Philippa Gregory - Meridon

The doctor came again and again. Then one day, when I felt so weary and so sick that I half wished they would all leave me, leave me and let me die in peace, I saw him nod to Lady Clara and tell her there was nothing he could do. They would have to wait and see. I realized, only dimly, that they were talking about my death.

‘Her mother died of childbed fever,’ Lady Clara said.

The doctor nodded. ‘But it’s strong stock,’ he said. ‘Squires, the backbone of the country.’

Lady Clara nodded. I knew she would be thinking that I had not been reared as a squire’s child, with nothing but the best to eat and drink.

‘She is very strong,’ she said hopefully. ‘Wiry.’

The doctor inclined an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘What of the estate if she goes?’

Lady Clara looked bleak. ‘Back to the Laceys,’ she said. ‘All the contracts depend on marriage between Perry and her. Betrothal is not enough.’

The doctor nodded ‘You must be worried,’ he offered.

Lady Clara gave a little moan and turned towards the window where the winter sky was greying into darkness. ‘Perry will be ruined if he cannot get his hands on his capital soon,’ she said. ‘And I was counting on the revenues of the Wideacre estate. It is a gold mine, that place. My income depends on the Havering estate remaining strong. And if Perry does not marry at all…’ she trailed off but the desolation in her voice echoed in my head. She was thinking of the tumbled Dower House, and the Havering kin who would take her place.

Doctor Player glanced towards the bed and his look at me gleamed. I had my eyes shut and they thought I was sleeping. Indeed, I was only half conscious. I drifted in and out of awareness as they spoke. Sometimes I heard it all, sometimes I heard nothing.

‘Special licence…marriage,’ I heard him say, and I heard Lady Clara’s swiftly indrawn breath.

‘Would it be legal?’ she demanded.

‘Her guardian has already given his consent,’ Doctor Player said judiciously. ‘If she herself wished it…’

Lady Clara came swiftly to the bed and, forgetting her fear of the typhus, put her hand on my hot forehead.

‘Would she agree? Is she fit to consent?’ she asked. ‘She can scarcely speak.’

Doctor Player’s urbane voice held a gleam of amusement. ‘I should be happy to testify that she was fit, if there should be any dispute,’ he said softly. ‘Especially to oblige you, my dear Lady Havering. I have always thought so highly of you…and always loved your part of the world. How I have longed to be a neighbour of yours, perhaps a little house…’

‘There’s a pretty Dower House on the Wideacre estate,’ Lady Clara said. ‘If you would do me the honour…rent free, of course…a lease of say, thirty years…?’

I heard his stays creak as he bowed, and I heard the smile in Lady Clara’s voice. The special smile, when she obtained what she wanted.

‘Doctor Player, you have been most helpful,’ she said. ‘May I offer you a glass of ratafia? In the parlour?’

He took a little bottle of medicine from his bag, I heard it clink against the brass fastening.

‘I shall leave this for her, she should take it when she wakes,’ he said. ‘I can tell Nurse on my way out. And as for her marriage with your son, I should risk no delay, Lady Clara. She is very ill indeed.’

They went out together, I heard them talking in low voices as they went down the stairs and then I was alone in the silence of my room with only the soft ticking of the clock and the hushed flickering of the flames in the fireplace.

I slid into a hot daze, and then I woke again seconds later, chilled to the bone. If I had any voice other than a rasping breath I should have laughed. I had thought my da a big enough villain but even he would have balked at marrying his child off to a dying girl. He was a rogue but he had given me the string and the clasp of gold because his dying wife had asked it of him. In our world we took the wishes of the dying seriously. In this Quality world where everything looked so fair and spoke so soft, it was those with land who gave the orders, who had the world as they wished. Nothing was sacred except fortune.

Lady Clara did not dislike me, I knew her well enough and I knew that had I been her daughter-in-law she would have liked me as well as she liked her own Maria – probably better. She neither liked nor disliked anyone very strongly, her main concern was with herself. In her eyes it was her duty to preserve her personal wealth, her family’s wealth and name, and to increase it wherever possible. Every great family on the land had made itself rich at the expense of hundreds of little ones. I knew that. But I never knew it so clearly as that evening when I watched the ceiling billow like a muslin cloth as my hot eyes played tricks on me, and I knew that I was in the care of a woman who cared more for my signature than for me.

What happened next was like a nightmare in a fever. I woke one time to find Emily washing my face with some cool scented water. I pulled away from her touch. My skin was so sore and so burning that it stung when she touched me. She said, ‘Beg pardon, m’m,’ in an undertone and made a few more ineffectual dabs at me.

I was sweating still – burning up with fever. My bedroom door beyond Emily opened, the white paintwork seemed to shimmer as I looked at it, and Lady Clara came in. Something about her face struck me, even in my heat-tranced muddle. She looked determined, her mouth was set, her eyes, as she glanced to the bed, were as hard as stones I think I shrank back a little and looked to Perry.

He was ill from one of his drinking bouts, his, face was pale, his hair curly and damp from a wash with cold water in an effort to sober in a hurry. But most of all I noticed his clothes. He usually wore riding dress in the mornings, or one of his silk dressing gowns over white linen and breeches. But this morning he was dressed immaculately in pale grey, with a new waistcoat of lavender and a pale grey jacket. In one hand he carried pale grey gloves.

I think it was the gloves which made something in my mind click like a clockwork mechanism. I heard my old voice, my worldly gypsy-child’s voice say: ‘Damn me, they’re going to marry me as I lie here dying!’ and a sense of absolute outrage made me sweat with temper and made my eyes go bright and dizzy.

Perry came to my bedside and looked down at me.

‘Not too close, Perry,’ his mother said.

‘I’m sorry about this, Sarah,’ he said. ‘I did not mean it to be like this for us. I really wanted us to marry and make each other happy.’

His anxious face was wavering as he spoke. That burst of temper had tired me.

‘You’re dying,’ he said bluntly. ‘And if I’m not married to you I’ll be ruined, Sarah. I have to have my fortune, please help me. It will mean nothing to you when you’re dead, after all.’

I turned my face away and closed my eyes. I was black with rage. I should do nothing for him, nothing for them, nothing.

‘She should have some laudanum to soothe her,’ I heard the doctor say. They were all here then. Emily’s nervous pulling at my shoulder raised me a little and I opened my mouth and let the draught slide down. At once I felt a golden glow inside me. It was far stronger than usual. It was strong enough to make me drunk with it. Clever Doctor Player was earning his fee – the Wideacre Dower House which belonged to me. My sense of anger and my panic-stricken scrabble for life eased away from me. My rasping breath grew quieter and steady. I was getting less air, but I minded less. I would have protested against nothing while the drug worked its magic on me. It all seemed a long way away and wonderfully unimportant. I felt easy; I liked Perry well enough, I did not like to see him look so afraid and so unhappy. He should have his fortune, it was only fair.