Page 43 of The Lady's Companion
She smiled at him and closed her eyes for a moment. The bailiff looked at Susan and she could see his jaw working from the tension he was trying so hard to hide from the widow. Impulsively she leaned forward and touched his leg, the only part of him she could reach without getting up.
“My heart... I felt like I was suffocating, and all the time, my heart was racing,” the widow continued, her eyes, large now with amazement, on the bailiff again. “I got up to get a drink of water and I fell.” She closed her eyes again. “It was like that other time.”
The bailiff frowned and was silent for several moments, absorbing what she had said. “Do you mean this is what happened before, when you told me you tripped on the stairs?”he asked, his voice firm.
She sighed like a child caught in mischief and forced to confess. “It is. I told you I tripped on a loose rug. I didn’t tell you it was because my heart was racing and startled me.”
“Lady Bushnell...” he began, then stopped. “Oh, never mind,” he concluded, resignation evident in his tone.
“It’s happened a few other times,” the widow admitted. “I was ... afraid...”
”... I would tell your daughter-in-law,” he concluded with some asperity. “Lady Bushnell, you are a scamp and a rascal and old Lord Bushnell would scold you up one side and down the other, if he were here!”
She nodded, smiling now. “Yes, he would, wouldn’t he?” Her voice grew serious again. “But he’s not here, none of them are. And neither is the army, and the battles are over, and they have all left me behind! How dare they do that?”
She was silent then, the tears spilling onto her cheeks. Chilled to the bone by Lady Bushnell’s anguish, Susan knelt by the bed and wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet. She rested her head against Lady Bushnell’s arm. “David has to go for the doctor, my lady. I’ll stay here with you,” she murmured.
“Sergeant, I insist that you do nothing of the kind. And that is an order!” she said, her voice weak but determined. “I’ll have you court-martialed!” she added, clutching his hand tighter.
“I wouldn’t care, madam,” he replied gently. “I’m still going for the doctor. You can dismiss me tomorrow.”
“And I will,” she insisted, but there wasn’t any fervor behind the threat. “You can be sure of it.”
David chuckled and leaned forward to kiss Lady Bushnell’s cheek. She stared at him. “Sergeant, you’re taking liberties,” she warned, but made no move to release his hand.
“I am for sure, but if you’re letting me go tomorrow, it doesn’t matter! Now hush and let Susan give you another sip of water.I’ll be back with the doctor.” Gently he loosened her grip on him and got up. He went to the door and with the slightest gesture, indicated that Susan follow him.
She got up quietly, rested her hand for a moment on Lady Bushnell’s cheek, then joined the bailiff at the door. He took her hand and tugged her into the hall.
“Just keep her quiet,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.
She nodded, then turned toward him. “What if she dies? I’m afraid.”
He grabbed her in a quick hug then. “You’ll do, Susan. Take care of her for me.”
“I will,” she promised as he released her, “but I’m still afraid.” He was backing away from her down the hall. “Think on this then, Susan. You look really lovely in flannel, but I don’t care much for sleeping caps.”
You are a rascal, she thought as she went back into the bedchamber, took a deep breath to fortify herself, and sat in the spot the bailiff had vacated. Lady Bushnell was crying now, and Susan wanted to cry, too. She wanted to run back to her room, barricade the door, and wallow in her own fear. Instead, she took a firm grip on Lady Bushnell’s hand and wiped her eyes again.
“Is your heart still racing?” she asked, dreading whatever answer was coming.
Lady Bushnell nodded, the fright in her eyes unmistakable.
“Then let me help you sit up,” Susan said. “I’ll put this pillow behind your head. There. Is that better?” Please let it be better, she thought.
To her relief, Lady Bushnell nodded. “I could use another sip of water.”
Susan gave her another drink, dabbing at the comers of the widow’s mouth when half of it dribbled out. She tucked Lady Bushnell’s hair into her sleeping cap again and retied the strings. “The doctor will be here soon, and then we’ll see,” she said.
To her dismay, the widow began to cry again, noisy tears of childlike frustration layered over with equal parts of resignation and misery. Alarmed, Susan wiped her eyes again, murmuring soothing sounds that had no words as the widow clutched at her heart and gasped for breath. Casting aside the proprieties, Susan hugged the woman close to her own heart, as though willing its steady beat to communicate its regularity to the afflicted one. With a sob and a strength Susan would not have credited, the widow’s arms went around her and they rocked together on the bed.
In a few minutes, the tears turned into hiccups, and then silence. Susan held the woman close, running her hands over her back and feeling the delicacy of her bones, the fragility that age distilled. “That’s better now,” she soothed, letting the widow rest against the mounded pillows again.
Lady Bushnell closed her eyes for a moment, her hands tight around Susan’s. “Whatever happens, you must not tell my daughter-in-law,” she insisted, her voice weak but charged with fervor that came from a reservoir deep within.
“I do not know that the matter will be in my hands,” Susan whispered honestly, unconsciously matching the tone of her voice to the widow’s as though they shared a great secret
“It must be!” Lady Bushnell said, her eyes wide open and fierce, “else she will use this as the final excuse to pull me into her orbit and keep me there.”
