Chapter 8
Niall had told them, on their rushed trip back in Lord Haverton’s carriage, that his mother had suffered a severe coughing fit and had fallen over unresponsive. Now, as Pleasant paced the room, still dressed in her finery, she waited for news from the doctor who was examining Aine upstairs, while the morale below was rather bleak. Fiona was sitting on Cornell’s lap, for after tonight, he was so much more than just Mr. Reed. She was clutching her rag doll, dried tears on her face. Connor and Niall were sitting near the fire, as quiet as she had ever seen them.
Finally, the physician, an older man with a bushy moustache, came back downstairs carrying his black bag. He shook his head sadly as he addressed the assembled. “I’m afraid it’s consumption.”
Pleasant covered her mouth with her hand as tears instantly pricked the backs of her eyes. Tuberculosis was a death sentence, yet, she couldn’t help but swallow the lump in her throat and ask, “Is there anything that can be done?”
His expression was grim. “I’m afraid it has progressed too far. At this point you must prepare yourself.”
She put a hand to her stomach, but she refused to break down in front of her siblings. She had to be strong for them, for they were about to lose their mother. “I see. Thank you, doctor.”
He nodded and took his leave.
Once he was gone, the shock of his prognosis began to sink in. While no one wanted to address the issue directly, Fiona, in all her innocence asked, “Is Mama going to die?”
Pleasant tried to speak, but her throat had closed up. Thankfully, Cornell turned Fiona to face him and said softly, “Death doesn’t always have to be sad. I fought in many battles where men I respected and admired were taken from this earth much too quickly, but then, I started to imagine that perhaps they were spared from something even worse.”
“What could be worse than death?” Connor sniffed.
He didn’t even hesitate. “Living a life in misery.” At this, even Niall glanced at him. Once he had their full attention, he continued, “Your mother has been suffering from this illness for quite some time. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to lie in bed for the rest of her life. So, do you really want her to stay here and suffer unnecessarily when she could find some relief from her disease?”
“But I’ll miss her,” Fiona said with a pout.
“As you all will.” He tugged on one of her red curls. “But that’s where the memories will continue to live on in your hearts. You will remember your mother when she was strong and lively.”
“Come on, Fi.” Connor walked over and took his little sister’s hand. “Let’s go see, Mama.”
Niall reluctantly trailed behind, but he turned his head and said, “You coming up, Pea?”
She nodded. “I’ll be right there.” Once they were out of sight, she started to breathe more rapidly and deeply than normal. She covered her face with her hands knowing the sobs were coming. “What am I…going to…do?”
A pair of comforting, warm arms surrounded her, and she melted into Cornell’s strength. She cried heavily for a short time, but then composed herself quickly enough. When she drew back, he lifted her chin gently.
“I can’t go back to the shop,” she whispered. “Mama is committed to finishing several more gowns and—”
“Don’t worry about me or the shoes,” he said quietly. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to work extra hours to complete an order. Take the time to be with your family.”
Her lower lip trembled. “Thank you.”
He rose to his feet. “I’ll call on you tomorrow.”
For the next several days, Niall and Connor didn’t sweep chimneys. They stayed close to their mother’s bedside, along with Fiona, and read her stories while she lay there and listened. Whether or not she actually comprehended what was being said, Pleasant didn’t know, but the contented smile on Aine’s face showed that at least she was happy to have her children near.
Pleasant, on the other hand, stayed busy sewing downstairs from dawn to well past dusk, creating fine dresses like the one she’d carefully folded and returned to its box, where it now sat tucked under her bed with the gold shoes.
She found that her eyes welled up with moisture several times, for she missed her stepmother sitting in this very chair. And while Pleasant wanted to give her family the Christmas that they deserved, she feared that was no longer a possibility. If it wasn’t because of Aine’s poor health, now that the boys weren’t working, the holiday season was looking rather bleak.
Already, their funds were starting to deplete, the cost for the physician’s call and the money she put aside for Aine’s burial taking the remainder of the advance Pleasant had received from Cornell. Anything else she made from sewing was going to cover the rent and what little food they could manage.
The only bright spot to Pleasant’s current existence was the daily visit from Cornell. The day after Aine’s episode, he brought some scones from the bakery. The next, he’d bought woolen scarves for Pleasant and her siblings. Each time he appeared, he brought something new, and Pleasant could tell that, although Aine’s health was a constant concern, they looked forward to these thoughtful gestures from him.
It was during one of these visits that Pleasant went upstairs to show her stepmother the carved miniature that Cornell had given her.
“Mama?” she said softly.
Aine slowly opened her eyes. When she saw Pleasant, she smiled, but didn’t speak. Her strength was quickly waning with each passing day.
She held up the small, wooden elephant. “Isn’t it wonderful? The others will be up shortly. We all have something different.”
When Aine finally spoke, it was soft and slightly raspy. “Mr. Reed is a…good man.”
“He certainly is,” Pleasant agreed.
“Do you…love him?”
Until then, Pleasant hadn’t allowed herself to fantasize about a life with Cornell, but now she found her lips curving upward. “I think so.”
“Then you…have my…blessing.” She paused, as if to gather her remaining energy.
“Shh. Don’t tire yourself unnecessarily.”
Aine’s eyes were fierce as she concentrated on Pleasant’s face. She held out a pale hand. “I may not have…given birth to you, but you have always…been a true daughter…to me. I love…you.”
Pleasant fought against a wave of growing emotion as she clutched Aine’s hand. “And I love you. Thank you for being a true mother to me,” she whispered. “I will always be grateful for the home you provided for me.”
“I fear that…I will have to leave you…soon. Take care of…the children.”
