without that.”
“I know you're probably correct and I'm sorry Edwards. It's not your fault. But I hate to see her this way.”
“Leave me a little then, miss, for when she becomes too restless; it's best to stop it gradually, you know.”
Emily hesitated, unwilling to give the evil liquid back. But Edwards was right; her mother would have died from grief without the pain being dulled by opium. She examined the three small bottles. “You may have this, it's half full. But it's to be the last, be very sure of that.”
“Once Lady Althea is back home she will not need it anymore. Wait and see, Miss Gibson, madam will regain her former spirits in no time.”
“I pray that you're correct. Try and get her up and dressed; the girls will wish to see her later on. They're bursting with questions about Westerham.”
The intervening days were filled with feverish activity. Trunks were found and packed with favourite books and leisure items. Mrs Simpson and her team of seamstresses snipped and sewed with enthusiasm and produced the required garments in record time. Their arrival was greeted with speechless admiration. Lady Althea, although still too weak to remain on her feet all day, was making a valiant effort. It was she who broke the silence.
“Mrs Simpson, you have surpassed yourself. The gowns are beautiful. I had no notion that the
Indian silk would make up so well in that new high waisted style.”
The mantua maker bobbed a curtsy, beaming happily at her customer's delight. “Yes, my lady, such delicate material is perfect for the long flowing skirts. There was sufficient left over to make matching shawls and even trim your bonnets.” Her assistants held up the items for their inspection.
“Mama, you'll look wonderful in that gown. Burgundy and gold are a perfect combination,” Emily exclaimed, pleased her mother was taking an interest in her appearance once more. “And I like the long sleeves and high neckline. Your old burgundy pelisse is an exact match and now that it has been taken in, it will complete your outfit perfectly.”
Serena and Amelia examined the dresses made for them from a length of blue and white muslin. They even had new pinafores and stockings. “Thank you, Em, I love my dresses.” Millie ran the material of one through her fingers enjoying its softness. “And your lilac and silver gown is beautiful too.”
“I know, Millie. I was not sure such a colour combination was entirely suitable for someone my age, but it does look lovely. I think this new fashion is very flattering, especially for someone who is as tall and thin as I am.”
“The colour is very becoming, my dear,” Lady Althea said, noticing for the first time how much weight her eldest daughter had shed.
The outfits to be worn on the journey were hung ready for the following day and the others carefully packed, in tissue paper, in the waiting trunks. Glebe House was to be closed down; Holland sheets covered all the furniture and the shutters were locked. Cook and her husband Potts, the sole outdoor man, were to remain behind to act as caretakers.
As all their horses had been sold there were no grooms or stable boys to find employment for.
Mary, the girls’ nurse, and Jenny, Emily's Abigail and Edwards, her mother's dresser, were obviously to accompany them. Sally, the one remaining live in servant, had found employment locally. The daily women, who came to do the heavy cleaning and laundry, had been given a guinea as compensation.
Everything was as it should be. Emily was still concerned that her mother was too frail to cope with the rigours of a two-day journey but Lady Althea assured her she was stout enough to travel.
Five days after the luxurious coach had first appeared at Glebe House it returned to collect the Gibson family. Their baggage had departed the previous day; it would be waiting for them when they arrived at Westerham. Now the moment for departure had come the family was silent. The girls stopped their excited chattering; Emily felt her chest constrict, but Lady Althea was only worried that her beloved father would not welcome her as she hoped. The house she had spent half her life in was no longer somewhere she wished to be. It held too many sad memories, and was a daily reminder of her insurmountable loss.
Foster would ride on the box with the coachman. It would be unseemly for him to travel inside even if there was sufficient room. He had been obliged to hire a second carriage to transport the three servants. He had expected them to travel with the baggage but Miss Gibson had refused to agree to this. She had insisted that they could not manage a two-day journey without their personal maids.
The steps were folded back and the carriage door slammed shut. Foster sprung up on to the box and the coachman gave the four handsome matching bays the office to start.
“Well, we're off. I can hardly believe we're leaving Glebe House for ever.” Millie said, quietly. Emily shivered. She could not bear to consider the possibility that she would be found wanting by Viscount Yardley and they would all be sent back.
Lady Althea fell into a fitful doze and Amelia and Serena were happy watching the blaze of autumn colour pass by their window. Emily was allowed to sit undisturbed and contemplate the future. What did Sebastian look like? Was he handsome? Would he be a considerate husband? She smiled as she remembered how happy her parents had been. She wanted her union to be a loving relationship like that. She swallowed as bile rose in her throat.
Her marriage would never be the same; it was to be one of convenience; Viscount Yardley needed to set up his nursery before he left for the continent and she was marrying to provide security for her family.
Exactly what was involved in “setting up a nursery”, she had only the vaguest notion. Whatever it was, she knew, she was not looking forward to it. These unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by her mother, who had woken.
“Are you quite well, Emily, my dear? You have gone very white? I hope you are not feeling travel sick?”
“No, I'm fine. Just a little apprehensive about starting a new life. You're going home, Mama; Westerham is entirely new to us.”
“You are all going to love it; I was so happy there. In some parts it dates back hundreds of years, you know. My grandfather had a new wing built in the modern style and it is in this part that we shall reside.” She closed her eyes and her mouth curved as she thought about her childhood home. “It has bathing rooms attached to the main suites where one can take a bath whenever one wishes. Only the hot water has to be fetched up; the dirty water escapes down a pipe.”
The two younger girls looked at their mother in astonishment. “But where does the water go to, Mama?” Serena asked.
“I have no idea, darling. I only know it disappears.”
“I expect it is directed outside,” Emily told the girls. “We shall have to investigate when we arrive.”
Foster had arranged for them to break their journey for nuncheon at The Bell, a prestigious posting house. The food provided was the best they had eaten for more than two years. Replete and happy they all snoozed the afternoon away. The overnight stop was equally enjoyable, for only Lady Althea would ever have experienced such fawning and bowing as they were offered.
The best of everything had been bespoken and they were given the attention such expense merited. Serena and Millie were almost sorry when the carriage turned into the impressive stone gates and began the final stage of their trip down the three miles of impeccably tended drive.
The length of this, and the splendour of the park, silenced even the girls. Lady Althea's head turned eagerly, noting changes and recognizing landmarks she had not seen for twenty-two years. Emily sat, staring straight ahead, feeling more nauseous by the minute. She wished that she could vanish from the silk-lined coach and miraculously return to Glebe House.
She realized that her decision to sacrifice her own happiness to provide security for her sisters was not going to be easy. The nearer they got to their destination the more frightened she became. She wished she had not eaten so heavily at breakfast.
“Stop; please—stop.” She banged frantically on the coach roof and the vehicle lurched to a standstill. Not waiting for the steps, Emily threw open the door, jumped down, and ran for the privacy of the bushes where she cast up her accounts; she was watched with concern by her mother, amusement by her sisters but disgust by the man, mounted on a magnificent chestnut stallion, his presence hidden by the overhanging branches of the yew
