Mrs. Pearce had spoken to a quiet assembly of all their servants, from the grooms to the gardeners to the cook. They had stood uncomfortably in the drawing room for a mere two minutes while she shared the information about the death of Mr. Dabney. She asked their forgiveness for the unneeded work they'd been through to prepare for the wedding, but now some help would be needed to sew and hang some black mourning crepe. Then she'd tried vainly to stifle a sob, and failing, cried aloud. Susan had led her out of the room, one arm cradling their good mistress as if she were a child with a skinned knee.
Rachel had stood in the hall, overhearing the report. As the servants walked out, the men tipped their caps and the ladies patted her arm or squeezed her hand. She knew they wanted to offer comfort, but kept their distance.
The sound of hoof beats in the yard drew her to the front door. John was riding up, and Rachel eagerly stepped outside and was near him the moment he jumped off his horse. He gathered her up in his arms, tightly pressing her to his chest. She sighed.
"How is she?" he whispered.
"Amanda's only come to her senses once or twice. She either cries uncontrollably until she is asleep again, or stares in a way that makes us think her mind is lost. We are all worried. She hasn't eaten since yesterday." Rachel sniffled, then forced a smile and looked up at him.
"I've only come for a moment," John said. "Another express came with information from Dabney's father. He's set the funeral for Saturday and would like your father to come, if he's able."
"Come in. We'll talk to Father."
They walked through the entry, their footsteps ringing loudly in the dreadfully solemn house. Rachel went to the study door, knocked quietly, and heard no reply. She knocked again and then cracked the door open.
"Father?" She glanced around. He sat, not in his usual chair, but in an upholstered wood chair, looking out the window. He had a great view of the pastures full of horses, but his staring eyes did not follow their movements. "Father, John is here with some information for you."
He turned, realizing someone was there. "Rachel, John, come in." He moved behind his desk and sat down.
"Vicar Pearce, I have had a note from Dabney's father. The inquest is finished, and declared the death an accident. Lord Dabney is bringing him home, and has set the funeral for Saturday evening."
"Three days? Hmm." He rubbed the stubble on his chin and said no more.
"Father, should we be part of the funeral procession? Or attend the church service?"
"No, probably not Amanda, nor any of my daughters. Perhaps Mrs. Pearce and I could go."
"Sir, my father and I will be traveling there. We leave in a few hours. Please, come with us."
"That is kind, yes." He nodded absently.After a moment of staring, he looked up, as if realizing they were still there. "Uh...what time would your coach leave?"
"We shall call at 3:00, sir."
"Thank you." He stood and they shook hands, then Rachel followed John out of the house.
"Please be careful on your journey," she said, smiling tightly, but with eyes that pleaded for reassurance.
"I will be. Our coach and four will get us there in a day, and your father will be of some comfort to them, I'm sure."
Rachel nodded. John squeezed her hand, then went to take his horse from the hitching post. He mounted, tipped his hat to Rachel, then trotted down the drive.
Back in the house, Rachel found her father pacing in the drawing room. "What worries you?'
"Oh, the funeral trip will be fine. Cartwright can come over and preach on Sunday. Clyde will handle the horses while I'm gone. But I've had a note from the constable during the inquest. It seems that Dabney's valet made several statements about how poorly the team of horses traveled, that they shouldn't have been sold to Dabney when they were so ill-bred. It's concerning."
"Oh, no," Rachel breathed. "If that were to be made known..."
Vicar Pearce nodded, furrowing his brows. "Yet I know that team was well trained! You know it, too. The handler from Ayton was thorough in making sure they were gentle and steady. There is something bothering me about it. I may never know what."
Rachel ran her hand over her forehead, trying to rub away the headache that had been there for two days. "Maybe you can inquire, on the way back, and find out more."
Vicar Pearce nodded. "If Lord Ellsworth doesn't mind, I will. Now, I must go speak to your mother. She is in her room?"
Rachel nodded. "I will check on Amanda as well. Marian has sat with her for these past two hours. I'm sure she'll want a break."
They both walked up the stairs, taking them slowly and thoughtfully.
#
Amanda sat up in bed, her eyes open, forcing herself to see and realize what was going on around her.
