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“MY, WHAT A BEVY OF pretty girls! And, all come to see us. How lovely!” She seemed especially taken with Ellie and leant closer to her. “Why, I remember you! When yer’ ma and pa’ come to see us, you was just a mite.” Her gray curls shook. “What are you called, little one?”
Ellie looked a trifle confused. “I-I am Eleanor Palmer, ma’am; Mrs. Dandridge’s niece. Aunt Rose is my . . . my father’s older sister.”
“How nice!” Miss Cordelia seemed delighted.
I addressed the older lady. “Have you served as Mrs. Dandridge’s maid for a good long while, Miss Cordelia?”
The little woman turned a gaze upon me, her watery eyes squinting. “My, goodness, you are an especially pretty girl. Do I know you?” Her smile widened. “And who is this little black-haired miss?” she aimed a squint at Hannah, seated to the other side of me. “I do not believe I have ever seen you before. What pretty blue eyes you have!”
With an impatient sniff, Lady Medley seized control of the proceedings. “Do take a seat, Miss Cordelia. Doctor Morgan wishes to convey information of vital import to all of us. Please, sir, do go on.”
Relinquishing her place on the sofa to the elderly Miss Cordelia, Hannah moved to stand beside her mother’s chair.
“As I said, the injuries Mrs. Dandridge has sustained are quite severe and . . .” The surgeon went on to stress the importance of keeping the woman’s pain at bay and to insure that she received an abundance of rest, both day and night. Plus, he once again warned that too much of the strong medication he had prescribed could actually precipitate death. “Simply put, it brings the heart to a sudden and abrupt standstill.”
Gasps escaped several of us.
“It has come to my attention,” added the doctor, “that Mrs. Dandridge very often ignores her injuries and attempts to move about on her own, therefore I suggest you keep her medication beyond her reach.”
Once again, we ladies exchanged furtive looks.
Lady Medley briskly suggested that either Norris or Miss Cordelia assume sole responsibility for seeing that the injured woman received the prescribed amount of medication both morning and night and that not a single drop more be given to her during the day, or night time hours.
“Quite a good plan,” the doctor agreed; then eying Norris, declared that she should be the one to shoulder that all-important duty. “Otherwise, I advise you to secure the elixir under lock and key, young lady.”
I exhaled a breath of relief, for it was abundantly clear to me and apparently also to Doctor Morgan that while Mrs. Dandridge’s maid, Miss Cordelia, was a kindly soul, she was not one to remember from one hour to the next what she had, or had not, been told to do, or even had or had not said, or done. Clearly, the older lady was one blossom short of a posy and should not be entrusted with any duty of vast import. Whilst seated beside me on the sofa, she had clasped my hand and now appeared loath to let go.
Eventually the doctor took his leave and both Norris and Miss Cordelia also vacated the room. Lady Medley invited me to come up to the bedchamber where she was to pass the night before departing for Medley Park the following day. After seeing Hannah and Ellie to their suite, Lady Medley and I drew up chairs before the low-burning fire in her bedchamber. The room was not large and contained rather sparse furnishings, a narrow bed, a clothespress, a dressing table and pair of rather tattered-looking wingback chairs. I deemed the chamber adequate for a stay of short duration and certainly far finer than Lady Medley might encounter were she to set out for Medley Park at once and in only a few short hours pause to put up for the night at a roadside inn.
Whilst awaiting her to explain her reason for requesting my presence apart from the girls, I hoped the wary feeling that had beset her earlier had been partially erased by the doctor’s strong words of caution. I could not help wondering now what might be causing her ladyship additional concern. Surely, we had learned the truth, or, at least a believable version of it, regarding how Mrs. Dandridge’s former housekeeper had lost her life. Yet, judging from the apprehension still evident upon Lady Medley’s face, I knew she continued to harbour misgivings over . . . something; perhaps the notion of leaving her beloved daughter, Hannah, in the care of the ailing woman above stairs.
My theory proved to be not far removed from the truth.
