The Penmaker's Wife by Robinson Steve

Author:Robinson, Steve [Robinson, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2019-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

Later that evening, following a sombre dinner that no one at Priory House was really in the mood for, Angelica was on her way upstairs to look in on Stanley again when she heard a sound that was akin to a door being slammed. It came from inside the drawing room. She entered to find Alexander by himself, sitting on the stool at the piano, collapsed over the fallboard. She supposed the sound she had heard was that of the fallboard being slammed shut. Alexander sat up as soon as he heard Angelica approach. He was in his shirtsleeves, buttons undone at the neck, his hair tousled and his eyes drawn with worry and alcohol – if the bottle of port and empty wine glass sitting on top of the piano were anything to judge by.

‘Angelica,’ he said, slurring slightly. ‘I thought you’d be upstairs in my father’s room with William.’

‘I was just on my way,’ Angelica said, studying the port bottle, trying to gauge how much Alexander had consumed after the already generous amount of wine he’d taken at dinner. ‘I also expected you would be there at your father’s side with William.’

Alexander drew a deep breath and let it go again, shaking his bowed head as he did so. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I can’t bear to see him looking like that. He’s so ashen. It’s as if he’s already . . .’

Alexander trailed off and turned away. He picked up the port bottle and filled his glass again. Angelica knew what he was going to say. She had thought it herself as soon as she’d walked in on Doctor Grosvenor and his leeches. Until she saw Stanley move his head in a fitful spasm for the first time, she had thought him already dead. But there was hope. One of the older maids, Sarah, who had been with the family since before Alexander was born, had been with Stanley ever since the doctor left. She had sat there with a bowl of cool water, gently dabbing his brow, and she was still there now.

‘When I last spoke to Sarah, she told me she thought your father’s fever had begun to lift,’ Angelica said, resting a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. ‘She always looked after you while you were growing up, didn’t she? Now she’s looking after your father.’

Alexander put his glass of port down again untouched. ‘Is it terrible of me to not wish to see my father like this?’

Angelica offered him a kindly smile. ‘No, it’s not terrible,’ she said. ‘You must deal with such matters as you see fit. We’re not always as strong as we’d like to be, are we?’

‘I’m ashamed of myself. Why can’t I be as strong as William? Apart from dinner, he’s been at my father’s bedside since you left to send that telegram. When do you suppose we’ll hear from this London doctor of yours anyway?’

‘It’s my hope that he has already read my telegram and is making preparations to call on your father tomorrow.

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