But on entering his study one November morning to ask him if he cared to come with me on a brisk walk to the river, I found him grasping the arm of his chair, his face purple, his breathing a rasping sound dragged painfully through his parted lips.
Frightened though I was, I managed to loosen his collar and to get him to lay back in his chair whilst I ran for help.
Fortunately, Bassett was just entering the hall as I flew out of his father’s study.
‘Bassett, come quickly. Your father is ill.’
He hurried towards me, alarm showing plainly on his face and we entered the study together.
‘Fetch Jonathan and Charles, if he’s at home,’ said Bassett.
Quickly I ran in search of Jonathan, Sir Hugh’s personal manservant, and having explained to him, I again ran on, through the corridors, up the wide stairs and along to the east wing.
Georgiana answered my impatient knock.
‘Is Charles at home?’ I said breathlessly.
‘Yes, but …’
‘Ask him to come quickly, it’s your father, Georgiana, he’s ill.’
‘Charles,’ Georgiana ran to her husband and he rose immediately from the desk where he was writing and took her hands.
‘What is it, dearest?’
‘It’s my father. Louella says he is ill.’ Without hesitate, Charles ran the way I had come whilst Georgiana and I hastened after him, pausing only whilst she questioned me.
‘Is he—very bad, Louella?’ and her lower lip trembled.
‘I didn’t stay to see. I must be honest I made him as comfortable as I could then I ran to find—someone.’
I hesitated as I said the last word, for it suddenly struck me that when I had hurried from Sir Hugh’s side in search of help, there had been one person on my mind—Bassett.
Even though I feared him, I acknowledged to myself that it was to him I knew I could run in trouble and in him find strength and help.
When we reached the hall, Charles and Bassett were helping Sir Hugh to his bedroom.
Old Jonathan hovered anxiously behind his master.
Sir Hugh looked a little better than when I had first found him, but still he could not walk without assistance.
Later, comfortably settled in bed, Sir Hugh seemed much better, so Charles told us when he came in to the drawing-room, where we were all waiting for him.
Lady Courtney, who had now been told about her husband’s illness, was the first to voice what was uppermost in all our minds.
‘Have you any idea what it is?’
‘As far as I can tell after a preliminary examination, it seem Sir Hugh has had a heart attack.’
Lady Courtney gasped.
‘Serious?’ asked Bassett.
‘Not this one, but I’m afraid there may be more, each successively more serious and then, I am afraid …’
Charles did not need to finish for we all knew the full meaning behind his words.
Georgiana began to cry quietly and Charles crossed the room to comfort her.
‘I’m sorry, my dear, perhaps I should not have told you.’
But Georgiana shook her head.
‘No, Charles. I’d rather know.’
‘Is there anything we can do?’ said Lady Courtney. ‘Bassett, should we call in a heart specialist?’
Bassett looked enquiringly at Charles.
‘Don’t think we underestimate your capabilities, Charles, but do you think? …’
‘Of course, Bassett, you must do whatever you wish. Perhaps it would be as well since I am so closely connected if Sir Hugh were to be attended by another physician.’ His arm went about Georgiana. ‘In fact, I’d prefer it. Sir Joshua Fotheringhay is one of the best authorities I know on heart ailments. He lives but fifty miles from here. I’ll set out immediately to fetch him.’
‘No—no,’ said Bassett, ‘it’s good of you, but it would be better if you stayed here.’
He thought quickly.
‘One of my men from the village will go willingly, I am sure.’
‘Then I will write an explanatory letter to him,’ said Charles.
‘That’s a good idea.’
And they left the room together.
I turned to see Lady Courtney glaring at me.
‘See what trouble you have brought upon us by your deception?’
For a moment I could not understand. Then I realised she was blaming the disappearance of the Courtney dagger for Sir Hugh’s illness. And, of course, as she believed I had stolen it, I was the cause.
Bassett returned at that moment and so she said no more.