Her room was the same. Her sisters were there, with thin smiles and attempts at being encouraging. She had a tray at her bedside with a biscuit and some tea.
Her maid, Betsy, had come in and brushed out her hair, not even bothering to get her out of bed. She had tied a black ribbon around it. She also wore a black band on her sleeve.
Marian and Rachel wore black dresses. Amanda looked to her wardrobe. She only owned one gray dress, and nothing in black. Certainly she had something...
"Maman wrote to the dressmaker already. She's canceled the yellow and ordered a black one. With different sleeves, of course." Marian nodded as she said it, as if encouraging Amanda to believe her.
"My wedding dress," Amanda whispered, feeling a raw ache open up again. There would not be much of her body left that wasn't raw and vulnerable after this week. Each tiny detail of her life reminded her of Dabney, and each detail must now change or be eradicated—the joy of her wedding was turning into torture.
"Father will be home tomorrow," Rachel said. "Maman, too"
Amanda nodded. That meant the funeral was two days ago.
"I've been tiresome to you, sisters. I apologize."
"No, dearest," Marian said. "You are never tiresome. Rachel and I would be here—will be here—at any time you need us."
Amanda nodded. They must be indefatigable, the way they'd stayed at her side for a week straight. It wasn't like hers was the body that needed funeral mourners at the watch each hour. Her body was unfortunately very alive, and very pain-filled. Each minute, each pain, reminded her that she was alive and he was dead.
"I told him not to go." A mere whisper passed Amanda's lips.
"What was that?" Rachel asked.
"I had told him, asked him, to stay another couple of days," Amanda explained. "I had a feeling... a fear so strong that I could almost see the carriage wreck. Dabney promised all would be well." She looked up at Marian and then Rachel. "He promised all would be well!" she whispered, and tears pooled in her eyes. Rachel bounded forward with a handkerchief, and Marian moved to sit on the mattress beside her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. She began to sob. "Oh Dabney!" she cried. "You promised all would be well!"
#
Marian pulled a chair up closer to the settee, and Rachel perched on a stool. Maman and Father were exhausted from the journey, but they'd eaten dinner and now had time to satisfy all of the girls' questions before they retired for the night.
"They are beautiful people," Maman said. "Dabney looked much like his mother. She was fairer, but the eyes were the same shade of blue. We would have enjoyed each other's company." She sighed.
"His father was distant, as can be expected," Father said, turning to Rachel. "The valet had voiced his suspicions to Lord Dabney. After the funeral, he took me to his library and asked many questions. I explained everything from the pedigree to the training to the horseshoeing. He never accused, thankfully, but never looked satisfied, either."
"But what of the constable? The one at the inquest in Selby?" Rachel suggested.
"He was very helpful. He and I rode out to the site where the accident had taken place. The turn was very sharp, and the brook came along the curve there, making a steep bank. If one wheel went three or four inches too far, and the phaeton was going at a great speed, the wheel could catch and the rig would flip in seconds."
"Was there a second coach, a post coach?"
"The townsfolk remembered one coming in about 15 minutes before the hue and cry was raised. But some said it had come from a different direction. If it had been on Dabney's route, there's no doubt that corner would have created such a blind spot that the coaches would have collided. But it looked like there wasn't a collision. Perhaps it was just too crowded, and the error on Dabney's part was to try to squeeze past it instead of reining to a stop and giving way."
"The roads are horrid through there," Maman added. "Your father is more fervent than ever in making sure our parish road committee allots the appropriate funds for upkeep."
"Yorkshire's road will not be in disrepair." A muscle along his jaw clenched, and he arose and went to the fireplace, drumming his fingers on the mantle.
Maman stood, and the girls followed suit. "We should give Amanda her mourning ring," she said, pulling a small package out of her reticule. She unwrapped the ring and held it out for Rachel and Amanda to see. It was a gold ribbon-twist band, with a round crystal, under which was woven a strand of hair to form an eternity knot.
"It's beautiful," Marian said.
"How thoughtful," Rachel added.
"I'd much rather have seen a wedding band, but at least... she'll have this." Maman shuddered and tried to swallow back a sob.