'If you see him, shall I leave you alone?' she asked.
A shadow crossed his face.
'Shall I stay, and see that we talk of pleasant things, interesting things?”
Slowly he smiled.
She turned and went out to tell Wharmby.
Arthur Kynaston came up the stairs slowly, his fair face creased in concern.
'Are you the nurse?' he asked when he stood in front of her.
'Yes. My name is Hester Latterly.”
'May I see him?”
'Yes. But I must warn you, Mr. Kynaston, he is very ill. I expect you have already been told than he cannot speak.”
'But he will be able to… soon? I mean, it will come back, won't it?”
'I don't know. For now he cannot, but he can nod or shake his head.
And he likes to be spoken to.”
'What can I say?' He looked confused and a little afraid. He was very young, perhaps seventeen.
'Anything, except to mention what happened in St. Giles, or the death of his father.”
'Oh God! I mean… he does know, doesn't he? Someone has told him?”
'Yes. But he was there. We don't know what happened, but the shock of it seems to be what has robbed him of speech. Talk about anything else. You must have interests. Do you study? What do you hope to do?”
'Classics,' he replied without hesitation. 'Rhys loves the ancient stories, even more than I do. We'd love to go to Greece, or Turkey.”
She smiled and stood aside. There was no need to say that he had answered his own question. He knew it.
As soon as he saw Arthur, Rhys's face lit up, then instantly was shadowed by self-consciousness. He was in bed, helpless, unable even to welcome him.
If Arthur Kynaston had any idea of such things, he hid it superbly. He walked in as if it were the way they naturally met. He sat down in the chair beside the bed, ignoring Hester, facing Rhys.
'I suppose you've got rather more time to read than you can use?' he said ruefully. 'I'll see if I can find a few new books for you. I've just been reading something fascinating. Trust me to get there years after everyone else, but I've got this book about Egypt, by an Italian called Belzoni. It was written nearly forty years ago, 1822 to be exact. It's all about the discovery of ancient tombs in Egypt and Nubia.' He could not help his face tightening with his enthusiasm.
'It's marvelous! I'm convinced there must be much more there, if only we knew where to look!' He leaned forward. 'I haven't told Papa yet.
But although I keep saying I'll study the classics, actually I think I might like to be an Egyptologist. In fact I'm pretty sure I would.”
In the doorway Hesteralready felt herself relaxing.
Rhys stared at Arthur, his eyes wide with fascination.
'I must tell you about some of the stuff they've found!' Arthur went on. 'I tried to tell Duke, but you know him! He wasn't even remotely interested. No imagination. Sees time like a series of little rooms, all without windows. If you are in today, then that's all that exists.
I see it all as a vast whole. Any day is as important and as real as any other. Don't you think so?”
Rhys smiled and nodded.
'Can I tell you about this?' Arthur asked. 'Do you mind? I've been longing to tell someone. Papa would be furious with me for wasting time. Mama would just listen with half her mind, and then forget it.
Duke thinks I'm a fool. But you're a captive audience…' He blushed hotly. 'Sorry… that was a wretched thing to say! I wish I'd bitten my tongue!”
Rhys smiled with sudden brilliance. It changed his whole face, lighting it with an extraordinary charm. It was a warmth Hester had never had a chance to see.
'Thanks,' Arthur said with a little shake of his head. 'What I mean is, I know you'll understand.' And he proceeded to describe the discoveries Belzoni had made in Egypt, his voice rising with eagerness, his hands moving quickly to outline them in the air.
Hester slipped out silently. She was perfectly confident that Arthur Kynaston would cause Rhys no unnecessary harm. If he reminded him of other times, of life and vigour that was unavoidable, he would think of those things anyway. If he made the occasional clumsy reference, that was bound to happen too. They were still best left alone.
Downstairs the maid Janet told her that Mrs. Duff would be pleased if she would join her in the withdrawing room for tea.
It was a courtesy, and one that Hester had not expected. She was not a servant in the house, but neither was she a guest. Perhaps Sylvestra wished her to know as much as possible about family friends in order to be able to help Rhys, to explain the rage in him. She must feel a consuming loneliness, and Hester was the only bridge between herself and her son, except Corriden Wade, and he was here only briefly.
She was introduced and Fidelis Kynaston betrayed no surprise at accepting her as part of the afternoon's visit and of the conversation.
'Is he…?' Sylvestra began nervously.
Hesteranswered with a smile which must have shown her pleasure. 'They are having an excellent time,' she answered with confidence. 'Mr.
Kynaston is describing the discoveries along the Nile by a Signor Belzoni, and they are both enjoying it greatly. I admit I too was much interested. I think when I have spare time, I shall purchase the book myself.”
Sylvestra gave a sigh of relief and her whole body eased, the muscles of her shoulders and back un knotting the silk of her dress ceasing to strain. She turned to Fidelis.
'Thank you so much for coming. It is not always easy to visit people who are ill, or bereaved. One never knows what to say…”
'My dear, what kind of a friend would one be if the moment one was needed, one chose to be somewhere else? I have never seen you adopt that course!' Fidelis assured, leaning forward.
Sylvestra shrugged. 'There has been so little…”
'Nothing like this,' Fidelis agreed. 'But there has been unpleasantness, even if largely unspoken, and you have felt it, and been there with companionship.”
Sylvestra smiled her acknowledgement.
The conversation became general, of trivial current events, family affairs. Sylvestra recounted the latest letters from Amalia in India, of course still unaware of events in London. She wrote of the poverty she saw, and particularly of the disease and lack of clean water, a subject which seemed to trouble her greatly. Hester was drawn in sufficiently for good manners. Then Fidelis asked her about her experiences in the Crimea. Her interest seemed quite genuine.
'It must feel very strange to you to come home to England after the danger and responsibility of your position out there,' she said with a puckered brow.
'It was difficult to alter the attitude of one's mind,' Hesteradmitted with massive understatement. She had found it utterly impossible. One month she was dealing with dying men, terrible injuries, decisions that affected lives, then a month later she was required to behave like an obedient and grateful dependant, to have no more opinions upon anything more important or controversial than a hemline or a pudding!
Fidelis smiled and there was a flash of amusement in her eyes as if she had some awareness of what the truth may be.
'Have you met Dr. Wade? Yes, of course you have. He served in the Navy for many years, you know? I imagine you will have a certain amount in common with him. He is a most remarkable man. He has great strength, both of purpose and of character.”
Hester recalled Corriden Wade's face as he had stood on the landing talking to her about the sailors he had known, the men who had fought with Nelson, who had seen the great sea battles which had turned the tide of history fifty-five years ago, when England stood alone against the massive armies of Napoleon, allied with Spain, and the fate of Europe was in the balance. She had seen the fire of imagination in his eyes, the knowledge of what
