Master of His Fate

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Alexis remained kneeling, feeling a strange sense of foreboding settling over her. Eventually standing up, shaking this odd sensation off, she walked to the table and carefully placed the tiara down on the black velvet cloth.

  Sebastian said, “It can be repaired quite easily. I will send Kingsley to the jewelers in London on Monday. It will be repaired in time for the wedding, have no fear.” He glanced at Alexis and smiled. “Unless there is another one you prefer.”

  “No, no, that’s the one. Your mother’s tiara is perfect for me. Thank you, Sebastian.”

  “Then let us take it upstairs. You carry it, Claudia. Do you have the three diamonds that fell out?”

  “Yes, I do, Papa. Here in my hand. Not even damaged.”

  “You can’t damage a diamond,” Sebastian answered.

  Reginald said, “I’d better bring the red leather box in which it is normally kept.” He went to the table, picked up the box, and followed the others out of the tiara vault. Turning off the light and closing the door after him, he was relieved to move out of the icy cellars.

  * * *

  That evening Sebastian sparkled at the dinner table. He was amusing, witty, and kept the conversation flowing. The men looked handsome in their dinner suits and the women beautiful in their elegant gowns and jewels. No one made mention of the broken tiara, and Sebastian had put it out of his mind. He had dismissed it as an unfortunate accident.

  Much to his relief, he had warmed up after a hot bath and an hour in front of the fire in his bedroom. Although Alexis had fussed about his feeling cold, she had blamed this on the vaults. She had no idea he had pleurisy. Only Reggie knew that and he was sworn to secrecy.

  It pleased him that his other two daughters, Lavinia and Marietta, were so friendly with Alexis and excited about being bridesmaids once again. His sister, Thea, was also being charming to his future wife. And why not? Alexis was an exceptional young woman.

  Alexis sat facing him tonight at the table, because it no longer mattered if they gazed at each other constantly. After all, they would be joined in wedlock in two weeks. Man and wife. After their honeymoon in Paris, they would be starting a new life together. And a family. He was happy, a contented man. He felt well, in good health. The cough had vanished and so had the frequent pain in his rib cage.

  All’s well that ends well, he thought as he fell asleep that night, his arms wrapped around Alexis, the greatest love of his life.

  * * *

  Jane and Reginald were walking toward the terrace when they saw Sebastian sitting there, obviously waiting for them. It was almost time for lunch. It was Tuesday, September 18, and they were staying for another day at Courtland. Everyone else had left after the weekend.

  Raising her hand, waving, Jane cried, “Cooee!” and she and Reginald increased their pace.

  Sebastian stood up, smiling, and walked toward them. Unexpectedly he tripped and fell. He lay in a crumpled heap on the terrace when they reached him. Reginald was certain he was unconscious. A rush of fear filled him and his chest tightened.

  “Stay with him,” Reginald finally managed to say in a shaky voice. “I’m going to get Kingsley and one of the footmen to help me lift him.”

  Jane nodded, unable to speak, frightened by the pallor of Sebastian’s face, his stillness. He hardly seemed to be breathing. She bent over him, felt for a pulse on his wrist, and was thankful she found one.

  Within minutes, Reginald returned with the butler; Maxwell, Sebastian’s valet; and Peter, one of the young footmen. The four men carried Sebastian into the house and up to his bedroom. They placed him on the bed.

  Turning to Maxwell, Reginald said, “Please undress Mr. Trevalian and put on his nightclothes, and then get him into bed as best you can. Perhaps you should stay to help, Peter. I shall return in a few minutes.” He glanced at the butler. “Please come with me, Kingsley.”

  “Yes, sir,” the butler answered in a low, concerned voice. “What happened to Mr. Trevalian?” he asked as they went downstairs.

  “I’m not sure, Kingsley.” Reginald paused, then added, “I think he tripped and fell. I want you to go into Cirencester right away to see Dr. Sedgewick. Ask him to come here at once. Is Hamm available?”

  “No, your lordship. He’s gone to London to fetch Miss Malvern. If you remember, she went to London yesterday to pick up her trousseau and her wedding gown.”

  “I had forgotten for the moment. Then take another driver and go as fast as you can.”

