“She’s no better?” Henri asked, holding Esmée’s gaze.
She reached for his hand. How like him to deflect this serious business and ask about someone else. “She keeps to her rooms by day and Quinn’s study by night. I’ve instructed the servants to serve her no more spirits other than medicinal tonics. She’s as yet unable or unwilling to dine with us.”
Sympathy shone in his eyes. Grief was a hard season, singular and unpredictable.
A slight commotion in the foyer drew Esmée’s eye. When the butler announced Nathaniel Autrey, Henri got to his feet. The men embraced, emotion on both their weathered faces.
“Pardon the interruption, but I wanted to see the captain.” Nathaniel took a near chair. “And inquire about Lady Drysdale.”
Tears came to Esmée’s eyes. Henri had few friends on land, away as he’d been. Quinn had been one of them, and now Nathaniel remained. Ned, Henri called him. His steadfast friend. “You’re a most welcome interruption,” she said.
“I second that.” Henri leaned back in his chair, his reflective mood of moments before shifting. “Stay on for supper, at least.”
The parlor air was laden with the smell of roast beef, and through the open door Esmée saw a maid setting the dining room table. Ned and Henri fell into conversation with her father while she excused herself and went upstairs to Eliza’s bedchamber.
Not wanting to wake her sister, Esmée cracked open the door. Eliza sat before her dressing table, combing her waist-length hair. Freshly washed, it pillowed about her slim shoulders as it dried, the candlelight calling out every russet highlight.
Esmée entered, shutting the door behind her. “Nathaniel Autrey is here. I thought you might want to see him.”
“Chaplain Autrey?”
“He’s staying for supper. I hoped you would join us.”
Setting her brush aside, Eliza leaned nearer the looking glass. Pots of powder and rouge lay open as if she’d been about to cover her scars. With a shudder, she turned away from her reflection and looked at Esmée seated next to her. “I have no heart for it.”
“Please.” Esmée was rarely so entreating where Eliza was concerned. “It might well be the last time we are all together.”
Eliza’s gaze sharpened. “Because Henri might be transported to England, you mean.”
Esmée nodded, her whole world upside down. “There’s Father besides. He’s aged so much of late. Quinn’s death has taught me we must never take each other for granted. Ever.”
“A lesson I learned too late.” Frowning, Eliza reached for someHungary water to rub on her temples. “Betimes I think these headaches will crack my skull.”
Esmée breathed in the rosemary-mint scent. “The physic will be here tomorrow.”
“Why? No physic has the remedy for what ails me.”
Esmée’s gaze traveled from the rumpled bed to the bedside table, where a book lay open. A Bible. The one Ned had given her?
“I am missing my wee daughter.”
Eliza’s surprising admission returned Esmée’s attention to her. How could she not miss her own flesh and blood? Yet not once had she mentioned Ruenna since they’d returned to Williamsburg.
“If I am seldom around her, she’ll never think of me as her mother. I want Father to bring her to me as soon as it’s safe to do so. Besides, I’ve been reading the papers.” She gestured to the copies of theVirginia Gazettelittering the plank floor. “The pox seems to be abating, according to the medical men. Alice must return too.”
“Of course. Father and I would be overjoyed.” A glimmer of light broke through the darkness. Esmée smiled, her first in days. “I’m sure Ruenna will be much changed even in the short time you’ve been apart.”
“No doubt.” Eliza picked at a stray thread on her sultana. “For now, I want you to give serious thought to living here with me if the worst happens.”
The worst?Esmée’s mind raced. Henri transported, hanged from the gallows, or perhaps drawn and quartered. A wave of nausea washed through her.
With a grimace, Eliza focused on a window that overlooked Palace Green. “I suppose the matter is to be decided day after tomorrow.”
Esmée nodded. “Despite your gracious invitation, I cannot stay on here in Williamsburg. If Henri is to be transported, I will go with him to England.”
Eliza turned back to her. Something rare passed over her sister’s ravaged features. Fear. But instead of mounting a protest, Eliza seemed to withdraw once again, the pain in her head reflected in her glassyeyes. “Please give my regards to the company. I cannot possibly endure supper.”
Heartsick, Esmée stood and leaned in, kissing her sister’s once smooth cheek.
