last rites, Lady Eleanor was serene. Alais knew
that her mother could have nothing to fear on judgement day and could only look
forward to a reunion with her husband. At least Alais had that reassurance. She
had no idea how much time passed while she sat there. They were both silent.
Alais could think of nothing to say to her mother; there seemed to be both too
much and too little to say, but Lady Eleanor had one last piece of advice for
her daughter, “Be a good wife,” was all she said, before she died.
“I will, mother, I promise.” Alais leaned over to kiss
her mother’s brow.
There was a sound at the door and Alais looked up to see
Hugh standing just outside the room. She beckoned him in. “She is dead,” she
said quietly.
Hugh reached out and gently touched her hand with his
own. “May God rest her soul.” He kept his hand there for a moment and they shared
the silence.
“I thought it best,” he said, softly, as if afraid to
waken Lady Eleanor, “that we bury her at Hill. I am sorry it is so far away
from your home, but she will be cared for there.”
Alais nodded, it mattered little to her where her
mother’s body lay. Her father’s body had not been returned to them, so Lady
Eleanor could not lie beside him. There was not time enough to arrange to have
her taken back to Leigh. Her own journey to Liss could not be altered. There
was no one at Leigh who would mourn her passing more than Alais herself. Now
she would no longer hear her mother’s voice telling the children stories in the
winter, or singing songs and leading dances in the summer. Lady Eleanor would
no longer stand beside her and tell her how to make cream, or cheese, or to sew
neatly. “Thank you,” she said, turning her attention back to the knight. “That
was a kind thought.”
It was unexpected that this stranger should take such
care of her. Hill had seemed to be such a well-run property, that she was sure
her mother would have liked it had she known it and would be content for her
body to rest there.
“My own mother is buried at Hill,” said Hugh hesitantly.
“Did she die here then?”
“No, she died at Liss. But she loved it here. I asked
them to dig a grave beside her for your mother.”
Alais smiled wearily. What did it matter where her
mother’s body was now that her soul was in heaven?
“The cart should be here soon,” he said, offering her
his hand and helping her to rise.
“I should like to thank the family for taking such good
care of her,” said Alais.
“Of course.”
Hugh had been watching Lady Alais while she had sat at
her mother’s bedside. He had approved her obvious devotion to her mother and
the calm way she had sat beside her whilst waiting for her to die. As he
watched he had reflected bitterly on his own sister’s lack of dignity at their
mother’s deathbed. Perhaps Marguerite would allow herself to be influenced for
the better by Alais. Although married, she still spent a lot of time at Liss
and Alais’ presence there must make a great difference in all their lives.
As he put out his hand to help her rise from the stool
where she had been sitting, he noticed a bag at the bottom of the bed. “Is that
your mother’s?”
Alais turned to see where he was pointing. Her eyes
filled with tears, but otherwise, she maintained her composure. She swallowed
before she was able to speak. “She brought one of my father’s books with her.
She always brought something of his when we travelled.”
Hugh picked up the bag and gave it to her, wondering
that something so precious had escaped yesterday’s destruction. Alais clutched
the bag to her chest as if she expected him to try and snatch it back. The
tears that she had struggled to hold back could be restrained no longer. Unthinkingly,
Hugh held her close as she began to sob and the depth of feeling that she had
controlled so well burst from her.
Her body seemed so small compared to his and he felt
sure the sobs that wracked her body
that her mother could have nothing to fear on judgement day and could only look
forward to a reunion with her husband. At least Alais had that reassurance. She
had no idea how much time passed while she sat there. They were both silent.
Alais could think of nothing to say to her mother; there seemed to be both too
much and too little to say, but Lady Eleanor had one last piece of advice for
her daughter, “Be a good wife,” was all she said, before she died.
“I will, mother, I promise.” Alais leaned over to kiss
her mother’s brow.
There was a sound at the door and Alais looked up to see
Hugh standing just outside the room. She beckoned him in. “She is dead,” she
said quietly.
Hugh reached out and gently touched her hand with his
own. “May God rest her soul.” He kept his hand there for a moment and they shared
the silence.
“I thought it best,” he said, softly, as if afraid to
waken Lady Eleanor, “that we bury her at Hill. I am sorry it is so far away
from your home, but she will be cared for there.”
Alais nodded, it mattered little to her where her
mother’s body lay. Her father’s body had not been returned to them, so Lady
Eleanor could not lie beside him. There was not time enough to arrange to have
her taken back to Leigh. Her own journey to Liss could not be altered. There
was no one at Leigh who would mourn her passing more than Alais herself. Now
she would no longer hear her mother’s voice telling the children stories in the
winter, or singing songs and leading dances in the summer. Lady Eleanor would
no longer stand beside her and tell her how to make cream, or cheese, or to sew
neatly. “Thank you,” she said, turning her attention back to the knight. “That
was a kind thought.”
It was unexpected that this stranger should take such
care of her. Hill had seemed to be such a well-run property, that she was sure
her mother would have liked it had she known it and would be content for her
body to rest there.
“My own mother is buried at Hill,” said Hugh hesitantly.
“Did she die here then?”
“No, she died at Liss. But she loved it here. I asked
them to dig a grave beside her for your mother.”
Alais smiled wearily. What did it matter where her
mother’s body was now that her soul was in heaven?
“The cart should be here soon,” he said, offering her
his hand and helping her to rise.
“I should like to thank the family for taking such good
care of her,” said Alais.
“Of course.”
Hugh had been watching Lady Alais while she had sat at
her mother’s bedside. He had approved her obvious devotion to her mother and
the calm way she had sat beside her whilst waiting for her to die. As he
watched he had reflected bitterly on his own sister’s lack of dignity at their
mother’s deathbed. Perhaps Marguerite would allow herself to be influenced for
the better by Alais. Although married, she still spent a lot of time at Liss
and Alais’ presence there must make a great difference in all their lives.
As he put out his hand to help her rise from the stool
where she had been sitting, he noticed a bag at the bottom of the bed. “Is that
your mother’s?”
Alais turned to see where he was pointing. Her eyes
filled with tears, but otherwise, she maintained her composure. She swallowed
before she was able to speak. “She brought one of my father’s books with her.
She always brought something of his when we travelled.”
Hugh picked up the bag and gave it to her, wondering
that something so precious had escaped yesterday’s destruction. Alais clutched
the bag to her chest as if she expected him to try and snatch it back. The
tears that she had struggled to hold back could be restrained no longer. Unthinkingly,
Hugh held her close as she began to sob and the depth of feeling that she had
controlled so well burst from her.
Her body seemed so small compared to his and he felt
sure the sobs that wracked her body
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