  “Yes, sir, right away, your lordship.”

  Jane was waiting in the doorway of the library and hurried forward into the entrance hall when Reginald returned. “Has Sebastian gained consciousness yet?” she asked anxiously.

  “He hasn’t, but we had better go upstairs to be with him. I’ve sent Kingsley to Cirencester for the doctor.”

  “There’s something wrong with him, isn’t there?” Jane said, putting her hand on her husband’s arm, looking up into his grave face. “Something bad … Sebastian is ill, isn’t he?”

  Reginald nodded and suddenly tears filled his eyes. He swallowed them back, nodded again. “He has pleurisy. I’m the only one who knows, so keep that to yourself. I thought he was getting better, put perhaps he’s not, Jane.”

  Jane was stunned, and her face had gone sheet white. “Pleurisy always becomes pneumonia, Reggie, didn’t you know that? Sebastian must have pneumonia. I’m relieved you’ve sent for the doctor. Oh my God, that’s a deadly disease.”

  Reginald stared at her and silently led her upstairs.

  When they went into Sebastian’s bedroom, Reginald was relieved that Maxwell and Peter had obviously managed to undress him, get on a nightshirt, and put him properly into bed.

  Turning to the valet, Reginald said, “Thank you, and thanks to you too, Peter. I see you’ve managed to make him comfortable.”

  “We did our best, Lord Carpenter,” Maxwell said. “But he is still unconscious. His breathing is a bit more even, and he does have a stronger pulse now.”

  “That’s such a relief,” Jane interjected. “His pulse was very faint earlier, when he first tripped and fell on the terrace.”

  “I’ve sent Kingsley to fetch the doctor,” Reginald told them. “Now all we can do is wait and hope that Mr. Trevalian regains consciousness soon. In the meantime, Lady Jane and I will stay with him. I would appreciate it, Maxwell, if you would ask the housekeeper to send a pitcher of water and some glasses.”

  “I’ll go and speak to Mrs. Farsley straightaway, sir.”

  The two men left and Jane went to the bedside and looked down at Sebastian. She choked up. Tears were threateningly near the surface. Gently she moved a strand of his fair hair away from his forehead, then went and sat down on the sofa.

  She glanced around and saw that her husband was staring out of the window, and she knew that he was filled with grief.

  * * *

  Dr. Sedgewick arrived at Courtland an hour later. Considering the time it took to go to Cirencester and come back to Courtland, Jane and Reginald knew the doctor had left his practice immediately. He had understood it was an emergency.

  Once Reginald had explained how Sebastian had fallen and how they had managed to get him into the house and up to bed, there was an unexpected change in Sebastian.

  Dr. Sedgewick spotted it as he stood at the bedside. Sebastian moved an arm and then a leg, and slowly he came awake, blinking in the sunlight pouring into the room.

  “That is a huge relief,” the doctor said to the room at large.

  “What happened to me?” Sebastian asked in a low, hoarse voice, barely able to speak.

  “You fell outside on the terrace, Mr. Trevalian,” the doctor explained. “But I don’t believe anything is broken. And now I’m going to examine you. I want to see where we stand.”

  Jane and Reginald walked forward, toward the bed, so that Sebastian could see they were there in the room. Then they went to sit on the sofa together. They were both relieved to see Sebastian with his eyes
open. And hearing his voice had given them hope.

  * * *

  After a few seconds, Jane and Reginald slipped out of Sebastian’s bedroom and walked across the corridor to their suite. They left the door open in case Dr. Sedgewick needed them. Jane excused herself and went into the bathroom.

  Once alone, she stared at herself in the mirror and saw that she looked extremely pale and tense. After pinching her cheeks to bring color, she straightened her golden-blond hair, smoothed the sides, and settled the curls on top of her head. Unexpectedly, her large blue eyes filled, and she choked up again, but steadied herself, blinked the tears away. Reggie needed her, and certainly Sebastian did. But she was terribly afraid for him. Pneumonia was such a ghastly disease and always hard to beat.

  Taking a deep breath, straightening the collar of her dress, Jane pushed a smile onto her face and went to join her husband, feeling she looked a little neater, more put together.

