Joan woke slowly, her body heavy and languid. Normally an early riser, she fought consciousness by burying her nose in her pillow and pulling the sheet up over her head. Breathing deeply, she prepared to settle in for a late morning when the distinctly masculine scent of her husband lingering on her pillow brought her to a state of awareness like nothing else could.
Bolting upright, Joan clasped the sheets to her chest covering her nakedness as she frantically looked around the room. She needn't have worried. The room was empty - save for herself - and the bed beside her cold. Obviously, Marcus had been gone for some time.
Disappointed at finding herself alone, Joan tossed back the sheets, slipped into her robe and hurried across the room. Eager to see Marcus, she gave the door a cursory knock before letting herself in.
"Humph!" Joan let out a grunt of surprise when the door failed to move. Taking half a step back, she gave the knob a vigorous twist and pushed harder. Nothing. Joan stood motionless, her palms resting flat against the cool surface of the door. For a moment it was all she could do to breathe as the reality of the situation became clear. Marcus had barred her from his rooms.
She knew from her discussion with Shelly yesterday that this was the door that separated the master suites from those of the mistress of the house. While separate rooms were considered the norm within the
ton
she never expected to be denied access to her husband. Was she to go through his man and ask for an audience like some stranger come to call?
Quietly, Joan took a step back from the door, then another and another until she bumped up against the bed. Embarrassed at having tried to gain access where she was obviously not wanted, Joan could only hope that Marcus was either sound asleep or already gone from his rooms and had missed her attempted entry.
Not wanting to call for a maid, Joan dressed quickly in a simple day dress and hurried from her rooms. Retracing her steps from the night before, she descended the main staircase and turned towards the back of the house in search of breakfast.
Slowing her pace, Joan considered each closed door as she passed. An unnatural stillness blanketed the house and suggested that each room lay empty and unoccupied. She kept expecting to see a footman or a maid yet passed deeper into the house uninterrupted. It was as if the house had been abandoned, left to fend for itself.
It feels sad,
Joan thought.
After a number of false starts she found a passage way to the lower floor and into the kitchen. Following the soft murmmer of conversation, Joan found a table full of servants eating quietly and laughing in easy companionship. She hesitated to step forward not wanting to interrupt what was clearly a comfortable time.
"My lady!" Shelly jumped to her feet. "You shouldn't be down here."
"I'm sorry," Joan said, embarrassed for having trespassed into the servants' domain. "I was looking to break my fast."
"My apologies, my lady." Mary stood and started around the table. "Lord Edington never takes a morning meal and left instruction that you were not to be disturbed. If you'll return above stairs I'll have a tray brought up to your room."
Joan allowed herself to be gently but firmly led out of the room. Following a footman back to her rooms, she asked, "Is Lord Edington about?"
"His lordship left some time ago, my lady," the footman said stepping back and indicating the open door to her rooms.
"I see," Joan said right before the door closed quietly behind her. Standing back among her things, Joan couldn't help but feel as if the door to a very pretty cage had just been closed.
****
Sabrina knelt beside the duke's bed watching the slow, shallow rise and fall of his chest. Across the bed, Douglas and his aunt Mae kept up a similar vigil. It had been three days since the duke last woke, much longer since he'd last left his bed. Just that morning the doctor had confirmed what they already knew, the end was near.
The three of them refused to leave his side. No longer working in shifts, they took their meals together in the duke's rooms and slept on pallets on the floor.
Pressing her forehead to the duke's frail hand, Sabrina took comfort in the warmth that still radiated from her father-in-law, even if the skin felt thin and brittle. She had long since stopped crying knowing that there would be time for tears later. For now she tried to offer both Douglas and Mae what comfort she could.
The unnatural silence reached Sabrina just as Mae let out a sob.
"Father?" Douglas whispered, already knowing he was gone.
Sabrina lifted her head. Watching, she waited to see if the duke's chest would rise again. "Please," she whispered.
"He's gone," Douglas said. Carefully, he lowered his father's hand to the bed but refused to let go. "George, call for the doctor."
"Of course, my lord." George slipped from the side of the man he'd served for over forty years and went to find a footman. No one else moved. Douglas, Sabrina and Mae waited beside the duke, each one silently saying goodbye.
