Helen’s expression crumpled, her breath hitching as she whispered, “I miss her so much.”
“I know,” he said, brushing back a lock of her hair and tucking it behind her ear as tears gathered in her eyes. Helen stood there, rigid and still, her gaze boring into his with a desperation that told him she would not take the step but hoped he would. Needing no more invitation, Silas gathered his daughter into his arms. Her lungs shuddered as she stood stiffly in his hold, but slowly, her arms came up and wrapped around him.
A sob broke through, and Helen buried her face into his neck, and he pulled her tight. His tears joined with hers, his heart swallowed up in sorrow and joy as he reveled in the closeness and mourned the pain that had brought them here. His thoughts spun themselves into a silent prayer for him, for Helen, for Deborah, for Ruth, and all those who had been touched by the illness festering in this family for far too long.
May they all find peace.
Chapter 31
“Good morning, Miss Delmonte.” The footman ushered her through the Hardwicke’s front door, taking her jacket and bonnet.
“And good morning to you, Jeremy.” Stopping before the looking glass to one side of the entry, Judith checked her hair and smoothed her skirts. She moved down the hall but stopped when she caught sight of Jeremy’s expression in the reflection. “What is it?”
He shifted in place and glanced about the hall before leaning in to whisper, “Things are in a state today, miss.”
Judith steeled herself, holding back a sigh. “And the master?”
The footman grimaced, his head bobbing back and forth as though considering that. “I fear he isn’t much better. I doubt he’s slept.”
With a firm nod and a word of thanks, Judith went in search of the first problem of the day. Though she’d made some progress in her search for the new governess, she was still far from having the position filled, and the Hardwickes could not bear to lose the nursemaid. Of course, the woman was well aware of that and not above using it to her best advantage.
Judith moved through the halls of Helmsford Place and up the stairs to the nursery, taking the all too familiar path. Shrieks, screams, and general chaos echoed through the air, and Judith hurried to the nursery door to find it in as much of a frightful state as she had feared.
The three younger Hardwickes tore about the room while the youngest screamed in the corner (likely having been shunted aside one too many times by her siblings). Nurse Smith added to the din with shouts for the children to stop, and though Judith was well-rested, the disorder drained her of strength. Yet, there was something more to it that had her spirits sinking. Nurseries and children were happy things, full of joy and bright colors, and the Hardwicke children’s black attire cast a pall over the entire room.
“Children!” called Judith.
Little Thomasina paid her no heed and continued shrieking, but her elder siblings and Nurse Smith all halted and descended upon Judith, speaking over each other in a bid to gain her attention first. Going to the corner, Judith scooped up Thomasina and silently cursed whoever thought a baby ought to wear mourning clothes. Anyone seeing the children knew well enough their hearts were breaking for their mama, and Judith was certain that forcing them into such dour colors only added to their melancholy. They needed no reminder or outward sign of grief; they wore it plainly on their faces.
While bouncing Thomasina on her hip, Judith took her siblings in hand, organizing them into a game with Nurse Smith. They needed something more to occupy their time, but Judith had not a moment to give it thought as she went in search of the older children while the babe cuddled close and rested her head against Judith’s shoulder with a shuddering sigh.
The others were in the schoolroom, presenting an entirely different picture of mourning. Where the little ones released their grief in mischief and noise, Chloe’s elder children sat about the room like dark statues, silent and still. The girls worked on their sewing and drawing whilst their brother sat by the window, his gaze fixed on the view and looking far more sedate than any thirteen-year-old boy ought to.
“Emelia, might you help me with Thomasina?” she asked. “You are always so good with her.”
The young lady nodded and took her little sister into her arms, bouncing her a few times before they wandered around the room.Emeliawas proving herself quite useful with the little ones and pairing the two of them together would entertain the babe and give her sister a distraction.
“Good morning, Miss Delmonte,” said Milicent, though her drawn expression made it clear the morning was anything but “good.”
“Good morning, Miss Hardwicke,” Judith said in reply before setting her other sisters to work painting a few flowers from a book. They weren’t taking lessons at present, but the assignment gave them something to do as Judith led the eldest out into the hall.
“Might I ask your assistance?” asked Judith.
Milicent blinked, straightening herself as she met Judith's gaze with far more focus and spirit than she’d shown in the sennight since Judith had arrived.
“I have so very much on my plate at present, and I would appreciate your aid with Mrs. Stoke.” Leading her down the hall, they wandered towards the kitchen.
“What can I do?” Milicent’s light brows rose, her lips pulling into a frown. “I do not know—”
“You know far more than you think,” said Judith, taking the young girl by the arm. “I have an appointment with Mrs. Stoke concerning the menus for the week, but I fear I am needed in the nursery.”
Milicent shook her head. “I cannot hope to do it justice. Mama was always so…”
Her voice broke, and the young lady shook her head, pressing a hand to her mouth. Judith drew an arm around her, pulling her close as she began to cry. So much of her time had been spent in such a manner. Between all the children and their father, there was a never-ending supply of tears. Judith didn’t know if her efforts were doing any good, but if nothing else, she could be a listening ear and comforting shoulder upon which to cry.
It was several long moments before Milicent straightened and wiped her cheeks. “I don’t know how to set menus.”
But Judith took Milicent by the arm again. “You underestimate yourself. Your mother taught you so very much, and you are far more familiar with the food she served than I. Mrs. Stoke knows the household well, but she does need a firm hand to guide her. Can you sit with her and review what she has planned? It would be such a great help, and I know you will do an excellent job at it.”
