With the physician and the accountant taken care of, and her dear friends handling the new instructions for the staff, Ophelia finally climbed the stairs to her father’s room. When she opened his door she found him settled into his bed, just as pale as before. He appeared so small in his large, ornate bed, and the sight renewed her earlier distress.
“I forgot the accountant was coming,” she said in way of apology as she came in, “Worry not, though, that is all settled.”
“Ollie girl,” John said.
“Mr. Grimes also gave me a list of medicines for you that will help,” she pushed on, busying herself plumping his pillows, “Mr. Potter has sent a maid to fetch them. They should be here forthwith.”
“Ollie…” John said, his eyes following her as she fussed about his nightstand.
“Theo and Amelia are speaking with the staff,” she pressed on, “I regret to say that there will be no more red meat you, Papa. Or spirits or smoking. Take heart, though, that lack of such will actually help our pocket book. I should believe that vegetables are much less expensive than cuts of meat.”
“Ophelia!” John said in an insistent tone, then coughed hard.
“Papa!” Ophelia scolded, flying to his side, “No yelling and no stress!”
“I’m sorry, my darling,” John wheezed.
She poured him a glass of water and he took it, drinking in half of it one long swig.
“I just needed you to stop for a moment,” he went on, handing the glass back to her, “I need to speak with you about something important.”
Though Ophelia’s nerves screamed at her not to sit down or stop fussing, she sat on the side of her father’s bed, and let him take her hand. John’s face smoothed into relief as she finally did so, and he settled back into his pillows.
“Now, darling, you know I have always loved you for who you are,” John began.
Ophelia shook her head, already knowing where he was going, but when she tried to pull her hand away he held it fast.
“Papa, no-”
“Itistime, my Ollie girl,” John pushed forward, “You need a husband. I wish I would have left you something better but we are where we are.”
“I need no such thing!” She insisted, “I have received steady work. I shall be getting our debts cleared soon, I promise-”
“My current debts, possibly,” John agreed, cutting her off. “But what of the future? The upkeep of this house alone is a small fortune. Not to mention the country house.”
“Then I shall sell this house and move permanently to the country,” she quickly replied, her heart starting to race. “I am certain the funds from such would pay off any debts remaining and leave me with a nice little egg to live on.”
“For a while,” John agreed, “But not forever. And darling, that would only be allowed to happen if the Crown does not find a next male heir, which you and I both know that they would. Your uncle Curtis has three sons. His oldest, Bartholemew, will most likely be given ownership.”
Ophelia grit her teeth, hating that she knew what he said was true, and there was nothing she could do about it.
His voice trembled with regret as his eyes grew misty. Ophelia was not a woman that shed tears often, but seeing her father like this had her blinking back her own tears, and she had to look away.
“It is too late,” she whispered, hoping one last time to dissuade her father, “This season is over. I am now considered an old maid. Even if I wanted to, no one would marry me now.”
“You need to try, dearest,” John said softly. He tugged at her hand, and she looked back down at him. His eyes were begging her to listen, and the look of such was breaking her heart.
“I do not wish poverty for you. Whether it be now or later in life. A good marriage is the only way to ensure that does not happen.”
He patted her hand, a small smile spreading across his face.
“I do not mean a marriage in the future, either. I mean right now. It may be selfish of me but I would like to see you wedded before I go. It will help my soul rest easier.”
“Do not talk like that,” Ophelia whispered, “Mr. Grimes said a lifestyle change could ease your ailment.”
“Ease” John agreed with the nod of his head, “But not cure. The sand of my hour glass is running out, my darling Ollie girl. And Ineedto know that you are taken care of before it does. Please. Do this. For me.”
Ophelia’s breath started to quicken. The world she’d had the freedom to build around her suddenly feeling very small as she realized that the truth of her future reality could not be changed. She had fought so hard- resisted society for nearly all of her life- and it was about to amount to nothing. The lump in her throat appeared fast, and it took her several moments to successfully swallow around it.
