Dear Laura (9 page)

‘How does he seem after that outburst?’ Titus asked.

‘Fretful, but quieter,’ said Laura, very white. ‘I have
promised
him that I will attend him myself. Only the sight of my misery at such times really appeases him.’ She sauntered the length of the room and brooded at the window. ‘So I shall leave you every so often,’ she added drily, pacing the carpet again. ‘How often do you think he requires to feel his power over me? Every half-hour? Perhaps every twenty minutes, until he sleeps, since he has been so deeply disturbed. Yes, every twenty minutes should be sufficient reminder of my duty towards him. I must go upstairs every twenty minutes like a devoted wife.’

He was concerned with more than her wretchedness.

‘I had better not stay long, this evening, Laura. There is no point in making further trouble between the three of us.’

‘As you think best. Titus, I should like to thank you,’ and she laid a hand on his sleeve. ‘You spoke for me.’

He covered her hand with his, absently, but the frown still lay between his brows. She divined that he was regretting his chivalry, and her gratitude became irony.

‘I fear that even my championship is of small account in his eyes,’ said Titus, restless.

‘It was of no account at all – except to me. Perhaps you had better see him before you go, and make amends?’

His face cleared. Relaxed and gay, sure of his charm, he reached for the decanter of port.

‘This should ameliorate matters considerably! And it will help him to sleep.’ He turned at the door, and read the
bleakness
in her eyes. ‘I shall not take back what I said, Laura.’

She replied, ‘Of course not, Titus. I understand perfectly.’

He was back again in a few minutes: boyish,
self-deprecating
.

‘I forgot the glasses!’ he cried, and quoting Dickens’s Miss Mowcher added, ‘“Ain’t I volatile?”’ with a grin, seizing two of Theodore’s best Waterfords.

She neither looked at nor answered him, watching the clock.

‘Mrs Hill says, ma’am, excusing me coming in like this,’ said Harriet, who had hoped to find her mistress locked in a wild embrace, ‘that would you be wanting some more coffee?’

‘Yes if you please, Harriet. I shall be sitting here until Mr Crozier goes to sleep. And, should Miss Nagle offer to watch by him, you might tell her that he expressly asked
me
to do so. Oh, Harriet, that is Mr Titus coming down the stairs now. You might see him out.’

Hauling on his greatcoat, settling its handsome cape, back in favour at what cost of flattery and betrayal?

‘I have left the decanter by his bed. The port seems to have made him sleepy and that is all to the good. There is little the matter with him …’

‘You may go, Harriet!’ Laura ordered, seeing her evident interest.

‘I daresay he has another of those heavy colds coming on him, though he swears it is the influenza and the bronchitis and his heart and his liver, and the Lord Above knows what else. But there is little the matter in my opinion.’

‘I can tell you what is the matter with him,’ said Laura bitterly. ‘A cold heart and a black temper, and there is no curing either.’

Seeing that they were alone he bent to kiss her cheek, but she averted it.

‘We are not observed,’ he said softly, courting her with a smile.

‘A kiss can betray, nevertheless.’

He looked at her quickly, flushed up, and let himself out without a word. Alone with the coffee, Laura poured herself a cup until her self-appointed time for humiliation came about. Then she trailed up the stairs again.

‘The port has made me thirsty!’ Theodore complained.

But he seemed a little more subdued. It was a grumble not a tirade. She poured water and helped him to drink.

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten o’clock. Titus has gone home. How do you feel now?’ she asked, with the correct amount of deference due to his condition.

‘I feel as though I could sleep, but there is a heaviness about me, a langour. I fear I have a heavy cold coming on – unless it is something more serious.’

‘I daresay it is nothing at all but the weakness left over from the influenza, and the wine you have taken this evening, Theodore.’

‘Perhaps you are right. If I am no better tomorrow you must send for Padgett!’

‘Of course, Theodore!’ She hesitated, needing the little privacy of her empty drawing-room, knowing it must be
sacrificed
also if he required it. ‘Do you wish me to sit by you?’

‘No, no, no. I wish to be undisturbed. But you must come up as you promised. You must not go to sleep until I am settled.’

In relief, she said, ‘I shall come up to see how you are. You need not fear I shall fail in that respect.’

