Page 89 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
William had gone. Henry would never see his face again, only in the portraits at the house.
Stephen looked at Gerard, reached past Henry and pulled Gerard’s coat sleeve. ‘Come on.’ Gerard consented and turned with Stephen.
Henry turned too and walked back to the carriage, behind his young brothers. The sound of a sigh made Henry look back; Percy walked a few paces behind him. Henry waited for him to catch up.
Beyond Percy his uncle and father stood looking at the doors of the mausoleum. His uncle said something to his father then turned and walked away.
His father did not move.
Henry turned to head back.
‘Leave him!’ Uncle Edward called.
He wanted to be able to do something.
‘He needs time alone,’ his uncle said when he reached Henry. ‘Come along.’ He caught hold of Henry’s arm.
Henry glanced over his shoulder before he climbed into the carriage. His father had still not moved.
‘We will wait for Lord Marlow,’ Uncle Edward said to the groom and the driver.
When Henry sat down, he looked up at the carriage roof, helplessness enveloping him. There was nothing to be said and nothing to be done to heal this.
Henry looked through the window, his father still stoodstaring at the closed doors of the mausoleum, saying who knew what to William. Henry remembered the women who awaited them at the house, along with his friends and the other men who had been in the minster. He would have to welcome everyone if his father was not up to the task.
Uncle Edward cleared his throat, drawing their attention. ‘If you would rather…’ he said, looking about them all, ‘…avoid the wake, then show your faces for a short time only. I am happy to take on the responsibility of host and ensure people are cared for sufficiently. You have endured enough today, and I will not expect that of your father.’
Gerard and Stephen said nothing, but they would be happy they had permission to abscond. Percy nodded.
‘Thank you.’ Henry breathed out heavily. He had hoped his uncle would share the burden, and he was.
The carriage door opened. They all looked. His father climbed in.
They did not speak again then.
Susan rose as she heard the carriages arriving in Farnborough’s courtyard. The maids disappeared to bring up more boiled water for the tea, but the rest of the women remained seated. Susan stood, a few feet from the door, her hands clasped together at her waist.
The room, that was usually bright and full of laughter, was quiet as the women spoke in hushed tones. The mirror above the hearth had been covered in black as the family were in deepest mourning, and all the women of Henry’s family wore black, while Susan wore her dove grey and Alethea and her motherwere in dull mauves and Aunt Jane’s friends were in similar drab colours.
The door opened. A footman stepped in to hold it wide and the men walked through.
Some of the other women stood – to greet their partners, parents or siblings.
Aunt Jane crossed the room with purposeful strides and began greeting her guests.
Susan’s father entered.
When Aunt Jane greeted him, he pressed a kiss on her cheek, then moved on as others walked in.
When the flow of men stopped, Henry and Uncle Robert had not come in. Susan walked across and looked through the doorway; no one remained in the hall.
She found a corner to hide in, her hands clasping together and her teeth nipping nervously at the inside of her lower lip.
Her mother was in conversation with one of Aunt Jane’s guests, trying to ease some of the pressure on Aunt Jane. Aunt Jane must feel as though she were sleepwalking. Losing William was unimaginable.
Alethea sat across the room speaking with Sarah, Christine and Uncle Edward’s and Aunt Ellen’s daughters. There was no seat near them for Susan to join them.
Quiet conversation developed around her. The fresh tea arrived. Susan stood silent and watching, awkwardness hovering over her like a hunting kestrel. This was the moment in the past she would have retreated to the library. But today was not a day to hide.
