Chapter One #3
It had been her cousin Ariadne’s idea for them to bring their children to town.
In a time where members of Polite Society abandoned children to their nursemaids, governesses, and tutors while they went to town for the months of the Season, Ariadne had insisted that she and her husband would never do that.
Julian had agreed, and so they had brought their firstborn, Penelope, with them to town for the Season when Penelope was but a babe.
The other cousins had agreed to the pact, and now their houses were filled with children as the cousins visited one another during the Season.
Ariadne and Julian accepted a handful of invitations to social affairs, but the majority of their time in town was spent with their own children and their extended family.
The bonds between the cousins—and now the children of those cousins—grew stronger each year, thanks to the unique idea Ariadne had proposed.
The room grew dim as the light faded, and Justina realized her hand was cold. She glanced down, seeing it wrapped around her mother’s, and then looked to her brother.
“Tray, I think Mama is gone.”
His smile faded, and he looked at Mama. “You are right. My hand is cold because she is. She passed as we spoke of old, happy times.”
“She would have liked that,” Justina said softly. “I hope she heard what we said and knew how loved she was by all.”
Tray stood and kissed Mama’s brow. Justina did the same, her tears freely flowing. Then her brother came and wrapped her in his arms.
“No mourning,” he reminded her. “Mama mentioned that on more than one occasion.”
“Then we will only wear black to the funeral. To show our respect. After that, we will honor her wishes.” She hesitated.
“Tray, I do not feel I can go to the Season this year. I do not wish to make my come-out. Mama may not have wanted us to wear mourning colors, but I will be grieving, all the same.”
“Will you come to town to visit with our cousins?”
“Perhaps for a bit. Especially to spend time with Verina, Matthew, and Marcus. But I cannot dance in ballrooms. Not with Mama having left us just now.”
“I agree. You and I will go to town for a bit. Just to see the others. Then we will return to Traywick Manor.” He glanced down at the bed. “I suppose we have much to do now. Letters to write. A funeral to plan.”
“I will write the letters to the family,” she volunteered. “You deal with the funeral arrangements.”
Justina went and penned her letters. The first was to Verina.
She knew Mama’s death would hit her sister hard.
It was good that she had Matthew and little Marcus to comfort her.
The next three would go to Surrey, where Ariadne and Julian, Lucy and Judson, and Dru and Perry lived closely together.
Then to Val and Eden in Kent, where Justina also included a letter for Aunt Alice, who had been her mother’s closest friend and would take Mama’s death badly.
The next letters written went to Tia and Hugo, who lived near Verina, and Con and Rowena, where she enclosed another letter for Aunt Charlotte, who lived in the dower house at Marleyfield.
The last letter went to her cousin Lia. Lia and Rupert lived on the estate adjacent to Traywick Manor, and Justina had grown closest to Lia because of her proximity.
Lia and Rupert had twins, Edward and Mary, who were two-and-a-half years old, and Lia had given birth to Damaris almost five months ago.
Her cousin would be someone Justina could lean upon in the coming days and weeks, when the grief would hit her the hardest.
Her letters written, she took them downstairs, leaving them in the basket for Larsen to post. The letter to Lia and Rupert would be hand-delivered since they were so close, and Justina expected a visit from her cousin tomorrow morning after she received the news.
She went to the parlor, where Papa and Lucius had been laid out all those years ago.
Although she had only been four years of age when they had died, she recalled coming to the parlor and telling them goodbye since she and Verina had not been allowed to attend the funeral.
As she suspected, Mama had already been bathed and dressed in her favorite gown, a powder blue. Bessie sat next to the body, along with a footman.
Bessie shot to her feet. “Lady Justina!”
She came and took the maid’s hand. “Thank you for all your years of service to Mama, Bessie.” She smiled. “And you dressed her in the gown she liked most of all.”
“Her ladyship always did look her best in blue,” Bessie said, wiping her eyes.
“Come. You need to get some rest. The next days will be busy ones. The footman will stay with Mama.”
She led the servant from the parlor. Knowing how Bessie might be worried, she said, “I hope that you will consider staying on. You are such a part of our family. Perhaps you might wish to become my lady’s maid?”
Although Justina had no interest in hair or clothes, Bessie had helped her with both the last few years, at Mama’s request.
“You truly mean it, my lady?”
“Of course, Bessie. While I can never live up to Mama’s sense of style and grace, I know I will be well cared for in your hands.”
Bessie kissed Justina’s hand. “I’m so grateful, my lady. Thank you.”
The maid accompanied Justina to her room, helping her to dress in her night rail and brushing out Justina’s hair, placing it in a single braid.
Bessie left, and Justina felt an emptiness inside her, wondering if it would always be there.
She imagined this was how Mama had felt all those years, loving and losing her beloved husband and son.
“I will keep you in my heart, Mama,” she said aloud. “And I promise to care for the house just as you taught me how to do.”
Justina curled up in bed—and cried herself to sleep.