stood now.
He accepted a biscuit from the plate his mother held out to him, then went to sit down next to Lydia.
Gran said, “You were careful with that shoulder, I hope.”
“Yes, of course,” he answered impatiently. “But the doctor instructed me to exercise it to bring it back to full strength. You know that.”
“Exercise and walking off a black mood are two very different things,” she retorted, and reached for another biscuit.
Mrs. Ellis mentioned the guests they were expecting, and Roger said, “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Mother?”
“Yes, why not? Eleanor will wish to see Alan’s stone in its proper place, and Margaret is already here. What’s more, I think it will be good for George. He wasn’t able to stay when Alan was so ill. ”
“I doubt it will be good for him,” Roger argued. “He’s changed, Mother, whether you wish to admit it or not. First Malcolm’s death, and then Alan’s. I’m surprised he hasn’t killed himself, to tell you the truth.”
Her son’s bluntness made her wince.
“He was best man at your wedding. Your oldest friend,” Mrs. Ellis reminded him. “Have a little charity, Roger. He needs patience and understanding.”
“He’s moody and unpredictable these days. He’ll cast a pall over the entire event. I hope he’ll change his mind and stay in Hampshire.”
“You have also been moody and unpredictable, my dear.” Her voice was very gentle. “I think Sister Crawford will agree with me that it’s what war does to one’s spirit.”
Roger said nothing, but I could see that he felt otherwise. It struck me that I’d been right about his selfishness.
“It’s starting to rain harder,” Gran reported, rising to walk to the window. “I hope it won’t last for days the way it usually does. The tracks will be nearly impassable. The ceremony spoiled.”
I looked toward the windows and could see that indeed it was raining, the wind picking up to blow it in sheets against the glass. I could just make out the lawns, and the dark line of heath beyond, visible as if through a veil. I was glad we weren’t traveling in an open carriage from the station just now.
Lydia rose. “Bess, I’ll show you the house, shall I? So that you can find your way.”
I thanked Mrs. Ellis for the tea, and went with her. Out in the passage she sighed. “It wasn’t as difficult as I’d expected. I thought—well, never mind what I thought. But I was very glad you were there, all the same. My backbone, as it were.” She smiled, but there was still a touch of anxiety behind it. “My head was thundering in there. It’s better now. The passage is so much cooler.”
But it wasn’t aching from the heat of the fire on the hearth. I said, “You should rest. It’s been a very tiring day.”
“No, I’m fine. And there’s so much to do.”
I said only, “Lydia, if your mother-in-law is expecting a family gathering, I shall only be in the way. Meanwhile, will you at least speak to your family’s physician? It will set my mind at rest.”
She wouldn’t hear of it. I persisted.
“It wouldn’t do if you had problems with a house full of guests. What’s more,” I added, “the blame would fall on Roger, wouldn’t it? I mean to say, that’s the most conspicuous injury, your hair covers the other.”
She stopped in the passage and regarded me for a moment. “What could I say, that wouldn’t be a reflection on Roger? You don’t know Dr. Tilton.”
“Tell him you slipped on the stairs. It’s true.”
“Will you go with me?”
“Of course.”
“Then tomorrow. Before your train leaves.”
With that out of the way, Lydia seemed to be as relieved as I was. We went first to my room, and on the landing I could see for myself the sharp edge of the square mahogany newel post. The cut in her scalp was proof enough of how hard she’d struck it. Hard enough indeed for a concussion.
A fire had been lit on the hearth, taking away the damp chill of the
He accepted a biscuit from the plate his mother held out to him, then went to sit down next to Lydia.
Gran said, “You were careful with that shoulder, I hope.”
“Yes, of course,” he answered impatiently. “But the doctor instructed me to exercise it to bring it back to full strength. You know that.”
“Exercise and walking off a black mood are two very different things,” she retorted, and reached for another biscuit.
Mrs. Ellis mentioned the guests they were expecting, and Roger said, “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Mother?”
“Yes, why not? Eleanor will wish to see Alan’s stone in its proper place, and Margaret is already here. What’s more, I think it will be good for George. He wasn’t able to stay when Alan was so ill. ”
“I doubt it will be good for him,” Roger argued. “He’s changed, Mother, whether you wish to admit it or not. First Malcolm’s death, and then Alan’s. I’m surprised he hasn’t killed himself, to tell you the truth.”
Her son’s bluntness made her wince.
“He was best man at your wedding. Your oldest friend,” Mrs. Ellis reminded him. “Have a little charity, Roger. He needs patience and understanding.”
“He’s moody and unpredictable these days. He’ll cast a pall over the entire event. I hope he’ll change his mind and stay in Hampshire.”
“You have also been moody and unpredictable, my dear.” Her voice was very gentle. “I think Sister Crawford will agree with me that it’s what war does to one’s spirit.”
Roger said nothing, but I could see that he felt otherwise. It struck me that I’d been right about his selfishness.
“It’s starting to rain harder,” Gran reported, rising to walk to the window. “I hope it won’t last for days the way it usually does. The tracks will be nearly impassable. The ceremony spoiled.”
I looked toward the windows and could see that indeed it was raining, the wind picking up to blow it in sheets against the glass. I could just make out the lawns, and the dark line of heath beyond, visible as if through a veil. I was glad we weren’t traveling in an open carriage from the station just now.
Lydia rose. “Bess, I’ll show you the house, shall I? So that you can find your way.”
I thanked Mrs. Ellis for the tea, and went with her. Out in the passage she sighed. “It wasn’t as difficult as I’d expected. I thought—well, never mind what I thought. But I was very glad you were there, all the same. My backbone, as it were.” She smiled, but there was still a touch of anxiety behind it. “My head was thundering in there. It’s better now. The passage is so much cooler.”
But it wasn’t aching from the heat of the fire on the hearth. I said, “You should rest. It’s been a very tiring day.”
“No, I’m fine. And there’s so much to do.”
I said only, “Lydia, if your mother-in-law is expecting a family gathering, I shall only be in the way. Meanwhile, will you at least speak to your family’s physician? It will set my mind at rest.”
She wouldn’t hear of it. I persisted.
“It wouldn’t do if you had problems with a house full of guests. What’s more,” I added, “the blame would fall on Roger, wouldn’t it? I mean to say, that’s the most conspicuous injury, your hair covers the other.”
She stopped in the passage and regarded me for a moment. “What could I say, that wouldn’t be a reflection on Roger? You don’t know Dr. Tilton.”
“Tell him you slipped on the stairs. It’s true.”
“Will you go with me?”
“Of course.”
“Then tomorrow. Before your train leaves.”
With that out of the way, Lydia seemed to be as relieved as I was. We went first to my room, and on the landing I could see for myself the sharp edge of the square mahogany newel post. The cut in her scalp was proof enough of how hard she’d struck it. Hard enough indeed for a concussion.
A fire had been lit on the hearth, taking away the damp chill of the
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