It wasn’t her custom to disturb me without first being summoned except when a patient needed care. Oh, not today, I thought miserably, doubting if I possessed adequate strength to even pull a splinter. “Is someone waiting downstairs?” I asked from beneath a pile of covers.
“No, ma’am, I was just checking if ye would like some food or tea,” she said, stepping further into the room.
“Tea only, please.” My head pounded something awful, which I assumed to be the natural side effect of nearly drowning, coupled with a night of excessive crying.
“It’s a pretty day outside. Would ye like the drapes drawn back?”
“No, thank you, Mary.”
From her sudden ungainly steps, I guessed she had stumbled upon the rather large pile of clothing on the floor. Scooping the many layers into her arms, she walked over to the armoire to put them away. “Mr. Kilbrid also missed breakfast this morning,” she said. “Karta wasn’t sure if he would be home in time for evening meal.” Not so subtly, she had gotten to the real point of her visit.
“Mr. Kilbrid is traveling,” I said coolly.
“That’s what John Lewis told Mrs. Ryan this morning. He said the Master left before sunrise and looked to be going on a trip. John guessed it was to Philadelphia for some business, but David Smith said it might be a trip to Virginia to find out about different crops with how hard the rain has been on the wheat this summer.”
I heard the dry rustle of silk as Mary shook out my gown before hanging it up. In full light she would never have returned it to the armoire in such a state. The sleeves looked awful, spattered with tears and what not, but I wasn’t about to call this to her attention now.
“Mrs. Ryan thought it strange that Mr. Kilbrid would leave without notice,” Mary continued, giving no heed to my prolonged silence. “Especially with the two of ye being so recently married. She said it was a real pity he had to go. I told her not to fret about it, that ye had enough to keep busy while he was gone.”
Good gracious! Mary’s thoughts were so obvious, I could practically hear them turning inside her head. Poor girl, married just a month before yer husband packs up and leaves. Well, she was greatly mistaken to think I would dignify her shameless digging with any sort of answer.
“Leave me be and go fetch the tea.” I spoke harshly, unable to bear another second of her senseless prattle.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, startled, no doubt, by my brusque manner. In hurt silence, she put away the last of the garments, and hustled from the room.
Although it couldn’t have been more than eight hours since Henry’s departure, clearly the servants knew something was amiss and were busy speculating about what had happened. Gauging by how fast my personal affairs were spreading through Hopewell this summer, the entire town would know of my predicament by sundown. If Nathan Crowley had been waiting for the right opportunity to accuse me, reports that I had been abandoned would be all that was needed to spur him into action.
To quiet the rumors, I needed to get my own story circulating how Henry had left for Ireland to visit his ailing father, and would be arriving back at Brighmor sometime this fall. In a few months Ben would travel to Philadelphia, only to return with sad news of rough seas and Henry Kilbrid’s untimely death. No later than winter, I would be a widow without having the benefit of ever being married.
Considering what was at stake, I should have told Mary a bit more to keep the servants from speculating further. But my heart felt too raw, and I could say no more other than Mr. Kilbrid was traveling. This sounded less final, less like we would never see each other again.
Turning onto my other side, I felt Henry’s letter crumple beneath my shoulder. Earlier this morning I had retrieved it from the floor in the hopes that his words would offer some comfort. With trembling fingers, I had broken the wax seal and unfolded the parchment, holding it close to the window for enough light to read.
Thank you, Selah.
Three measly words! It was unbelievable, as if this could even begin to sum up our time together. Last night while I had been busy sobbing in a pathetic heap, he really should have taken an extra minute to thank me properly. Misery washed over me anew, and I buried myself further beneath the covers, intending to sleep until the end of the summer.
*
This plan lasted until the next morning when I was summoned downstairs to remove a rock from Ollie Trumble’s nose. It took no more than five minutes and a long pair of tweezers before the boy left in search of more trouble. Alone in my apothecary, I sat down in the wooden chair to decide what to do next.