Death of a Dowager

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Death of a Dowager Page 3

by Joanna Campbell Slan


  “Not at all. John’s recovery is my primary concern.”

  “Good. I thought you would feel that way.” Mr. Carter looked relieved. “Mrs. Pendragon is of Welsh descent. More than a few of the locals actually fear her, but their reaction is born of ignorance. She has remarkable knowledge of the healing arts, and a vocabulary of herbal recipes that are unexcelled. As a matter of fact, I have learned much from the woman. I should like for her to stay here for as long as necessary. Mrs. Pendragon can instruct Mary in the preparations of certain tisanes and poultices. My biggest fear right now is that John will develop a fever or pneumonia. Both are common after an injury like this.”

  “Mr. Carter, is our help needed here? Perhaps my husband and I should repair to London. My husband and I had discussed going to the city, rather than staying here at Ferndean with all the repairs that need to be made,” I said. “Is that wise? Or would it be best for us to wait?”

  “I think you should go. If you stay here, John might try to hurry the mending process. If you are gone, he and Mary can devote themselves entirely to his recovery. He won’t be tempted to move around before his bones knit.”

  “That reminds me,” Edward said as he turned toward me, “before you came to breakfast, James scrambled up on the roof and took a look. The supporting beams have rotted through. The entire skeleton will have to be replaced. This is more than a simple patching job.”

  “I don’t mind the inconvenience, nor am I put out by having to fend for ourselves, but I am worried about the damp. We can’t risk having Ned catch a fever. Especially living so far from Millcote. You saw how long it took James to fetch Mr. Carter.”

  “Yes, and you were lucky he managed to hunt me down.” Mr. Carter put down his fork and looked at me sternly. “He happened upon me while I was on the road. Otherwise he’d never have found me going from door to door. I could have been too far away to be helpful. Of late, I’ve taken to making monthly visits to London myself, to meet with other like-minded men in the medical field. In fact, that’s how I came to learn about Mr. Parmenter, the specialist whom I suggested you visit after I examined your husband several months ago.”

  “But you are still our local surgeon.” Edward said this by way of confirmation. If Mr. Carter was not keeping his practice here, we would need to see what we could do about engaging another doctor for the people of our estate.

  “I have been meaning to speak to you about that. This is a most inopportune circumstance, but well, I believe the time has come for you to engage another surgeon for your estate. Millcote and its surrounds are growing, and I am past my prime.”

  To this disclosure, Edward reacted with alarm, as did I. Mr. Carter seemed too young to retire, being only a few years older than my husband. However, we did not reply quickly enough to interrupt the surgeon’s speech.

  “More and more, I find myself arriving too late to be of maximal assistance. I spend more time in my carriage, riding from patient to patient, than I do at bedsides. Another doctor would lessen my load and assure your tenants of the sort of attention they need.” I felt my husband relax—Carter merely wished for assistance, not to leave his position. “I’ve taken the liberty of mentioning this position to a young colleague of mine in London, a Samuel Lerner. There is another benefit you will find most interesting; he is a specialist in matters of the eye, having studied under Mr. Parmenter. He served me well for a short while when you were healing from your injuries after the fire. In fact, it was he who saved your one eye by his quick thinking and knowledge of ocular arts.”

  “Did he indeed?”

  “Yes, I was delivering Mrs. Mulcahy of a child coming into this world breech, so I dispatched Lerner to your bedside. You were unconscious, and badly mauled, but he managed to spare you excess pain and to stabilize your condition until I could arrive. Believe me, his skills are astonishing, and you are living proof.”

  “Lerner? A Jew?” Edward asked.

  “Yes, and one of the best minds for healing that I’ve met in my lifetime. Surely you won’t hold his religion against him, if his skills are commensurate? Or exceptional?”

  “Carter, remember to whom you are speaking. Of everyone you know, surely I am the most tolerant. Given the crooked path I’ve taken, how can I not be? Furthermore, I’ve met many of the Hebrew persuasion in my travels. I think they are ill-used as a people. Your suggestion surprises me only because I wonder if my tenants would accept him.”

