“Oh, well then…” Henry stammered and handed the ticket seller the little money which was left from his savings and which he had not spent on wine. The ticket seller counted the coins which Henry had given him and handed them over to the freckled girl who put them into the little box on her lap.
“Two a.m., Sunday morning, Western Dock,” the ticket seller rattled on. “Be there an hour earlier. Fill in that form and then give it to Stella. Next!”
“Alright, thank you, Sir…” Henry answered in a daze.
I have just bought a ticket for America…
Not counting in the wait, the whole process of the actual purchase had taken him less than a minute, which, as he found, was ridiculous if one considered that it would take him twelve days to cross the huge Atlantic in order to get to a destination that was 3,500 miles far from where he was now.
“Sir, would you please make room for the other folks behind you!” Henry felt somebodyʼs elbow in his ribs as the others behind him tried to get past him. His heart was still beating fast when he walked over to the other end of the room and filled out the form, which required an awful lot of personal details about himself. After having done so, he handed it to Stella, the girl with the freckles, then he turned around and left, nervously holding on to the little green slip in his hands.
A tiny green slip which would change his life forever.
* * *
Oscar knocked at the door to the library.
“Come in!” he heard his sister call. Upon entering, he saw that she was sitting at the window, doing her embroidery.
“Good morning, Priscilla,” Oscar said, carefully closing the door behind him. He could sense that his sister was grumpy. He knew it by the way she frowned, the way she pinched her lips. He had hoped to find her in a better mood, which would have made it easier for him to talk to her about Sarah. But then again, he knew very well that that topic was better to be avoided in general, no matter if Priscilla Partridge was having a good day or not.
“How are you feeling today?” Oscar walked over to her, faking a merry smile which she ignored.
“What do you reckon, Oscar?” she mumbled. “Little Madame ʻI-want-it-my-wayʼ is still not eating. Whatever I shove into her comes up again shortly afterwards. I am beginning to feel like a stupid nurse. But trust me, I am not going to continue force-feeding her.”
Oscar sat down on one of the chairs next to his sister, a pensive look on his face.
“I am quite certain that her behavior can not be put down to her being stubborn and wanting her way. And I do not believe that it has anything to do with the fact that she is pregnant either.”
“Well, put it down to whatever you like. If you ask me, she is just playing her usual game again. Not that I truly expect anything else from her, but I must say I am still surprised at how imaginative she is. And this time she is really taking it to the extremes.”
“Priscilla, this is not a game anymore that she is playing. I strongly believe that this is a disorder. Do not tell me that you canʼt see her suffering.”
“Suffering...” Lady Partridge scoffed. “Has anyone ever asked me if I was suffering? As for Sarah, she already stopped eating after that wedding and the move out onto Damianʼs estate in Wiltshire. And you surely do agree with me that back then it was pure rebellion.”
“I do indeed agree with you, Priscilla,” Oscar answered, becoming slightly impatient in the face of his sisterʼs unwillingness to understand his point of view. “It was her way of protesting. But as for the current situation, I do not think anymore that it is her intention to rebel against anything. In fact, I believe that she has long ago given up on the idea that rebelling will change the situation she is finding herself in. In my opinion, that initial hunger strike of hers has developed into an eating disorder without her consciously wanting it. Contrary to the previous weeks where she at least ate tiny portions, she is now unable to eat anything at all, even if she wants to. And you must admit that all of this has only become that alarming ever since last week when Damian and Horatio confronted her with the news that she is forced to move with Damian to India in January.”
“So what do you expect me to do, Oscar?”
An indifferent expression on her face, Lady Partridge held her embroidery frame up into the air and admired the work she had done so far.
“I want you to convince Damian to stay here with her—in England where she feels at home,” Oscar said.
Lady Partridge looked at her brother in puzzlement.
“What are you thinking? Everything has been arranged and is being prepared in this very moment that we are wasting talking nonsense which does not serve anyone. They are going to leave in eight weeks, and from then on she will lead a life like a princess: She will reside in a palace with a staff of thirty people at her hand, the sun will shine day in day out, and hordes of elephants will pass by her bedroom window to distract her, just in case she occasionally feels bored with her magnificent existence as the wife of Damian Cox, which does not require her to lift a single finger. Everybody else would envy her for having a life like that.”
Oscarʼs forehead crinkled in concern. Not that he had seriously expected his sister to show any sympathy for Sarah. Considering her obvious dislike towards her, he knew that it had in fact been more than gracious and generous of her to allow Sarah to move back from Wiltshire to Partridge Mansion during the time that Damian was not at home, which was quite often the case and which also was the case right now.