Sir Joshua arrived the next day, but he merely confirmed Charles’ diagnosis.
He had an important medical conference to attend and could stay no longer than a few hours. Even the Courtney wealth could not buy the attention of this eminent main, whose devotion to the medical profession, would surely go down in history.
‘There is little point in my staying, Mr Courtney. Your brother-in-law, Dr Corby, is a most capable young man. And I am afraid there is little I can do in Sir Hugh’s case.’
The grey haired man shook his head sadly.
‘I’m very sorry.’ He cleared his throat and added briskly, ‘ I’ve given Dr Corby detailed instructions as to exactly what may be done in any event. I’ll come again in four days.’
‘Thank you. Sir Joshua, it was good of you to come so quickly,’ Bassett replied.
‘Not at all, I only wish there was more I could do.’
So it was that the great physician left an unhappy household. There was little we could do and each day Sir Hugh sank lower. He had three more quite severe attacks and eventually, he would lapse into unconsciousness.
When he roused again he would become restless and fretful and would shout and ramble incessantly about his past life, his wife and my mother and other names, including his parents.
Early on the fourth morning after Sir Hugh had first been taken ill, I was awakened by a soft knock on my bedroom door. The pale light of dawn was only just beginning to glimmer through the curtains as I opened the door to find Bassett, his face tired and strained, his hair rumpled, standing there.
‘Louella, I’m sorry to wake you. But father is in a very distressed state calling for Victoria.’ He paused and said softly, ‘I think perhaps if you would come, it might calm him.’
‘Of course, Bassett, I’ll come at once.’
I fetched my wrap and followed Bassett along the dimly lit corridor. Since Sir Hugh’s illness, the corridor candles were kept burning throughout the night.
As I entered the sick-room, I was shocked to see the change in Sir Hugh. I had been to visit him several times during his illness, but mostly I had found him asleep. Now, for the first time, I was to see him threshing about the bed—his face shrunken and lined with suffering, his eyes wide and staring, and his brow wet with fever.
I took his hot hand in mine and spoke softly, and, I hope, soothingly.
Miraculously, it seemed to me, he began to quieten.
‘Victoria,’ he whispered, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to help you get well again.’
‘Mama will not like you coming here—does she know?’
How could I answer him—I could not understand the meaning of his words. I looked enquiringly at Bassett.
He shook his head as if to tell me to reply negatively.
‘No,’ I told Sir Hugh, ‘she doesn’t know, and she won’t find out. Now you lie quietly and try to sleep. You mustn’t distress yourself so.’
Sir Hugh’s pale lips parted in an effort to smile.
‘Dear Victoria, your word is my command, always.’
And he slept.
I sighed with relief.
‘Thank you, Louella. Jonathan and I have been trying for a long time to quieten him,’ Bassett said, ‘ and to think you can do it so easily.’
‘I’ll stay with him as long as you wish me to, Bassett, you know that.’
�
��Thank you, my …’ he stoped and ran his hand through his hair, his eyes dark with weariness.
‘You must rest, Bassett. I’ll stay with him now.’
‘Very well. Perhaps I will, if you’re sure? …’
‘Of course.’
After Bassett and Jonathan had left, I sat in the still room and held Sir Hugh’s hand as he slept and watched him. His face was now peaceful, no longer ravaged by distressing emotions. But I noticed that he had aged considerably since the start of his illness.
As I watched, pitying the sick man, his eyes flickered open and for a while he lay staring at the ceiling. I did not move or speak for I had no wish to disturb him. I prepared myself for further delirium. But he turned his head slowly on the pillow, the morning light catching his silver hair. He saw me and smiled.
‘Ah, Louella, I am glad it is you with me. I wish to tell you something.’
I patted his hand comfortingly.
‘You must not tire yourself, Sir Hugh. Try to rest. Whatever you have to tell me will wait.’
‘No,’ he whispered gently, ‘I can wait no longer, my child, or I may leave it too late.’
