by Anne Herries
Phipps saw the pain in the older man’s eyes and knew that that eventuality would be the end of his hopes that his elder son would do something special with his life and make him proud. They had hoped that Alexander would become the Whig leader and Prime Minister of the government or excel in some other way, perhaps at court as an adviser to the Crown. Alexander had been the clever one, the son who had won five firsts at college and been his father’s pride and joy ever since he was a young lad. Phipps could never hope to follow in his footsteps, but if Alexander died...he would be the heir.
‘You mustn’t give in to these fears,’ Phipps said to his father in a rallying tone. ‘Alexander isn’t a quitter. He would not just give up his ticket like that, you know.’
‘Oh, why did it have to happen to him?’ Lord Piper asked, a shudder going through him. ‘Your mother—well, if he dies, I don’t think she can bear it.’
‘We must pray that he lives,’ Phipps said. ‘I shall send for Knighton. We need a second opinion—old Masters is well enough, but he hasn’t kept abreast of modern thinking.’
‘You know as well as I do that if a head injury is serious nothing can be done,’ his father said harshly. ‘You are going to have to face up to the fact that you may have to step into his shoes.’
‘I’ve no taste for politics, Father.’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ Lord Piper said heavily. ‘I’m well aware that you won’t follow that path. No, I’m thinking of the estate. You will have to give up that rackety life you lead in London and come home.’
‘Oh, I say, sir. I wouldn’t say I’m rackety. Besides, I am getting married soon and I shall be busy with Miss Hamilton’s estates. You are not ready to give up the reins here, I think?’
‘No one said I was, but Alexander has been learning to run the estate since he was a lad. You’ve never had the chance and I suppose that was my fault. I never thought I should see this day. It is a terrible thing when a man has to face the prospect of his elder son’s death.’
‘Alex hasn’t curled up his toes yet,’ Phipps objected. ‘I shall send for Knighton if you won’t—and I’m not going to usurp his place until I know there’s no hope.’
His father looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You’re a good brother. You’ve never thought of taking his place, have you?’
‘I am well aware that I could not,’ Phipps said ruefully. ‘I fall a long way short, sir. Besides, I’m content for him to inherit the title and the estate. It is his right.’
‘Yes, his right and his mother’s and my wish, but if he is unable to take up his position, then you have no choice but to step into his shoes.’
‘Yes, I do see that, but I shall continue to hope and pray for his recovery. If you don’t mind, sir, I’m going to send off some letters. I must send to London for my own people—and I shall have to let Lord Hamilton know that the wedding has to be postponed.’
‘Postpone your wedding?’ Lord Piper frowned. ‘That is a curst nuisance, but I do not see what else can be done in the circumstances. While your brother lies here in a coma...’
‘Yes, Father. We could not attend a wedding while he lies so ill—and I should not feel like taking Miss Hamilton to Paris until I know he’s through the worst.’
‘And what if the worst happens?’ Lord Piper asked. ‘Will Miss Hamilton accept a delay of some months—or perhaps a very quiet wedding with no celebrations or fuss?’
‘I don’t think we could ask that of her,’ Phipps said reasonably. ‘Brides always look forward to a wedding, and even though she doesn’t want a large one, her father and mother do. Lord Hamilton is proud of her and wants to show off his wealth.’
‘You do not want to lose her,’ Lord Piper said. ‘Of course you won’t exactly need her money if...your brother dies, but still, it is always useful.’
‘Yes,’ Phipps agreed, not meeting his father’s look. ‘It may surprise you to know, sir, that Miss Hamilton’s money isn’t the only—or indeed the main—reason why I asked her to be my wife.’
‘Your mother says she’s a little dumpling, no figure or beauty to speak off. She has it on the authority of your cousin Mildred, who met her in London at some ball or other.’
‘Miss Hamilton has many qualities to recommend her and I’ve grown fond of her.’
‘Well, you know your own mind best,’ his father said with a little tutting sound. ‘I’m sorry you must suffer a delay to your plans, but there it is.’
Phipps went away and sat down to write his various letters, first to the eminent surgeon begging him to come without delay, then to his valet and personal servants to join him here—and then the more difficult letters to Amanda’s father and Amanda.
The letter of apology to Lord Hamilton was difficult but straightforward: he was a man of sense and would understand that the wedding must be postponed, at least until Alex’s condition became clear. Writing a letter to Amanda was fraught with difficulty. Impossible to say to her the things he wanted to say, for the confessions he wished to make could only be said to her face. He needed to look into her eyes and have her look into his, for words written on paper could often sound otherwise to the way they were intended.
In the end, he wrote an apology for having to delay the wedding, and begged her to forgive him. He said that he was impatient to see her and wanted very much to talk to her about something important, promising to make the journey as soon as he could.
Brock is expecting your family and Miss Field next week as arranged. If you hear nothing from me before then, please continue as we intended and I shall join you there if I am able. I have sent for an eminent surgeon from London and hope that he may have something favourable to say to us.
Hesitating, he thought carefully before adding,
If my brother—God forbid—should die, it would mean that my father would require us to live here. I am not sure how you would feel concerning the alteration to our plans.
