Page 146 of The King's Man
‘Now,’ she addressed both girls, ‘shall we go and sit with Mama? I promised I would play her some music.’
Rebecca held up the book of prayers. ‘And I said I would read to her.’
Taking Rachel by the hand, Thamsine straightened her back and led the girls into Jane’s bedchamber. Despite the airy atmosphere and the bright vases of roses picked from the gardens, the bedchamber carried the atmosphere of imminent death which Thamsine remembered from her childhood, as her father had forced her to sit for long hours in her mother’s sick chamber.
Jane’s life ebbed away as each day passed in a battle to breathe. Even propped up on the pillows her thin face was ashen, the lips blue. Thamsine stooped to kiss her sister’s brow. Jane’s eyes flickered open and a faint smile lifted the ravaged countenance. Thamsine no longer asked how she felt.
Rachel bounced onto the bed beside her mother and curled up against Jane with her head on her shoulder.
‘What have you been doing?’ Jane asked her daughters.
‘I’ve been down in the stable. Brown’s dog has just had a litter of puppies. He said I could have one if Papa will let me,’ she said.
Rebecca sat on the chair beside her mother’s bed. ‘I’ve brought some prayers to read with you, Mama, and Aunt Thamsine said she will play for you.’
Thamsine picked up the lute from where she had left it on the seat by the window.
‘That will be lovely,’ Jane whispered.
The sun streamed through the long casement windows, the stained glass scattered in the panes casting jewelled shadows on the floor and across the bed.
‘Will you open the window?’ Jane asked.
Rebecca looked at Thamsine, who nodded, and the girl threw open the casements. The smell of newly mown hay drifted in with soft sunlight.
Rebecca returned to her mother’s side and began to read as Thamsine picked out a quiet, contemplative piece. Rachel lay snuggled in her mother’s arm, listening to the words and the music, her eyes half closed.
‘Mama?’ Rachel cried out.
Thamsine glanced across at the bed. Jane’s eyes were open, staring at the open window. The breath rattled in her throat, then there was silence.
‘Mama!’ Rebecca jumped up from her chair, her face stricken, the prayer book dropping to the floor.
Thamsine laid down the lute and crossed to her sister’s bed. She leaned over and kissed her sister’s forehead, feeling the last warmth of life just beneath the skin. Her hand passed over her sister’s eyes, closing them forever.
Rachel rolled off the bed and threw herself at Thamsine, the tears flowing. Rebecca stood rigid staring at the bed. Thamsine moved to put an arm around the girl but Rebecca moved away.
‘Go to your father,’ Thamsine said, ‘and bring him here.’
Rebecca turned and left the room, her face immobile. Thamsine sat down on the chair Rebecca had been occupying and pulled the weeping youngster onto her lap, holding her until the tears subsided into deep, gulping sobs.
Chapter 53
Jane’s death left her husband broken. Roger Knott had not stirred from his chamber since the funeral two days previously and now Thamsine found him on his knees at the window, his hands clasped in prayer. Thamsine looked down at the man’s bowed head. She had little sympathy for the pathetic specimen of manhood.
‘Roger?’ When he didn’t move, she said, without warmth. ‘Prayer will not bring her back.’
She had shed no tears for Jane. It was as if her grief went so deep it would never be expressed. In less than a year she had lost her father, almost murdered a man, become a beggar on the streets, and lost her sister and the man she loved so much that she could not even bring herself to think of him without a shard of pain so physical it made her ill.
‘I pray for my soul, not hers. Jane has gone to our Lord with a soul unblemished and spotless, whereas I feel the fires of Hell already licking at my feet,’ he said.
‘Rightly so,’ Thamsine responded. ‘You’re an adulterer. You betrayed your marriage vows and allowed yourself to become a party to a despicable plot that nearly ended in my death.’
Roger’s thin lips moved but no sound came out.
‘I always loved Jane,’ he said at last.
‘Not enough, Roger. Now, I wish to speak with you about the future.’
