The heart…is the beginning of life; the sun of the microcosm…for it is the heart by whose virtue and pulse the blood is moved, perfected, made apt to nourish, and is preserved from corruption and coagulation; it is the household divinity which, discharging its function, nourishes, cherishes, quickens the whole body, and is indeed the foundation of life, the source of all action.
WILLIAM HARVEY, 1628
I know of no recipe to heal the heart. Even love cannot persuade this most vital of organs to keep beating, no matter how much one wills it so. I was under no illusions. Every day the winding sheet crept up my lord’s body. And every day he refused to hear the word ‘doctor’ mentioned.
‘Sir,’ I said, desperate to know how I might change his mind, ‘I have not asked you one favour since I have been with you but now…’
‘Now you are going to tell me that you are bored with diamonds. I do agree that variation in all things is essential. Perhaps you would prefer rubies? Note duly taken.’
‘Your generosity is boundless, sir, but this has nothing to do with jewels and well you know it. I want you to see a doctor – do not, I beg you, dismiss all doctors out of hand.’
The next day he was too ill to leave his bed and the pain in his chest was worse.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘As long as I am not bled.’
It was Mr. Merritt who found Dr Robert Thornhill. He had heard that the gentleman was of good repute: that he was a plain-speaking man, highly educated and did not believe in the practice of bleeding. I asked Mr Merritt to arrange for Dr Thornhill to pay a visit as soon as possible. The following day, his lordship refused to stay in bed, being determined to meet with his solicitor who had travelled from London to see him. I was certain that my marriage was the cause of this visit and wished it wasn’t so.
The duel between Captain Spiggot and Lord Fitzjohn had resulted in both buffoons missing the other. Fate did not deal me a lucky card in that particular.
I took little notice of this solicitor and only saw him from behind as he went down the stairs, a thin man with a mincing step who wore a wig that age had turned yellow.
Mr Merritt said, ‘Good day, Mr Attaway,’ as he left.
The name I remembered, the man I forgot. I was relieved when Dr Thornhill arrived on time.
His lordship repeated to me that he would not see anyone who wished to bleed him. ‘Neither will I be prodded and poked.’
‘My lord, try not to be too cantankerous,’ I said.
Dr Robert Thornhill had no interest in heaping false praise upon his lordship and, with simple courtesy, set about his examination.
I left them and paced outside the chamber until Lord B called for me. I went in to find Dr Thornhill washing his hands in a bowl of water. He sat down opposite his lordship.
‘Are you going to tell me the truth?’ asked Lord B. ‘Or are you going to lie to me? I’m sure you charge the same for both and I would rather pay for the truth.’
‘So be it,’ said the physician. ‘Lord Barbeau, you have a disease of the heart, angina pectoris, and, unfortunately, the repeated bleeding has, without doubt, weakened you further. I will do my best but I can make no promises. You must help yourself and that means resting. I would suggest you return to your house in Chippenham and I will attend you there.’
‘I’m not staying in bed,’ said his lordship emphatically. ‘I would die of ennui.’
‘I’m sure, my lord,’ I said, ‘that we could find a way to keep you amused.’
‘No!’ said Dr Thornhill.
‘You mean I can’t even make love?’ said Lord B.
‘I recommend abstinence,’ said the physician. ‘And a plain diet and…’ A smile eased its way across his face. ‘And I can see, sir, that you have no intention of taking my advice.’
‘I’m very glad we understand each other,’ said his lordship. ‘I will obey one of your instructions: I will leave Bath. I have had enough of these shallow waters.’
We left the following day. The carriage went so slowly it might have been in a funeral cortège. His lordship was grey by the time he was carried to his bed. I slept little for he had such a restless night of it and, in truth, even when he slept, I couldn’t. The ghost of Lady Barbeau was ever present in the room, standing on his right side, her gaze never leaving him, waiting, waiting as she had for all those years.
When Doctor Thornhill arrived next morning, I walked in the grounds. There was a little pavilion I hadn’t noticed before, on the island in the centre of the lake. The sky was grey, heavy with thunder and the swans were alight with their whiteness.
‘Ah, my sprite, at last,’ said Lord B when I returned to his chamber.
I went to him and he took my hand.
‘You must be brave, my sprite – and you are brave, I know. I have come to a decision: I’m going to live for the moment. And when I die I will go out in a blaze of glory. I have no desire to spend the rest of my days in bed waiting for the Grim Reaper. Boredom will kill me long before he turns up with his scythe. No, not a word. Have you ever seen fireworks, my sprite? I want my death to be a glorious display of light, a flame thrown against the darkness.’
For all his railing, Lord B had to admit that he felt better when in his bed. For the next month, falling into that morbid September, a nurse was employed to look after him through the night and I stayed with him in the day, reading aloud all the gossip and follies in the newspapers. We played whist and chess though he began to be impatient with the games and, more often than not, slept.
One evening, he said, ‘She’s here, isn’t she? Grace is here.’
‘Lady Barbeau? Yes, my lord,’ I said.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘she is standing to the right of me – just there,’ and he pointed to exactly where she had been ever since we’d returned from Bath.
‘Will you show her to me?’
‘My lord, don’t ask me to do that, I beg of you.’
‘I know you can do it, my sprite. I have seen you often enough bring back your parrot. Let me see Grace – just once more.’
He held my hand.
‘I had hoped to remain well long enough to marry you, but I don’t think it will be possible. I am too weary, too fallen. I have done what I can to make provision for you but you must divorce Captain Spiggot first. Do you understand?’ I nodded. ‘When I am gone, you are to take all the jewels with you. I have a friend, a banker, who will look after them, and there is some money – don’t go giving it to Queenie.’ I tried to speak but he wouldn’t let me. ‘If you are in any trouble you must contact Merritt.’
‘All of it means nothing without you,’ I said.
‘Come, come, my sprite, my sweetest one, let me go.’
I stood, and for the second time she looked at me, pleading. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. My eyes filled with tears.
‘Please, my sprite, I beg of you. Let me go to her.’
Shaking, I took a deep breath and willed her to become visible to him. He saw her, and reached out to her, and she lay down beside him, wrapped him in her arms and smothered him with death. I watched the years fall away from my lord until there on the bed was a handsome young man and the sight of him made me weep uncontrollably. Then all that was left was the shell of him, empty, soulless. I opened the windows in the chamber and called for Mr Merritt. Not one window in the house was left unopened for I wanted his lordship’s spirit to be free to walk with her for ever.