Please believe that I would understand, whatever your decision, and I remain, as always, your affectionate Phipps
For a moment he almost destroyed the letter, for it did not in the least convey his feelings, but the facts must be faced. Amanda expected that he would devote his life to her interests, which, if he became his father’s heir, would become of secondary importance. Although he would naturally oversee her estates and keep an eye on things, he would be tied up here more often than he liked. This was grossly unfair to his future wife and if she decided that she did not wish to accept the situation...
Phipps sighed. His father was relying on him, but so, too, was Amanda. Yet surely there was more between them than a business agreement, though it had certainly started out that way. It was a tangle and Phipps could only pray that his brother would recover.
* * *
Amanda sat staring at the letter for some minutes. She had read it in haste and then again at her leisure, but discovered that she could not get the meaning behind the words. Of course the wedding must be postponed, and as frustrating as that must be to poor Mama, who must put off all her extravagant plans, it was no more than what was right and proper. If Phipps’s brother were to die, it might be several months before they could marry, unless they had a very quiet affair with few or no celebrations. For herself Amanda did not mind a quiet wedding, though her father and mother would be extremely disappointed. However, Phipps’s statement that if she were unhappy with the situation was disturbing...for what was she to make of it?
If his elder brother did die, Phipps would be the heir and that was a very different situation. His father’s title would be his, as would the estate. Amanda’s fortune might be more than equal to his and her father’s title was respected, though not as old as Lord Piper’s—they went back in an unbroken line to the Conqueror—but as the heir he did not need to marry for money.
Amanda thought that if the accident had happened before Phipps proposed to her he might very well not have done so. She knew that he had not been in love with her at the start and, even though she believ
ed he felt something for her now, given a fresh start he might choose not to marry her.
If Phipps became his father’s heir he could have any woman he wanted—and that might not be Amanda. The thought ripped through her like a knife through butter, making her cry out in distress. While she could give him a fortune and the chance to make something of his life, she had something to offer—but what could she give if he already had all that?
Phipps was an honourable gentleman. Even though his circumstances might alter vastly, he would not jilt her. It would be beneath him to do so, but he might be glad if she were to cry off...
The thought was so lowering that she felt like bursting into tears. She could bear the disappointment of having her wedding postponed, but the idea that Phipps was trapped in an unwelcome engagement nearly tore her in two. She could not do that to him; she cared for him too much.
No, no, she was being a fool, she thought as she reread the letter and puzzled over it. He had something important to say to her, but would not write it in a letter—what could that be? Of course to write that he wished her to withdraw would seem so heartless and she knew him to be a kind, thoughtful man. He wanted to break it to her gently...for all she knew his father might have urged him to find a way of extricating himself from a match that would do well enough for a second son, but was not brilliant enough for the heir.
How extremely distressing this was, Amanda thought, folding her letter and putting it away. Had she not been a sensible girl, she might have begged Mama to take her to Phipps’s home immediately to enquire what was in his mind. Of course she could not do so. Her presence at a time of family crisis would be a nuisance. If she could perhaps have been of use to Phipps or his family...but she was a stranger and could be of no help to a woman whose eldest son was believed to be dying.
How very sad it all was! Amanda hardly knew how to compose herself when Mama came to her full of complaints about all her arrangements.
‘Phipps did not wish for this, Mama,’ she said at last. ‘He is very distressed, for he is fond of his brother...only think how you would feel if it were my brother.’
‘You are very understanding, Amanda.’ Mama sighed. ‘I suppose the wedding can be arranged again, but it does make things so awkward.’
‘Yes, I know, and I am very sorry for it. Perhaps we shall know more next week.’
‘Perhaps. I suppose we must go to Lord Brockley’s, as we’d planned, but I tell you, Amanda, I am most unhappy about this. Had you consented to take Lord Armstrong I am sure he would not have been so disobliging.’
Amanda bore this and a great deal more with patience, but, after her mother finally left her, gave way to a bout of tears. The wedding did not matter, for she could have waited without rancour, feeling only sympathy for the family in such distress, but she had an uneasy feeling that if Phipps’s brother did die, he would hope that she might be brought to withdraw. And, of course, if he did wish for it, she must give him what he asked and that would break her heart.
Until the worst happened, she must keep a brave face and carry on as if nothing had happened to disturb her peace, but the glow of happiness that had warmed her after that night in Brock’s bedchamber had now faded as if it had never been.
There was nothing for it but to take up the reins of her old life. She would visit all her friends at the neighbouring villages and Papa’s cottages on the estate. It would not do to let her own distress make her forget what was due to others and she would be going away for the next three weeks.
* * *
‘Amanda, why do you not eat your puddings?’ Papa looked at her across the table one evening. ‘I do not like to see you picking at your food, my dear. You were always so partial to chocolate puddings, as I am myself.’
She smiled at him, hiding her sigh. Papa had always loved his food and he had a sweet tooth, sometimes eating as many as three different puddings at one sitting. As a child she had copied everything Papa did and consequently it had had its effect, for while a large active man could comfortably eat as many sweet things as he wished without putting on the least weight, his diminutive daughter could not.
