Chapter 32 – The Headache
AN* to all the loyal readers who have continually reviewed, I love you all. I’m glad you appear to be enjoying your foray into my twisted mind, especially as we still have some way to go.
On with the story……
Standing on a dais while a modiste stuck pins into your body through cotton, was not a fun way to spend an afternoon. Buffy had arrived early this morning at Madame Piret’s to be fitted for her wedding gown and trousseau. Her measurements had been taken the previous day and this morning Madame was adding the finishing touches to the pattern of her gown. As she looked at herself in the full length mirror, Buffy wondered why everyone was making such a fuss.
The modiste clicked her tongue now and again as she stepped away from the soft cotton draped over Buffy. Madame Piret knew that this gown would be seen by a good many of the Ton’s wives and daughters, and it had to be perfect. Custom would boom for her little business if the dress was beautiful enough. Madame had been over the moon when the Duchess of Craven had asked her to design Lady Elizabeth’s dress.
Most of Buffy’s trousseau would be made up of gossamer night rails and sheer dressing gowns. Day dresses, evening dresses and riding habits, based on Lady Elizabeth’s measurements, were already under construction in the rooms above the shop. Accessories such as gloves, fans, stockings, underclothes, reticules and parasols had been ordered from Madame Gileaux near the end of Bond Street. Colours and materials had been matched and discussed by both Madame Piret and Gileaux the previous evening. Both women valued this commission highly and were prepared to move heaven and earth for perfection. Their livelihoods depended on the exposure this wedding would give both to their business and their name.
Buffy was bored now. Spying her mother sitting behind her on a comfy chair sipping tea, Buffy noticed that Lady Joyce would grimace now and again as though in pain, and would lift her gloved hand to her temple as if to ease an ache. Concerned that her mother was in considerable pain, she decided that this fitting would come to a close.
Haughtily, Buffy addressed the modiste. “Are we about finished for today, Madame? I fear my mother is suffering from the headache and it would be best if we returned home.”
Anxious to keep her best client happy, Madame nodded and told Buffy she would be only a few minutes longer.
Turning a concerned look towards her mother, Buffy asked if she would like to return home. Lady Joyce complied quickly and Willow, who had accompanied them, was sent to find the carriage.
At last Madame was happy with the fitting. She carefully lifted the cotton over Buffy’s head and laid it gently over a chair. “Will you be back tomorrow, my Lady?” she asked in faltering English. Buffy smiled at the modiste, it was not this woman’s fault that the wedding would be a farce. Let someone benefit from this unholy alliance other than Buffy’s own pocket.
“Indeed Madame, we shall be here at the same time tomorrow.”
Curtseying to Buffy, the modiste assured her “I shall ‘ave the first cut ready, my Lady.”
“Good, good Madame, we shall get through a lot tomorrow.” Calling for Willow to help her dress into her normal clothes, Buffy walked behind the screens in the corner of the room.
She was starting to become obsessed with her mother’s malady. The number of headaches suffered by her Grace was surely not normal. On occasion her mother had been too sick to leave her room, and Buffy was sure that her mother had forced herself to accompany her daughter to her fitting today. As soon as they were home, Buffy decided, she would make sure her mother went straight to bed to rest.
Once everyone was in the carriage, Buffy started to bark orders. Willow was to run into the house as soon as they got back to the mansion and prepare her Grace’s bedchamber. Once she was sure that everything was as it should be, Willow would go down to cook and ask for tea and scones to be sent to her Ladyship’s room immediately. The coachman was told to get back to the Craven mansion as quickly and safely as possible as her Grace was not well. He complied easily enough, as all the Craven staff loved their mistress very much and would do anything for her.
The return home did not take long. Buffy nodded to the footman as he opened the carriage door and set the steps to allow the occupants to alight. His face took on a look of horror as Willow almost threw herself from the carriage. It was unheard of for servants to precede their masters in any form. Willow noticed the look and whispered to the young man that her Grace was unwell. Taking Willow’s panic as his cue, he held out his hand with great care to Lady Joyce.
The Duchess of Craven smiled sweetly at the young man. She nodded her thanks and held his hand lightly as she stepped down. Faltering on the last step, Lady Joyce stumbled into the arms of the astonished footman. Buffy made a sound of distress behind her mother and jumped down from the coach like a hoyden. Without hesitation the young man lifted his mistress into his arms and carried her into the hallway. He did not stop, and made his way up the stairs with his burden followed closely by Buffy. Pausing at the entrance to her Grace’s bedchamber, he looked expectantly at Buffy for instruction.
Moving around the footman to open her mother’s bedroom door, Buffy asked him to follow her in and place her mother on the bed. The footman’s face went bright red and beads of sweat started to appear on his brow. No gentlemen from the servant class were allowed into the bedchambers of the female members of the family. This must be serious indeed, he thought, as he laid his precious burden down on the bed. His work done, he nodded quickly to both his employers and almost ran from the room. He did not want to get in trouble with Mr Giles, the butler, and lose his place; it would be best if he informed him of her Grace’s indisposition immediately and his part in helping her to her room.
