Chapter Two

Love and Loss

Elena leaned over the bed, grasping her mother’s hand and shaking with sobs. Her tears fell on the embroidered pillow where her mother’s head rested. The hastily summoned physician stood nearby, and in the doorway the servants hovered, their faces as pale as the snowy linens on her mother’s four-poster bed.

“Come, Miss Bellwood,” Dr. Dryden urged gently. “Go into the parlor and let one of the maids give you a glass of sherry. The other can assist me in preparing the body.”

Elena cried harder at these cruel words, but she allowed Willa to lead her to the parlor. The maid poured sherry and stood quietly near her. Elena sipped the sherry and forced herself to sit up straight and smooth her dress and hair. Turning to the maid, she struggled to speak quietly and rationally.

“Willa, c-can you please sit down for a moment…I want to inquire….”

“Yes, miss.” The young maid settled on the edge of a straight chair.

Elena dabbed at her face with a handkerchief and sipped her sherry, holding the glass with two shaking hands.

“Willa, can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“Yes, miss. Mrs. Bellwood was giving me instructions as to the laying of the table, and…I was on the far opposite side of the table…otherwise—” Willa gave a little gasping sob and tried to continue. “Mrs. Bellwood…swayed a bit…then she made a sound like a little scream…then she fainted…she fainted and dropped straight down. I tried to run to her and catch her, but I was on t’other side of the table, miss…and before I could get to her, she fell! And her head…”

“Her head struck the hearth. I heard you tell the doctor.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Did it seem that she cried out from pain before she fainted?”

“I don’t know, miss. It happened so fast.”

“What did you do next?”

“I dropped on the floor next to Mrs. Bellwood and called to her, but she didn’t answer…or move. So I ran for you, miss.”

Elena barely heard Willa’s last words. Her mother, alive and all aflutter an hour ago, now dead and silent…gone…gone forever. It appeared she had fainted—probably from overexcitement acting on her weak heart—but her head had hit the hearth in such a way that it had ended her life. It was incredible.

Elena suddenly remembered the reason for her mother’s overexcitement. The duke! He must be put off!

“Willa, tell the butler to go immediately to the Duke of Simsbury bearing the news of my mother’s sudden death and asking that he defer the honor of his visit to another day.”

“Yes, Miss Bellwood.”

Willa rose, but Elena retained her. Gently taking the maid’s hand, she forced a wavering smile. “Willa, you acted very quickly and intelligently in this emergency, and I thank you.”

“Thank you, miss.” Willa curtsied and left the room.

Shortly after Willa had departed, the sound of a visitor at the front door interrupted Elena’s compulsive pacing of the room. She gasped, expecting it to be the duke. He must not see her tear-streaked face! She began to hurry away, but she was too late. The parlor door opened, and the butler ushered in not the duke, but her mother’s solicitor, Phineas Coakley.

“My dear Miss Bellwood!” he cried, hurrying toward her. He was a very heavy man, and the jiggle of his tummy as he rapidly crossed the room caused his waistcoat to ride up and expose the wrinkled cotton shirt beneath it. But his expression was one of sincere sympathy, and Elena greeted him with outstretched hands.

“My dear Miss Bellwood, this is such a shock!”

“Indeed it is, Mr. Coakley, and how kind of you to come right away. But how did you—who informed you?”

“Good Dr. Dryden sent a messenger. He feared for your nerves and thought I might be of some comfort and support.”

“Mr. Coakley, I am extremely glad to see you at this moment! It occurs to me I am now the mistress of a household, and I have never in my life been called upon to make decisions or supervise a household staff!”

“My dear, give yourself a bit of time to grieve before you worry over such things.”

“But I must…think…I have so much to do! Oh, I’m so very glad you came, Mr. Coakley! Very glad indeed!” A sudden onset of vertigo made her stumble, and she fell into Mr. Coakley’s arms, sobbing.

“There, there, my dear. Do not ruin your pretty face.”

Elena covered her face with a handkerchief and stepped away to recover herself. “Pray forgive me, sir. Please excuse me for a few minutes to freshen myself.”

But Mr. Coakley replaced his tall hat and prepared to leave. “I must return to the offices of Coakley and Smythe, Miss Bellwood. But I will call again in a few days, with your permission, and bring your mother’s will. We shall look it over together. We have much to discuss, and you are not in a fit state for such matters this morning.”

Elena curtsied, one quivering arm holding the back of an armchair. Mr. Coakley turned to go but paused.

“Tomorrow you will of course receive many friends who will come to pay their respects to dear Mrs. Bellwood…and the day after that will no doubt be the funeral…so let us say Thursday for the reading of the will. Does that suit you?”

“Yes…certainly. You will call during the morning?”

“Yes. Miss Bellwood, pray keep a maid near you. You must avoid the danger of a swoon.”

“I will,” she replied, trying to command her quavering voice.

He bowed and left the room. Elena stepped to her own room to change her frock and wash her face. When she returned downstairs, Catlett, the butler, informed her that her message to the duke had been delivered.

“His Grace,” said Catlett, “expressed his deep condolences and spoke a wish of being admitted within a week or two.”

Elena nodded. “Thank you, Catlett.”

“Forgive the liberty, miss,” said the soft-spoken Catlett, “but Bella and I…we are glad of the duke’s attentions to you. Soon you will have a wealthy husband, miss, and he will take care of you and help you through every difficulty.”

“I do hope you are correct, Catlett.” She sighed. “I feel so alone, as though I’ve been thrown into a cold, dark sea.”

