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“Yes, my Lord, I’ve planned for the possibility.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs Jermyn bobbed a curtsey, and turned to the servants’ stairs. As she did so, Maggie hissed, then stepped up beside Iris, and grabbed her arm, shaking her. Mrs Jermyn stopped and looked back, obviously concerned, as Leon firmly took hold of Maggie.
“Maggie, no! You promised.”
Maggie struggled, and hit at Leon, as well as at Iris, the strength of hysteria allowing her to pull from his grasp.
“I don’t care! As if she wasn’t bad enough, now there will be grandmother – and even more people! You didn’t tell me that she would bring anyone with her!” She spun to face Iris again, and slapped her across the face. “You, it’s all your fault, all of it!”
Iris staggered back, and Leon took hold of Maggie, far harder this time.
“Maggie, that’s it. You promised, and you knew the consequences of breaking that promise. You are banished to the second floor of the East Wing, now, and forever.”
Maggie stilled in his grasp, and then flung herself about desperately, even as Mrs Withercombe hurried forward. Iris stepped back in horror, until the corner of the banister and balustrade at the top of the steps stopped her.
“Noooooo. It’s not green…. No Leon, no.” Maggie lurched, twisting, and pulled free from Leon again, evading Mrs Withercombe as well, and flung herself at Iris, her arms flailing, her fingers clawed. “You! You should have left! I hate you, you ruined everything when you came here, everything!”
Downstairs, the front door opened, but no one on the landing heard it.
Maggie reached Iris, and crashed into her, screeching, unbalanced, and completely out of control. Time slowed as Leon watched, and his heart filled with terror. They were at the top of the stairs, and Maggie’s momentum was carrying both women to the very edge. Iris was about to fall. He could not lose her, could not have his love snatched from him, now that he had found her.
He threw himself forward, just managing to grasp Iris’ skirts as she began to tumble, and tipped himself backwards to the landing floor, desperately pulling Iris with him. The fabric of her skirts tore a little, near giving way, but, after teetering, she fell back, directly into his arms.
Past her shoulder, he saw, as if impossibly slowed, the moment when Maggie, without Iris to even slightly stabilise her, was carried over the edge by her own ferocity of motion, and tumbled, her screeches becoming a scream of fear, down the steps. He pushed to his feet, his arms still cradling Iris to him, and looked down. Maggie reached the bottom, tumbling awkwardly, and came to rest with a sickening crack, her head at a very odd angle on the marble floor.
Standing not three feet away from where Maggie lay, the front door still open behind them, were Lady Neelsham, his mother, and Waring, all with matching expressions of horror. Behind him, a rather solid thump sounded, and he turned to see that Mrs Withercombe had fainted. Mrs Jermyn rushed forward to tend to her.
Iris stirred in his arms.
“Leon… is she…. Is she…?”
He swallowed, breathing deeply, trying to steady himself, as a torrent of grief filled him, closely followed by a flood of relief – a relief of which he was ashamed.
“Yes, I believe so. We had best go down. Can you manage the stairs? I could not bear it if you fell now….”
He could hear the edge of hysteria in his own voice. Iris stepped out of his arms, back away from the stairs for a moment, as if assessing her own stability, then nodded.
“I can, but I will keep a firm grip on the banister.”
Leon turned back to where Mrs Jermyn was fanning Mrs Withercombe.
“Mrs Jermyn, I’ll send one of the maids up with some smelling salts, and leave you to assist Mrs Withercombe.”
Mrs Jermyn looked up.
“Yes, my Lord. And… I’m sorry. We had all hoped that one day, she might get better.”
He nodded, the grief surging through him again, then followed Iris down the stairs. There was nothing he could do for Maggie anymore – but he was certain that, right now, his mother needed him.
>>>
Iris reached the bottom of the stairs, and stepped carefully around poor Maggie. But then, she stopped, unsure what to do. Moments later, Leon went past her and went to his mother, folding her into his arms. Lady Neelsham seemed frozen, shocked into silence. Waring stood near them, his face filled with a great sadness.
Iris realised, in that moment, that it was up to her to act. She was Lady Greenleigh, it was her responsibility to deal with things which happened in this house. And the best way that she could help Leon and his mother was to do the things which were necessary.
“Waring… the door, if you please. Then summon two footmen to take urgent messages. We must arrange for the physician and the undertaker to come, so that her death will be correctly recorded. While we wait for them, she must be decently covered where she lies, and the small parlour prepared for her to be laid out in. Oh, and send some smelling salts up for Mrs Withercombe.”
