I shook my head and dropped down into the chair opposite him. “It isn’t just about Catherine. It’s about the way this house is running. It’s about…Nurse Gray keeping watch over Catherine like she is a prisoner. It is about your sister playing mother to your daughter. It is about you hiding away in this study and doing nothing to help any of it.”
“Nothing?” Charles’ eyes were wide, his pupils expanded and dark. An angry red leaked into his cheeks. “I feel like all I’ve done for months is worry about everyone around me, Alice. I’m barely eating or sleeping. I’m stretched as thin as I possibly can be, and it still isn’t enough.”
“Catherine isn’t ill enough to warrant that kind of response,” I started. “I’m not sure why you—”
“It’s Camellia, too.”
I frowned. “Camellia is unwell?”
“Something like it.” Charles folded his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned forward, sagging in his chair. “She doesn’t like to speak of it, and neither do I, honestly. I’m not a very emotional man, and I don’t like to dwell on things I cannot fix. And I certainly cannot fix Camellia’s problems.”
I sat perfectly still and silent, desperate to know what he was going to say next.
Finally, Charles sighed. “Her husband and child died. One day after Hazel was born.”
“No.” I clapped a hand over my mouth and shook my head.
I’d asked Camellia whether she missed her family, and her response had been strange. At the time, I’d assumed she was painting herself as the victim of an ungrateful husband. Now, I knew better.
I’m afraid I miss them far more than they miss me.
“How did it happen?”
“A fire.” Charles took a steadying breath and shook his head. “Camellia was pregnant for part of Catherine’s pregnancy. She gave birth four months before Hazel was born. Though Camellia is older than me by several years, Grace was her first child. One conceived after many failures before. She was more precious to my sister than anything.”
I felt tears pressing at the backs of my eyes. My opinion of Camellia had been so low since my arrival because of her surly demeanor and ownership over Hazel, but now it all made sense. Though it did not make her behavior acceptable, it did make it understandable.
“The day of the fire, Camellia left the house for a walk,” he said. “It was the first time she’d left since having Grace. The baby wasn’t sleeping well, and she cried for hours after eating, only to eat and have the cycle begin again. It was exhausting for them, as you can imagine, and Camellia wanted a break. So, she fed Grace, left her with George, and then went for a walk around town. She walked for almost two hours, stopping in at a few places to pick up another bonnet for Grace and cigars for George. Then, she headed home. She saw the smoke from the edge of town.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth and closed my eyes.
“Neighbors were pouring water on the flames by the time the house came into view, but Camellia said it was like throwing pebbles at a dragon. The flames were so high they blotted out the sky. She couldn’t see anything beyond them.” Charles cleared his throat, fighting through his own emotion. “She searched the crowd for George and Grace, but every person she met told her that they were both still inside the house. ‘What house?’ she’d asked. The structure was just a crumbling wooden frame by that point. They found the bodies once the embers cooled.”
It felt as though someone had hollowed my insides. I had never known George or Grace or seen the house where they lived, but it was all so clear in my mind. I imagined it like my parents house, large and stately, hidden behind a metal gate that would survive the blaze. I could see myself walking down the street, see the neighbors I’d grown up with gathered on the sidewalks. I could picture the stomach dropping horror that would overwhelm me when I saw the flames lashing out of windows and doors, devouring the life I’d known from the inside out.
“I can’t imagine,” I said, though I already was. “How is she doing?”
Charles leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “As good as can be expected. Being with Hazel helps her. It reminds her of Grace.”
His comment to Catherine at breakfast that morning made more sense now. He’d been right. I did understand the dynamic of the house better. Though, to Charles’ disappointment, I was sure, my understanding did not mean agreement.
“Is that a good thing, though?” I asked gently. It was now apparent I’d stepped into a situation without knowing all of the facts, and I would try not to bully my way into matters that didn’t concern me, but this did concern me. Clearly, Catherine felt uncomfortable with her relationship with Hazel, which made this issue my highest concern. Especially since I believed wholeheartedly that solving the problems surrounding Hazel’s care would help to heal my sister immensely. If ‘heal’ was the proper word. I still did not understand what it was she needed to be healed of, other than a possibly overactive imagination.
“Camellia feeling better isn’t good?” Charles asked defensively.
“No. I mean, is it a good thing for her to be reminded of Grace in Hazel?” I tangled my fingers together and looked down at my lap, hoping I looked as humble as I felt. “Camellia’s loss is greater than most people could ever imagine—more painful than almost anything a human can bear—and I’m not sure the solution should be to hand her another child.”
Charles sat up, his neck strained, head cocked to the side. “I’m not handing anyone my child. I’m making sure she is cared for.”
“I know Camellia is good with Hazel,” I admitted. “They love each other, and that is wonderful, but I just wonder if it is a good situation for everyone in the house.”
Charles
