‘Don’t change, Effy,’ he whispered between breaths. ‘Don’t letthem. . . change you.’
‘Who?’ she asked, puzzled, but he did not answer. He had fallen asleep, exhausted from the effort of speaking. Her precious time with him had come to an end.
* * *
Evelyn had just returned from a morning walk with her governess when an unearthly wail echoed down the stairs and greeted her in the hall. Evelyn exchanged an anxious look with Miss Brown. She had hoped to visit Nicholas again, but the strange noise upstairs sounded as if a wild animal was loose somewhere in the house and in great distress.
Her governess took her firmly by the hand. ‘Straight to the nursery, Evelyn. We must not disturb your mother.’
Evelyn resisted Miss Brown’s hold and did not move. ‘Do you think that is Mother?’ It didn’t sound like her. It was too guttural, too animalistic — unless something terrible had happened.
Evelyn tugged her hand away. ‘Nicholas!’ Miss Brown reached for her arm to prevent her from leaving, but Evelyn broke away. ‘I must see him!’
She left Miss Brown behind as she ran up the stairs and along the corridor to Nicholas’s room. Three sombre servants stood outside his door and were unable to meet her gaze. It was as if fate was playing a cruel trick, replaying the day he had fallen ill. If it was true, she would see her parents standing by her brother’s bedside, watching him sleep, just like before.
The door was open and she cautiously approached. The scene was similar, but not the same. How she wished it had been the same. Her mother lay across Nicholas, her body heaving with each sob, her hands clawing the bed linen on either side. Her father was trying to console her, but was ill-equipped to do so. In desperation, he ordered the nurse, her maid and Miss Brown, who had just arrived, to escort his wife to her room.
Evelyn stepped aside as Lady Pendragon was walked, half carried, from the room, on legs that threatened to crumple beneath her like paper. Her cries, which were no longer muffled by her son’s body, pierced the air and echoed around them.
Her father followed them, walking like a drunkard, reaching for furniture and door frame, as if for support. The room fell quiet, but for the ghostly whistle of the oil lamp by the side of her brother’s bed. Evelyn stepped inside and silently shut the door behind her.
Nicholas appeared asleep, but for his chest failing to rise and fall. Evelyn quietly approached and sat down beside him in her mother’s vacant chair. She waited for his translucent eyelids to open and for him to smile at her. She swallowed down the rising lump in her throat when they didn’t.
‘I’ve brought you something,’ she said, gently withdrawing a kitten from her fur muff. The kitten yawned and stretched in her hand as she placed it on the bed beside him. She looked up, expectantly, with a fragile smile on her lips. Nicholas did not turn his head to look. Evelyn returned her gaze to the kitten, her smile fading as quickly as it had come.
‘I told Miss Brown you would like to see them, so we fetched one for you. Here, let me help you hold it.’ She lifted her brother’s fingers, so they might curl in rest around the kitten. ‘Can you feel how soft his fur is, Nicky?’ Tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to turn everything into a blur. Stubbornly she wiped them away and continued on.
‘Isn’t he sweet?’ She heard her voice crack with emotion in a way she had never heard it do before. The unfamiliar sound made everything more real and frightened her. She cleared her throat and braced herself. ‘I will call this one Nicky, because he is the laziest,’ she said decisively. Her brother did not laugh at her teasing, not even a smile.
Tears threatened to rise up again. She stared at the kitten and attempted to swallow their saltiness down. The kitten stretched out a soft claw beneath his frail hand and, momentarily, snagged on her brother’s skin. His fingers blurredbefore her eyes for he had not moved at all. He was indeed dead and she realised she would never laugh with him again.
Chapter Seven
Evelyn did not have to adopt full mourning. Given her young age, half mourning for a six-month duration would suffice. Within days of Nicholas’s death, her clothes, including her new burgundy coat, were replaced with greys and mauves trimmed in black. They would be a constant reminder of her bereavement, not that she needed it.
On the day of his funeral, Evelyn stood at her window and watched the people gather on the drive below. Although united in grief, her parents had spent the week disagreeing about the finer details of their son’s funeral. For several days the house reverberated with their arguments, as minor details took on a greater significance and shielded them from facing their true loss.
Her mother wanted Nicholas to be buried as befitting a child and to adopt the growing preference for less extravagant affairs. Sir Robert, on the other hand, wanted him to be buried with all the pomp and ceremony an adult would expect in years gone by in order to reflect his position as the heir of Carrack Estate. ‘Had he not been in training for the position?’ he had argued. ‘Did the tenants and workers not respect him as such?’ Evelyn could now see, as she watched the procession assemble below her, that they had come to a compromise.
Four black horses were harnessed to a hearse. They waited quietly, an occasional nod of their heads the only sign of their impatience. Through its glass windows, Evelyn could see Nicholas’s shiny, black coffin, adorned with gold mouldings and surrounded by flowers. Two gowned mutes, four pages, two coachmen and a single feather-man were to accompany it. They waited, poised for the occasion, holding their truncheons, wands and top hats tied with black silk. A further three coaches, hiredfor the extended family mourners, waited to follow, their blinds pulled shut to offer the occupants sitting inside some privacy.
Her father had indeed spared no expense for the burial of his son, but no spectator would be in doubt that the heir had been taken too soon, for the horses wore white ostrich plumes, instead of black, indicating to all who saw the procession that behind the glass window, they carried a child.
Her mother had planned to attend the service, although not the burial. The interment, Miss Brown had told Evelyn, was thought too distressing for women and therefore attended only by men. However, on the day of Nicholas’s funeral, her mother went to her bed, exhausted in both mind and body and feeling unequal to the task of attending the service itself.
Evelyn was not invited. Being afflicted with both the female gender and lack of years, she was considered deficient in both self-control and the ability to comprehend the gravity of the situation. ‘One could not be confident that she would not disrupt the solemnity of the occasion,’ she overheard her father say. ‘She must stay at home with Miss Brown.’
The workers had gathered to line the drive, each wearing a black armband as a mark of condolence. Evelyn saw Drake amongst them, his cap respectfully removed and held in his hands. He waited patiently for the mourners to climb aboard the waiting coaches, although Evelyn noticed that his gaze kept returning to the black wreath on their door. Her heart lurched. He was looking for her. What must he think of her not attending her own brother’s funeral?
A signal was given for the procession to set off, snapping their attention back to the hearse. The long, solemn journey would take it through two villages, before returning to the little church on the estate. The meandering route offered the opportunity for the villagers to pay their respects and Evelynhad heard that some had already been seen gathering by the roadside.
The estate workers bowed their heads as the procession passed and Evelyn, not knowing what to do, followed suit from her bedroom window. Finally, she lifted her head to watch the procession grow smaller with each horse’s stride.
‘I wonder how many of the villagers have met Nicholas,’ Evelyn said sadly.
Miss Brown came to stand by her. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I envy them. They have been invited to pay their respects, while I am shut away.’
