It struck me afresh how he was changing. He looked considerably older than the Aubrey of our honeymoon; his eyes were sunken and his skin was an unhealthy colour.
I met him in the hall.
“I have to talk to you,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows and we went into one of the little rooms which led from the hall. I gave him the doctor’s letter and he read it.
“I have to go to him,” I said.
“Of course.”
“I shall take Julian with me.”
“Take the child into a house of sickness?”
“It is certainly not communicable. It is a stroke. There are servants there. They love to look after him. I can be with my father and Julian will be all right.”
He smiled at me slowly.
“No,” he said.
“You shall not take the child out of this house.”
“Why not?”
“Because you may decide not to bring him back.”
“I would give my solemn oath.”
“You are a very determined woman. Solemn oaths are not always kept by the ruthless and you could be ruthless where the boy is concerned.”
“You see how ill my father is.”
“How do I know that this is not a forgery … this doctor’s letter?
It’s come at a rather opportune moment, hasn’t it? “
“Aubrey, I am very worried about my father.”
“Go to him. Nurse him. You’re good at that, I believe. Then when you have brought him back to health, come back. But you shall not take the boy.”
“How can I go without him?”
“Easily. You will go to the station, board a train and very soon you will be in London at your father’s bedside.”
“Aubrey, will you try to understand.”
“I understand perfectly. You have told me of your intentions and, as I said, I know how resolute you can be. Go to your father. The boy remains here.”
He smiled at me as he turned and left me.
I went to Mrs. Pollack’s room. She was lying down.
“Just a bit off colour,” she said.
“Nothing that a little rest and a nice cup of tea won’t put right. I’ll make one now.”
“Not for me, Mrs. Pollack. I am very worried.”
“Oh, what’s wrong. Madam?”
“It’s my father. He is very ill. I must go to him and I have to leave Julian behind.”
“He won’t like that. Madam, will he? You’ve never been apart since he was born.”
“No, I don’t like it… but his father points out that I can’t travel with a child when there is sickness about. I … er … suppose there is something in that. I’ll make a quick visit… just to see what I can do. I can go down often and just stay one night. I want to talk to you about Julian.”
“Yes, Madam?”
“You’re so fond of him.”
“Who wouldn’t be fond of the little darling?”
“I hardly like to say this … but Nanny Benson is rather old.”
“Past it if you were to ask me. Madam.”
“Of course, she is an old retainer. My husband’s nanny. People feel sentimental about their old nannies. It’s understandable.”
Mrs. Pollack nodded.
“That girl,” she said, her lips curling, ‘she’s just about as good as a wooden leg would be to a soldier on the march. “
“That’s why I’m anxious. I rely on you, Mrs. Pollack.”
She bridled with pleasure.
“And you can, Madam. That little one will be as well looked after as if you were here, I promise you.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Pollack, that means a lot to me.”
I set off for London early next morning.
When I arrived at the house I was met by a solemn-faced Polly.
“Oh, Mrs. St. Clare,” she said.
“The poor Colonel, he’s so poorly.”
I went straight to see him and my heart sank. He gave me a one-sided smile and opened his lips but he could not speak. I bent over and kissed him. He closed his eyes and I knew what my coming meant to him.
He could not speak so I just sat by his bed holding his hand.
When he slept I talked with Polly and Jane. They told me that he had been working very hard at the War Office and bringing work home.
“He was in his study until early morning,” said Jane.
“We were worried about him,” added Polly.
“I said to Jane, ” He can’t go on like this. ” Then it happened. One morning when I took in his hot water he was lying there in the bed and he couldn’t move. Then we got the doctor. He asked us for your address and said he’d write to you.
Yesterday the Colonel was worse again. “
Afterwards I saw the doctor. He was very grave.
“It sometimes happens like this,” he said.
“The first stroke was relatively minor. He would have been only slightly incapacitated, but he would have had to give up the War Office. But as I feared, a major attack followed.” He looked at me helplessly.
“I understand. Is he … dying?”
“If he survives he will be a complete invalid.”
“It is the worst thing that could happen to him.”
“I thought you should be prepared.”
“Thank you. I could arrange to take him home with me.”
“I believe you have a large estate in the country. That would be best. You would be able to have him well looked after. The two maids here are excellent but not trained nurses, of course. “
“No.”
“Well, leave it for a day or so to see how things go. I must tell you that I think his chances of survival are not very good.”
I bowed my head.
I was with my father when he died.
I had nursed him for three days, and although he took great comfort from my presence, I was well aware that there was little that could be done for him. In my heart I knew he would prefer to die. I could not imagine a man such as he was being inactive, not even able to speak.
I was numbed. Coming so soon after the revelations at the Minster and my need to get away, that I should lose my beloved father was so staggering a blow that I could not at first accept it.
Through the last weeks I had been thinking of him as my refuge. Now there would be no father to go to. I wrote a short note to Aubrey telling him what had happened and that I should stay in London for the funeral and then come straight back to the Minster.
There was so much to do that I got through the days somehow. I was very glad of Jane’s and Polly’s help. I sensed that they were a little anxious about their future although they were much too tactful to mention it to me. I was trying to come to some conclusion. The house had always been a symbol to me . of escape. If ever I got away from the Minster I should have somewhere to run to.
Now, of course, that had changed. I decided that, if I could afford to, I would keep it on . for at least a while. When I knew what my position was I would be able to assess the matter further. I knew that my father was not poor and that all he had apart from a legacy or two would come to me. I should be to some degree independent. Even if I could not live here, the house could be a refuge.
Uncle James and Aunt Grace with Ellen and her husband came for the funeral. They invited me to go back with them for a few days but I told them I was anxious to get home to my little boy. They understood perfectly and said that later I must bring him and my husband to see them.
The idea of Aubrey at the rectory almost made me smile, it was so incongruous; but I thanked them for their kindness and said I would remember it.
It was heartrending to see my father’s coffin lowered into the grave and to listen to the clods falling on the polished wood and to face the awful reality that I should never see him again. I felt lost and alone.
Back at the house, the will was read. As I had guessed, the bulk of his money came to me. I was by no means rich, but independent. I could live not extravagantly, but comfortably.