And bringing her back had been more than necessary indeed. After all, the chambermaid and the butler in Wiltshire had been completely overtaxed with the task to control Sarahʼs food intake. Oscar had gone and checked upon her every so often but soon had found that she in fact needed daily supervision, which was impossible for him to do with his doctorʼs office in Oxford town. He had not managed to pull through his idea of setting up another doctorʼs office in the town near Damianʼs estate, because there already were two doctors. He would not have been able to make a living at all. It was easier for him to regularly see her now that she was temporarily back in Partridge Mansion. He knew, though, that if she really went to India, he would see her once a year at best; a fact that utterly terrified him.
“Priscilla, please, listen to me,” Oscar said in a softer, beseeching tone. “Is there really no other way? Sarah clearly does not want to go to India with Damian. And she needs me around...”
“Just because you are not at her side surely does not mean that she will not survive,” Lady Partridge explained sourly. “They have many educated practitioners in India as well, who speak perfect English. Why are you of that silly conviction that she might need you in particular?”
Oscar could hardly hold back his anger anymore as his sisterʼs indifference almost drove him insane.
“Because she confides in me,” he retorted. “After all, I seem to be the only remaining family member who cares for her. As for you, you have just treated her like dirt ever since the day she set foot in this house eleven years ago!”
“Is it any wonder? That terrible child and her mother Melissa, that wanton hussy of a woman, have brought nothing but misery and shame over us...”
Oscar jumped up from his chair and slammed his hand on the table. His eyes twinkled furiously as he was staring at his sister.
“Donʼt you dare to talk like that about Melissa!” he hissed. “I really wonder what has got into you?! It almost feels like that marriage between Sarah and Damian, this stupid fool, has completely got to your head!”
Lady Partridge raised an eyebrow.
Oscar bit his lip. He knew that he should not have blurted out his opinions about Damian so bluntly, but his anger simply had got the better of him.
“Well, why should I not be glad?” Lady Partridge replied calmly. “That horrible burden of pretending to be Sarahʼs mother is finally taken off me. And maybe, if I am really lucky, this aspect plus that business deal will even make my husband so happy that it will keep him from lettin
g out his frustration on me and from seeking his adventures with the staff.”
Oscar let out a sigh. He was quite aware of his sisterʼs problems in her marriage. Not that this would have made him forget her meanness, but at least he had always felt sympathy for her in this regard.
“I am quite aware of your bitterness, Priscilla,” he said. “But you can have a wonderful life too. If you feel not happy at all, why donʼt you—”
“Why donʼt I do what?” Lady Partridge retorted. “Leave Horatio? Move out and into a house in London where I would be unable to take a single step without everyone elseʼs attention on me, without everyone wondering why that marriage with Horatio did not work out? Even the papers would surely gossip about it and draw their distorted conclusions, making me look as if I was to blame. After all, it can hardly be possible that the Lord Partridge, the famous factory owner, is at the cause of all the troubles, can it? Nobody will ever question Horatioʼs inviolability. Apart from that, a woman is nothing without a husband at her side; even if that husband has proved to let her down.”
“I rather believe that you are afraid to lose the comfort this life in the mansion offers you, and that this is the sole reason that is keeping you from leaving,” Oscar said.
Lady Partridge got furious.
“You know, Oscar,” she shouted, “you gradually begin to get on my nerves! I do not need you to analyse my life. And I can not bear your concern about Sarah anymore and how you permanently act in her interest. I ask myself if you have ever come to see me because of my headaches, or if it was merely because you wanted to check upon her because deep inside you care for her more than for anyone else!”
“Priscilla, you are my sister!” Oscar exclaimed and meant it when he added, “Of course, I also came because of you!”
“I must say that I am having more and more difficulties to believe you, Oscar. Or do you really think that I have not noticed how your mood has changed ever since Mr. Abbott—who strangely enough was such a very good friend of yours—has gone. I am starting to wonder if and up to what degree you were aware of what was going on between him and Sarah.”
Oscar laughed out loudly and shook his head in disbelief, trying to downplay the truth.
“You are imagining things, dear sister! But I am telling you that if Sarah does go to India, I will join her. I am not going to let her alone.”
“There we go,” Lady Partridge muttered spitefully. “Just as I said—you care more for her than for me. You always have. But I honestly do not hold it against you. You are a weakling and prone to succumb to the charms of any woman that comes your way, even if that woman is part of the family. As for you going to India, I am quite certain that neither Damian nor my husband will want you to be around. They will surely share my point of view that you would have a rather negative influence on Sarah, especially when I tell them about this little chat we are having right now.”
Oscar shot his sister an incredulous glance.
“You can not forbid me to see Sarah...!”