The reference to his death was not made with self-pity but with resignation and peaceful acceptance. He was ready for death, ready for the release, but first he had something to tell me and I knew what it was.
He was, at last, going to tell me the secret surrounding my mother and me. It was strange that now, as he neared death, for he undoubtedly did, his mind had cleared and he spoke slowly and deliberately, missing nothing in his tragic tale.
‘Louella, my dear, before I begin, just reach into the drawer of that little table, here at my bedside. There is something I must return to you.’
I opened the drawer and there lay the missing miniature of my mother. Wordlessly, I picked it up and stood it on the table. Sir Hugh turned his head and looked at it for a long time. With a sigh he turned away again and began his story.
‘Louella, many years ago, when I was a young man of twenty, we, the Courtneys, lived in this house, as we do now. My father was a weak-willed man who cared nothing for the fortunes amassed by his ancestors, and would undoubtedly have frittered it away leaving us penniless had it not been for my mother. She, Lady Florence Cunningham, had married my father in his heyday, before he had slipped into bad ways. She was a strong-minded, steadfast woman, an ardent believer in family tradition. She undertook to save the Courtney name and fortune as if it were her own family name. My brother and I were a constant disappointment to her. We lacked her vigour, her strength of character, and resembled more the weakness of my father. It was at this time that the Courtney dagger was sold by my father and its loss was blamed as the cause of the unhappy story I have to tell you.’
He paused, lost in memories, no doubt. I waited impatiently, but did not hurry him.
‘There lived in Courtney village, the Lloyd family, a respectable family enough, well-born and well-bred, but poor. They were not of the aristocracy that my mother regarded the Courtneys were.
‘Victoria and Virginia Lloyd were the beautiful daughters of the Lloyd household and one glorious summer, my brother James and I met the Lloyd sisters high on the hills surrounding Courtney estate. That summer was the only really happy time I remember in my life. We fell in love with the Lloyd girls, passionately, reverently and for ever.’
I saw the tears well in Sir Hugh’s eyes, he was indeed reliving his happiness, and sadness, in telling me.
‘I hardly need tell you the rest, Louella, do I? I fell in love with Victoria and James with Virginia, whom he later married.
‘But being the eldest son and heir to the Courtney fortune I was expected to marry the woman of my parent’s choice. She was Emily Bassett, daughter of Major Phillip Bassett and his wife, Georgiana, a family of equal standing to the Courtneys. I refused because I could never love her, not now that I had met the only woman I could ever love, Victoria. Even at twenty, I knew with one of those rare moments of wisdom in the young that Victoria was my one true love.
‘It has been my life’s regret, my remorse and shame that I was not strong enough to win the furious and bitter battle which ensued between my mother and myself over Victoria and Emily.
‘James, of course, though my mother did her utmost to dissuade him, eventually married Virginia, for he was only the second son, and carried no family tradition to matter. My mother was heartless and remorseless in her refusal to allow my marriage to your mother. Had I been stronger, of her mettle, I would have spurned the family and married the woman I loved. For, Louella, I was a fortunate fellow in that your mother was gracious enough to love me. I use the word “gracious” purposely, for that is how I think of her as a woman, a lady, who in her spirit, in her character was worth far more than the Courtney name. She was her own individual gentility.’
He paused, for his long story was tiring, but he continued purposefully.
‘But I gave way to my mother and married Emily Bassett. Poor Emily,’ he spoke with pity, ‘I have not made her happy, it has not been within my power when my heart belonged to another.
‘Your mother left Courtney village, broken hearted, I believe, and four years later, she married a distant cousin of hers of the same name, Adam Lloyd. I met him only once some years before when he had visited the Lloyd family in Courtney. He, like me, loved her deeply.’
A gentle smile crossed Sir Hugh’s weary face and much of the age slipped away.
‘In fact, I cannot understand any man not loving her. Adam was good and kind to her but I believed she only loved him as second best, and for that I pitied him.
