A Rose for Beauty

Chapter 10

Lydia brewed tea for her father again that night, and again she fell into bed next to Clara. She didn't remember falling asleep, and for once was even too tired to dream. She was convinced that she had been in bed only a moment before she was woken by Anna shaking her shoulder, but the light shining through the window disagreed. The sun was well up but still Lydia dragged. She was cheered however by the sight of her father sitting up in bed to take the tea and porridge that she brought him, and so she covered her weariness as best she could and smuggled a blanket out of the house with her to doze by a tree in the orchard.

Feeling somewhat recovered after more rest, she went inside and prepared soup and bread for her siblings before making another cup of lavender tea and stumbling up to bed.

The next morning, Lydia found her father at the table when she came downstairs to make breakfast. He was pulled close to the fire, in the only chair that had arms, wrapped thickly in blankets. Some of them were folded strategically to help keep him upright, but his eyes were clear and bright he smiled when he saw her. Lydia exclaimed in surprise and rushed to him, kissing him on the cheek. He still looked like a gust of wind would blow him away, but he seemed much more in possession of himself. Anna hovered nearby, looking torn between worry and delight.

Once Lydia had finished making the porridge and frying some eggs (those chickens weren't half bad to have around) they all gathered cheerfully around the table to eat breakfast together – everyone but Clara.

“Is she still refusing to come down?” Lydia asked, genuinely worried now that she stopped to count the days since their arrival. “She will kill herself, at this rate!”

Henry laughed, a short sound without any humor behind it. “Don't you worry about Clara. She creeps out when she thinks no one is about and rummages for food. She doesn't even bother to blow out the candles when she's finished,” he continued. “I find the stumps in the morning sometimes.”

“Something has to be done about her, at any rate,” Anna said wearily.

“Something will be,” said their father, his eyes grim.

“Now, Father, don't strain yourself,” Anna said, and they persuaded him to finish his porridge and return to bed with the assistance of Thomas and William, who had helped him down the stairs before breakfast.

As the kitchen cleared, Lydia gathered the ingredients for tea. She noticed worriedly that they had nearly gone through the lavender Mrs. Warren had given them. It looked like there would be enough for the tea this morning and another cup before bed, but then no more. Well, perhaps he wouldn't need it any longer, thought Lydia hopefully. He was recovering so well. She would certainly be glad to be finished with the whole ordeal; she was beginning to feel like paper that had been crumpled and smoothed out again far too many times – limp and thin and ragged at the edges.

She made the fragrant purple tea once more, pouring strength and love and hope into it as it drained her, praying that it would be enough for her father and not too much for herself. She carried the cup up the stairs carefully, no longer concerned with masking her exhaustion, determined only not to drop it.

Anna met her on the landing at the top, softly closing the door to their father's room behind her and wiping her hands on the rough-spun apron around her waist. “He's sleeping now,” she said, her voice low. “I didn't think he should come down for breakfast, but he insisted that he felt well enough.” She smiled. “I couldn't deny him what he wanted, the first time he was strong enough to insist on anything since...” Her voice trailed off and she shook herself, blinking with eyes suddenly suspiciously bright and extending her hands to take the teacup from Lydia.

“We're nearly out of the lavender,” she told Anna. “I think we have enough for only one more cup tonight, and then it will be gone.”

Anna looked worried, but when she spoke it was to echo Lydia's earlier thought. “Well, perhaps that will be enough. Lydia,” she said, her voice suddenly sharp, “I won't have you sickening on me as well. Get to bed this instant. We can manage without you perfectly well until supper.”