The Country House Courtship (46 page)

“May we pray together, first, Randolph? I despise this terrible suspicion! I must vanquish it—or rather, ask the Saviour to.”

“Oh, it is like that, is it? Yes, we must pray, then.” He took her hand warmly within his own, and bowed his head to lead his wife in a “prayer of agreement” over the safety of their journey; and the health of Ariana. Mr. Pellham's faith had grown along with his wife's over time, so that to turn to the prayer book or Bible was second nature to them now. And to pray together was not just a duty but a privilege. They had seen the effectual power of prayer too many times to doubt its use.

“Oh, you are such a comfort to me, Randolph!”

“As you are to me, Mrs. P.”

After praying, they travelled on while he read to her. He chose selections from the prayer book, the Bible, and then from a book of sermons. Next to travel books, sermons were Mr. Pellham's favourite reading material.

Mr. Mornay was losing all sense of hope. His wife's delirium had ended, but was replaced with an ominous silence. Her previously restless limbs were still; her face, as though asleep; and yet it was much worse than a normal sleep, as nothing could rouse her. His eye fell upon a framed bit of verse on the bedside table, something Ariana herself had written out with painstaking neatness and had framed and placed where it sat. He picked it up on a whim, and then returned to her side. Taking his seat, he began to read it aloud to her: Who knew if she could hear him? She had loved this enough to take the trouble to write it out; he would read it to her now.

When on her Maker's bosom
The new-born earth was laid,
And nature's opening blossom
Its fairest bloom display'd;
When all with fruits and flowers
The laughing soil was drest,
And Eden's fragrant bowers
Receiv'd their human guest;

No sin his face defiling,
The heir of Nature stood,
And God, benignly smiling,
Beheld that all was good!
Yet in that hour of blessing
A single want was known;
A wish the heart distressing;
For Adam was alone!

O God of pure affection!
By men and saints adored,
Who gavest thy protection
To Cana's nuptial board,
May such thy bounties ever
To wedded love be shown,
And no rude hand dissever
Whom thou has linked as one!

—
Reginald Heber

He finished reading; Ariana did not stir or show a sign of change. With a deep sigh, he fell to his knees. “O God! Where is Your protection, indeed! Do not dissever what You have linked in one!” Mr. Mornay had not felt as helpless, hopeless, or desperate at any time in his memory. In fact, he felt a slow panic beginning to rise within his breast. How often had he said that a man needed only God to get by in life? How often had he spouted such nonsense? He needed more than God—he needed Ariana! He couldn't face his life again without her!

He looked up once more to see her face, very white and pale, despite the heat that still emanated from her skin. He was losing her, he knew it. Losing Ariana! He had to do something; it was impossible, suddenly, for him to remain helplessly by her side a moment longer.

He rushed from the room, falling, bumping into his own furniture, into the columns at the top of the stairs. He moved like a blind man, like one drunk; he could not see for his eyes were filled with tears. He did not cry—but he needed something to put his hand to or he'd go mad! He felt so helpless! He made a fist with his hand and moved it as though he would slam it against the wall, against a bust, but he stopped himself, looked at his fist in despair, and dropped it.

He rounded the bottom of the stairs. Where was he going? He didn't know. He'd been thinking of the Taller family. If only Mr. Taller would show up at his doorstep this very minute! He could kill the man! It was his fault! Why had he not come forward with the truth earlier? Why had he not let them know in time, before Ariana went near them! It
was
his fault, by God! If he lost Ariana, it was Mr. Taller to blame for it!

He was slowing down, becoming spent. He was going only on the energy of rage and despair.
Where was God now, when he needed Him? Where?

Losing energy quickly now, he stumbled to the front hall. Mr. Frederick came to an interior doorway, apparently having been there for some time. He stayed back and watched with a sad, grim expression. Mr. Mornay picked up a small statue—something resting upon a tall urn. He looked at it, and then threw it to the ground. The butler's lips compressed even more. He'd never seen his master like this in the twenty years of his service; not even when the old Mr. Mornay had died, or Mrs. Mornay, his mother. Not even when his brother Nigel died.

Just at that moment, the knocker sounded on the door. Mr. Mornay looked up, as if struck. Mr. Frederick hurried out, but his master saw him and said, “No. I'll get it.” Mr. Frederick stopped where he was, and watched with an expression of sad regret.

When he reached the front door and flung it open, there, to his utter astonishment, stood Mr. Taller! The very man he was feeling positively murderous toward!

“You!” he said.

“I 'ad to come,” the man muttered. “I 'av to know. How is she?”

Mr. Mornay threw himself out the door, leaning upon a wide column, which flanked either side. He stared with a terrible look at the cottager. “You've killed her, if you must know! You've killed her!”