  “Are you all right, Reg?” she asked, going up to him, putting an arm around him.

  He looked down at her, half smiled. “As long as I have you, I’m fine. I am worried about Sebastian, though, very worried, Jane. He’s been much better, so good on Saturday. That fall on the terrace startled me, shocked me actually.”

  At this moment there was a knock on the open door and when Reginald saw Dr. Sedgewick standing there he immediately beckoned him to come into the room, walking over to him, escorted him in.

  “What is the verdict, Doctor?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

  “It is pneumonia. Which is what I expected; it is usually preceded by pleurisy. As I explained last week, that’s an inflammation of the lining of the lungs covering the area of his pneumonia. It disappears as the pneumonia progresses. Mr. Trevalian has a temperature in excess of one hundred and three, at the moment. He has to be carefully watched.”

  “But he was so well on Saturday night, he didn’t cough, or seem to have any symptoms,” Reginald said, shaking his head, a puzzled expression on his face.

  The doctor nodded. “That sometimes happens if a great effort is made by the patient. It’s what I call mind over matter. Also, sometimes the symptoms of pneumonia are milder. A person can carry on without too much effort. That’s called ‘walking’ pneumonia, because the patient ‘walks’ through it until the symptoms get worse.”

  “Is that what Mr. Trevalian has? ‘Walking’ pneumonia?” Jane asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “Mr. Trevalian is seriously ill. I don’t think he tripped. I think he collapsed. Before I left Cirencester I asked Dr. Leith to join me here as soon as possible. I expect him shortly. I want another opinion, you see.”

  “I understand,” Reginald murmured, and looked across at Jane. “Perhaps we can offer Dr. Sedgewick a bite of lunch. Could you arrange that please, Jane?”

  She nodded. “I will go downstairs and speak to the housekeeper. I also want to find out what time Alexis is expected back from London with her gown and trousseau, and all she needs for her wedding.”

  * * *

  Alexis arrived at three o’clock, not long after Dr. Leith had come out to Courtland to consult with Dr. Sedgewick. It was Jane who greeted her in the entrance hall and swiftly led her into the library.

  Alexis instinctively knew there was something wrong immediately, and exclaimed, “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “I’m afraid Sebastian has been taken ill, Alexis. The doctors are with him now.”

  “Taken ill? But what with? What’s wrong with him?” Alexis had turned deathly white and her green eyes were filled with sudden fear. She began to shake inside.

  “It seems he didn’t feel well last week, before you and I arrived, so he went to see Dr. Sedgewick in Cirencester, who diagnosed him with pleurisy. The doctor gave him medicine, which controlled the cough, and also took a sample of the sputum for analysis. It’s become pneumonia.”

  Alexis was speechless. She just stood there gaping at Jane, and then she flew out of the library, across the hall, and up the stairs. She knew she had to get to Sebastian at once.

  Both doctors looked startled as she came rushing into the room. Taking control of herself, she slowed down, calmed her reeling senses, before going over to the bed, looking down at Sebastian.

  Recognizing Dr. Sedgewick, she asked, “How is he?”

  “Holding his own, resting, Miss Malvern.”

  Sebastian said in that same low, hoarse voice, “Alexis … are you here?”

  “Yes, I am, darling. Here to look after you.”

  Now he was staring up at her, his translucent gray eyes loving, fixed on her face.

  She sat down in the chair, took his hand in hers. “I will help you to get better, Sebastian, I promise.”

  A small smile flickered around his mouth and his eyes remained riveted on hers. He said softly, “I waited for you … wanted to see you again … my greatest love…” After a long moment gazing at her, he closed his eyes.

  Alexis remained sitting by the bedside, holding his hand, loving him so much, her heart full. When his hand went slack in hers, she sat up straighter. “Sebastian,” she said softly. “Sebastian, open your eyes, look at me.”

  When he did not respond she stared at the doctor, a frightened expression sliding onto her face.

  Dr. Sedgewick stepped up to the bed on the other side, took hold of Sebastian’s hand, felt his wrist, seeking a pulse.

  His gaze went to Alexis and he said in a gentle voice, “He’s gone. I’m so sorry, Miss Malvern. He’s passed away.”