  “I believe they will if I take him with me and introduce him around as my second.”

  “All in all, then, I believe it behooves us to take Lucy up on her kind offer,” said Edward. “We can leave as soon as we pack. Some things should not be left unattended.”

  His words were straightforward, but they held a special meaning for me. He was suggesting that I bring along the letter.

  I never meant to own it. Although I had thought about destroying it, as I had done the others, cooler heads than mine prevailed. I had sought the counsel of Lucy; her brother, Bruce Douglas; and my own dear Edward. My husband’s argument had been particularly compelling: “That letter could change the course of history. If George IV slips into madness as did his father before him, it might prevent a bloody fight for control of the throne by pointing the way to a simpler solution.”

  And so we had kept it locked away. Now Edward was suggesting that I bring it along rather than letting it remain here at Ferndean. After all, there would be a myriad of workmen in and out of the house. The strongbox could easily be discovered, and a hammer applied to a chisel could force it open. Leaving it or any other valuables behind would not be prudent.

  Mr. Carter interrupted my musings as he said, “If you would like, I can stop and speak with Thadius Farrell on my way home. He’s a local builder well-qualified to see to your roof and kitchen. Mrs. Carter and I have engaged his services in the past, and we were well pleased. I’ll send him round to talk with you.”

  “I believe your father once employed Thadius to make repairs to the stable,” Mrs. Fairfax said as she carried a kettle of hot water to replenish our teapot. “I will stay here to direct the repair efforts and forward your mail.”

  “Excellent,” said Edward.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if Mary needs anything,” said the housekeeper.

  “I will go with Mrs. Fairfax to look in on John one more time and then be off,” said Carter. “As soon as I’m home in Millcote, I’ll pen a letter to Lerner telling him to expect you. In fact, I am overdue for a visit to London myself, and I’d like to hear his opinion on your eye. Perhaps our visits will overlap.”

  “Yes,” said Edward. “I think that would work nicely. I shall go with you to see John. While I cannot fix what is broken, I can reassure Mary that I will do everything in my power to aid her in his care.”

  Chapter 4

  “I am warming to this whole scheme of running away to the city,” confided Edward, later that day. “I believe I have been in need of a change of scenery. I promise you, Jane, that my mood will improve.”

  “If it pleases you, then it pleases me,” I said. Yes, he had been rather low of late, although we both had tried to dismiss it. My husband had been a man of great physical prowess. He had often spoken to me of the pursuits he had hoped to teach our son, but even as Ned grew more and more adventuresome, Edward had come to feel his limitations accordingly. As a result, the restrictions of his missing appendage and poor eyesight weighed on Edward heavily.

  An unruly thatch of his hair fell over his scarred forehead as he reached for my hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed it. “My darling girl, you are too good. We both know that London is anathema to you. You are never more pleased than when taking a long walk or curling up with a good book. Or even putting charcoal to paper and recording what fantastical images you conjure up in that busy mind of yours! Ah! Don’t try to argue, Jane. You could have suggested that we rent another h
ouse out here in the country instead of decamping to the city. However, I know you have agreed to this for my sake, and I accept your sacrifice with good humor.”

  “Speaking of sacrifices, our ride in the coach should prove most interesting. Our son has become quite the explorer. Be forewarned that we will have our hands full trying to keep him out of the straw on the floor of the coach,” I said with a scarcely contained laugh.

  “Ned will find your efforts to curtail his activities most annoying! Perhaps poor Lucy would be better off to travel without us,” Edward said.

  “Oh, ho, ho, no, you don’t!” Lucy’s voice sang out as she entered the room, carrying a bouquet of snowy white daisies with egg yolk yellow centers. “This trip to London will give me a chance to practice my mothering skills.”

  “You will do just fine with Evans,” I assured her, as I had been doing since the news first came of the boy’s impending arrival.

