Chapter Four #2
After changing her clothing and extricating herself from her husband’s embrace, Amelia slipped back down the hallway and into Clara’s room. She found the young woman sitting beneath her coverlet, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them. It was odd to see her so contemplative.
Amelia pasted a determinedly cheery smile on her face and tucked herself in beside Clara. They lay upon the pillows and spoke of anything and everything other than Clara’s upcoming marriage until they drifted off to sleep.
*
Clara awoke the next morning much earlier than she was accustomed; the watery light peering around the curtains of her bedchamber warned her of the unnaturally early hour.
She tossed and turned, tangling herself in the coverlet and even shoved her overstuffed pillow over her head, but try as she might, she could not have fallen back to sleep for all the money in the world.
Her mind was too filled with the buzzing bees of what her life would become—how so much would change in such a short amount of time.
With all the flailing about she did, it was no wonder that Amelia awoke soon after, blinking blearily at her with a slight scowl.
“Apologies,” Clara muttered and flopped back once more.
To her credit, Amelia’s mouth formed into a sleepy smile as she stretched and greeted her. “No matter. It does not seem much earlier than when I wake on any other morning.”
“I cannot fathom willingly rising at this hour,” Clara groaned.
“I can imagine you have quite a bit on your mind, dear.”
“If that isn’t an understatement…”
Amelia patted her arm reassuringly and turned to face her.
“Should we prepare for the day? Dorian told me last night that the wedding will take place the day after tomorrow to allow for the necessary preparations, but that is still a brief amount of time to gather all your things and assemble a trousseau for you.”
Clara closed her eyes as she tried to decide if the flutter in her stomach was relief or anxiety over the realization that the nuptials would not take place that day. She felt the mattress shift as Amelia sat up.
“I think we should begin by—”
Clara opened her eyes to find Amelia had stopped mid-sentence and pressed a hand to her forehead. Her face had become an unnaturally pale mask.
“Are you unwell?” Clara asked, but Amelia seemed unable to respond. “Amelia?”
Her sister-in-law held up a hand to forestall any further inquiries.
The next thing Clara knew, Amelia was flying over the side of the bed, scrambling for the clean chamber pot beneath the bed frame. Immediately, she retched and heaved, tossing up the contents of her stomach.
“Amelia!” Clara pounced forward to rub her back and collect the long, thick plait of her gold-brown hair lest it fall in the way.
She cringed as the sickness continued. “You poor thing. I will send for your maid—perhaps there is a remedy they can send up from the kitchens.” It looked like Amelia nodded with a single jerking motion of her head, so Clara did just that.
While she waited for their maids, Clara wet a cloth from the pitcher and bowl near her vanity and gently patted the back of Amelia’s neck, her throat, and her face with it.
She was hunched in the center of the mattress, clutching the porcelain chamber pot like a talisman.
It was disconcerting to see such a strong, confident woman brought so suddenly low.
Clara’s maid, Beth, poked her head into the room and gasped when she saw the scene they made.
“Lady Kempton is unwell,” Clara explained. “Please have Alice sent along immediately.”
Beth nodded and dashed off, before returning with Amelia’s maid in less time than Clara would have thought possible; however, Alice’s bearing was not at all what Clara would have expected given the sorry state of her mistress.
Unless she was mistaken, there appeared to be an almost excited gleam in the maid’s eyes, which Clara felt to be entirely inappropriate.
Alice flitted about the room, refreshing the toweling with cool water and taking over the task of bathing Amelia’s face and brushing damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. Finally finished retching, Amelia’s clammy hand clutched Clara’s.
“This is good, Clara,” Amelia said weakly.
“Good?” Clara squeaked. “Are you out of your mind? What about this is good?”
“She has missed her courses these last few months, Miss,” Alice added, handing Amelia a cup of fresh, cool water to rinse her mouth before she set about clearing up the mess.
The realization dawned upon Clara slowly. Her knowledge of the topic was woefully poor, but she’d gleaned enough that a woman missing her courses was something very important. “You are with child?”
Amelia gave her a weak smile, her pallor slowly improving and the light returning to her expressive eyes.
Suddenly, the maid’s reaction began to make sense—lady’s maids kept watch and had an intimate knowledge of their mistresses, often noticing even before the women when they’d conceived or if something was amiss with their cycles.
Clara clasped Amelia’s hands and squeezed them, emotion tightening her throat.
“Oh, Amelia! That is wonderful!” She paused and then asked, “Does Dori know yet?”
“I think he may suspect, but he has not inquired specifically.” Amelia squeezed her hand. “Please, say nothing to him yet. I would like to wait until everything calms down after…after last night.”
“He will be positively giddy with joy!” Clara said confidently.
“He is utterly besotted with you, and having a child with you will surely make his heart burst with elation.” She clapped her hands excitedly.
“And I will be an aunt! Oh—of course, you know how much I adore Archie; I never meant to imply otherwise. But I did not know him as a baby! I cannot wait to hold my niece or nephew in my arms! We will take walks in the gardens and have picnics. I will tell them the most wonderful stories—” Her words suddenly died as an unpleasant realization struck her like a slap to the face.
She would not be around for any of that.
She would no longer reside beneath Dori and Amelia’s roof.
In a matter of only days, she would be wed and need to establish her own household somewhere else in Britain.
Gone would be the days of having the people she loved so dearly within reach.
They would become correspondents who waited days, if not weeks, in between letters when they were not in the same city.
The thought of this distance finally shattered Clara’s remaining composure. It toppled the joy she’d felt at learning of Amelia’s pregnancy; it crushed her excitement and replaced it with a dark shadow of the unknown. It eclipsed all else and, finally, tears began to course down her cheeks.
“But I—I will not be present for any of it—” Her voice broke on a sob, and she dropped her head into her hands. She crumpled beneath the weight of what she had cost herself with her foolish behavior and insatiable curiosity.
A hand began to stroke her back; it was Amelia’s turn to comfort her. “Parting is not forever,” she reassured Clara. “You will visit us; we will visit you. We can coordinate as many holidays together as you’d like; I am sure of it.”
Clara tried to hear the reason in her words; truly, she did. There was no stopping the sensation that her chest had been cored, and her family had been removed, leaving her hollow. She was suffering from a loss that had not even happened yet…how would she feel when she truly experienced it?
Gently, Amelia requested that their maids return in an hour and gave Clara the space she needed to grieve, to allow her feelings to wash over her with just the two of them together.
When she’d finally calmed herself enough to catch her breath, Amelia offered her a fresh damp cloth to wipe her face and soothe her tortured eyes.
She sat beside her and tucked her hair behind her ear before cupping Clara’s hot cheek.
“Marriage does not mean you are losing us. You are gaining an ally, a partner, a new relationship to carry you across the decades to come. Your husband will see you through struggles and provide you with a haven.”
“Even Brinley?” Clara sniffed.
Amelia tilted her head, the corner of her lips tipping up ever so slightly.
“Yes, even Lord Brinley. He may surprise you.” She ignored Clara’s disbelieving scowl and patted her cheek.
“Now, gather yourself and take a deep breath. You are a strong, intelligent, brave young woman, Clara. I’ve never known you to not face down a challenge with impressive determination and aplomb—this will be no different.
We will take each task one at a time, hm? ”
Amelia slipped from the bed and gestured for Clara to follow, which she did so only slightly reluctantly. As if on cue, Beth and Alice slipped back into the room to assist them in preparing for the day.