“What if there’s something terribly wrong?” I asked him. “Something the doctor hasn’t caught?” What if this wasn’t simply Mother overreacting to my refusal to marry Lord Cumberland?
“Let’s see what Dr. Payne has to say.” Father gently placed his hand under my elbow as he led me to Mother’s room. The plush carpet was soft beneath my slippered feet, and the large, framed paintings on the wall made me feel small and vulnerable.
Dr. Payne was waiting outside her bedroom. He was a middle-aged man, with his thinning hair parted on the side and combed over the top. He had a calm, soothing voice and had been my physician since I was born. I had always trusted Dr. Payne, as did most everyone we knew. His reputation with the upper classes kept him in high demand on Fifth Avenue.
“Is it serious?” Father asked.
Dr. Payne let out a sigh. “I’m afraid so. Mrs. Wells’s heart is failing. It grows weaker by the day, and this morning she could not be roused by her maid, which is why she sent for me.”
Father studied the doctor intently. “What is to be done?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’d like to take her to the hospital and have some tests done, but she will not let me move her. You must convince her to go, or I fear she will not be long for this world.”
Father stared at Dr. Payne. I’d never seen the look that passed over his face, and I realized that he still loved her deeply. He was afraid to lose her, and my heart broke for him. Even if I didn’t understand how he could love her, it wasn’t my place to question him. This was his wife—my mother—and though she had brought both of us pain, the idea of losing her jarred me out of my self-pity.
“We will speak to her,” Father promised Dr. Payne, “and will call you the moment she agrees.”
“I will prepare things on my end,” he assured us. “Just get her to agree, and I will take care of the rest.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Payne started to walk away but then paused. “I believe today is your birthday, Libby.”
I nodded, surprised that he had remembered.
“Then I will wish you a happy birthday,” Dr. Payne said, “even though the circumstances are so dire.”
“Thank you.”
Father placed a hand on my shoulder, his face sad. “Happybirthday, Libby. I do wish this day were different. We should be celebrating in Newport, as we usually do.”
“It’s all right.” I was about to say that we could hope for a better celebration next year, but I would not be waking up on this day one year from now. Instead of celebrating my birthday, Father would be mourning my death.
I swallowed the panicked feeling that thought elicited.
“Let us put on our best faces to greet your mother,” he said. “And let us do what we must to get her better.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Father pushed open the door to her bedchamber. The room was darker than usual, the heavy velvet curtains closed to the brilliant June sunshine. The smell of antiseptic burned my nose. Gertie was near Mother’s bed, her eyes closed as if she were praying. When she saw us, she removed herself from the room and closed the door quietly behind her.
Mother’s bed, like the room itself, was oversized and ornate. She lay on her back, her hair lying over her shoulder in a braid. She’d lost even more weight, and the wrinkles under her eyes and around her neck had deepened. Everything in the room was still, and there were no sounds. If the doctor had not been in here moments ago, I would have thought she had already passed on. Her breathing was so shallow, it looked as if she wasn’t breathing at all.
That same sickly panic overtook me, creeping up my legs and settling in my chest. I reached for Father and grasped his arm for support. What would happen if we lost her? How could I leave him alone in a year? He would be devastated beyond recovery. I was certain of it.
“Abigail?” Father said softly as he reached for one of her hands.
Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked at him, but she did not respond.
“We’ve just spoken to Dr. Payne,” he said. “Libby and I believe it’s best if you go to the hospital.”
Mother’s gaze flicked to me. I allowed her to look at me without dropping my eyes.
“I don’t think I’ll make it to the hospital.” Her voice was so weak that it was hard to hear what she said.
Father got down on his knees and clasped Mother’s hand to his chest. “Don’t say such things, my dear. You can’t leave us. We still need you.”
“You don’t need me.” She closed her eyes again, as if it were too difficult to keep them open.
