[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
have passed them and they are before the Lords, where I can debate
the issue? I have no doubt the Lords Temporal will override most of
them, but I have no such faith in my brother Lords Spiritual. They
confuse the ideal with the practical. He coughed. Time is short,
Isadora. No one can afford to put off the day of his actions. Tomor-
row may not be given him in which to make amends.
She was taken aback. It was a completely uncharacteristic re-
mark. She had never known him so driven to leap to words, to
committing himself to anything at all without leaving a way to ex-
tricate himself if circumstances should change.
Are you feeling quite well, Reginald? she asked, then in-
stantly wished she had not. She did not want to hear a catalog of
what was wrong with the dinner, the service, other people s opin-
ions or expressions of them. She wished she had bitten her tongue
and simply made some unemotional murmur of agreement. Now it
was too late.
No, he said rather loudly, his voice rising to a note of distress.
I do not feel well at all. They must have put me in a draft. My
rheumatism is most powerful, and I have severe pain in my chest.
I think the celery soup was not a wise choice, she said, trying
to sound sympathetic and knowing she was failing. She heard the
indifference in her own voice.
I fear it is more serious than that. Now there was definite
panic in him, barely concealed. If she could have seen him in the
darkness inside the carriage she was certain his face would have be-
trayed a real fear running close to losing control. She was glad she
could not. She did not want to be drawn into his emotions. That
had happened too many times before.
202
ANNE PERRY
Indigestion can be very unpleasant, she said quietly. Anyone
who makes light of it has never suffered. But it does pass and leaves
no harm behind but the tiredness of being unable to sleep. Please
don t worry.
Do you think so? he asked. He did not turn his head towards
her, but she heard the eagerness in him.
Of course, she responded soothingly.
They rode in silence the rest of the way home, but she was acutely
aware of his discomfort. It sat like a third entity between them.
She woke in the night to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his
face ashen, his body bent forward, his left arm hanging loose as if he
had no power in it. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to sink
back into the dream. It had been something to do with wide seas
and the gentle rush of water past the hull of a boat. She pictured
John Cornwallis there, his face set towards the wind, a smile of
pleasure on his lips. Every now and then he would turn to her and
meet her eyes. Perhaps he would say something, but probably not.
The silence between them was one of total peace, a joy shared too
deeply to need the intrusion of words.
But her conscience would not allow her to remain with the sea
and sky. She knew Reginald was sitting a few feet from her in pain.
She opened her eyes again and sat up slowly. I ll get you a little
boiled water, she said, pushing back the covers and getting out of
bed. Her fine linen nightgown came to the floor and in the summer
night she needed no more for warmth, or for modesty. There would
be no servants about at this hour.
No! The cry was almost strangled in his throat. Don t
leave me!
If you sip the water it will help, she said, sorry for him in spite
of herself. He looked wretched, his skin pallid and beaded with
sweat, his body locked in a huddle of pain. She knelt down in front
of him. Do you feel sick? Perhaps something in the meal was not
fresh, or not well cooked.
203
SOUTHAMPTON ROW
He said nothing, staring at the floor.
It will pass, you know, she said gently. It is fearful for a while,
but it always goes. Perhaps in future you should think less of your
hostess s feelings and decline all but the simplest dishes. Some peo-
ple don t realize how often you are obliged to eat as others guest,
and it can become excessive after a while.
He raised dark, frightened eyes to hers, pleading without words
for some kind of help.
Would you like me to send Harold for the doctor? It was an
offer simply for something to say. All the doctor would give him
would be peppermint water, as he had in the past. It would be an
indignity to send for him for a case of wind, no matter how fierce.
The Bishop had always refused before, feeling it robbed him of the
gravity of his high office. How can one look with awe up to a man
who cannot control his digestive organs?
I don t want him! he said with desperation. Then he caught
his breath in a sob. Do you think it is something in the dinner?
There was a wild note of hope in him, as if he were begging her to
assure him that it was.
She realized he was terrified that it was not merely indigestion,
that after all the years of petty complaints at last he really was ill.
Was it pain he was so deeply frightened of? Or distress and the em-
barrassment of vomiting, losing control of his bodily functions and
having to be cared for, cleaned up after? Suddenly she was truly
sorry for him. Surely that was a secret dread of everyone, but espe-
cially a man to whom power and self-importance were everything.
In his heart he must suspect how desperately fragile was his hold on
respect. He did not really imagine she loved him, not with the pas-
sion and tenderness that would bind her to him through such a
time. Duty would hold her, but that would almost be worse than the
ministration of strangers, except to the outside world, who would
see only a wife at her husband s side, where she should be. What
really passed between them, anything or nothing at all, would never
be known to anyone else.
He was still staring at her, waiting for her to assure him that his
204
ANNE PERRY
fear was unnecessary, that it would all go away. She could not. Even
had he been a child, not a man older than herself, she could not have
given him that. Illness was real. It could not always be warded off.