Giles, in his usual confident manner, had already taken charge of the situation. Upon Willow’s dash into the house, he had quickly grasped that her Grace was again unwell. Instructing cook to prepare tea and sandwiches he set about instructing the servants of the duties he wished performed. One of the footmen was sent to fetch the physician, another sent to carry coal from the cellar for the fire and yet another was sent to an address in Chelsea to ask his Grace to return immediately. This last instruction was conveyed quietly outside the kitchen door. The task was given to a footman who had been with the family a number of years and knew exactly where to find his Grace.
In her mother’s room, Buffy organised the steady stream of servants in their tasks. The fire had been banked and teased into life, the refreshments had arrived and been placed on a small table by the window, Lady Joyce’s dresser had quickly changed her mistress into a night rail and a warming pan had been placed at the bottom of the bed. As each servant left, Buffy’s impatience grew. She quickly shooed the last of them away as she closed the heavy curtains which draped the windows and lit a few candles at the opposite end of the room which kept the light soft.
As Lady Joyce settled back against her pillows, Xander and Dawn crept into the room. Buffy could see that Dawn had been crying and even Xander looked worried. Dawn walked quickly to her mother’s side to sit beside her, while Xander walked towards Buffy.
His eyes, never leaving the pale form of his mother on the bed, he whispered to his sister. “What in God’s name happened to mother Buff?”
Tears welled in her eyes as she replied. “I’m not sure, Xander. I was being fitted for my wedding gown when I noticed she was ailing.” Glancing at the bed to make sure Dawn was not tiring their mother, she continued. “I am very worried Xander, these attacks are happening too many times for it just to be a headache. I will be glad when I can take her up north after the wedding as the air will be cleaner there and I think she needs to leave London.” Buffy bit her bottom lip as she looked at Xander’s profile. He had not taken his eyes from his mother in all the time she has spoken. In a small voice she continued. “I don’t think I could take it if we lost her, Xander, she means everything to me.”
Xander turned his head towards her and replied, “me too, Buffy, me too.”
As the siblings looked at one another in total understanding, a small knock was heard at the door. “Ah, the physician has arrived,” she smiled at Xander and opened the door.
Within minutes potions and pills were strewn across the table next to her mother’s bed. A small dose of laudanum was administered in water and her Grace drifted off to sleep. Xander led everyone out of the room and preceded them all to the drawing room. Ringing for refreshments, he bade them all sit while he stood in front of the fire and surveyed the room. Silence fell over the small band until tea was served. When the door had closed behind the servants, Xander started to speak.
“What exactly is wrong with our mother, Doctor?” he imperiously asked.
The physician decided to play for time as he already suspected the Duchess was dying. Such news should not be imparted to the younger members of the family, it was news he would only tell his Grace.
“Is his Grace, the Duke, at home Lord Summers?”
Xander face blushed slightly. He knew of his father’s antics with Lady Catherine and was not willing to share this information with his sisters. When Giles had sent the footman to his club to bid him home, the man had informed Xander that he was to continue to Chelsea and inform their father. As soon as the footman had mentioned Chelsea, Xander had known exactly where his father was. As a man of the ton, Xander did not judge his father’s actions. Men of his class married women to beget heirs and kept mistresses for their pleasure. He intended to do the same when he married Cordelia; he fully intended to set up his favourite whore in a house in Bloomsbury as soon as possible.
“His Grace is out of the house on business at the moment, but a messenger has been sent to bring him home.” Xander ignored the astonished looks his sisters sent him. Dukes did not do business away from home. Any business they needed to conduct came to them. Deciding to quickly carry on and stop any questions from his siblings, he looked again at the physician.
“I will ask you again, Doctor,” he asked in a voice that brooked no argument. “What is wrong with our mother? And I would advise you to answer quickly for I lose patience with this masquerade.”
The physician realised he would have to say something to placate the ducal family. He did not want to lose their patronage and he knew by the way the three siblings stared at him that they expected an answer.
Swallowing nervously, he decided to hedge his bets. “I have spoken at length to the Duke about her Grace’s health and advised him that the air in London is not conducive to her recovery.”
Buffy almost pounced on the man. “Recovery, sir?” she questioned in a falsetto voice. “From what, exactly, is my mother recovering?”
Anxious now that he had said too much but saying so little, the physician felt cold sweat begin to trickle down his spine.
“Her Grace does not do well in the London air, my Lady” he replied to Buffy. “I have advised your father that her Grace would do better in the country.”
Snorting her disgust, she ignored her brother’s gasp of astonishment at her manners and continued.
“I am to be married in three weeks and will be journeying to my new husband’s estates in the north. I fully intend that my mother and the Lady Dawn accompany me.”
Dawn started to rise in her seat, this was the first that she had heard that she would be leaving London in a few weeks and was anxious to know the details. Buffy knew her sister well enough to know what she was thinking and with the wave of a hand and a frowning look towards her, Dawn sat back and waited. Annoyed at the small interruption by her sister, Buffy decided to question the physician further.
