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“No, she is a few years older than I am. And her existence is not a bad thing, no – but the state of that existence, that is a different, and far more difficult, matter.”
She looked confused – as well she might, for he was doing a remarkably bad job of explaining.
“The state of her existence? I do not understand.”
He swallowed, wetting his lips, desperately searching for the words which might convey the truth.
“She… she suffers from a malady that nothing has been able to cure. It is in part like a consumption, yet it has far broader effects – the worst of which is that, slowly, over the years, it has stolen her wits in many ways. It has changed how she sees the world – for the worse. She never came out into society, for by the time that would have been appropriate, things were too far advanced, and to do so would have wrought irreparable scandal and pain for all in the family. We have, in the main, kept her very existence a secret, for her own sake. I… must ask you to do the same, no matter what.”
>>>
Iris stared, aghast, her mind struggling to take in the words Leon had just uttered.
At first, she felt a surge of anger, that he had not told her this, before their marriage – for there had been time, although precious little of it. But then, even though the idea of him keeping secrets from her still rankled, another thought overtook the anger.
To keep such a secret, to live with it every day - it horrified her, for the very concept of seeing a sister suffer so was unimaginable. She had spent her life surrounded by sisters who were hale and healthy, cheerful, and always there to support her – the idea that he, with only a single sister, had then been deprived of that comfort, had, instead, needed to watch his sister suffer so very much was beyond abhorrent.
How could the world be so cruel?
The thought slipped through her mind that this at least explained the strange entry in Debrett’s, the mention of a sister whom no-one had ever seen or heard of. That they had succeeded in keeping his sister out of the ton’s awareness was remarkable – that also explained him, and his father before him, having a reputation for reclusiveness. She could not reasonably refuse the request that he had just made.
“I… of course. But can nothing be done? Physicians?”
“They have all singularly failed to do anything but make it worse. Mrs Withercombe – who was our nanny, and then became Maggie’s nurse and companion – does the best she can, and that childhood familiarity means that Maggie will generally let Mrs Withercombe guide her. But it is difficult. I do not know how Maggie will respond to your presence.”
“Surely she expected that, eventually, you would marry?”
“I… I do not think that the manner of her thinking is so rational anymore. And she is somewhat… attached… to me. My playing the pianoforte is one of the few things that truly soothes her when she is upset, and she has been used to having much of my attention.”
Iris considered those words, and what they might mean. She had never needed to spend much time with a person who was ill, never contemplated what it would be like, or how a person might behave if their illness had damaged their reasoning. What if Maggie took a dislike to her? What would she do?
“I see. I will just have to do my best then, and take things as they come. I do understand, though, that you must help your sister – if one of my sisters were dreadfully ill, I would do everything in my power to help. Perhaps she will accept my help too?”
“I suspect that she won’t - but thank you – for understanding my motivation, and for not castigating me for my ill manners in not informing you of her existence sooner.”
“In truth, I wish you had told me – but I forgive you that discourtesy. However, in future, might I ask that there be no secrets between us?”
Iris watched his face, and the fleeting passage of emotion – sadness, a deep grief, and something more, something which seemed, for a moment, to be an appreciation of her. But perhaps that was her imagination. The sound of the carriage wheels changed, from the soft muffled rumble of earth below, to the crunch of gravel. Startled, she looked out of the window again, to see, as the drive they travelled down curved, a beautiful old stone house, painted soft gold by the afternoon light, and framed by trees dressed in spring green.
His words brought her back to him, and he smiled, aware of her reaction.
“I will do my utmost to hold to that. I have had enough of secrets in my life. The house is beautiful, isn’t it? No matter the sadness I have suffered here, I can still appreciate that beauty.”
They drew to a halt, and a footman hurried out to open the door and let down the steps.
“It is beautiful, indeed.”
He stepped out, and turned to offer her his hand. Behind them, the second carriage, bearing Belling, Lina, and all of their luggage – which was substantial, as it contained a vast amount of Iris’ personal possessions – drew to a halt.
“Belling will see that Lina is shown where everything is, and introduced to the other staff. Come, let me introduce you to the butler, housekeeper, Cook, and Mrs Withercombe. Mother is likely at the Dower House – she has chosen to live there, since father died, but Maggie could not be moved…”
His words left Iris wondering exactly why ‘Maggie could not be moved’ – was she too frail? Or was it something else?
He slipped his hand through her arm, and led her forward, but they had barely taken three steps when a green whirlwind descended upon them, tearing her away from his side.
“Do not touch him! He is my brother – mine! Who are you to presume so!”
So – not too frail to move, then. Not truly strong though, for the effort which had been exerted to thrust Iris away from Leon had left the girl shaking, breathless, and clinging to Leon for support. She was tall, and very thin – quite gaunt in fact. Her skin was excessively pale, and very smooth where it was not marred with sores, and her hair, whilst thin and limp, was the same rich colour as Leon’s. The contrast of its darkness made her skin seem even paler. She was dressed completely in green, with a green bow tying back her hair. Her eyes were blue, but a faded shade, almost grey, like a drab winter sky.
