All the blows that Armstrong had inflicted on him seemed nothing to compare with this.
“Is she in much pain?” he managed to say.
“It is bearable. It is early so it will not distress her too much physically. But of course –”
Giles nodded and attempted to stand up, but Carswell was obliged to come and assist him.
~
A while later, they were at last alone together. They both lay on their backs, side by side, holding hands. Holt had made up a tremendous fire which provided the only light in the room.
“Thank goodness for laudanum,” Emma said.
“Yes,” said Giles. “We should be in a sorry state without it.”
“Certainly,” she said. “And one can see why people are tempted to slip into its constant embrace.” She sighed.
“Rather than face things?”
“Yes.” Then after a moment, she added, “Why is that sort of courage the hardest to find?”
“Because it requires one to reflect rather than act,” Giles said. “Acting in a crisis – they call that courage, but it is really just doing what needs to be done at that moment, whereas this... this is like a brand upon one’s skin. The pain will not go away quickly.”
“I’m sorry,” said Emma. “I so wanted to give you –”
“There is nothing to blame yourself for. It was just one of those things that was not meant to be. In fact, I’m the one who should be apologising. I threw myself into a fight with that brute and now I am in no fit state to look after you properly.”
“Hush,” said Emma. “Please. And, although of course I cannot like it, I know that when it comes to such people, whatever has to be done must be done! Thank goodness he has been caught!”
Chapter Thirty-one
The snow made Felix’s journey back to Hawksby a slow one, and he was cold and wretched when he got home. He had considered staying in town. It would have been easy enough to contrive an excuse to stay in his room at the Infirmary – the weather was enough to allow that, but he knew that he ought to go back to the village, and look in on Mrs Truro, as well as Miss Martha at the Rectory. Both were disagreeable cases in their different ways, but they could not be neglected.
He arrived back a little before dinner, and decided he would eat first, for he was no use to anyone hungry. He ran up to dress and found Jacob in his dressing room laying out his things.
“Oh, I’m glad you are back at last, sir!” he said. “I’ve been hoping you would be soon. You see –” He broke off and then added, “Oh, I don’t know what to say!”
“What is it?”
“It’s madam,” he said, with a sniff. “She’s given me notice.”
“What? Mrs Carswell, you mean?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“She thinks I told Mr Jenks to let out that dirty animal from the stables, when all that happened was it ran away. But there is no telling her! No, her Ladyship tried and tried but madam will not hear of it. It is all my fault, and she told me I must go tomorrow, and that is an end of it.”
“What the devil?” said Felix.
“I didn’t think you would like it, sir,” said Jacob. “I’m sorry to have to tell you it, to be sure I am.”
“When did this happen?”
“This afternoon. I’m sure she did not mean it, sir. That is, I hope she did not mean it, sir.”
“You are perfectly safe, Jacob,” said Felix.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” said Jacob.
“But do not talk about this downstairs, will you?”
“I will try not to, sir,” said Jacob. “But it is pretty much all they are talking of. It was quite the scene when she found he had gone, I’m sorry to say.”
Felix dismissed him, and hurried into his clothes, and then went straight to Eleanor’s dressing room. She had already gone downstairs, and he found himself staring into the empty room, wishing for a moment that none of this had happened, and quite at a loss for how to deal with the matter. He was seething at her high-handed treatment of poor Jacob, but he knew at the same time she would be in misery at the loss of that silly animal and that it was grief that had made her lash out at him, in the same way that the animal itself had bitten Jacob in the first place. It would be foolish to get angry with her. It would do no good. Nothing at that moment would make her see straight about it.
He took a deep breath and went downstairs, and found the ladies in the library. Eleanor was pacing up and down holding her script, muttering her lines, while Lady Blanchfort was sitting staring into the fire, a book open on her lap. Seeing him, she smiled, and at the same time Eleanor threw down her script and came running up to him.
“Did you hear what happened?” she said, throwing herself against him. Her eyes were red with crying.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” he said, “but I suppose he just wanted to be out of captivity. Wild animals do not like to be caged.”
“Oh, you have been talking to that wretch Jacob!” she exclaimed, breaking free before he could embrace her.
“He is not a wretch and he had nothing to do with it! Nor did Jenks, for that matter. I am sure Nigel just got loose of his own accord. They would not have disobeyed you, Eleanor.”
“Felix is right,” said Lady Blanchfort, rising. “It is what I have said all along. It was nobody’s fault. It is just one of those things that we must accept.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“You must come and see,” she said to Felix, grabbing his arm. “Then you will know what I mean. It was quite deliberate.”
“Not now,” said Felix. “I would like my dinner! In fact, we should all go and eat, should we not? It will put you in a better frame of mind about all this, I’m sure. I know it is a loss, but –”
“He was let out, and Jacob was behind it!”
“That is not the case at all,” said Felix. “Now, please, Eleanor?”
“I shall send for Major Vernon. He will get to the bottom of this,” said Eleanor, going to a writing table and taking up a pen.
“You will do no such thing!” Felix said. “He is lying in bed with cracked ribs and poor Mrs Vernon has just miscarried. This is not the time to bother him with such nonsense.”
