned down in an expression of sorrowful worry. “I’m going to ruin this house party for everyone.”
Eve squeezed her hand. “No, dear. Duke’s family is doing that.”
Nia smiled a little. “That has surprised me. Duke and Colm are so peaceable and easy to get along with.”
“Perhaps they are because they have seen the consequences of being the opposite.”
“I think Mr. and Mrs. Greenberry, at least, aren’t ordinarily the sort to fight and feud.” Nia kept her eyes closed as she spoke, looking closer and closer to drifting off to sleep. “Why would they be so much at odds with their own family?”
“I don’t know,” Eve said honestly. “What I do know, though, is that our family will never, ever become that. Because there is nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.”
“Will you do something for me?” Nia asked.
“Of course.”
“Once I fall asleep, will you rejoin the party? I will sleep so much better if you do.”
Eve suspected that was a bit of a Banbury tale, but she also didn’t think her sister had the energy for even a friendly disagreement. “I will,” she promised.
Nia’s next breath was the slow and deep sort that accompanied the arrival of sleep. She needed her rest. Eve remained in her chair beside the bed for a time, waiting until she was absolutely certain Nia was deeply asleep. Then she rose, carefully slipped her hand from her sister’s, and quietly left the room.
Eve returned to the drawing room, where a game of cross questions was underway. She managed to catch Mrs. Greenberry’s attention and wave her hostess over.
“Forgive me for pulling you away from the game,” Eve said.
“Not at all. Is your sister in need of something?”
“She’s sleeping, which is the best thing for her. But I have a question for Dr. Wilstead.”
Mrs. Greenwood smiled kindly as she motioned for Eve to walk with her from the room. Just outside the door, a footman sat at his post. He rose upon seeing them. “William, will you ask Dr. Wilstead to meet Miss O’Doyle and me in the north sitting room?”
“Yes, Mrs. Greenberry.” He hurried away to see to his assignment.
“I hope you will forgive the presumptuousness of deciding for you where the conversation will occur,” Mrs. Greenberry said, “but I acted on my suspicion that you did not wish for the rest of the party to be privy to your discussion with Dr. Wilstead.”
“I appreciate it.”
Mrs. Greenberry watched her as they walked. “How are you holding up, dear? We so seldom think of the toll an illness takes on those who care about and for the one who is ailing. But I have been that person, and I know how that feels. How are you ?”
“Overwhelmed and worried,” Eve confessed. “And I’m not sleeping well, so I’m tired.”
“I know you and Nia requested a room to share, but if it would help you get the rest you need, you can be provided a room of your own.”
Eve had never had a room of her own. She and Nia had shared from the time Nia had been born. “I will let you know if I decide to accept your generous offer.”
“Please do.”
They were only in the sitting room for a few minutes when Dr. Wilstead arrived. Mrs. Greenberry stepped to the side of the room, giving Eve a bit of privacy.
“What can I do for you, Miss O’Doyle?” Dr. Wilstead asked.
“You’ve said that Nia will still be ill when we return home to Ireland.”
He nodded. “Better than she is now, but even if she avoids the more severe version of rheumatic fever, she will be ill for several months.”
Several months.
“And no matter the length of this bout of illness, it is imperative that we watch her for signs of damage to her heart. That is the most dangerous aspect of rheumatic fever, and we must act decisively and quickly should we see any indications of it.”
Eve swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Decisively and quickly” were not very comforting words. The doctor had said he thought Nia unlikely to be ill for years to come, but clearly, he harbored very real concerns for her.
“I will, of course, let you know if I see anything at all that is concerning,” she promised him.
“And in the name of full honesty, even with treatment, any damage done to her heart cannot be reversed. We can lessen it but not entirely stop or undo it.”
“It would be permanent?”
He nodded.
“Would it be... fatal?” She could hardly get the word out.
“It can be,” he admitted, “which makes treatments all the more crucial.”
“I need an idea of what the medicines she will require are likely to cost once we’ve returned home. I realize that is difficult to say, since what they cost here is different from our corner of Ireland. But even a vague idea’d be quite helpful.”
“I will make a list and give you my best estimation.”
“Thank you,” she said. “And please give it to me and not to my sister. I don’t wish to burden her with worries.”
“Of course.”
As Dr. Wilstead made his way out of the room, Eve felt a sense of relief. She would have information, which would help her know what she was facing. But she also felt an added weight. The doctor’s estimate would almost certainly exceed what the family could scrape together.
Mrs. Greenberry joined her once more. She didn’t offer pity or platitudes. She didn’t press for details about Eve’s situation, and she didn’t ask Eve to lay bare her worries. She simply smiled and walked with her out of the room.
“I suppose everyone will understand if I don’t join in the festivities,” Eve said. “I think I would rather lie down and try to rest.” She would be breaking her promise to her sister, but she had left the room when Nia had fallen asleep, and she had gone to the drawing room where the evening’s entertainments were being undertaken. So she had fulfilled her obligation, in a sense.
“A good idea,” Mrs. Greenberry said. “And we do have guest bedchambers that are not being used. Please do tell me if having a room of your own would be helpful.”
“I will. Thank you.”
