A Dangerous Melody, page 9
11
The next morning as I was having breakfast with Miss Brown, who was feeling a great deal better finally, Mr. Gibbs entered the room to announce the post had arrived.
“And a letter has come for you, Miss Honeyfield,” he said, handing the folded parchment to me.
“Thank you, Mr. Gibbs,” I said, smiling up at him.
“Oh, how wonderful, a letter from my cousin Edmund down at the seaside,” Miss Brown said, unfolding a letter she held in her hand. “He’s quite the amusing fellow. His poor children seem to be taking after him. Ah, yes, it is good to hear that his wife, dear Mrs. Randall, is doing quite all right. She was under a great deal of distress with her most recent pregnancy, but it seems the baby was delivered without difficulty.”
“That is wonderful news,” I said as I peeled off the wax seal from the back of my letter.
“Who writes to you?” Miss Brown asked, lifting her tea to her lips.
“It seems to be my eldest sister’s handwriting,” I said. “I suppose she means to tell me about…”
As my eyes skimmed the page, the words faded on my lips.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Miss Brown asked. “You have suddenly gone quite pale.”
Dear Sister,
I should very much like to send good news to you, but unfortunately, I am unable to at this time. I hope this letter arrives swiftly, for our youngest sister has taken ill with a rather troubling fever. Father is doing his best not to worry, but Isabella and I worry that it seems all too similar to the same illness that drove our poor mother to her death.
“Miss Honeyfield? Whatever is the matter?” Miss Brown asked.
I looked up at her, my hands beginning to tremble. “My… sister, it seems, has taken ill,” I said.
Miss Brown eyes widened. “Taken ill?” she asked. “From the look on your face, I would assume it is not good news.”
I dipped my head once more and continued reading.
Father will not be happy I sent this news to you; he would rather you not have anything to worry about. But I am worried, Juliana. She has not risen out of bed in days, and you know as well as I that Father has not the means to pay for a proper physician. We are doing our best to keep her comfortable, but I shall worry if this continues.
I shall send news as soon as anything changes, for the better… or worse, as much as I hate writing it. Isabella is calling me now. I must fetch some cool towels for Susannah. Oh, Juliana, I had so dearly hoped to never have to do this again…
At the very bottom, she hastily had signed her name, and from a short glance at the wax seal, she had been hurried in that matter, as well.
“I do not know,” I said, turning the letter over. “It is dated three days ago. What if she is worse by now? What if she dies, and I will not know until the letter arrives too late?”
Miss Brown was up from her chair in an instant, around the table, and pulling me into her arms like a mother embracing her child. “There, now, it does no good to allow fear to consume one’s mind,” she said, stroking my hair.
“My father cannot pay a physician,” I said. “It will be just the same as what happened with my poor mother.”
Miss Brown pulled away from me, staring at me intently. “Miss Honeyfield, you must take this news to Mr. Thorne. Perhaps he can arrange for you to get back to your family before she becomes any worse.”
A new fear appeared to cover the others I was already feeling. “Oh, I cannot bother him with such trifles. I… I shall have to ask his permission to leave, of course. But I could walk the ten miles in one day, especially if I were to leave soon.”
“Come with me,” Miss Brown said, latching her hand around my wrist and dragging me from the room.
We wandered down the hall for a moment like a mother pulling her child, when a stern-looking woman stepped through the door of the parlor.
“Mrs. Frampton, have you seen Mr. Thorne this morning?” Miss Brown asked.
Mrs. Frampton’s sour expression deepened. “I most certainly have. What might you need with him?”
“Miss Honeyfield must speak with him,” Miss Brown said. “It is a matter of emergency.”
Mrs. Frampton’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Upon my word, I have never heard of such impertinence.”
“Mrs. Frampton, please,” I said. “I just received news that my youngest sister is very ill. I need to get back to see her.”
I kept eye contact with her for a long moment, determined not to look away.
It seemed to work, for she sighed and looked away. “He is taking breakfast,” she said, and with her nose in the air, she made her way down the hall.
Miss Brown and I hurried down the stairs to the breakfast room. We hurried inside, both bowing as we did so.
“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Thorne said, lowering his newspaper. “Look, dear Elizabeth. Your instructors have come to see us. But look here, why are your faces so long, dear ladies?”
Miss Brown gave me a sidelong look out of her eye.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Sir, I have just received news that my youngest sister has taken ill.”
“Good heavens,” he said, his tone gentler and more reserved. “This is serious, then, is it?”
I nodded, willing the tears that threatened to come to not do so, but my vision blurred, and I found it difficult to look at him. “Yes, sir. She is just turned nineteen, and my sister believes it could be the very same illness that took my mother from us.”
Mr. Thorne stood at once, his paper abandoned. “Then there is no time to lose,” he said. “I shall call for the carriage, and we shall be on our way at once.”
All thoughts of tears disappeared as I gaped up at him. “Mr. Thorne?”
“I’m sorry, dear Elizabeth, but I shall be leaving you in the care of your dear Miss Brown for a few days, if that is all right.”
