“I’ll see to it, sir, thank you,” the footman said, lifting Jenny into the carriage with practiced ease.
Lady Catherine climbed in after her. The footman was already hurrying away with the chair, presumably to another conveyance, so that he could be at Arden House right behind Jenny’s carriage.
“You will tell Mama where I am?” Philippa said to Nicholas as he offered his hand to help her into the carriage.
“Of course,” he said, and kissed her cheek.
“Thank you, Major Ware,” Jenny said, looking out at him. “And thank you, Pippa.”
“One is never quite prepared, is one?” Lady Catherine said, clasping her niece’s hand as Philippa took her seat opposite them and the door closed mere moments before the carriage lurched into motion.
Chapter Eighteen
Philippa felt very awkward about intruding upon a family in crisis, even though it was the Duke of Wilby himself who had asked her to come. However, it was soon obvious to her that Jenny really did need her. Her footman carried first her chair and then Jenny herself up to the bedchamber floor so that she could sit in the private sitting room next to her bedchamber and be close to her grandparents if there should be any sudden need of her presence. She was not forgotten in the meanwhile. Various members of the family came in at frequent intervals, including Viscount and Viscountess Mayberry, who had been fetched from wherever they had been spending the evening. But no one stayed for long—except Philippa.
“One always understands,” Jenny said after she had tried and failed to drink a cup of tea, “that elderly grandparents are going to die sometime, as indeed we all are. But then suddenly one is confronted with the reality of it and realizes one is not prepared at all. It has been obvious to us all since he came to London thatGrandpapa is in failing health. But I suppose we have not been ready to admit it.”
Philippa thought of Grandmama and Grandpapa Greenfield. And of Grandmama Ware. She had no clear memory of her paternal grandfather. But oh dear. At times like this it was so easy to sink deep into gloom, to believe that life was nothing but one loss and disaster upon another.
“His Grace is comfortable now in his own bed,” she said. “Your brother-in-law told us so a few minutes ago. He has even revived sufficiently to talk. And his physician is with him. Lady Catherine said your grandparents have known and trusted him for years.”
“Dr.Arnold. Grandpapa summons him all the way from here to Greystone twice each year,” Jenny said. “And then he does not believe a word the man says. Or he pretends not to.” She smiled before her face crumpled and she set the back of one hand over her mouth and shut her eyes for a few moments. “It is so difficult, Pippa, to imagine a world without that giant...presence.To imagine my life without it—withouthim.Poor Grandmama.”
Philippa remembered that she had been teasing the duke about dancing a jig with her as the heart seizure caught him. She patted her friend’s hand. The door opened and Lady Mayberry came in, followed by Sir Gerald Emmett.
“The doctor has left,” Lady Mayberry said, “though we are to summon him back here if there should be any change. He has given Grandpapa some medicine and says his condition is stable for now. The medicine should help him sleep.”
“O-o-oh,” Jenny said. “Does he still look as bad as he did outside Almack’s, Gerald? I really thought he was going to d-d-die before he even got home. And Aunt Kitty was so insistent that he ought not to be moved.”
“He looks much the same,” Sir Gerald said. “But his breathing is easier now and he has stopped plucking at his clothing and at the bedcovers.”
“May I see him?” Jenny asked. “Grandmama and Aunt Kitty are still with him?”
“And Luc,” her sister said. “Gerald will push your chair in there, Jen. I do not believe you will disturb him.”
She ought to leave now, Philippa thought. But how? She could not simply exit the house and walk home alone at this time of the night. Sir Gerald was behind Jenny’s chair. Before he could move it, however, and before Philippa could feel the awkwardness of her situation even more, the door opened again to admit Lady Catherine and the viscount. The small room was getting crowded.
“Grandpapa is asleep, Sylvester?” his wife asked.
“Not quite yet,” her aunt replied. “He is as stubborn as ever, Charlotte. Pippa, he wants a word with you.Willyou oblige him? It was extraordinarily kind of you to come here at all when the burden of our family grief ought to be none of your concern.”
Five pairs of eyes fixed themselves upon her.
“I will go,” Philippa said, getting to her feet. “I will stay just a moment.”
Lady Catherine took her to her father’s room but did not go inside with her. The butler opened the door, murmured, “Lady Philippa Ware, Your Grace,” and stood aside for her to enter.
The room was dimly lit with one lamp on a table beside the head of the four-poster bed and another in a corner to the right of the door, where a servant, probably the duke’s valet, stood beside a table upon which Philippa could see bottles and small boxes and a glass and spoons. The Duke of Wilby was lying in the bed, his head and shoulders propped up on a bank of pillows, one arm flung outto the side. The duchess, still dressed as she had been at Almack’s, sat on a chair beside the bed, holding his hand. There was no one else in the room.
“This is very good of you, my dear,” the duchess said, beckoning Philippa closer. “He will not sleep until he has spoken to you.”
“I am happy to have been able to give my company to Jenny, Your Grace,” Philippa said softly as she moved up beside the duchess. The duke was lying with closed eyes. If it had not been for the gray hair and bushy eyebrows, it might have been difficult to see him. His complexion in the dim light almost matched the white pillows. He looked small, somewhat diminished, though his eyes were keen enough when he opened them and fixed them upon her.
“Just one question, Lady Philippa,” he said, his voice quiet but firm enough.
“Yes, Your Grace?” She leaned closer.
“Do you love him?” he asked, and his eyes did not waver from hers.
