When he finished, Harold stepped back, allowing George to take over.
“Might we see him?” Betsy asked between sobs.
“If you wish. He looks quite peaceful.” He turned to his mother. “Mother, I am not certain what happens after the doctor leaves. Of course, we shall bury him in the family cemetery, and I shall make burial service arrangements with the Vicar. But I have no idea how the body is prepared or how we go about constructing a casket. Or even if we need to have some sort of a public viewing. I have never been called upon to consider these matters before.”
Mother looked up at him. “Oh, my son, I have no idea, and I am much too agitated to give thought to anything other than your father at this time.”
“I understand.” George turned to his sisters. “And any of you?”
“Perhaps Stevens would know. Or some other of the staff,” Ann suggested.
Lucy stood. “I know what needs to be done,” she said quietly.
The family turned to her. George extended his hand for her to come over which she did.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“My friend, Isabell, is often called upon to assist in preparing a body within the community. I am certain she would be able to help. Would you like me to ask her?”
George turned to the daughters who nodded. But then Ann stood and spoke up. “I should like to go with you, Lucy. I might be able to assist in some way.”
“Then we can leave at your convenience. I shall go and get my wrap,” Lucy said.
“I should like to see Father first,” Ann said.
George offered. “Then I think we should do that now—as a family.”
The family quietly filed into Matthew’s room. The body was laid out as George had described and Matthew did look peaceful. There was no outward indication of any wound—except for some scrapes around the face. The family stood by the bed with muted crying and sniffling. Her Grace sat on the edge of the bed and took hold of her husband’s hand, picking it up and kissing it.
Stevens came into the room and went over to George and whispered, “Your Grace the doctor is here.”
George turned to his family and said, “We must leave now. The doctor needs to examine Father’s remains.”
“Might I stay,” Judith pitifully asked.
George put his hand on his mother’s shoulder and said, “Of course, Mother. The rest of us come.”
* * *
Lucy was waiting for Ann in the drawing-room, ready to take her to see Isabell. As she sat and waited, she pondered the fact that only this morning at breakfast George had hinted that he wanted to take her for a ride later this afternoon. However, he had given no indication as to why. But, of course, there could be no thought of such a meeting now. Instead of sharing some time with George, she was now about to visit Isabell on a tragic errand with none other than Ann.
Lucy had to admit that Ann had been very gracious in offering to go with her to see her friend. Perhaps the death of her father had mellowed Ann to some extent. After all, none of the family would be considering romance in the weeks and even months to come as the family grieved and spent the appropriate amount of time in mourning.
Finally, Ann appeared at the drawing room door, dressed in a warm coat and bonnet.
“I am ready if you are, Lucy,” Ann said most cordially. “I have ordered the carriage for us.”
“Excellent. It is a bit chilly for a walk to her house.”
Lucy and Ann traveled toward the Harris house in near silence. Lucy wanted to say something consoling but did not know how to begin with the tense history between them. But the carriage had arrived at the Harris’s house and they got out and went to the cottage door.
Lucy knocked, and a surprised Isabell opened the door.
“Lucy… what a pleasant surprise. Please come in,” Isabell offered.
They went inside. Chrissy was stretched out asleep in a large chair with a cat napping on her stomach.
“Isabell, this is Ann Grayson, one of the Duke’s daughters.”
