Page 54 of The Duke's Last Dance
“Please, come back as soon as you can, Nicolas. I just found you… I cannot lose you again.” Catherine sniffled.
She did not know where this was coming from, but she knew that it was true with all her heart.
“I will come back as soon as I can, but please, I do not know when that will be. I will give you more details as I know them in my letters,” Nicolas promised.
“Okay.” She took in a deep breath.
He wiped a few more of her own tears away, and she returned the favor as his tears had finally started to run.
“I should be going, Catherine… we still have preparations to make, and my father thought I was going into Town for a walk. I should be… I should go…” It was clear that he did not want to go, but there was nothing else Catherine could do to stop him from going.
“Okay,” she said. “May I walk you to the property line?”
He laughed a little, nodding.
They walked quietly, and Miss Amelia rejoined them after they left the gazebo.
Catherine held his hand gently, even though Miss Amelia could see them. She did not care right then; he needed the support, and she was worried that if she let go before she got him to the property line that he would collapse to the ground from the emotional burden he had to bear.
It was never easy to hear that one’s parent was declining so horribly that they would not survive. It had to be another thing entirely to hear that parent wished to pass away somewhere else and would not take the doctor’s advice to stay in the manor they had fallen ill in.
“I will await your first letter with excitement, Catherine,” Nicolas said when they reached the property line.
“And I will anxiously await your reply, every week,” Catherine responded. “Stay safe as you travel, please. Do not take roads known for highwaymen.”
“We will not.” He kissed her knuckles softly, and then, just like that, he was off to Ashwood Manor.
Catherine remained where she was until she could no longer see him. The house was big enough she could see the upper floors, but she could not see the door where she knew that Nicolas would enter the home.
Once she could no longer see Nicolas, she returned slowly but surely to Camberton Manor. Her watercolors had surely dried out by now, and she would have to get them wet again. But that did not matter to her.
No, what mattered was how she felt. If she felt this way, she could only imagine how Nicolas was feeling right now. Since it was his father that was dying, there was probably another element that she would never be able to imagine until her own father was struggling to live, struggling to recover from an illness of whatever brand it was.
“What did he wish to talk to you about, Lady?” Miss Amelia attempted to make conversation with him.
“I do not wish to repeat anything but this, Miss Amelia. He is going to the countryside for a while,” Catherine said quietly. “He told me the rest in confidence.”
“Of course.” That satisfied Miss Amelia.
The rest of the walk to Camberton Manor was quiet, and Catherine appreciated this. The ground swayed with every step, and she worried she would fall if she did not have anyone there to catch her. Since she had Miss Amelia she was not too worried, but the worry still echoed in the back of her head.
They reached Camberton Manor, and Miss Amelia excused herself to return to the chores she had been doing.
Catherine walked up the staircase to the drawing room. She gathered her painting supplies – and she had been right; her paints had dried out – and put them away. This was no time to continue painting. Her hands shook too much; she worried she would ruin the painting if she tried to do anything more on it right now.
Once everything was put away, she went to her room. She sat on her bed, and then took in a deep breath. She could not believe that Nicolas had to leave the city so soon after arriving from three years in the Navy. He had only been home for a few months, and it felt like it was too soon for him to have to leave again just like that.
Then again, he had always told her about his father when they were kids. Whatever he wanted, he made sure he got it. Since this was his final wish, his father had probably taken more steps to ensure that they would be able to leave for the countryside today instead of tomorrow or next week.
As detrimental as the doctor and Nicolas seemed to believe it was for his father to go to the countryside now that he was so ill, he was determined. Catherine had to give him that.
Whatever happened, she knew that Nicolas would be looking forward to her letters. She would be looking forward to his responses, and she hoped that it would give him some kind of confidence that everything would turn out for the better, regardless of what happened to his father.
She got off the bed and walked to her writing desk. If she was going to be writing letters to Nicolas, it was best that she knew she had all the supplies to do so in her desk. When she opened the desk drawer she found that she had an inkwell sitting there, capped and pretty full to begin with. She knew that this would make for plenty of letters.
Her pen sat on the desk itself – probably out from the last letter she had sent, so the leftover ink could dry out and she could wipe it all off a little easier with a wet towel.
Then, she opened another drawer. Paper was expensive, and she still had a few sheets left. She would have to refill her stack, perhaps from her father’s paper in the study.
