Page 143 of A Winter By the Sea
“Oh no.”
“Yes. General Wetherall was most anxious that the duke’s new will should be signed—leaving everything to his wife and entrusting her with the care of their daughter. With some effort, His Royal Highness was roused to listen to the new will being read. He then managed to sign it legibly before falling back on his pillows, exhausted.”
“Merciful heavens,” Emily breathed.
She thought, then said, “Hopefully enough people witnessed his signature that the will’s legality won’t be called into question.”
“Several people were there,” he assured her. “His wife, of course. Prince Leopold. The doctors. General Wetherall. I was there, at the back of the room, just in case I was needed.”
“And Captain Conroy, I assume?”
Frown lines scored his brow. “Actually, now you mention it, he was not there.” James took a deep breath. “At all events, after resting, the duke woke once more. He said, ‘May the Almighty protect my wife and child and forgive all the sins I have committed.’ Then he begged his wife, ‘Do not forget me.’”
Emily impulsively took James’s hand.
He clasped her fingers in reply. “I had not realized how close I felt to him until that moment. How much I appreciated him taking me on when men like Conroy advised him against it. Whatever others say about Prince Edward, he has always been good to me, and a loving husband and father to his wife and daughter. My heart breaks for them both.” His voice thickened. “When I think of that little girl growing up without her doting papa ...”
“Oh, James. I am so sorry.” Not knowing what else to do, Emily leaned close and laid her head upon his shoulder.
26
I am hopelessly lost without dearest Edward, who always shielded me. He was my adored partner in life. Whatever shall I do without his strong support?
—The Duchess of Kent, translated letter
The next morning, James Thomson did not attend church with them, but instead returned to Woolbrook to join those sitting vigil at the duke’s bedside.
Later, when the family returned to Sea View after divine services, they found Mr. Thomson there before them, waiting in the hall. He stood there, still wearing his coat, hat in hand, complexion pale.
Emily knew as soon as she saw his face. “Is he ... ? Is he gone?”
He nodded. “Just as the clocks struck ten. The duchess was kneeling beside the bed, holding his hand.”
“Oh no.”
He nodded. “She refused to leave his bedside till the last. She has barely slept in days.”
“That poor woman,” Mamma said, tears glistening in her eyes, perhaps remembering her days sitting at Papa’s bedside before he died.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Emily said, “A strong man like him, who had never before been ill in his life, and now to die of a cold?”
Sarah nodded. “It’s shocking. His daughter is too young to understand her loss, but how his wife must be suffering.”
“Yes. She loved her husband deeply,” Mr. Thomson said. “Any man would be blessed by such devotion.”
Emily saw the longing on his face, and her chest ached at the sight.
The day after the duke’s death, normally quiet Glen Lane was busier than ever, with a stream of people and carriages going to-and-fro on important, morbid business: surgeons, embalmers, undertakers, and royal officials. A postmortem had to be carried out, measurements taken for a fine coffin to accommodate the large man, and arrangements made for the duke’s lying in state.
The duchess was eager to finalize arrangements. Apparently, her brother, Prince Leopold, was urging her to leave this site of her deepest grief as soon as possible.
Sarah watched all the activity with melancholy interest and offered to sew black armbands for the three members of staff staying with them.
Mr. Thomson spent a great deal of time at Woolbrook over the next few days, composing death notices, answering inquiries, and greeting officials as they arrived. Mr. Bernardi was assigned to Fortfield Terrace to prepare food for the staff and visitors there rather than in the house of mourning. Sarah did not see much of Mr. During in that time, so she did not know where he was ... or what he was up to.
———
When another day went by with barely a glimpse of Mr. During, curiosity and worry got the best of Sarah and she knocked on his door. She wanted to talk with the man, to assure herself that nothing untoward was going on. More than a week had passed since General Wetherall asked to inventory the plate chest. Since then, Mr. During had often been absent, and strangely silent.
