I frowned at that description. “Is he ill?”
“Not that I am aware,” the footman said as panic flashed in his eyes.
I gathered that people didn’t come to call on only my father very often anymore. Though it was probably for the best, given his current state, the thought still made me very sad.
“I understand. Thank you.”
He gave a quick nod and disappeared with my coat, no doubt eager to leave before I could ask him any more bewildering questions.
I took my bouquet upstairs and knocked softly at my sister’s closed bedroom door. Her muffled voice responded after a moment, and I entered.
Delia was tucked up in bed with a book open on her lap, but her gaze was listless and unfocused, and I surmised she hadn’t read a word.
“Hello, darling,” I said as I shut the door behind me.
A look of surprise flickered across her face for just a moment. “Oh, hello there.”
I sat down at the edge of the bed and handed her the bouquet. “For you.”
Delia managed a faint smile as she took them from me and brought them to her nose. “Beautiful. Thank you.”
“How are you feeling?”
Delia avoided my gaze as she placed the bouquet on the bedside table. “How did you do it?” she whispered.
I tilted my head, confused. “The flowers?”
She looked at me then, her eyes suddenly bright with desperation. “Go on. After Oliver.”
I was silent for a moment as my mind flooded with a haze of disjointed memories of those awful weeks after his death. There were times when I could barely bring myself to get out of bed, which no doubt was how Delia felt now. And, if I was very honest with myself, I’m not sure I would have bothered if it hadn’t been for the children. But I couldn’t tell her that. Shutting herself away would not make this any easier. That was something I had learned.
“I took things as they came,” I answered. “And sometimes I could only manage for an hour at a time. Then, eventually, I could get through the entire day.”
Delia nodded in understanding. “I’m so sorry,” she rasped.
“Whatever for?” I asked, genuinely bewildered.
“For not being more understanding about how difficult it must have been for you. And why you were so determined not to leave Corfu.” Then she hesitated. “I’m afraid we all were rather too hard on you back then. Making demands you couldn’t possibly accommodate.”
“Oh.” I wilted a little, not unlike the bouquet I had brought. There had been times when I felt that my family hadn’t really understood the impact Oliver’s death had on me and disapproved of my decision to stay on Corfu rather than return to England. No one had ever mentioned anything outright, of course. But it was one thing to wonder and another to have it confirmed.
Delia reached out and took my hand in hers. She felt far too cold. “Forgive me.”
I grasped her chilled fingers. “Of course. And you were so young. How could you have possibly known?”
Her mouth flattened into a line. “I resented you for leaving. And when Oliver died, a part of me thought it was akind of punishment. It was so awful of me. I suppose now this is my punishment,” she added quietly and hung her head.
Perhaps if I had been younger, I would have found her admission appalling. But motherhood had given me insight into the viciousness of love. Delia felt abandoned by me, and in a way, she was right. I had been rather dismissive of her and our relationship.
“Don’t,” I urged. “Don’t ever think that. You did nothing to deserve this. No matter what you may have thought about me. I should have been more understanding of your feelings as well. And I am sorry for that. But this … Delia, I know you loved Charles, and what happened to him is awful. But it doesn’t need to color the rest of your life. Especially if he really was married to someone else and lying to you about it. Not that he deserved to die, of course,” I added hastily, but Delia didn’t seem to be listening.
She looked up at me then, her face ashen. “I think I’m with child.”
My ears rang as the meaning of her words slowly sunk in.
“But—but I thought you said you were careful,” I sputtered, feeling a bit thick.
Delia glanced away. “I meant we were careful not to be seen alone together. Not that we hadn’t …”