“I confess I would have never agreed to this proposition,” began Lady Medley, “had I been aware of Mrs. Dandridge’s condition. I continue to think that perhaps I should simply call a halt to the proceedings and carry both girls back home with me on the morrow.” A fretful sigh escaped her. “Pray, what are your thoughts on the matter, Miss Abbott?”
“I confess I feel equally as torn as you do, ma’am. I realize that both girls have their hearts set on a London Season and are quite looking forward to all the pleasures the weeks ahead will provide, but . . .”
“I cannot dispute that a bit of Town bronze will do both girls good.” She appeared to be thinking aloud. “But, even if Hannah were to take a fancy to a young man and he to her, it is likely she will still pass the remainder of her days at Medley Park.” Her brown eyes sought and held mine.
“Despite her brother Cecil now running the estate,” she went on. “Hannah is the rightful heir to Medley Park, you know. In that regard, she is an heiress, and as such, will likely be viewed as a coveted prize by many of her suitors.”
I nodded. “Hannah did reveal the truth of her position to me.”
Lady Medley smiled a trifle sadly. “Hannah did so wish that you and Cecil could have reached an understanding . . . and I admit I would have liked nothing better myself.” She attempted to bring her thoughts back around. “At any rate, given the circumstances here, I cannot help but fear it might be unwise to leave my only daughter in the care of . . .” Her thoughts continued to flip-flop. “Her father maintains that, as an heiress, Hannah would experience no trouble finding a suitable mate in the country; and I quite agree. Several squires thereabouts have marriageable sons. Unfortunately, Hannah is not keen on any one of them.” She heaved another troubled sigh. “At least we have learned exactly what befell the former housekeeper, so, I suppose, we need have no fear that any other sort of . . . vile deed will . . . ” her words trailed off.
“I daresay Lady Jersey was simply larking with us when she relayed the ghastly tale regarding Mrs. Dandridge’s late housekeeper.”
“Perhaps you are right.” After a pause, she asked, “I wonder, Miss Abbott, is your friend Mr. Sheridan presently in London?” Not waiting for a reply, she said, “I confess I would feel far better if that gentleman were to keep an eye out for the three of you. Mr. Sheridan appeared to be quite a . . . capable sort.”
Lady Medley’s mention of Mr. Sheridan caught me off guard, although it should not have. I knew she was as impressed by the heroic actions of that gentleman whilst at Medley Park as I had been, and in fact, as we all were. I shifted upon the chair before saying, “As it happens, ma’am, Mr. Sheridan is presently . . . out of the country. But,” a shaky smile wavered over my face, “I expect him to be returning to London any day now.”
“Well.” She brightened. “That does provide me a bit of comfort.”
“As it does me,” I murmured. And it would provide me with a good deal more comfort if I knew exactly when he would be returning to Town.
“However.” Lady Medley’s tone again turned thoughtful, “I believe I shall take the precaution of penning a note to a nephew of my husband’s, who, so far as I know, currently resides in London. I wonder that I did not think of it sooner.” Looking up, she smiled. “I shall apprise Edmund of our arrival in Town and prevail upon him to look in upon you three. Who knows, he might take a liking to Ellie. At any rate, the young man’s name is Edmund Wells. As I said, he is my husband’s nephew, the son of a sister of his first wife.” Her brow furrowed. “I suppose that makes him Hannah’s . . . cousin, or perhaps, her half . . . step-cousin.” She shrugged. “I daresay the tie between them matters not a whit. At any rate,” she added, “he is a fine young man whom I trust implicitly. I have no doubt that you will also find him agreeable, Miss Abbott.”
With a final sigh, she rose, signaling to me that our interview had drawn to a close. “If you will excuse me, dear, I shall pen the note to Mr. Wells straightaway.” Moving toward the dressing table, which I assumed doubled as a desk, she said, “I trust you will see that my note is delivered on the morrow, Miss Abbott.”
“Certainly, ma’am.” With a nod, I headed for the door. “Until dinner, then.”
So . . . thought I, that another trustworthy gentleman might be looking in on us provided me with an additional measure of comfort. And, I confess, also with a tad bit of . . . curiosity.