I ll do all I can to help, she whispered. Tentatively, she
reached out her hand and put it over his where it lay gripping his
knee. She felt the terror in him as if it had flooded through his skin
and into hers. Then like fire she recognized what it was: he was
afraid of dying. He had spent his life preaching the love of God, the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
have passed them and they are before the Lords, where I can debate
the issue? I have no doubt the Lords Temporal will override most of
them, but I have no such faith in my brother Lords Spiritual. They
confuse the ideal with the practical. He coughed. Time is short,
Isadora. No one can afford to put off the day of his actions. Tomor-
row may not be given him in which to make amends.
She was taken aback. It was a completely uncharacteristic re-
mark. She had never known him so driven to leap to words, to
committing himself to anything at all without leaving a way to ex-
tricate himself if circumstances should change.
Are you feeling quite well, Reginald? she asked, then in-
stantly wished she had not. She did not want to hear a catalog of
what was wrong with the dinner, the service, other people s opin-
ions or expressions of them. She wished she had bitten her tongue
and simply made some unemotional murmur of agreement. Now it
was too late.
No, he said rather loudly, his voice rising to a note of distress.
I do not feel well at all. They must have put me in a draft. My
rheumatism is most powerful, and I have severe pain in my chest.
I think the celery soup was not a wise choice, she said, trying
to sound sympathetic and knowing she was failing. She heard the
indifference in her own voice.
I fear it is more serious than that. Now there was definite
panic in him, barely concealed. If she could have seen him in the
darkness inside the carriage she was certain his face would have be-
trayed a real fear running close to losing control. She was glad she
could not. She did not want to be drawn into his emotions. That
had happened too many times before.
202
ANNE PERRY
Indigestion can be very unpleasant, she said quietly. Anyone
who makes light of it has never suffered. But it does pass and leaves
no harm behind but the tiredness of being unable to sleep. Please
don t worry.
Do you think so? he asked. He did not turn his head towards
her, but she heard the eagerness in him.
Of course, she responded soothingly.
They rode in silence the rest of the way home, but she was acutely
aware of his discomfort. It sat like a third entity between them.
She woke in the night to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his
face ashen, his body bent forward, his left arm hanging loose as if he
had no power in it. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to sink
back into the dream. It had been something to do with wide seas
and the gentle rush of water past the hull of a boat. She pictured
John Cornwallis there, his face set towards the wind, a smile of
pleasure on his lips. Every now and then he would turn to her and
meet her eyes. Perhaps he would say something, but probably not.
The silence between them was one of total peace, a joy shared too
deeply to need the intrusion of words.
But her conscience would not allow her to remain with the sea
and sky. She knew Reginald was sitting a few feet from her in pain.
She opened her eyes again and sat up slowly. I ll get you a little
boiled water, she said, pushing back the covers and getting out of
bed. Her fine linen nightgown came to the floor and in the summer
night she needed no more for warmth, or for modesty. There would
be no servants about at this hour.
No! The cry was almost strangled in his throat. Don t
leave me!
If you sip the water it will help, she said, sorry for him in spite
of herself. He looked wretched, his skin pallid and beaded with
sweat, his body locked in a huddle of pain. She knelt down in front
of him. Do you feel sick? Perhaps something in the meal was not
fresh, or not well cooked.
203
SOUTHAMPTON ROW
He said nothing, staring at the floor.
It will pass, you know, she said gently. It is fearful for a while,
but it always goes. Perhaps in future you should think less of your
hostess s feelings and decline all but the simplest dishes. Some peo-
ple don t realize how often you are obliged to eat as others guest,
and it can become excessive after a while.
He raised dark, frightened eyes to hers, pleading without words
for some kind of help.
Would you like me to send Harold for the doctor? It was an
offer simply for something to say. All the doctor would give him
would be peppermint water, as he had in the past. It would be an
indignity to send for him for a case of wind, no matter how fierce.
The Bishop had always refused before, feeling it robbed him of the
gravity of his high office. How can one look with awe up to a man
who cannot control his digestive organs?
I don t want him! he said with desperation. Then he caught
his breath in a sob. Do you think it is something in the dinner?
There was a wild note of hope in him, as if he were begging her to
assure him that it was.
She realized he was terrified that it was not merely indigestion,
that after all the years of petty complaints at last he really was ill.
Was it pain he was so deeply frightened of? Or distress and the em-
barrassment of vomiting, losing control of his bodily functions and
having to be cared for, cleaned up after? Suddenly she was truly
sorry for him. Surely that was a secret dread of everyone, but espe-
cially a man to whom power and self-importance were everything.
In his heart he must suspect how desperately fragile was his hold on
respect. He did not really imagine she loved him, not with the pas-
sion and tenderness that would bind her to him through such a
time. Duty would hold her, but that would almost be worse than the
ministration of strangers, except to the outside world, who would
see only a wife at her husband s side, where she should be. What
really passed between them, anything or nothing at all, would never
be known to anyone else.
He was still staring at her, waiting for her to assure him that his
204
ANNE PERRY
fear was unnecessary, that it would all go away. She could not. Even
had he been a child, not a man older than herself, she could not have
given him that. Illness was real. It could not always be warded off.
I ll do all I can to help, she whispered. Tentatively, she
reached out her hand and put it over his where it lay gripping his
knee. She felt the terror in him as if it had flooded through his skin
and into hers. Then like fire she recognized what it was: he was
afraid of dying. He had spent his life preaching the love of God, the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]