Miss Elizabeth appeared as shocked as I was, her blue-green eyes wide as she stared at him. “But how long will you be gone for?”
“Hopefully, no more than a day or two,” he said. “I shall write as soon as we arrive. Remember, Miss Honeyfield’s home is only a short ten miles from here. If anything was to happen, I could be back in just a few hours.”
Miss Elizabeth turned her round eyes on me. “She is your sister?” she asked.
Moved by her fear, as well as my own, I walked around the side of the table and knelt down beside her, taking her hand in my own. “Dear, sweet, Elizabeth… yes. She is my sister. And she is much too young to be ill. I must go and help her get well again.” I hoped with every ounce of faith within me that she would, indeed, become well once more.
Miss Elizabeth searched my face for a long, hard moment. “And I shan’t come with you?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, my dear. I fear that this trip will be more for work than for play. I promise you, the next time I am to return home for a visit, you shall come with me.”
A smile grew across her innocent face. “And you shall show me the flower fields where you played as a girl?”
“Indeed,” I said. “If there are any in bloom, I shall bring them home for you.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded. “And… you shall come back to Northington Park, yes? I should miss you if you were to go away forever.”
I leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I shall return,” I said. “You have my word, dear one.”
Miss Elizabeth smiled at me and then turned to her father. “Please do not be gone long, Father. I shall miss you both when you are away.”
“And my heart shall pine for you, my dear,” he said. “I will come and say goodbye before we depart.”
It was a whirlwind after leaving the breakfast room. Mr. Thorne instructed me to get packed as quickly as I could. Miss Brown entreated me to help, and we gathered some clothes and other necessities into my small suitcase to take with me.
“Take these,” Miss Brown said, hurrying back into my room, her arm laden with various articles. “New dresses, some healing herbs, some books on prayer, though I am certain your father must have every one of these,” she said, tucking them all inside. “And please, Miss Honeyfield, do not despair. You will see your sister, and your presence alone will likely cause her to perk up with joy.”
“I hope you are right,” I said. “I fear we may be too late.”
“Do not give the devil so much room,” Miss Brown said. “Remain at peace. You shall save your strength that way.”
Mr. Gibbs carried my suitcase down to the foyer for me, where Mr. Thorne was instructing Mrs. Frampton on things before leaving.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Honeyfield,” Mr. Thorne said. “Thank you, Mrs. Frampton,” he said as an aside to the stoic woman. He turned back to me. “Are we ready?”
“Yes, indeed, sir,” I said.
“Very good,” he said, offering his arm to me, and we strode out the door together.
The footman helped me into the carriage, and I didn’t even have a chance to look before Mr. Thorne had climbed up beside me, pulling the door closed behind him.
He pulled his hat from his head, turning to look at me. “How are you feeling?”
“A bit nervous,” I said. “How long before we arrive?”
“I imagine just before dinner,” he said, gazing out the window. “As long as the rain holds out on us.”
I suppressed a shiver. I hoped the weather would not delay us.
The carriage began to move, and its jostling was soothing to me, reminding me that we were on our way much faster than I would be if I had chosen to walk instead.
“I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Thorne, for allowing me to ride in your carriage back to my home,” I said.
“You are quite welcome,” he said. “I don’t believe there is anyone more deserving than you, if I’m honest.”
My face turned scarlet. I was glad for the bonnet I wore to cover my face.
“I should have you know that I have also written to my friend, Dr. Williams, and asked him to meet us at your home. I informed him of the situation and have already sent one of my errand boys to town with it. He should be there shortly after we arrive.”
“Oh, Mr. Thorne, you are doing far too much for my family,” I said. “You really shouldn’t have done such a thing. For there is no earthly way for my father to pay you apart from his deepest gratitude.”
“And that shall be quite enough,” Mr. Thorne said. “I trust Dr. Williams greatly. He is Miss Elizabeth’s physician, after all.”
That thought was deeply comforting as we rode through the countryside.
“I am pleased Miss Elizabeth agreed to let us go,” I said.
“I am as well,” he said. “I feared she might have one of her great tantrums. You know how little she likes her routine disrupted.” He nodded his head. “It seems there is some maturing happening in the heart of my daughter. This is an unexpected development, yet I must admit that I am rather pleased to recognize it.” He looked over at me. “And I imagine that your pleading with her helped her to feel as if she had part in the decision. You were very kind to her, and I was pleased to hear that she seemed more concerned with your return than my leaving in the first place.”
“That surprised me as well,” I said. “Almost as much as your insistence to accompany me in the first place.”
“I could not very well allow you to travel this far alone,” he said. “And like you, we have both lost loved ones to sickness like this. You should not have to endure this alone.”
The paramount reality was not on me in those moments. The master of the house had agreed to travel with me, a lowly tutor to his daughter, to ensure that my sister was well taken care of. It did not seem possible, or even likely, that something like this would happen. Yet here we were, well on our way to my father’s parsonage.
I did my best not to dwell on it, though, instead choosing to keep my thoughts on my sister and instead be grateful to Mr. Thorne for his graciousness in the first place.
