Just after midnight, on the penultimate day of April, it became clear that he was fighting to breathe, each one crackling.
“Go to Him,” Leticia told her husband next to his ear after she had kissed his clammy forehead. “You have suffered enough; stop fighting.” She watched as her Ignatius seemed to calm. He looked like he was at peace, and she could swear as she heard the final exhale of breath that he was smiling.
All three sitting with the remains of Ignatius Hurst were crying quietly.
Sir Harold Hurst did not ascribe to the school of thought that crying tears for a loss showed weakness. He thought it showed strength. He was Hurst now, and a baronet, although as long as he worked with the organisation his father used to run, now being managed and led by Fitzwilliam, he would not use his title.
He pulled his Louisa into a hug, and they watched as their mother hugged the earthly remains of their father.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
It had been his father’s wish that, weather permitting, his body was to be carried back to Winsdale and buried in the new Hurst section in the cemetery attached to the church in Winsbury, the one in Winsdale’s advowson.
It was a cool April so after speaking to his mother and Louisa, Hurst saw no reason not to take his father’s remains to Yorkshire for interment.
The convoy was rather long; it included the Fitzwilliams, Darcys, and royal representation, among others. Darcy decided he could not help but show his support for Hurst, the way Hurst had after Darcy’s own father had passed away. He just could not fathom how a man in what, he assumed, was a low-level civil service position warranted the number of people escorting his body back to the Hurst estate. The equerries for both his Majesty and the Prince of Wales were part of the group for goodness’ sake. It was beyond his comprehension; however, Darcy knew this was not the time or place to ask any such questions.
With the longer travel days, Winsdale was reached in four days. The interment was held the next day. The church had been filled beyond capacity and the graveside service was even better attended.
Holcomb, Biggs, and Johns had stood close to the Hursts. If anyone had questions about why servants had such a place of honour, they were wise enough not to ask them. After the interment, the men returned to Winsdale to join the ladies, who had remained at the estate.
Now that the funeral was over, Darcy truly looked at the estate. What he saw shocked him. He had always thought that with Hurst’s indolent and drunken ways that the estate he ran, because his father had spent most of the year in London, would be small and barely profitable. Instead, he saw a house not much smaller than Pemberley’s, and all the signs pointed to a very profitable and well-run estate.
He had trouble reconciling what he was seeing to what he thought he knew about Hurst.
He also noticed that Bingley and Miss Bingley—the latter thankfully given the plethora of titled men present—were absent. When he asked Richard, all he was told was they were unable to reach the estate at that time.
Darcy was unaware that Hildebrand and John Bingley had been asked by Hurst to keep the knowledge of the death of his father from the siblings, so they would not come and have Miss Bingley cause a scene and make things all about her. A house in mourning would not have stopped her imposing on men who had no interest in her.
Chapter 17
June 1808 – End of 1810
For their six months of mourning, Louisa and Hurst had decided to remain with the dowager Mrs Hurst at Winsdale. It was shortly before the end of that six-month period, in the middle of October 1808, when Arthur finally realised that Gran-papa Ignatius was never coming back. At first, he asked where Gran-papa was every few days; then it was every fortnight or so, and eventually a month or two would pass.
On this particular day, Arthur asked why he would never see Gran-papa again. It was a hard conversation between the parents and their boy, who had turned four on the first day of August.
It was sooner than they had hoped to teach their son about the end of life in the mortal world and the start of the glorious life everlasting in heaven. Once Arthur grasped that his beloved gran-papa was in heaven with God, Jesus, and the angels, he was at peace. He was told that he could speak to his gran-papa anytime he wanted and he would be heard. They impressed on him that he may not hear the reply, but that did not mean that his gran-papa was not listening to him. When he was urged to include words for Gran-papa in his before sleep prayers, Arthur began to add words for his gran-papa to his prayers every evening before going to sleep.
Tisha, who kept all of them at Winsdale on their toes, ran as much as she walked. Unlike her brother, she had no memories of her grandpapa to make her sad. Hence, she was a bubbly, happy toddler approaching the age of one and a half years old.
Like Leticia had promised her late husband, she did not give up on living, not even during her six months of deep mourning. Her balm was her grandchildren. With them running around Winsdale, it was impossible for Leticia to allow the melancholy to overtake her. In addition to spending time with Louisa, Harold, and the children, she kept up a correspondence with some of her friends, Maddie Gardiner and Fanny Bennet being principal among them.
A letter from Fanny always made Leticia smile. For a woman who had turned forty a year ago to be telling about her rambunctious son, who had turned three in July past, it seemed that the little boy always kept her young. Leticia could understand that, as she felt her grandchildren did the same for her.
Maddie always had news of her four; the youngest, Peter, had been born in June 1807. She described how Lilly, at the ripe old age of eight, saw herself as an assistant mamma to Eddy, six, and May, three.
A few days before the six-month mark after Ignatius Hurst’s passing, the three adult Hursts were seated in the breakfast parlour enjoying the spread Cook provided for them when Adams entered carrying the salver, which he first proffered to the older Mrs Hurst before offering a missive to the younger lady.
“Another letter from Caroline,” Louisa said with distaste when she looked at the direction. “As she approaches her majority, her demands are becoming more frequent.”
“It seems she finally realised that her brother does not get more financial freedom for another two years,” Leticia noted.
“More, but not totally,” Hurst added. “Like Aunt Hildebrand and Uncle John have been doing up to now, any expenses she incurs will be deducted from her allowance first. She obviously ignored the clauses in her late father’s will which did not allow Bingley to pay unlimited amounts on Caroline’s behalf. Enough of her; who is your epistle from, Mother?”
“It is from Fanny. Before I read it, will you two be going to London now that your period of mourning has all but passed?” Leticia questioned.
“Louisa and I discussed that very subject, and we have decided that there is no imperative for us to make for Town before spring upcoming,” Hurst replied as his wife nodded her agreement. “Fitzwilliam has written to me and told me that my observation, listening, and sketching skills are not needed for the nonce. If anything urgent crosses his desk that requires my abilities, he will let me know. I know you would prefer not to go to London until you are out of mourning, and we chuse to remain with you.”