He mumbled something and turned on his side.

‘If you will mend the fire, Harriet,’ said Laura, as the
housemaid
appeared at the bend of the staircase, ‘you may go to bed. You may all go to bed. I shall require nothing more tonight. I shall not retire until Mr Crozier is comfortable.’

‘Very well, ma’am. How is the master, ma’am?’

‘He seems more easy now, Harriet.’

Her vigil ticked round the clock, and she observed it
punctiliously
, treasuring the hours on her own even when Theodore obviously slept. Shortly before midnight she turned down the lamps and mounted the stairs for the last time that evening. With some difficulty she undressed herself, but was baulked by the obstacle of her stays. After two or three ineffectual attempts to unlace them she slipped on her wrapper and sought the attic, knocking softly. Harriet’s voice answered her from the dark.

‘I am afraid I cannot manage to undress without some
assistance,’ Laura whispered. ‘I forgot, with Mr Crozier being indisposed, that I should need help.’

Harriet crept out of a hard bed and shivered up to Laura, red hands more awkward than usual. But she longed to be a lady’s maid, and Kate was fortunately asleep.

‘Hold on to the post, ma’am,’ she whispered. ‘I should’ve thought, but I didn’t.’

Both women held their breath. Harriet pulled valiantly. The laces spread into freedom, and both women breathed out.

‘Thank you, Harriet. I am much obliged. I can manage now.’

The maid crawled into bed again, and dreamed of
promotion
. Laura finished undressing in the warmth of her room, one ear cocked for Theodore’s state of repose. He had been fairly restless, even in his first sleep, and though he seemed less so his breathing sounded noisy and distressed. Reluctantly, Laura trailed across the carpet and bent over him.

‘What? What?’ he grumbled.

‘Are you not comfortable, Theodore?’

His eyes opened and he stared dully at the mane of pale hair, the pale face, and reached clumsily for her hand. She shrank back, clutching the wrapper to her breasts.

‘My – head. My – head,’ he said, slurring the words.

Obediently, she laid a cool palm on his forehead.

‘You have no temperature. Does it ache?’

‘Dazed – feel – dazed. Thirsty.’

She gave him water.

‘You are half asleep, that is all. Have you any pain, Theodore?’

‘Arms – heavy – legs – like – lead.’

‘It is nothing that a good sleep will not cure,’ she said, in soft desperation. ‘You should not have disturbed yourself so.’

‘Blood – pressure – Padgett warned – me – send – for Padgett.’

‘Do take one of my sleeping capsules, Theodore. Then if you cannot sleep we will send for the doctor.’

She opened her little leather box and shook out one of two remaining pills. He did not resist her, as she raised him and
gave him more water to drink. But he mumbled and rolled his head from side to side as though it troubled him.

‘Sit – by – me,’ he whispered, his fingers gripping her arm.

Huddled in the chair, she sat for an hour before disengaging her cramped hand. He had destroyed the little strength she gathered by being alone. She sought to regain it, and moved over to her writing desk. Until the clock struck two she wrote purposefully, earnestly, finding some comfort in her diary. Then she locked it up again, buried the key in a little bowl of
pot
pourri
and blew out the candle, shivering from her vigil. His breathing seemed regular enough, but noisy. Satisfied that he would not now wake and disturb her, she felt for her glass of water and swallowed the other capsule. She could sleep in the armchair, in peace.

*

Kate was letting in the cold light of day when Laura opened her eyes.

‘Are you well, Kate?’

‘Yes, ma’am. A bit on the weak side, but fair to middling. Your tea, ma’am, and your dressing-jacket.’

To the question of the maid’s raised eyebrows, Laura shook her head. She intended to let Theodore snore on while she drank her tea in peace. So Kate poured out one cup and let her muse undisturbed. As the hot liquid woke her, she was aware that the snores were too frequent to be natural.

All the colour had left his face. The night’s beard growth stood out against a dusky pallor. Strong nose jutted. Eyes seemed sunk into stained sockets. Labouring breath fluttered blue lips. A thread of saliva, trickling from his mouth, had dried on his chin. Laura pressed the bell and kept her finger on it until Kate ran in.

‘Quickly,’ Laura cried. ‘Send Henry for Dr Padgett. Your master is very ill.’