“Oh, can I not?” Lady Partridge purred. “Well, you are free to go and see her one last time and give her something that will make her rise from the dead so that she finally finds her way out of bed. After all, she has to appear at least somewhat presentable that following weekend when Damian will take her with him to London. He has received an invitation for dinner by Marshall Longbottom. Everybody who plays an important and influential role in High Society will be there. This invitation is quite an honor, even for him, and we all do not want Sarah to faint there or make a bad impression in any other way. Once you have seen her, though, I must tell you that from then on another doctor will look after her – preferably someone who will maybe finally cure her from her compulsive desire to fool everyone around her.”
“I can not believe how cruel you are, Priscilla,” Oscar whispered, bewildered.
“I am not cruel, Oscar,” Lady Partridge answered. “Life is cruel. I am just trying to come to terms. And now please do go, I have by far other things to do than to waste my time dealing to you.”
“I can not believe what a terrible cold-hearted and egotistic woman you are, Priscilla!” Oscar shouted at her.
“And you are a liar, Oscar!” Lady Partridge retorted frostily. “I do not trust you anymore and I do not care to see you ever again!”
“I will join her when she goes to London with Damian!”
“You will not!”
“You can not stop me!”
“Roderick!! My brother wants to leave!”
Angrily, Oscar turned on his heel and walked out of the room before the butler could arrive and kick him out of the house. Lady Partridge did not make any effort to stop him.
Oscar slammed the door behind him and tried to calm himself down, as he was close to a panic attack. Then he weakly staggered upstairs to Sarahʼs room where he found her curled up in bed, sound asleep.
He walked over to her and carefully put his hand on her shoulder to wake her up.
“Sarah...” he whispered.
She stirred slightly, then she blinked at him with one eye.
“How are you feeling?” Oscar asked.
What a stupid question, he thought. It was obvious from her looks that she was in a terrible state. She was thin, her skin was ashen and pale, and her hair was brittle and had lost all its shine. And she was in the process of drowning out the world around her.
“Good that you are here. I have run out of pills, ” she mumbled and yawned. “Can you give me another pill? I need another pill...”
“No, Sarah,” Oscar whispered softly. “I told you that you are not supposed to take more than two every day. They are too strong. And you can not live on these tranquilizers alone. You must eat something...”
“But I can not sleep...”
“But you were just sleeping when I came in.”
“Was I...?”
She stretched her lazy limbs and nestled her head against the pillow again.
Oscar sat down on the edge of the bed, touched her hair and stroked it gently.
“Hmmm...” Sarah let out a moan of pleasure. “Henry...”
A little smile played around her lips.
With a sigh Oscar let his head sink into his hands.
Something needs to change... he thought despairingly. If only I knew what to do...
Once again, he felt guilty because he himself had brought Sarah into the mansion so many years ago.
But am I really to blame? he pondered. After all, I was certain that it would be the best for her and that it would help her get over her grief after the loss of her mother...
Despite the realization that back then he could not have foreseen the consequences of his decision, Oscar still felt that he was the root of Sarahʼs problems. He had brought her here, and—considering the turn her miserable life had taken—he felt that it was his duty to get her out of here again.
He was looking at Sarah pensively for another while, then he whispered, “I will come and see you again soon.”
But Sarah didnʼt answer as she had fallen back into her drowsiness again.
He kissed her on the temple, got up and heavy-heartedly left the room.
Outside, he climbed in the coach and let Angus bring him back to Oxford. Having arrived there, he entered his small two-storey brickstone house in Guildford Street where his house help, Holly Witherspoon, already awaited him, swinging a feather duster like sword on her ruthless mission to rid the house of vermin.
“Dr. Scott, would it be alright if I made roast beef again tonight? We still have some leftovers from yesterday, you know, Dr. Scott, and they need to be used up, Dr. Scott.”
Oscar wasnʼt hungry at all. The quarrel with his sister and the pitiful state of his niece had upset his stomach.
“The leftovers will be fine, Holly, thank you,” he mumbled absent-mindedly.
He went into his study, sat down at his table and pensively stared out of the window, watching the November sun momentarily hide behind a cloud
and then emerge again.
He was only sitting there for a little while when suddenly the doorbell rang. He was just about to get up, but then Holly called, “Itʼs alright, Dr. Scott! I will answer it, Dr. Scott!”
Thanks, Holly, I know my name by now...
With a sigh, Oscar let himself sink back in his leather chair. Soon, he heard muffled voices coming from the hall. Not expecting any patients, he didnʼt really care who it was as he had a headache and only desired to be left alone.
Then he heard Hollyʼs footsteps as she pattered to his study.
“Dr. Scott,” she said, peeping her head inside the room, “a telegram has just arrived for you, Dr. Scott.”
“Thank you, Holly,” he said.
“You are welcome, Dr. Scott.” Holly answered and handed him the paper.
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