‘I am not hungry, Papa,’ Amanda said. ‘I ate a peach, which was delicious. These days I find I prefer fruit to sweet puddings.’
‘That isn’t like my little princess,’ he replied, frowning. ‘I do hope you are not pining because we’ve heard nothing from that young man of yours?’
‘No, Papa, of course not,’ Amanda said. ‘Phipps told me he might not be able to write. He begged me to go on with my plans to visit Lord Brockley and promised to join us if he could. Since Jane is so much looking forward to the visit, I do not think we should withdraw.’
‘Certainly not,’ Papa said. ‘I dare say Phipps would not want you to curtail your pleasure because his family is in trouble, my love. You are a sensible girl and I should not like to think you were sulking over the delay to your plans.’
‘Sulking? Oh, no, Papa, how could you think it? I know very well that Phipps will come as soon as he can—and this is not in the least his fault. I am just sad that he and his family are in such distress. I would wish to be of use to them, but I do not see what I can do.’
‘There is nothing, of course. How could you?’ Mama said. ‘Jane is arriving tomorrow. I dare say she is looking forward to the treat. It is a pity that Lieutenant Phipps cannot escort us, as we planned, but Lord Armstrong has also been invited and says he would be delighted to offer his services.’
‘Oh...’ Amanda looked at her mama unhappily, but could raise no objection. She might have known Mama would communicate the whole to her friend, and it was like Susanna to have offered her son’s services. ‘Well, that is kind of him.’
‘Indeed, I thought so,’ Mama said. ‘Such an attentive man. If...Phipps becomes the heir, he may not wish to marry for a year or two, Amanda. If you were to part by mutual consent...’
‘No, Mama. I could not think of it, please do not ask me.’
‘Well, it was just a thought,’ Mama said. ‘I dare say things will turn out for the best and Phipps’s brother will recover...’
Amanda inclined her head, but did not answer. She was glad when the evening had passed and she could retire to her room.
Oh, why did Phipps not write to her and tell her what was happening? Or were things so bad that he could not bring himself to do it?
* * *
Phipps watched as the eminent surgeon lifted his patient’s eyelids one by one and then waved a lamp to and fro before them; he replaced the lamp on the bedside chest, held the limp white wrist in his hand and frowned as he consulted his gold pocket watch. Eventually, he straightened up and looked at Phipps gravely.
‘I have been making a study of these cases, as you may know,’ he said. ‘It is my belief that in cases of severe head trauma there is often bleeding inside the skull, which forms a clot and presses on the brain. If this could be successfully removed it might mean the patient recovered, but there would, I fear, be significant damage to the brain itself.’
‘That is what my father fears,’ Phipps admitted. ‘I know surgeons have performed crude brain surgery in the past, but it always leads to some loss of the senses, does it not?’
‘One day in the near future I believe such operations will come to pass and in many cases without too much damage to the brain, but that is for the future. I would not care to undertake such a procedure—particularly in the case of such a clever man, as your brother was, sir. It would be a pity to see him much reduced, as in those patients undergoing a lobotomy. In any case, I saw signs of recognition in his eyes when I held the light before them.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘There is hope that he has merely severe concussion and may recover in his own good time.’
‘After three weeks of lying there unconscious?’
‘I have heard of a case where a young lad was in a coma for three months and then woke up and wondered why everyone was crying over him. He declared himself star
ving and his mother went to church and thanked God for a miracle.’
‘As well she might,’ Phipps said. ‘So you would not advise removing the blood clot, even if you could...?’
‘Had I some means of seeing inside his skull to determine where it is, how large or even if it is there at all, I might undertake it—but to blunder in and remove the skull like some clod-hopping fools that call themselves surgeons... No, I would not risk it. I believe your brother would not thank me for it if he were to live out his years as a dribbling fool.’
‘No, indeed, he would not,’ Phipps said with a shudder. ‘Father swore he would not allow it, but I hoped that you might...be able to do something more than our local man.’
‘My advice is to get a good nurse for him,’ Knighton said with a smile and a shake of his head. ‘He must be kept clean and given liquids—and if any signs of recovery are seen, send for me.’
‘My brother shall not be neglected,’ Phipps vowed. ‘I only wish that Amanda might be here. She was so good with Brock when he was wounded.’
‘I recommend you to fetch the lady, if she is willing to come. Is she your old nurse?’
‘No, she is the lady I am to marry,’ Phipps said. ‘I know her to be a kind and efficient nurse. I shall consult with my mother, but she...she cannot bear to look at Alex. Every time she enters the room she starts to weep.’
‘Then by all means send for your fiancée. It is a pity you were not already married.’
‘Yes,’ Phipps agreed. ‘I shall speak to my parents—and then, if they agree, I will go and ask Miss Hamilton immediately. In the meantime, I must thank you for your advice, sir.’
‘I am only sorry I can be of no real assistance,’ Knighton replied sombrely. ‘However, I have seen worse cases recover so do not give up hope.’
‘Do you mean that, sir? Our local man was confident that Alex would die—indeed, he expected it before this.’