Chapter 5 #2
I open my eyes. Constance bites back her tears and straightens as she nods in agreement.
“Of course. I’ve had the fire lit, so the room should be nice and warm.
There are also fresh linens. She’ll need something to eat, she’s naught but skin and bones.
Something light, I don’t think her stomach will be able to handle much. ”
“The servants are already abed. I’ll warm some broth for her,” Ichabod says as I struggle to keep my eyes open.
“Thank you, Ichabod,” Constance says, her eyes filled with gratitude and affection for this stranger.
Servants? I think as Constance turns in the direction of the staircase and Cornelius follows, carrying me carefully.
Since when do we have servants? We did when we first came to England, yes, but after Mother’s death and Father’s dedication to gambling away any fortune that remained, he’d begun dismissing the staff.
By the time I was incarcerated at Crowscroft, there had been almost no one left but his personal valet and a cook.
Constance, having no choice, had taken over the duties of a maid.
I had helped as much as I could, but my confinement and the birth of my son had been hard.
The moment the baby had been born, he’d been taken from my arms, and Father committed me to the asylum as punishment.
My belly tightens at a phantom echo of the pain I endured to bring my child into the world within these very walls, and I try to push away the memory.
Both of my children were taken from me—first my son, then my daughter at the asylum.
Maybe one day I will find them, but not before I punish those responsible for stealing them.
As we reach the first floor, my heart jolts when I see a small, dark-haired child in a nightgown standing by the bannisters and clutching a doll. A sharp stab of pain hits me. The girl is perhaps five years old, about the same age my daughter would be.
“Evangeline,” Constance hurries towards her. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“Mama, who’s that with Uncle Cornelius?” she asks in a quiet voice.
“That’s your Aunt Cordelia,” Constance says, kneeling down to her level as Cornelius pauses and offers the girl an indulgent smile.
“What’s wrong with her legs?” She eyes my dirty feet with wide eyes. “Can’t she walk?”
“She’s been very poorly and her legs are tired,” Constance explains patiently. “We’re going to look after her.”
“And then she’ll be all better?”
“And then she’ll be all better,” Constance agrees, although the glance she casts in my direction is filled with worry. “Now back to the nursery with you.”
Giving a little nod of her head, she turns and skips back down the corridor, her bare feet making no noise.
Cornelius starts moving again, Constance walking briskly in front of us.
When we reach the second floor, they head into the room that had once been mine.
A fire is snapping cheerily in the fireplace, filling the room with warmth and soft light, and a lamp is lit on the low cabinet beside the bed.
Waiting beside it is the woman Cornelius had called Nell.
A clean nightdress is draped over one of her arms, and as we enter the room, she pulls back the bedding, so Cornelius can set me down.
I sink into the mattress, the softness cradling my pain-filled body, and close my eyes. I can hear Cornelius talking to Constance in hushed tones, but my eyes are so heavy.
“I’ll make sure Evangeline is settled back in bed,” he says quietly. “Ichabod will be up soon with some broth. I know she wants to sleep, but we need to try and get her to eat something first. God knows how long they were starving her.”
“How could they be so cruel?” Constance whispers, and I can hear the despair in her voice.
“Connie, she’s here now. That’s all that matters.”
I drift off, but a few moments later, Constance gently shakes me awake.
“You can sleep soon, Cordie. Let us just get you more comfortable.”
I don’t speak—I can’t—but as I’m helped up into a seated position, I open my eyes to find Cornelius is gone and I’m left with Constance and Nell.
They pull the rag I’m wearing over my head, leaving me naked.
I don’t even have the strength to be ashamed, even when my sister sucks in a sharp breath.
Whereas she is all softness and rounded curves, I am nothing but skin stretched too thinly over bones now.
Her lips tighten as she hands the rag to Nell. “Burn it,” she whispers harshly, and the other woman nods. Leaving the side of the bed, she pours some water from a jug on top of the dresser into a washbasin and brings it to the bed with a bar of soap and muslin cloths.
I’m washed quickly and efficiently and then a clean nightdress is pulled over my head and down my frail frame. Constance feeds my thin arms through the sleeves, then they both gently lean me back against a soft pile of pillows.
Nell hands one of a pair of wool bed stockings to Constance, and between the two of them, they cover my feet and legs before tucking the sheet, quilt, and blankets around me. For the first time in years, I start to feel warm, and it’s lulling me into sleep.
“Not yet, Cordie,” Constance murmurs. A cup is held to my lips. “Drink this first.”
“I thought it would be easier to put it in a cup rather than a bowl and spoon. Little but often is best until her stomach can handle heavier foods,” a low male voice says, but I’m focusing on staying awake long enough to drink the broth.
It’s the most delicious thing I can remember having, the warmth spreading down my throat and through my chest.
“Slow down, lass,” Nell murmurs, holding the cup steady in my shaking hands and helping me to drink. “You’ll make yerself sick.”
“Thank you, Ichabod,” Constance says. “Cornelius is settling Evangeline back down in the nursery. It’s late, there’s no point in returning to his residence tonight. You should both stay here.”
“Thank you, that’s very gracious. I shall help Cornelius prepare for bed and then retire to the servants’ quarters.”
“Ichabod,” she admonishes. “Please take one of the guest rooms.”
“That’s very kind, but it’s not appropriate.”
“Oh, hush,” Constance huffs. “You were just as instrumental in getting Cordelia home as Cornelius. It is a debt I do not even know how to pay.”
“I assure you there is no debt,” he says softly. “But thank you.”
There’s a quiet click as the door opens and then closes. Nell takes the cup and bustles across the room, picking up the rag I had worn that my sister bid her burn. With a quick curtsy to Constance, she too leaves the room, leaving us alone.
I sink into the pillows as Connie approaches the bed and then strokes my forehead the way our Ayah did when we were children.
“Who is Ichabod?” I croak.
Constance sighs. “It’s complicated. To the outside world, he is Cornelius’ manservant.”
“And to you and Cornelius?”
“He is a true and loyal friend to this family, one we trust with our deepest secrets.” She strokes my forehead again, and I want to pull away from that touch. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
I can see the sincerity in her eyes, but I don’t trust anyone. Not after being betrayed by my own father.
“Get some rest,” she whispers, and this time I don’t try to fight it.
I circle down into darkness.