And though it was harder to do, I did my best to subdue the hope rising in my heart that there was something indeed very different about Mr. Thorne… and that I should like to become more familiar with him.
12
I began to recognize the countryside as the sun began to dip toward the horizon. Farms belonging to family friends appeared on the horizon, as well as the small town where my father gave his sermons every Sunday morning.
The carriage pulled into the narrow drive of the small cottage that my family owned just as the sunbeams were obscured behind the trees.
My heart clenched in my chest. The house was far smaller than even I remembered it. How could I have forgotten? A window in one of the bedrooms was cracked, and the hinge along the door was coming loose. The flagstone path leading to the front door was uneven, and the ivy growing along the eastern side had completely obscured the window into the sitting room.
Embarrassment caused my cheeks to flush, yet I held my chin high.
“Come along, Miss Honeyfield. There is no time to waste,” Mr. Thorne said as the carriage came to a stop.
I allowed him to help me out, and I swept toward the front door, my thoughts entirely focused on my poor sister who I hoped was still doing all right.
I knocked on the door and heard commotion on the other side. It wasn’t a moment later before it swung inward and I saw the face of my sister, Isabella, staring out at me.
Her eyes grew wide, her mouth falling open. “Juliana…?” she asked, clutching her hand over her heart. “Oh, my heavens!” she said, her face splitting into a smile. She threw herself across the threshold into my arms, laughing.
I staggered a little under her embrace, returning her affection for but a moment before peeling her off of me. “Isabella, where is Susannah?”
“She’s in bed, of course,” Isabella said, a more serious expression passing over her face. “Is that why you’re here? Did Amelia write to you?”
“Yes, she did,” I said. “And I came as soon as I received the letter.”
Isabella’s eyes fell upon Mr. Thorne, who stood behind me, and she gave me a questioning look.
“This is Mr. Thorne,” I said, gesturing to him. “Mr. Thorne, this is my middle sister, Miss Isabella Honeyfield.”
Her eyes widened until I feared they might fall directly out of her head. “Mr. Thorne, what a pleasure it is to meet you,” she said, lowering herself into a curtsy, and hiding her face.
“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” he said. “Is your father home?”
“Why, yes, sir, he is,” Isabella said. “Please, come inside.”
The subtle scent of freshly baked bread and my mother’s favorite, lavender, hung in the air as I stepped inside. A wave of emotion washed over me, and I had not been prepared for it. I tried to hide my sudden influx of sorrow mingled with longing as we made our way toward the sitting room.
“Father, you will not believe who has come to visit,” said Isabella as she stepped into the room. “My dear sister, and her employer, Mr. Thorne.”
I crossed the threshold after her, my eyes searching for my father’s face at once. I located it in his chair beside the fire. It was clear they had just finished dinner; a half-played game of cards was out on the table, and a tea kettle was sitting beside three partially finished cups.
“My heavens…” Father said, rising to his feet, his eyes as wide as Isabella’s had been. “What on earth are you doing back here?”
“I came as soon as I received Amelia’s letter,” I said. “Where is Susannah?”
“In her room, of course,” Father said. “Amelia is tending to her now.” He turned his gaze onto Mr. Thorne, who smiled down at him. “And you, sir. I am humbled by your appearance. It is an honor and a great pleasure to meet you.” He bowed deeply.
“You, sir, have my deepest respect,” Mr. Thorne said. “Being a clergyman is a thankless task, and I am well acquainted with it.”
“Are you?” Father asked. “Perhaps a relative of yours?”
“My uncle,” he said. “The kindest man I know. As you must be, for there is no one quite as kind, or as sensible, as your eldest daughter.”
“I am indebted to you for what you have done for my daughter,” Father said, stooping into a bow once again. “Please, can I get you anything? Perhaps some tea?”
“No, that is quite all right, sir,” Mr. Thorne said.
“Father, may we see her?” I asked him, impatient to wait any longer.
“Of course,” Father said, motioning toward the staircase through the narrow doorway.
“I do hope you do not think me too forward, sir, but I have asked a dear friend of mine, a Dr. Williams, to come by here and check on your daughter,” Mr. Thorne said.
I heard the nervousness in Father’s voice at once. “Oh, sir, I beg you. You are far too generous. I could not possibly accept such an offer, it is far too kind.”
“Call it the personal favor of a friend,” Mr. Thorne said. He laid a hand on my father’s shoulder. “I lost my wife to sickness as well, Mr. Honeyfield. I daresay it would do my heart good to know that you shall not lose anyone else in the same fashion.”
I hurried into Susannah’s room, the room she shared with Isabella, and found her sprawled out on her bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin.
“Oh, dear sister,” I said, my heart caught in my throat.
Amelia, who was sitting in the chair beside the bed with her needle and thread, gazed up at me as if she could not believe her eyes. “Juliana!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “What are you doing—” Her words faded as Mr. Thorne and Father stepped into the room behind me.
“Dear sister,” Susannah said from the bed. She lifted her head and made to sit up.
“No, do not move on my account,” I said, hurrying over to her to ease her gently back down onto the bed. “It’s all right. Amelia sent me a letter and said that you were ill, so I came as soon as I could.”