  “Jane is right, dear Lucy. There is no need for you to serve an apprenticeship at motherhood.”

  “That is kind of you,” she said as she tapped him on the shoulder, “but I am determined to carry out my new responsibilities to the utmost of my abilities. My job is to provide Evans with every advantage. His life will be the apex of mine, and due to my efforts, he starts at a higher rung on the social ladder. All that I’ve endured for the sake of the beau monde will be worthwhile when my son is accepted into the fold. I shall call in all my outstanding chits, so that my son benefits from my arduous years of enduring hours of innocuous pleasantries in the name of greasing the wheel of social approval.”

  “You make it sound ghastly,” I said.

  “Most of the time, it has been,” she admitted.

  Her judgment on this subject baffled me. Lucy seemed to act as a barometer, with her needle fluttering first over one extreme and then the other. Now she was telling us how valuable she found society—and also how tedious. Which version was truer?

  I proffered my own conclusion. “I believe you overvalue the worth of the ton and underestimate your own gifts. The ton matters not.”

  “I beg to differ,” said Lucy. “The ten thousand have great power, even more so because our new King exhibits so little constancy of purpose. His mercurial nature is largely influenced by those around him, and what is fashionable at the moment. Therefore, the ton can make or destroy a person with their acceptance or denial—because as they lean, so bends the King’s will.”

  “I cannot imagine such influence! To my way of thinking, anyone lucky enough to receive your affection has a tremendous advantage over his or her peers.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Edward nodded toward her. “Lucy, I bless the day that Augie married you. Thanks to his good taste, we are all a happy band of your beneficiaries.”

  “And I owe you a debt of gratitude for persuading him to ask for my hand. Oh, I do sincerely hope that you and Jane consider yourself fortunate to have me. I know I can be rather bossy at times. Toward that end, I have been doing some thinking. I suggest that we make good use of the three days we’ll have in the coach. I have in my possession a listing of all the operas, concerts, and plays now appearing in London. Of particular note is Rossini’s Tancredi at the Italian Opera House.”

  “Tancredi? Is that based on Voltaire’s play Tancrède?” Edward wondered.

  “Yes, the same. Fanny Corri-Paltoni has been reprising the principal role.”

  “That’s capital!” Edward responded with more gusto than I’d heard in days. “Jane has never been to an opera, and I have longed to escort her. I heard Corri-Paltoni on the Continent a few years back.”

  “Yes,” said Lucy, “and this piece is quite demanding, with two lengthy arias and no less than four duets.”

  Edward and Lucy began to discourse about music in a lively manner. Although I play piano (adequately) and sing (passably), my skills in this arena are, admittedly, lackluster. Edward was an accomplished singer, and he had a God-given beautiful tenor voice. Discussing the mezzo-soprano diva caused him to brighten with interest.

  More and more, the timing of this trip fit everyone’s needs. We could leave Ferndean to the efforts of the builder, offer companionship to Lucy as she waited for Evans to arrive, interview Mr. Lerner for the position here in the county, and get his opinion on Edward’s diminishing vision.

  Yes, it would be good for all involved, except . . . except that small still voice inside me that yearned for solitude and a simple life.

  But Lucy had other plans. “Jane? You’ll want a court dress for wearing to the opera. We need to discuss which styles and colors might look best on you. You can visit my mantua-maker so you have the proper accoutrements for any event.”

  “I have a lovely silk dress in claret that will be quite suitable.”

  Lucy’s smile was indulgent. “No, my dear. It most certainly will not!”

  I thought my friend mistaken but let the matter drop.

  “To London!” Edward raised his teacup, and I followed his lead.

  “To London!”

  Chapter 5

  Since the Rochester barouche had been lost in the fire at Thornfield Hall, James drove us in his dray to Millcote, where we could board the coach for London. The night we spent in that village would have been pleasant enough, except that Mr. Carter had insisted we take supper at his home. Edward had taken him up on his offer before I had the chance to share my concerns.

