Mother turned. If Archie was harboring hope that there might be a flicker of recognition in her eyes, he was, as ever, disappointed. He pasted on a smile and forged ahead, as he always did. “Hello, Mother. This made its way into my bag, and I thought you would want it.”
He approached slowly, holding out the counterpane, which she took from him easily. “And I’ve brought Lords Featherfinch and Marsden. You remember? My friends Edward—Effie—and Simon from school?”
Of course she did not remember. He wasn’t even sure why he kept trying, except he didn’t know how to conduct himself around her other than the way he always had. To accept the shortcomings of her mind as she always had those of his.
The boys murmured gentle greetings, but they seemed to agitate Mother. “Are you friends of Charles’s?” she asked, naming Archie’s late father. “Mother insists I cannot accept his suit.” She shot a disdainful look at Miss Brown before returning her attention to the boys. “Please tell Charlie . . .” She giggled. “I beg your pardon, please tell Lord Harcourt that I shall be at the park this afternoon.”
“I am not a friend of Charles,” Simon said gently. “I am a friend of your son, Archie.”
“Who?” A look of bewilderment washed over Mother’s face. She was going to start crying. “I think I’m confused,” she whispered before the tears began to fall. Even though this was a familiar pattern, it never failed to make Archie’s chest feel heavy. It was the same feeling he always used to get at school, when confronted with an essay he could not write. It was a feeling of powerlessness, as if he were drowning in his own pathetic helplessness. But back then, he’d been able to dissolve the lump in his chest, to take the reins of his own life again, by going outside. By riding or fencing or engaging in an activity that absorbed all his senses. That didn’t work with Mother.
Miss Brown murmured words of comfort, and Archie took Mother’s hand. That sometimes seemed to soothe her, even when she didn’t know who he was.
This was not one of those times. His presence only seemed to upset her further, and she snatched her hand from his.
Ah, bollocks. He hated leaving like this. Miss Brown, who no doubt knew that, said, “Thank you for bringing the counterpane back, my lord. Your mother was bereft, earlier, to discover it missing.” She smiled brightly. “Enjoy your holiday.” She was dismissing him, telling him it was all right to go.
Still, he hesitated. It had very likely been a mistake to install Mother and Miss Brown in London for the duration of this year’s Earls Trip. His reasoning had been that Mother’s London doctor had suggested a new course of treatment that would take a week. Still, he should have arranged that to happen at a time he could be on hand. Mother should be at Mollybrook while he was away, where she was comfortable and could walk in the gardens. He turned to Miss Brown, “I think we ought to return—”
“The doctor is coming in an hour,” Miss Brown said, firmly but not unkindly. Mother’s companion, though not yet thirty, reminded him sometimes of a wise, time-seasoned governess. “Your mother should rest before he gets here.”
Still, he was torn.
“My lord,” she said, getting up and going so far as to actually shoo him and his friends toward the door. “Go. Enjoy yourselves.”
“But—”
“You will recall that I took four weeks of holiday this past summer.” He did recall, and they had missed her dearly. “We can spare you for a fortnight. You’re no use to anyone without some rest and reinvigoration.”
Mother was still agitated. Effie walked back to her and said, “Miss Emma, I don’t think Harcourt had planned on the park this afternoon, but if he knowsyou’reto be there, I wager he’ll change his mind.”
Mother stopped crying. “Oh, do you think so?”
“I do,” Effie said warmly.
“Well, that’s all right, then,” Mother said almost shyly. Though Archie had seen her in this state many a time, it was still unsettling. The Mother he remembered had never been shy, around Father or anyone. That was part of why he loved her so.
“I too think he will be there,” said Miss Brown, resuming her shooing motion. “How will he be able to resist such a diamond of the first water?”
Mother smiled, Archie whispered his fervent thanks to Miss Brown, and he and the boys beat a retreat.
No one spoke until they were back in the coach.
“She is lost in the past,” Archie murmured, once they were underway. “Although that is stating the obvious, isn’t it?” He was always a trifle embarrassed when outsiders witnessed Mother having an episode, and his mind was beginning down that familiar path of chagrin, but he reminded himself that Effie and Simon were not outsiders.
“I am sorry,” Simon said quietly, “that we didn’t realize how bad things had gotten.”
“Will they manage without you, Archie?” Effie asked. “Because we can just as easily spend the fortnight in Town.”
“They will manage fine,” Archie said, and it was the lowering truth. “Mother won’t miss me.” He waved away the murmurs of sympathy that statement drew forth. “Miss Brown will miss me, but only because we spell each other off during the day. It’s gotten so Mother requires constant companionship. She’s begun to wander off. And she’ll tip over candles, forget to eat, that sort of thing. A nurse sleeps with her, but I prefer, during the day, not to relegate her care to servants. Not that ours aren’t good and loyal. I just . . .”
“She’s your mother,” Effie said, as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did.
“I know it won’t be easy,” Simon said, “but can you try to put her out of your mind? I rather think Miss Brown was correct. I believe you are in need of respite.”
Archie was so much in need of respite that the kind words of his friends were making tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He nodded and took out his beads. The boys correctly interpreted the gesture as a signal that he wanted not to talk anymore just now. Effie opened his journal and Simon his newspaper, and silence settled as they rumbled out of Town for the second time.
2