“Oh Heavens,” murmured Lady Blanchfort.
“It is not nonsense!” exclaimed Eleanor. “I’m sorry to hear that about Major and Mrs Vernon, but this is not nonsense. That scoundrel has as good as killed Nigel –”
“We will talk about it all later,” said Felix. “I have to make some calls after dinner and then, I promise I will go and look at the scene of this alleged crime. But first – please, please may I have my dinner?”
Eleanor stood with the pen in her hand looking as if she meant to stab him with it for a moment, before she laid it down.
“If you promise you will look into it properly?” she said.
“I swear it.”
Dinner was naturally rather awkward, with Eleanor pushing her food about her plate like a sullen child, while Felix and Lady Blanchfort did their best with conversation.
“I called at White Lodge this morning,” Lady Blanchfort said. “The baby is very pretty. Mrs Truro seemed in good spirits too.”
“Then I shall not have to stay too long there, I hope,” Felix said, who was rather dreading seeing Truro.
“We are to have the rehearsals here now, apparently,” said Eleanor. “So as not to disturb mother and child.”
“I thought it might help them,” said Lady Blanchfort.
Felix realised she had neatly solved the problem with Truro and Miss Fleming. He would be far less likely to be so indiscreet under a stranger’s roof, or at least Felix hoped this would be the case.
“It will certainly be better for you two not to have to stir from the house while the weather is like this,” said Felix. “Everyone seems to think it will last until Christmas.”
“That will be a great inconvenience to everyone,” said Lady Blanchfort, “however pretty it will be to have th
e churchyard all covered in white for morning service on Christmas Day.”
By the time they had finished dinner and Felix had set out on his calls, it had stopped snowing, but the temperature had dropped.
At White Lodge he found that Mrs Truro was indeed comfortable and the child was feeding well. She had experience and practicality on her side. She was happy and in love with her new baby.
“I dare say I shall be crying buckets tomorrow,” she said. “That is how it always is, but it passes soon enough.”
“You must tell someone if it does not pass,” he said.
She nodded and said, “You may be sure of it. I have seen that in other women. It’s a terrible curse. I’m glad you know about it. There are some doctors who don’t believe in such things – that it is all the woman’s fault for not wanting to be a mother that she finds herself wretchedly unhappy.”
“Is your husband happy?” Felix ventured.
“Oh yes. He loves the little ones, though he does worry about the expense of them all being grown up. He wants all the boys educated like gentlemen, of course.”
“Where is he?”
“Writing. Sometimes he writes all night, when he is happy. And he had a wonderful letter this morning from London – his new tale has been selling so well that they have had to print another five thousand copies. It will be on everyone’s parlour table this Christmas Day, I’m sure.”
Felix left her tranquilly nursing the child and set out again into the night.
At the Rectory he was given the usual surly, cautious welcome by the old servant Tabby. The Rector and his eldest daughter were absent and he was taken upstairs to Miss Martha’s room. He was very glad to find she was in bed, but it was a cheerless apartment, and half her narrow bed was occupied by her large dog. She was hunched over, the covers drawn up around her, and for a moment he was alarmed, but he soon saw it was because she was scribbling away in a tiny notebook. Seeing him, she tucked it under the covers.
“You have found me at my foolishness,” she said.
“Are you writing a novel?” he said.
“Oh goodness, no!” she said, and then added with a slightly sly smile, which surprised him, “well, perhaps I am. You will not tell anyone, will you, Mr Carswell?”
“No, of course not, if you wish it.”
“My father does not like it. My writing, that is.”
“I might agree with him if you over-exert yourself with it,” Felix said.
“No, no, I shall not,” she said. “I have things to do, you see, so I shall be careful.”
“I hope you will feel well enough to come and see us on Friday evening?”
“Oh, I should not miss it for the world, Mr Carswell,” she said. “Truly. It is pleasant to have something to look forward to.”
He could make no sense of her, but he was glad that she had yielded on that point.
He walked back to the house, grumbling to himself, remembering that he had promised to investigate the apparent mystery of Nigel’s escape. He wondered how cursorily he might go about this and whether Eleanor would be satisfied, only to turn into the grounds of the house and see her, lantern in hand, walking along the terrace. He ran over to her.
“I thought I could find him,” she said. “But he’s gone.”
“And he went because he wanted to. It wasn’t anything to do with Jacob,” he said as gently as he could, attempting to embrace her, but she resisted.
“Perhaps,” she said. “But why did he feel he had to go? I don’t understand it.”
Felix did not like to say that he had perhaps escaped only to go and die in secret, as was the way with animals sometimes.
“Because he knew he didn’t belong here,” said Felix. “And you should be glad, for he stayed true to himself. He found the will to get away.”
“You make it sound like I made a prison for him. I only wanted to help him.”
“Yes, yes, I know, but –” Now she accepted his embrace, indeed she pressed himself against him, and began to cry. “These things don’t always work out how we think they should. Let’s go in, shall we? It’s far too cold out here.”
