Percival hardly knew what to say. He should not inquire further, but he burned to know the cause. Whatever it was, it was grave indeed if all extended family were rushing to the scene.
“Mr. Tattleton, it is not any of my business, but might I ask…”
He trailed off, knowing he had no right whatsoever to ask. It was just that, he really wished to know what Lady Cordelia was facing just now.
“Lord and Lady Van Doren’s daughter, young Miss Lily, has come down with a croup,” the butler said. “It seems to be serious and the family are all making their way there to do what they can, whatever that may be.”
The butler sighed and said quietly, “Another letter from Lady Beatrice to her father has just arrived. I dare not even contemplate what it says.”
Thatwasgrave. If he understood it correctly, the child would not even have reached two years. The diseases of childhood were cruel indeed. Percival had even heard of women in his village who would not allow themselves to love a child until they were deemed hearty enough to survive the ever-present dangers.
What could he do about it though? He was helpless in the situation. He could not even write a letter to Lady Cordelia—it would be far too forward before being accepted and it would be graceless to send any sort of communication without knowing the situation the lady faced. Lady Van Doren’s child might have passed even now. That was what Tattleton was afraid was in the letter that had missed the earl.
He could write to Darden though. Not this minute, not until time had passed and he understood whether condolences were in order.
What could he do now, though? He wished to do something now!
Percival swung himself down from his horse. To the footman he said, “Take Pericles to the stables.” He turned to the butler. “Mr. Tattleton, you will have a thousand things to arrange, I am at your service.”
The butler seemed rather taken aback, though the footman clearly approved of the idea. He nodded vigorously as he took the reins.
“My lord,” Tattleton said, “we are busy indeed, but all of our tasks are, well, they are to be done by servants!”
“Nonsense,” Percival said. “At a time like this, one man’s arms are as strong as the next. Now, I imagine there are piles of things to be packed.”
Mr. Tattleton rubbed his chin. “I should not like to find the earl did not approve, though.”
“He will have more weighty ideas on his mind,” Percival said firmly. “Come, I will pack Darden’s things. He shan’t mind at all.”
“Lord Darden. Youarein the same club…” Tattleton said, trailing off.
“It’s settled. Direct me to his room and his trunks. As he mostly lives in Town, he will not want all his clothes—I can sort out what he will require and pack it up to send on.”
Yes, that was what he needed to do this minute. He needed to be of use and keep himself engaged. After he had assisted Tattleton in getting the household sorted out, he would redouble his efforts with Hamill.
God willing, Lady Van Doren’s child would come through it. All would end happily and then, by next season, Lady Cordelia would return and find herself faced with an intellectual Corinthian.
He did not suppose the world had ever encountered an intellectual Corinthian.
Chapter Nineteen
Cordelia gripped Juliet’shand. They had made the trip in two days. Considering their prior trips, neither of them had imagined it could be done so quickly. However, they never stopped but to change horses and speedily use the facilities. Only once did they stop for a few hours for the coachmen to sleep. Sandren had been a man possessed and had driven the hired coachman to keep up.
Now, they were going straight to Beatrice, straight to Faversham Hall. Now, they would discover what they all faced. They would discover what poor Beatrice had already faced.
The carriage wheels thundered down the drive, Sandren determined to do the last mile with all speed.
He reined in, the carriage slowed to a stop, and there was a sudden silence, but for the heavy breathing of the horses. It felt as if nobody could move.
Cordelia peered out the window as Darden helped their father from the second carriage.
“There is no hatchment,” she said, examining the doors of Faversham Hall.
Those doors swung open and Van Doren’s housekeeper stood there, looking exceedingly surprised.
“She wears no black ribbon on her cap!” Juliet whispered.
Before the housekeeper could say anything at all, the earl said, “We received word about Lily. What is the news?”