“Will my mother be fit to travel by then, sir, as we do not wish to delay our departure?”
The physician sighed in relief. He had been trying to get the Duke to take his wife to the country for months and the Lady Elizabeth was handing him an answer to his prayers.
He smiled at the young woman in relief. “If you take the journey slowly, my Lady, and ensure that her Grace can rest whenever she sees fit, I see no reason why the journey should worsen her headaches.”
Buffy smiled in relief. She would plan this journey with care. It would probably mean that they could not start their journey till a few days after the wedding, but this would suit Buffy just as well. Fully intending to bank the money from William, this respite would give her the chance to do so and it would allow time to make further provision for her escape from her marriage.
As the thoughts swirled around her head, her father entered the room. Although he no longer loved his wife, in fact he doubted he ever had, he still did care for her well-being. He did not wish her death on his conscience and was glad that Buffy had decided to move her out of London. He had selfishly wanted this arrangement to allow more time between the thighs of his mistress, and he had arranged the marriage of Buffy to William with just such an end. However, as the health of his wife declined he resigned himself to the fact that she would be better in the country sooner rather than later. All the way home in his carriage he was surprised at the amount of guilt he felt that he had not arranged for Joyce to leave London sooner. He had tried to kill two birds with one stone; marry off his eldest daughter and remove his wife. His plans were working, but he wondered if he had kept Joyce in London too long. The wedding was but three weeks away, surely everything would be fine until then.
The physician rose as the Duke entered the room.
“Your Grace,” he bowed at Craven.
The Duke bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.
Imperiously the Duke addressed the slightly shaking Doctor. “Well man, how is my wife?”
Both the Duke and the physician knew how ill her Grace had become yet they continued to keep the news from her children. The physician knew to say nothing that would make the family suspicious and answered Craven evasively. “Her headache is quite my bad today, your Grace. I have administered some laudanum to help her sleep and I would recommend no activity over the next week.”
Craven was not pleased by the reply. There was a wedding to plan and arrangements to make to ensure his wife and daughters were relocated as quickly as possible. This sort of activity he had always left to his wife, he did not have the experience to ensure that everything would run smoothly. He pulled himself up short at this thought. What would he do without his gentle wife to organise his household for such events. He would have to think about that another time. After all, a man in his position did not marry their mistress; it only left a vacancy he had no intention of taking the time to fill.
He nodded his dismissal to the physician who looked decidedly relieved to be leaving. Once he had scurried out the door, Craven turned to his children.
“We have much to do in the next few weeks to ensure that this wedding take place without expecting your mother to organise everything.” He turned to Buffy and told her pointedly. “Use whomever of the staff you wish to help you with the arrangements my dear. If you need to employ more secretaries to help with the invitations etc. then do so. Giles will be able to recommend the best agencies to help.” He smiled at her, before turning to Xander. “Xander, you must arrange safe passage for your mother and sisters to Annandale’s estates. Contact Lord William as quickly as possible and discuss the route well. I want someone sent on ahead to procure rooms for everyone, I will not have my family stay in a doss house.” Turning then to his youngest daughter, he gave her his most loving smile. “Your responsibility my dear Dawn, is to ensure your mother is not disturbed. You will attend to her needs making sure the servants make as little noise as possible. When you are required to accompany Buffy to her trousseau fittings, I will sit with Lady Joyce and read to her.”
With a commanding look of authority at his children, he continued.
“We must work together as a team. We cannot allow this to spoil Buffy’s big day and I would like your mother to be as well as possible for the event.” Again he turned to Buffy, “Will you be able to cope with all that is required, Buffy?”
Buffy stood from her chair. She had been impressed with her father for the first time in years. He had taken stock of the situation and organised them all into a group with a purpose. In a proud voice he informed him that they would all get started immediately.
Craven nodded and left the room, accompanied by Dawn, to see with his own eyes how his wife fared.
As the door closed behind him, Buffy turned to Xander. “I will send William a note immediately informing him that we will not be going to Almacks tonight, and ask that he visit us here. I will ask him to bring along Lord Clement too, that way the three of you can arrange our transport and lodgings for the journey.” She stared at Xander with steel in her eyes. “Nothing must go wrong on this journey, Xander. I want mother to be as comfortable as possible. If that means it will take us two weeks to reach Annandale rather than one, I do not care.”
Xander nodded in response. “You write the missive, Buffy. I will talk to Giles about sending a footman to Annandale house.”
Smiling at her brother, Buffy made her way to the desk to write a note to her intended. She sincerely hoped he was at home and not carousing with his whore. Shuddering slightly at the thought, she wondered why she cared. The only reason she was contacting William was that she needed him here to speak to Xander as soon as possible. Wasn’t it?
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she lifted a piece of ducal note paper and placed it on the blotting pad before her. Selecting one of the quills and moving a bottle of ink nearer her hand, she began to write.
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