Lizzie found a perverse sense of satisfaction and vindication in the imagined pain and remorse of those who had sinned against her, and this usually helped her calm down enough to realize that the people standing next to her mother at the funeral would most likely be the Barlows, and that her death would also be hurting Mary – pregnant, radiant Mary, and Lady Burnham, and even cousin Andrew, so in the end, she’d expel a put-upon sighand resign herself to spending some more time among the living, for their sake.
*
Duke Talbot, of course, knew nothing of his wife’s nightly excursions into the land of fancy, so when he saw her open her eyes on the third day of her illness, he was ecstatic.
“Lizzie! By God, you’re awake!”
She wordlessly stared at him.
Heavens, were her faculties impaired by her illness?He’d heard cases of people never fully being themselves again after a dangerous fever, and fear seized his heart.
“Lizzie… Kitten, it’s me. Colin, your husband.”
She turned her head away from him and, in a raspy voice, said, “Get Mary.”
“Of course,” he replied immediately, deciding to soothe the sting of rejection with the joy of hearing her voice for the first time in days.
Colin walked over to the ropes and rang for her trusty maid.
“Can I help you with anything while we wait? Would you like some broth, or another pillow?” he prattled on, afraid of what she might say if he let the silence go on.
Elizabeth said nothing.
He tried again, “How do you feel?”
Just then, Mary walked in, saying, “You rang for me?” Before her gaze fell on Elizabeth, and she screamed, “You’re awake?!”
Elizabeth smiled weakly as her friend ran over to her bed and almost threw herself at her in an attempt at a hug. Talbot heard murmurs of reassurance and sniffling, and it all made him feellike an interloper in his own bedroom, so he quietly retreated and closed the door.
As he leaned the back of his head against the door that separated him from his wife, he burned with jealousy at the memory of how tightly her (feeble-looking) arms had been wrapped around her friend.
“She’s good for her,” he told himself as he straightened up and waited for Mary’s exit.
“How is she?” he asked as soon as he was certain the door was fully closed.
“As far as I can tell, she’s feeling much better. She asked me to get her mother and to order her a bath,” Mary said with a big smile.
Talbot hadn’t even realised the strain Mary had been under until now. Her smile made her look like a different woman. And her complexion was different somehow.
“Mary, I have to discuss something with you, in confidence,” he said quietly, and she nodded. They moved further away from the door. “Do you think we should tell Her Grace about the possibility the Doctor mentioned?”
The way Mary’s hand flew to her stomach was unmistakable.
She shook her head quickly, “She hasn’t… but I cannot… I cannot remember the last time she asked me for the belt. Do you think she…?” Mary shook her head, exasperated with herself. “Why are you asking me this?”
“I thought you might know whether Elizabeth herself had any suspicions… And you’re a woman, would you want to know in her situation?”
“She never told me anything,” Mary said. “I think it’s best not to speak of it. What would be the point, other than inflicting doubt and pain on her while she is still so weak?”
“Then that’s what we shall do,” Talbot said, and Mary nodded, looking haunted. “I’ll go write to her brother.”
Chapter 26
Part of Duke Colin Talbot’s new routine was waking up at dawn in his wife’s old room (he’d taken to sleeping in the once blood-stained bed as a penance of sort for himself), and sending for the cook almost immediately to make sure (to Mrs. Clark’s great annoyance) that the breakfast pastries would be to the duchess’s liking. Elizabeth took her breakfast in her room these days, and Colin usually didn’t see her until after.
After he was done getting ready (with Stevenson’s help, naturally), he would look over that day’s selection of sweetmeats (he had arranged for a reputable confectionery shop to deliver a box of their best products to his residence daily), and, with the box in hand, Talbot would make his way downstairs, patiently counting down the minutes until he could look in on his wife.
It had been three days since Elizabeth had woken up, which meant there had been three separate breakfasts, three boxes of sweetmeats, three evenings he’d spent reading to her and sitting by her bedside after dinner, and not one single word from her mouth spoken directly to him since her initial request for Mary.