‘I kept in touch, you understand, through James and Virginia, though I never saw my love again after that summer when we had met, fallen in love and parted, broken in spirit. Seven years after their marriage, you were born. But in giving you life, my child, your mother gave hers.’
He patted my hand comfortingly.
‘I hope you never feel guilty about being the cause of your mother’s death, for she would have had it no other way, my child, believe me. Your father, poor man, died a year later, broken and dispirited. He pined to death, they said. I could understand it, for I myself, at the news of Victoria’s death, sank into a dark and dreadful time. Poor Emily, knowing from the beginning of my love for Victoria, could do nothing to pull me from my depression, and I believe if it had not been for my joy in my own two children, I should have allowed my life to drift away as Adam did. You were, as you know, cared for by Virginia and James, and they loved you as their own daughter.
‘As you grew older it was obvious you would be the living image of your mother. You brought joy and pain mingled to those around you for it was like having Victoria back with us again. Whenever you came to Courtney Hall as a child it was to revive sad memories for me and bitter thoughts for Emily.
‘When Virginia died there was only James left belonging to you. And as you grew older it was impossible for a beautiful woman like you to remain alone with James Courtney. Tongues began to wag and to remember the old days, for, believe me, such scandals amongst the aristocracy are remembered and talked about for many, many years.
‘So, poor child, you were brought to Courtney Hall, and I know you have suffered exceedingly at the hand of my wife and of Millicent.’
He turned and lifted himself on his pillows to clasp my hands in his.
‘Dear little Louella, so like Victoria, I grieve to think of the pain I myself have caused you in my foolish ramblings in mistaking you for your mother. Now do you understand why Emily has hated and feared you?’
I nodded, unable to speak, for I pitied Emily Bassett Courtney for her years of unhappiness and at last I understood with compassion the reason for her hatred of me.
‘Emily knew I have never been able to give her the love she had a right to. I doubt she has loved me for she has never shown it. Her love has been lavished on Bassett and her fierce protection and pride in him has perhaps compensated for the lack of love in her marriage. I ho
pe so. I dearly hope so, for she did not deserve such a life. It was none of her doing.’
And Sir Hugh fell back on his pillow.
‘There is just one more thing, child. I am sorry for taking your picture, but when I saw it in your room one day, the joy at having a likeness of your mother was too great to bear. I have drawn strength and comfort from it. Forgive me, child. Take it back for it is yours.’
‘Keep it Sir Hugh, please, if it gives you happiness.’
‘Bless you child, you do your mother proud. I will keep it only until I die, which will surely not be long, and then you must take it back.’
And without warning Sir Hugh lost consciousness once more.
He never regained it.
For two days and nights he lingered between the realms of life and the river of oblivion.
I insisted that I should attend to his wants personally.
Lady Courtney overcome with remorse and grief, now the end was near, gave way to hysteria and took to her bed.
Georgiana looked tired and strained with trying to comfort her mother and with the genuine grief that her gentle, absent-minded father would soon no longer pore over the yellowing pages of his beloved books. No longer would the small book-lined room he called his study be filled with his tobacco smoke, a warm refuge from the realities which faced him beyond its door.
Bassett commanded that I should rest, but I found sleep, restful sleep, impossible. I was disturbed by dreaming of Sir Hugh and my mother as young lovers, but their faces would change into Bassett and myself and then we would start quarrelling and I would wake feeling miserable.
Sir Hugh died peacefully. I was thankful that Bassett was with me. It was gone midnight and Bassett was insisting, in whispers, that I should retire. He said he would stay with his father until dawn when Charles would take over.
But our attention was drawn by the frail figure in the bed.
His breath was becoming laboured. His hands moved restlessly for a few moments and then—he was gone and his face at once became peaceful and serene. The years slipped away and he was almost a young man.
I saw the face my mother had loved. I saw in it the gentleness and kindness that, in its weakness, had been the cause of so much unhappiness.
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