They parted ways at that point, Mrs. Greenberry walking in the direction of the drawing room and Eve making her way toward the stairs.
It is imperative that we watch her for signs of damage to her heart.
Act decisively and quickly.
The most dangerous aspect of rheumatic fever.
She tried to breathe through each successive thought, but she didn’t manage it overly well. And in her distraction, she almost didn’t hear Duke and his father approaching before they were nearly already in view.
“All I am asking,” Duke said to Mr. Seymour, “is that you do what you can not to quarrel with Grandmother or Aunt Penelope around the other guests. It reflects badly on the family, and I cannot imagine you want that.”
“Why is it you aren’t scolding your grandmother? She instigated tonight’s difficulties.”
Duke rubbed at his mouth and chin. “I realize she is difficult, but one of you will have to be the more noble person, and I am holding out hope that it would be you.”
“I have always been the more noble person in this family. The most noble, I daresay.”
“Is it noble to call your mother a banshee in the midst of a parlor game?” Duke asked.
His father actually smiled a tiny bit. “I ought not to have said that, I’ll admit.”
“Please at least try to keep the peace,” Duke said.
The momentary look of amusement disappeared from his father’s face. “I will if they will.” And on that petulant declaration, he stormed off in the direction of the drawing room.
Duke remained behind, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed.
“Did he really call your grandmother a banshee?” Eve asked, moving to where he stood.
“It isn’t the first time.” He looked away from the path his father had taken and at Eve instead. “We didn’t think you would be rejoining us tonight.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I needed to talk with Dr. Wilstead.” She expected Duke to ask how Nia was or if something had happened. He’d been so quick to offer assistance or a listening ear when she’d touched on difficult topics before. But he didn’t this time. “He is still concerned about Nia, as am I. And he confirmed that she will need powders and medicines for months to come. I am attempting to ascertain what that is likely to cost. I think I’ll feel less helpless if I know, but I might also feel more overwhelmed.”
She slipped her hand in his, needing the reassurance that touch had always brought. But he pulled his hand free. He’d done that the past couple of days, but she’d always been able to explain it away. In those instances, something or someone else had pulled him away. Or he’d been worried about embarrassing her by that small token of affection when others were around.
Eve couldn’t think of an excuse that applied in this moment.
“While I am still a little frustrated that my parents asked me to keep our situation secret from Nia, I’m feeling a little grateful that they did. If she knew how dire our finances were, she’d be worrying on top of ailing, and that wouldn’t do her any good at all.” There was such relief in being able to talk with him about this. She felt less alone. “What are the chances, do you suppose, that Dr. Wilstead’s estimate will be within my family’s reach?”
“I don’t know.” The hints of distance and aloofness she’d caught in his words and posture of late were impossible to miss in those three words. “I don’t have the answers, Eve.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Heavens, she was confused. “I just need someone to talk to.”
“I can’t be that someone,” he said in what almost sounded like an apology.
Her confusion was turning to bewilderment. “But you said at the inn that I could always talk with you.”
He took a step away, in the direction of the drawing room. “I shouldn’t have.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Eve. I really am.”
“But you—” She swallowed hard. “You are the only person who knows. There is no one else I can talk to.”
“I’m sorry.” He held his hands up in a show of helplessness. “You’ll have to sort this out on your own.”
Afraid of bursting into tears, she pressed her lips closed and silently nodded.
“I didn’t act as I ought. I never should have—It was a mistake,” Duke said.
“Which part?” Seldom had her voice emerged so small and uncertain.
He sighed. “All of it.” He shook his head. “I know I keep repeating this, but I feel like it has to be said: I am sorry. I really, truly am.” He hesitated for the length of half a breath, then turned and left her there.
The one confidant she’d had in all her troubles, the person who’d let her cry in his arms, who’d held her and comforted her, even kissed her—and he’d left her there.
I can’t be that someone.
Sort this out on your own.
He’d pushed her so fully away. She was losing more than a listening ear and a support in her troubles. Watching him walk away, she felt her heart shatter.
She’d told him at the inn that she felt as if she were being left behind by everyone already. And he’d promised her he wouldn’t abandon her, that he would still be there. But he wasn’t.
It was a mistake. All of it.
Eve didn’t know how long she stood there, shock gluing her to the spot. He’d more than just walked away; he’d told her he shouldn’t have offered his support in the first place. How could she make sense of that?
His sincerity had been palpable when he’d said he was sorry. He was too good a person not to regret the pain he must have realized this was causing her, and he was too much a gentleman not to wish that this adjustment in the connection had never been needed in the first place. But his regret at the pain of that moment didn’t lessen her confusion.
She had not yet moved from the place where he’d left her when the elder Mrs. Seymour happened past. She paused on her way to the stairs and gave Eve a quick look-over.
“The blue gown again?” was all she said and kept walking.
Mrs. Seymour knew why Eve wore the same gown each night. Eve herself had told her she didn’t have any other options. There was no need for the comment, no reason beyond cruelty. And the cruelty was pointed and well-aimed.
Eve’s emotions were too fragile and too raw in that moment to push the mortifying comment out of her mind. The humiliation that often accompanied being poor hurt, as it always did, yet it wasn’t what hurt most in that moment.
Being abandoned was far more painful.