  “No! No! That can’t be!” Alexis cried.

  But it was.

  Part Five

  THE WAY IT IS

  LONDON–PARIS

  1888–1889

  Forty-two

  “A great tragedy has occurred,” Matthew Falconer said in a low voice, looking intently at James. “Mr. Sebastian Trevalian, the fiancé of Miss Alexis Malvern, died suddenly about a week before their marriage, and she has become gravely ill.”

  James sat up straighter in the chair, a look of mingled surprise and sadness crossing his face. “When did this happen? Was it recently?”

  Matthew nodded. “In late September. Mr. Malvern recognized that Mr. Trevalian’s unexpected death had sent her into shock, and he took her to see several different doctors in London. But they realized they couldn’t do anything to help her.”

  Matthew looked across at his brother George, who was sitting with them at the big oak table in Matthew’s kitchen in Camden Town. “George, you know a bit about mental health doctors. So would you explain to James?”

  “I’ll be glad to,” George responded. “From what Mr. Malvern told your father, it seems Miss Alexis couldn’t function normally. She was in a state which is sometimes referred to as catatonic shock. It was Mr. Trevalian’s sister, Mrs. Dorothea Rayburn, who suggested that a doctor in Vienna should be consulted. She had read about him, heard good things about him. His name is Dr. Sigmund Freud. He specializes in nervous disorders, and he opened his first clinic in Vienna two years ago. Mrs. Rayburn accompanied Miss Alexis and Mr. Malvern to Vienna. Three weeks ago now.”

  “What a terrible thing to happen … Miss Alexis must be heartbroken, filled with sorrow. I feel so sad for her. And for Mr. Malvern.” Turning to his father, he asked, “Are they still in Vienna?”

  “Miss Alexis is, and Mrs. Rayburn stayed on to look after her. Mr. Malvern came back a few days ago and came to see me,” Matthew explained. “He wanted to know when you were returning to London permanently. I told him November thirtieth, and he seemed relieved. That’s what I think, anyway. He saw you at the Malvern Market in May and was very impressed. To get to the point, James, he wants you to go and see him. On Monday morning. At his offices in Piccadilly. He’s going to offer you a job. He actually said he needs you to fill the gap that Miss Alexis’s absence has created.”

  James was rendered speechless for a moment and sat gaping at his father, taken by surprise. “I can’t believe it!”

  “
You must. It’s true. ’Course, I’ve been singing your praises for months on end, hinting you’d like to work for him. As you well know, he’s always been interested in us as a family, impressed by the way I’ve run the stalls, made them successful. So, my lad, you’ve got a job and it’s up to you to seize the moment, make it a big job.”

  “I will, Father. It’s always been my dream to work for Mr. Malvern at his Piccadilly office. What a great opportunity this is, you’re right about that.”

  George said, “As you know, after you and I had looked at those three flats when you were here in May, I took the one in Half Moon Street. Because it was the largest of the three and the most convenient. Close to Piccadilly, certainly good for me, and obviously now for you. I’ve discovered I can shoot right down to Fleet Street in no time at all. Your room is ready and waiting for you, James.”

  James seemed startled, glanced at his father. “You’ve agreed I can live with Uncle George?”

  “I have, and your mother too. We want to give you every opportunity to make good, son. And it’s much easier than traveling to Piccadilly every day from Camden Town.”

  “Your grandmother has had your room ready for weeks,” George informed him. “All you have to do is move in.”

  Matthew quickly cut in, and said, “But we expect you to spend Saturday and Sunday at home with us, Jimmy. We’ve missed you, and so have Rossi and Eddie.”

  James began to laugh. “I only got back from Hull last night, and everything’s already planned out for me in the best way.”

  “Don’t expect that to happen too often,” George interjected, his voice serious. “Life has a way of coming up and hitting you in the gut most of the time. You can move in whenever you want, either tomorrow or on Sunday.”

  “Sunday might be best,” Matthew said. “Saturday is such a busy day at the market.”

  “I’ll come and help you on the stalls, Father.”

  “Not on your life, my lad! No more stalls for you. You’re on the rise, aiming high. And, anyway, if I let you do that your grandmother will have my guts for garters.”