Mr. Taller's face broke up into tears. He shook his head. “No, no,
I
didn'! Don't say I did!”

“You and your cowardly lies!” His face was in the other man's face, but Mr. Mornay slowly regained control of himself. He wanted to strike the man, but when it came down to it, he knew too well that it was wrong.

“She's dead, then? Truly?” He looked almost as distraught as Mr. Mornay.

“Not yet. Not yet.” He seemed to think about that for a moment, as if newly realizing it.

“An' what're you doin' down 'ere, then, eh?” Mr. Taller was angry, now. “She's got life in 'er, and you're missin' it! Ma Mary is gettin' better. Ma MaryAnn 's better! Your wife may get better. But you should be wi' 'er, that's what!”

Mr. Mornay stood up straight, staring at the other man's face. He was right. And his wife was improving? His daughter had improved! That meant there was hope for Ariana. When he came back in the house and dashed up the stairs, Frederick just stared, surprised. But it had to be good. Mr. Mornay had energy again.

He didn't stop until he had returned to his wife's bedside.

She was still unconscious. He bent over her and felt for a pulse, then, gratefully, with some small relief, he knelt down at the bedside and prayed. One hand slowly groped until he found hers, and he clutched it, though she could make no response.

“Forgive me!” he prayed. “And have mercy!” His eyes were still wet, and he suddenly gave in to the first real sob he had ever succumbed to in his memory. He tried again to pray, but was overcome by another racking sob. Then, he lifted his head and studied his wife's face, and suddenly was seeing her as she had been, always with a ready smile, with love in her eyes for him and for the children. He dropped his head again. “Do not take her, my Lord,” he prayed, “but I give her to You. I give her to You.”

Mr. Speckman came into the sickroom. He had taken a brief absence, to eat something in the kitchen. He frowned, seeing Mr. Mornay on his knees by the bed, with his head in his hands. He, too, was feeling utterly helpless. He pulled out his watch fob and read the face of the timepiece, but his frown only deepened.

Ariana lay on the pillow, in the exact position Phillip had left her in, near an hour since. The physician sat by the counterpane, sadly looking out over the wintry countryside view. He turned when Phillip woke up in a chair by the bed, however, and rose from his seat.

“Has there been a change?”

“None, sir.”

Phillip looked down at his wife, and put forth one hand to her brow. She was still burning with fever and the touch of his hand made her turn her head, eyes closed, and moan in a low tone, though no words could be discerned. He felt his heart tug at him in such a strong manner that he wanted for a moment to take her up in his arms. But what good would it do? He could not help himself, and he sat down beside her.

Mr. Speckman looked at him sadly, and turned away, directing his gaze back outside the window to give the man a degree of privacy. But he almost shook his head. He'd seen such cases before, and seldom did the sufferer recover. And such a young woman! It made his own heart ache, but there was nothing he could do to help her. She was entirely in God's hands.

It was early in the morning when the Pellhams' coach pulled up to the house in Middlesex. Haines had a time trying to get someone awake, though his master and mistress were still comfortably snuggled together in the vehicle. Finally, when no amount of banging the knocker produced a response, he was getting ready to inform the Pellhams that they would simply have to wait for the house to stir, when the door opened.

It was Mr. Mornay, but Haines stared at him stupidly for a moment. Such a change in a man he had never witnessed! Mr. Mornay looked to be the one fallen ill. His hair was disheveled, his face had some days' growth of stubble, he wore no neckcloth, and his white cambric shirt looked as though he'd slept in it, and it hung sloppily outside his pantaloons; in short, Mr. Mornay was a mess. It was rather a shock, even for someone who had not seen him in many months.

Noise behind them revealed that Mrs. Pellham had seen him and left the carriage, followed by her husband. Mr. Mornay was blinking at them tiredly, but he held the door open and allowed them to enter the house. Mrs. Pellham stopped beside her nephew-in-law and gave him a sharp, appraising look. He half expected a set-down, but all she said, finally, was, “How is she?”

His ghastly appearance was a fright, to be sure; but even Mrs. Pellham knew that what it signified must be far more frightening, indeed.
Ariana was in worse condition than she feared!

Mr. Mornay was unable to speak, and could only shake his head in the negative. Mrs. Pellham was already removing her bonnet and shawl, but he found his voice to say, “You mustn't stay here; it is contagious. I apologize for the lack of hospitality…”

But Mrs. Pellham ignored him. “I have come to see my niece, and I will see her.”

Mr. Mornay eyed her uncertainly for a moment. Freddie came out, still buttoning his waistcoat, and joined the small group in the hall.