Then she sank into the chair by his side, hands over mouth, and stared at the deathly mask. She was still sitting there, white and frozen, when the doctor arrived.

‘Here, Kate,’ he said, assisting Laura to rise. ‘Help your mistress, will you? Brandy, girl, brandy. And warm clothes.
Good God, madam, we cannot have you catching cold.’

‘I shall not go. I cannot go. Until you tell me,’ Laura
whispered
. ‘He is gravely ill, is he not?’

Kate wrapped a Shetland shawl about her and held her arm. Minutely, Padgett examined the unconscious man. Lifted the sunken lids and peered. Felt for the toiling heartbeat. Laid down the leaden limbs. Covered him gently. Nanny Nagle was waiting, wordless, by the door.

‘A severe cerebral haemorrhage,’ he pronounced. ‘Take a good hold of your mistress, Kate! No hope, I’m afraid. Miss Nagle, I want you to sit by him while I am downstairs with Mrs Crozier. Ring if you see any change. And where is Henry Hann? We must send for Mr Crozier’s brother at once. Mrs Crozier will need all the support we can give her.’ He took her other arm. She seemed not to hear him, and he spoke across her as though she were indeed deaf. ‘A nervous disposition, Miss Nagle, suffers acutely at times like these. She was always highly strung.’

Shock had anaesthetised Laura. She drank the brandy they gave her and answered his questions with terrible calm.

‘When did you observe this change in him?’ Dr Padgett asked. ‘I should judge that he must have been in this condition for some hours.’

‘Last night,’ she admitted with difficulty, ‘he complained of a heaviness in the limbs. He wanted to send for you. But I thought …’

‘Yes, yes. He was inclined to worry unduly. You must not blame yourself if, for once, there was cause to worry.’

‘But I gave him one of my sleeping capsules,’ Laura said. ‘I did it for the best. I wanted him to sleep. I wanted to sleep myself. I blame myself.’

She had so often wished him dead, but the reality appalled her.

‘I blame myself,’ she repeated.

The doctor sat by her, patting her hand, saying, ‘
Fiddlesticks
, ma’am! Fiddlesticks! The capsules were mild enough. One could not hurt him. Nothing could have hurt him.’

He did not add that if she had sent for him straightaway
he might have done something. He knew the Croziers too well to blame the one or further distress the other.

‘Your husband was inclined to cry wolf, ma’am,’ he said kindly. ‘You were not to know better. Do not fret yourself. Kate, stay with your mistress. Miss Nagle is with your master. Whom may I order to see to the child? Until Mr Titus comes we are without a head.’

‘Mrs Hill, sir, will see to everything. Should I tell her?’

‘If you please, Kate, if you please. And hurry back.’

Then he exerted his particular talent of giving confidence to the patient. Indeed, it was the only talent he possessed, for he was inclined to rely upon Nature’s powers of healing, and looked askance at new-fangled notions. Had the queen herself not set an example of using chloroform for childbirth he would have opposed that too. But his sturdy body and deep voice, his simple character and good heart, were a form of medicine, and he did not stint the dose. Had anyone told him he was a little in love with Laura he would have been horrified and incredulous. As a respectable husband and practitioner such emotions were forbidden by the laws of God and man. As he abided by rules he set down his concern for Mrs Crozier as paternal benevolence. Only, it was pleasant to speak to that troubled mouth and tumbled fall of hair, and hold those soft hands between his own.

Theodore never recovered consciousness. Losing his grasp upon worldly goods, he sought oblivion and that deity in whose name he had reigned over his household. Downstairs Henry Hann muffled the knocker with a black silk scarf and Harriet drew down the blinds. Kitchen chatter was subdued, and
related
only to the work in hand. Blanche sat silently, deprived of amusement, and suffered the
ennui
that normally attended Sundays only. Outside, under a winter sky, the Common was alive with elegant perambulators and starched nursemaids. Children bowled hoops, played hopscotch, shouted and were reprimanded. And round the Common gleamed the house fronts: representatives of the good order that prevailed over one quarter of the earth’s surface, and was called the British Empire.

Laura turned distractedly from one to another person about the deathbed, and gave way to a storm of tears and self-reproaches. Titus, troubled, hesitated to go near her but would have preferred to comfort.