She allowed him to usher her into the house, and they went straight upstairs together. There was a good fire going in their bedroom, and Felix sent Stevens to fetch a hot toddy for her. He sat the still disconsolate Eleanor in her chair by the fire and wrapped a blanket about her, before crouching down to rub some life back into her icy feet. As he did so, she gazed over at him, with her tear-stained face, and said, “You won’t leave me, Felix, will you?”
“No, of course not,” he said.
“Sometimes I think you will. Sometimes I think you already have. You are here and yet you are not.”
“What?” he said. “Oh, that’s not true. Never think that, please.” He took her hands and kissed them fervently, ashamed. He did feel removed from her.
“Why should you be any different from other men?” she said. “As I said the other night, my mother warned me not to expect fidelity. And if Mr Truro can –” She gave a small sigh. “I was being foolish about you taking a mistress. Perhaps I should not be. After all, nothing stays the same. And if, as you say, it’s true that we can never keep what we want, then –” She sighed again and pulled her hands away. “I think I’d rather be alone tonight, Felix,” she said, getting up from the chair and moving across the room. “And you must be tired. You’d be better sleeping in your dressing room, I think.”
There was something in her manner that chilled him. He had been dismissed, and he had no choice but to go.
Chapter Thirty-two
Felix went into Northminster early. He had a full day at the Infirmary in his appointment book. A scheme of Mr Harpers, it was a clinic for the poorest of the city, those who did not have the connections to access a ticket to the Infirmary in the ordinary way. Mostly they were part of that large and unsettled population who came into Northminster for the winter in hope of work and shelter, in which they often seemed to be sorely disappointed. It was sobering work and somewhat arduous. There were always a great many people and their troubles were never easily solved. Mrs Harper and some other ladies were often there to offer food and other practical comforts, as well as a little light proselytising, so delicately done that Felix, who usually disliked such things, could not be offended by it.
This duty fulfilled, he paid a brief visit to Rooke Court and was pleased to find that both his patients were obeying his prescriptions and resting in their bed, “as still as a pair of effigies on a tomb,” as Mrs Vernon described it. A brief examination showed that they were also both improving. However, Lady Maria was anxious about leaving them for the evening’s entertainment at Hawksby.
“It would feel as if I were abandoning you both,” she said.
“No, you must go, Maria,” said Mrs Vernon, “and take our pleasure for us. It will be a great comfort to know you are out enjoying yourself. The chance of a party at Hawksby cannot be thrown away so lightly!”
Felix wished he might have told them that the party was cancelled, perhaps that the weather had made it practically impossible or that his own house was struck down with illness. For that was how it felt – that he and Eleanor had succumbed to some unknown winter malady that made them wretched and unfit for company.
He arrived back at Hawksby in no mood for any sort of festivity.
As he came in, he found Lady Blanchfort in consultation with Littleboy. The hall was full of chairs that usually lived in the drawing room.
“What is going on?” he said.
“The mistress wants them all moved from the drawing room, sir,” Littleboy said. “To make more room for the games.”
“They had better all go in the library for now,” Lady Blanchfort said. “If Mr Carswell does not object?”
He shook his head and followed her into the drawing room.
“Games?” he said. “What kind of games?”
“I’m not sure. Eleanor has been busy with it.”
“And w
here did that come from?” Felix said, gesturing at the far wall which had been hung with a large tapestry. “Is that not from the dining room at Ardenthwaite?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Lady Blanchfort. “It came with the game this morning, as well as the other decorations. I had no idea she had such an elaborate scheme in mind. It is just as well we are not asked to wear fancy dress.”
“No, God forbid!” He glanced about him. “Games? What ever happened to drinking a cup of tea with one’s neighbours?”
At this moment Eleanor came in.
“Ah, you are back!” she said. “Does that not look splendid? And the candlesticks?”
“Yes, it’s all extremely medieval,” he ventured.
“It is for Truro’s reading,” she said. “He is going to read us the first five chapters of his new novel. And before that, we are going to play some old English games. I have been reading the most delightful book on the subject.”
“Old English games?” Felix said.
“Forfeits and so on,” Eleanor said.
“Ritual humiliation, you mean,” Felix said. “That is the usual end of such things.”
“No, of course not. It will be amusing.”
“To whom?” said Felix. “I think you will find people unwilling to join you.”
“Nonsense. You are the only spoilsport. Now I must go and see about the punch.”
“Eleanor, I wish you would reconsider that,” Lady Blanchfort.
Halfway to the door, Eleanor stopped and turned about.
“And what is wrong with punch, pray?” Lady Blanchfort was about to answer, but Eleanor put up her hands to silence her. “No, no, I will not listen to your arguments, Mama. It is a fine and festive thing! I do not care if you think it vulgar – I do not.”
She left, and Lady Blanchfort said, as if she were still there, “It is not that I think it is vulgar – it is just –” She broke off. “I’m sure all will be well. I am being an old fool and I’m not much in the mood for company.”
“Nor I,” said Felix, thinking that she did not look the least bit old. She had recently put off black and was that afternoon dressed in a soft shade of lavender, with a broad embroidered lace collar. Standing in the middle of that nearly empty drawing room, her discreet yet powerful womanliness struck him. She was a woman who ought to be cherished by a man who truly appreciated her, and a part of him wanted to take her hand and kiss it.
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