Harriet was up the stairs before the housekeeper finished speaking, her traveling clothes forgotten, her fatigue forgotten, everything forgotten except the need to reach her mother. She burst into Lady Fordshire's chambers to find the room dimmed, the curtains drawn, and her mother lying in bed looking smaller and more fragile than Harriet had ever seen her.
"Mama." Harriet crossed to the bed and took her mother's hand. It was cold, thin, the bones too prominent beneath the papery skin. "I'm here. I'm here."
Lady Fordshire's eyes fluttered open. "Harriet. You came back."
"Of course I came back. What happened? Mrs. Briggs said you collapsed…"
"It's nothing. A momentary weakness." Lady Fordshire tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "The physician is making a fuss over nothing."
"You don't look like nothing, Mama."
"Flatterer." Lady Fordshire squeezed her hand weakly. "How was Lord Davies? Did you reach an agreement?"
Harriet hesitated. This was not the time for bad news. Her mother needed rest, not worry.
"We'll discuss it later," she said. "Right now you need to sleep."
"I've been sleeping. It's all I seem to do these days." Lady Fordshire's eyes searched Harriet's face. "Something's wrong. I can see it. Tell me."
"Mama…"
"I am not a child to be protected from unpleasantness, Harriet. I am your mother, and I have a right to know what's happening to our family."
The firmness in her voice was so familiar, so reassuringly maternal, that Harriet felt tears prickling at her eyes. She blinked them back.
"Davies proposed," she said. "I refused. He's going to pursue the debt immediately, no more extensions, and no more negotiations."
Lady Fordshire closed her eyes. "I see."
"I'm sorry, Mama. I know I should have…I know it would have solved everything but I couldn't. I couldn't enter into matrimony with him. He's cold and calculating and he sees me as nothing more than a means to an end, and I…” Harriet's voice broke. "I couldn't."
"Hush." Lady Fordshire's hand tightened on hers. "You did the right thing."
"Everyone keeps saying that. But doing the right thing is going to cost us everything."
"Not everything. We still have each other. We still have our integrity." Lady Fordshire opened her eyes, and there was a fierce light in them despite her weakness. "I would rather lose Fordshire Park than watch my daughter trapped in a loveless matrimony. Do you understand me? I would rather live in a cottage and take in sewing than see you sacrifice yourself for a house."
"It's not just a house. It's our home. It's Richard's legacy…"
"Richard would have said the same thing. He loved you, Harriet. He would never have wanted you to suffer for his sake."
The mention of Richard's name sent a fresh wave of grief washing through Harriet. She bowed her head, fighting to maintain her composure.
"What do we do now?" she whispered.
"Now, we rest. We regroup. We find another way." Lady Fordshire's voice was growing weaker, exhaustion pulling her back toward sleep. "Lord Vane is still here?"
"Yes."
"Good. He's a good man. Richard always said so." Her eyes drifted closed. "Talk to him, Harriet. Let him help. You don't have to carry this alone."
"Mama…"
But Lady Fordshire was already asleep, her breathing shallow but steady. Harriet sat beside the bed, still holding her mother's hand, and felt the weight of impossible choices pressing down on her like a physical thing.
The physician’s report was not encouraging.
"Your mother is suffering from severe exhaustion," Dr. Hartley said, his voice low as they stood in the corridor outside Lady Fordshire's chambers. "Her heart is strained. She needs complete rest…no worry, no stress, no exertion of any kind."