The next two days were so busy that, had Elena been at leisure, she would have felt herself too grief-stricken to cope with the many matters thrust at her. But she was now the mistress, and every household decision must involve her, from the dishes to be served to the choice of her mother’s burial gown. The first day after her mother’s death was a haze of visitors, and she was grateful for the efforts of her mother’s well-trained servants in dealing with the constant flow of people.

Early in the day, Catlett admitted Miss Prudence Carville, Elena’s closest friend.

“Oh, Prudence!” Elena cried at sight of her friend. “Come into the parlor. Let us have a bit of chat before the doorbell rings again! I am so very pleased to see you.”

Prudence settled gracefully into a chair, smoothing the silk skirts of her rose-hued gown. She accepted tea from Willa and then turned to her friend.

“My dear Lanie, how glad I am that you are about to become engaged. You must be so frightened in these circumstances!”

Elena forced a smile. “I wish my affairs were as settled as yours. You are already engaged to Mr. Wendell Prudie, whereas I must wait for the duke to speak.”

Prudence nodded. “He will no doubt delay a few days out of sensibility toward your mother.”

“What if he decides not to marry me? What would I do? Imagine if your mother and father died and you had no Mr. Prudie in your future!”

“Well, at least,” replied Prudence lightly, “if such a thing happened, I would not be about to acquire the ridiculous name of Prudence Prudie.”

This made Elena smile, for the two girls had laughed over the name on many occasions.

“Mr. Prudie is an amiable man,” added Prudence, “and he has the one asset I was seeking—a great deal of money! But he is not the only man of my acquaintance who would make a suitable husband.”

“You have the beauty to command the affections of any man you choose,” said Elena with a touch of envy. “You are small and delicate, and your eyes are like a startled doe’s. Your complexion seems carved of white marble, and your hair is dark as night. You are the princess Snow White in the fairy tale.”

“Silly words,” replied Prudence, “coming from a golden-haired goddess such as yourself. The Duke of Simsbury was immune to the efforts of every other deb and her mama. Only you, my darling, could spark his interest.”

The word “mama” caused Elena to apply her handkerchief to her eyes.

“My dear, I am sorry!” cried Prudence, moving to the settee and taking Elena’s hand. “Your loss has been great, but I am certain that the duke will arrive soon and answer every wish of your heart.”

The doorbell rang. Elena straightened her dress and wiped her eyes. “Stay with me, Prudence, please, just for today.”

“Of course I will stay with you. Come, I will greet each visitor with you.”

Elena was greatly cheered by having Prudence with her through the difficult day. Many visitors, especially Mrs. Bellwood’s own personal friends, wished to view the body. Upon this request, Catlett would conduct them with solemn dignity to the unheated chamber where Mrs. Bellwood lay. Elena could not bring herself to go in. She had said her last goodbyes to her mother the night before, and her wish now was for the funeral to take place and her mother to be laid peacefully away from prying eyes.

Prudence left her just before dinner, after all the other visitors had departed. Their final embraces brought on more tears, and Elena went to her room, unable to eat and suffering a painful headache. Sleep did not come easily, but finally, after tossing about for several hours, she slept deeply and awakened to morning sunshine.

Consciousness brought a return of grief, but she had no time to indulge it. Willa knocked on her chamber door shortly after she awakened, bringing warm wash water, towels, and a freshly ironed dark-blue frock. Elena took care with her preparations, for she felt certain she would see the duke at the funeral service. He had not called yesterday, but that had no doubt been out of concern for her newly acquired orphan state—not a fit time for furthering a courtship, was likely his reasoning.

A few hours later, the funeral party had gathered in the street for the procession to the graveyard. Elena scanned the carriages lined up to follow the bier. Horses stamped and shifted and breathed steam into the cold air, while drivers called out to them to whoa or stood at their heads to calm them. Men in black and women in dark bonnets peered from the isinglass windows of the closed carriages, while others wrapped fur robes about themselves in open curricles and gigs. The dark, bare branches of the overhanging elms gave a skeletal look to the somber scene, and Elena wept quietly in the funeral carriage as the coffin containing her mother’s remains was carried from the house.

By the time the procession had left Hegler Avenue, the sun had been obscured by dark clouds and snow flurries were hurrying on the wind. The coachman urged the horses to a trot, but still it seemed to Elena that centuries passed before they had all finally driven through the iron gates into the cemetery grounds and were assembled for the short service.

The Reverend Parsley had brought his boys’ choir with him, and the children sang hymns as the coffin was carried inside the Bellwood vault. Once the vault door had been closed and locked, Reverend Parsley spoke a few words about Mrs. Bellwood’s being happily seated at the side of God, but he kept it short, for the snow was thickening and everyone was cold. The little boys were blowing on their hands while he spoke, but they dutifully resumed their singing at his signal. Their sweet, high voices floated through the wind-driven clouds of snow and over the dark gray statues and stones that each marked the resting place of a person who was gone forever. Elena, as she was helped into the carriage and driven away, felt that the sad notes would stay in her heart for the rest of her life.

Whether the duke had attended the funeral, Elena could not determine. She had not seen him, but a great many people were in attendance and her veil partially blocked her vision. He had not come to the house to pay his respects afterward, as many others had, but this was perhaps not surprising because of the snow. The weather was useful in driving visitors away quickly, and for this Elena was grateful. She had a desperate need to be alone. When everyone was gone and the house quiet and empty, she told the servants to take the afternoon and evening off. They quietly repaired to their own areas of the house, and she was then free to wander about the empty rooms and think her own thoughts without interruption. She made herself a small dinner of bread and butter and watered wine, and the simple repast comforted her. Tomorrow, she must face new duties and challenges, but today she could rest.