  I knew from prior experience that Mrs. Carter thought our marriage shameful. Unfortunately, her opinions had been formed by ugly commentary provided by the Dowager Lady Ingram and her daughter Blanche.

  At one time, the whole county had expected Edward to marry the beautiful Blanche Ingram. They were both superb equestrians, and their families had long been neighbors. Blanche was acclaimed far and wide for her great beauty, whereas my husband would never be called attractive, because his features lacked classical proportions. Despite their mismatched pulchritude and a vast difference in their ages (though not as large as the difference between my own two and twenty, which was less than half of Edward’s midforties), many thought that he and she made a good match.

  But Blanche’s heart harbored no real love for Edward. Indeed, the Ingram family was only fortune-hunting. To expose their avarice, my husband caused a rumor that his income was only a third of its real value. In a blink, the Ingrams had dismissed him as a suitor.

  When they discovered that they had been tricked, and when Edward proceeded to marry a governess—me—both Blanche and her mother thought themselves very ill-used. They responded by blackening my name to all and sundry. Mrs. Carter fell prey to their disappointment. I learned as much the last time I traveled through Millcote on my way to London to visit Adèle, but I chose not to share the news with my husband. What was the point? Why upset Edward further? He and I both valued Mr. Carter’s opinion. If Mrs. Carter thought me unsuitable, that didn’t matter a fig to me.

  But her wrath did make this an uncomfortable situation, to say the least.

  While my husband now enjoyed a leisurely cigar in the Carters’ garden, Lucy and I were deposited abruptly by Mrs. Carter in her drawing room and left to our own devices. Through the walls of the house, we could overhear Mrs. Carter scolding her husband. Fortunately, Amelia had taken Adèle and Ned outside for a breath of fresh air, or they, too, would have been treated to hearing Mrs. Carter chastise her husband about my low character.

  “Goodness,” whispered Lucy. “No wonder the good doctor travels to London on a monthly basis. The poor man has reason to want to escape! But what on earth has kindled this attack against you?”

  “The Honorable Blanche Ingram and her mother, the Baroness Ingram of Ingram Park,” I said quietly.

  “Ah. So even Mrs. Carter has heard Lady Ingram blame you for robbing her eldest daughter of Edward Rochester. Or more correctly, for robbing her of the Rochester fortune. As if Blanche isn’t enjo
ying still being on the marriage market,” Lucy said softly, “despite growing longer in the tooth every day. Rejecting suitors left and right. Honestly, Blanche takes it as sport, and her mother indulges her and plays along. It has been nearly ten years since she was presented at court. While all her contemporaries are happily married and raising heirs, she still appears at Almack’s, flirting and fawning over men with titles.”

  “What is Almack’s?”

  “A social club. Admission is highly coveted. It is the most likely place that an unmarried woman would meet a suitor after she has made her debut.”

  “And you have seen Blanche Ingram there?”

  “On occasion, as it is a grand place to see and be seen. Blanche and I are little more than nodding acquaintances, but Lady Ingram is sister-in-law to my dear friend Olivia Grainger. I would have introduced you to Lady Grainger the last time you were in London, but she was in Bath, taking the waters.”

  “Well, whatever shortcomings the Honorable Blanche Ingram owns, Mrs. Carter must think she hung the moon,” I said.

  “Yes.” This came on the wings of a sigh from my friend.

  The bell for supper rang, and we assembled around the Carters’ table. Had Edward been able to see the derogatory glances Mrs. Carter cast my way, he would have been outraged by the woman’s behavior. As it was, I pinched Lucy’s leg black and blue in an effort to prevent her from leaping across the table and jabbing our hostess with a fork. Poor Mr. Carter struggled all evening, sending conciliatory glances first to me and then to his wife, gestures that she rejected with a sniff of disapproval.

  I went to bed that night at the coaching inn grateful for the cover of darkness so that I could relax the pleasant but insipid expression that had frozen on my face. With Edward’s sturdy back as my shelter, and his steady breathing as my lullaby, I finally drifted off to sleep.

 

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