The man looked startled. “Indeed no, sir.”
He studied the man for a few minutes before finally saying, “Tell me where to be and what to do, and I shall oversee in Lady Sarah’s stead.”
The man evidently wasn’t satisfied by Douglas’s suggestion. “Lady Sarah has been present for the lambing, for the castrations, for the drilling of two new wells. She has trod every inch of Chavensworth land, sir, in foul weather and fair.”
“And you saw nothing wrong with that?”
The man looked surprised. “I doubt I could have stopped her, sir. Lady Sarah is extraordinarily diligent when it comes to Chavensworth. She could not be more so if she were the Duke of Herridge herself.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Beecher,” Douglas said, standing.
“Shall I apply to you in the future, sir? Have you taken on the care of Chavensworth since your marriage to Lady Sarah?”
“Good God, no,” Douglas said. “I have no knowledge in the running of properties.”
“But you shall observe the drainage?”
“I’ll do whatever needs to be done until you can find someone at Chavensworth with the energy and desire to take on the tasks Lady Sarah has assumed.” He leveled a look at Beecher.
Beecher swallowed heavily. “My replacement, sir?”
“Let’s say your apprentice, Beecher. Someone you can train in the running of Chavensworth so you don’t rely on Lady Sarah to the same degree.”
Beecher didn’t speak, only slowly closed the book.
“I am to meet with the housekeeper,” Douglas said, moving to the door. “Is there a shorter way back to the kitchens?”
“I’m afraid not, sir,” Beecher said, his mouth curving in a rusty-looking smile. “Continue down the mirrored corridor, take a left at the main part of Chavensworth, and ask any footman for Mrs. Williams.”
Douglas nodded. “I’ll be at the upper fields tomorrow,” he said.
Beecher put both hands on the table in front of him and pushed himself to a standing position.
“If you would convey my best wishes to Lady Sarah, sir. It is difficult to lose a parent, especially in Lady Sarah’s case. She and her mother were devoted. There are arrangements pending?”
“Yes,” Douglas said, but nothing further. He would let Mrs. Williams be his confidante.
He left Beecher then and found his way through the labyrinth of Chavensworth’s back stairs. Twice, he asked directions, only to find that Mrs. Williams was nowhere in sight when reaching first her office, and secondly, the kitchen complex. He found her finally in the library, supervising the dusting of the volumes he’d admired only two days ago.
She glanced at him, frowned, then approached him. Although she appeared pleasant enough, her soft blue eyes looked capable of spearing a footman or maid in place.
She separated from the others and led him to an alcove evidently dedicated to a Herridge forbear. He wasn’t interested in the words written on the glass-encased scroll mounted beside the bust of an elderly man.
“I need your assistance, Mrs. Williams,” he said, pulling out his notebook. “Lady Sarah is indisposed,” he said, wondering if that was the right description for what Sarah was enduring. “I need to make arrangements for a funeral.”
The world was a gray, amorphous place, with no boundaries, no discernible markers. There were nodoors, or windows, or stairs, or clouds, or stars. There was no heaven or hell. There was no sky or grass. The world, her world, was simply there, shrouded in a fog that Sarah was in no hurry to banish.
Please, let the fog last forever.
She roused to take care of her body’s needs, to wash her face and hands, but then fatigue claimed her, forcing her to stumble back to the bed and rest. If six hours passed, that was all well and good—it was six hours she did not have to endure awake. She knew it was nighttime only because she felt the mattress sag with the weight of her husband. She didn’t even care that they shared a bed, or that he sometimes pulled her close so that she could feel his warmth. More than once she awoke in the middle of the night with her cheek pressed against his bare chest, wondering at the thudding sound, only to realize it was his heart beating in sleep.
Part of her was shocked that she was so close to an obviously naked man, but she silenced that concern by rolling over, clutching her pillow, and willing herself back to sleep.
The days passed smoothly, one into the other. If she kept her eyes shut, she eventually fell asleep again. She roused to eat when her stomach hurt, diligently focused upon her plate long enough to still the hunger pangs before returning to bed again. People asked her questions, and she just waved them away, or if that gesture became too much, she simply ignored them.
More than once her skin was dampened with a cold washrag, the soap itching when it was not removed quickly enough. She didn’t want to be bathed, but a sound of protest only resulted in a brush covered in tooth powder being forced between her teeth.
Every night, Douglas came and removed her fromthe bed, placing her on his lap as he sat in one of the high-backed chairs by the window. He covered her with a blanket if she began to shiver. He held long conversations with himself, sometimes speaking of his diamonds and the formula he had discovered, in India, of all places.
