Page 15 of The Phoenix Bride
Lady Eden appears at the top of the steps. I am once again struck by how dissimilar she looks to her sister. Mistress Thorowgood was almost cruel in her features; there was a sense of defiance inherent in her sharp chin and small, pointed nose. Lady Eden, by contrast, is soft featured, wide waisted, with broad shoulders and deep dimples in each cheek. It is a welcoming face, but it still becomes distinctly hostile when she notices me, and she pauses halfway down the steps. I do my best to hide my unease. I have become unfortunately accustomed to detecting disdain, despite a sincere desire to remain ignorant to it. There haven’t been Jews in this country for more than three centuries, after all; I don’t expect that the good lady was one of those calling for our return.
“Master Mendes,” Lady Eden says.
I bow. “Greetings, my lady. I have brought with me some medicines for Mistress Thorowgood, as promised.”
“I see. You can leave them with the footman.”
“I would like to explain their administration to her, if it pleases you.”
She replies archly, “You might as well explain it to me, as I shall be in charge of giving them to her.”
“Medicines are most effective when taken with full consent of the patient.”
“Why is that?” she asks. “Her previous physicians felt no need to consult her. I have given Cecilia many medicines in her food without her knowledge, and it was for the best, I feel, as she would have refused them otherwise.”
I am quite horrified by this, and I do not know how to respond. If I were a braver man, perhaps—a better one—I would admonish her. Instead, I say in a pleading tone, “I understand that the other physicians had their own methods, as I have mine. I have been trained as a physician since I was a boy; I am accredited by the Royal College in Lisbon. If I am to help your sister, you must have faith in my recommendations.”
Her grip on the banister tightens, knuckles whitening with the force. She glares at me. For a moment, I wonder if she will order me to leave. Then she closes her eyes and shakes her head, recentering herself before she descends the steps to stand in front of me.
“This is of the utmost importance, Master Mendes,” she says. “My sister’s recovery is paramount, do you understand?”
“Of course.”
“Do you believe she will soon be well?”
“I…It is difficult to say as of yet, my lady.”
She considers me for a moment, eyes narrowed. “As your employer, I trust I have your confidence, sir.”
“Of course,” I repeat, confused.
“She must be better by the end of the summer. She is to be married before the fall.”
I raise my brows. Cecilia Thorowgood had hardly seemed the picture of a blushing bride. “I hadn’t realized she was betrothed.”
“She isn’t—not yet. Once she is prepared, I shall introduce her to her suitor. He is a relative of my husband’s, you see. Robert was rather keen on introducing them; he never would have consented to her presence here otherwise. And if she remains so sickly…Well. I have been begging Robert to give her more time, but there is only so long a wife’s pleas may be heard.” She seems genuinely aggrieved by this, wringing her hands, but her gaze remains sharp and calculating. “We wouldn’t want Cecilia sent back to solitude in Suffolk, would we? I think both of us know how disastrous such a thing would be for her delicate constitution.”
Astonished, I don’t know how to reply. Lady Eden takes my silence as acquiescence, and nods curtly at me, taking a step back.
“Cecilia is in the courtyard,” she tells me. “Give her your medicines; explain them to her. I will be watching from the windows. She will trust you more if she thinks I am not there.”
—
A marriage Mistress Thorowgood is entirely ignorant of; I ought to inform her, surely? I can imagine how Manuel would have reacted to such a thing: his grave face, solemn eyes. Always so unflinching in his principles, even when he risked disaster.You must do what you feel is best, David,he’d say, but we’d both know what he really meant. To him honesty was worth more than gold.
But Manuel isn’t here—not anymore—and I must make thisdecision alone. If I did tell her, what would be the outcome? My dismissal and her expulsion from the townhouse? When she meets her suitor, she will be able to refuse him if she wishes—her sister could hardly force the matter, could she? Besides, my position is too precarious. The Edens have the ability to see me utterly destroyed, if they so wish.
I decide to remain silent, but I hate myself for it.
Perhaps Father was right. I ought never to have answered that letter at all.
In the courtyard, the first thing I take note of is the linden: Ihad been nervous enough on my first arrival here that I hadn’ttaken time to inspect it. It is an impressive specimen, blooming early. Beneath its canopy of white flowers, Mistress Thorowgood—Cecilia—stands in the grass, her bare toes rippling against the soil, raising her chin to the sun. Her hair hangs in a dark-gold sheet to her elbows, uncurled and uncombed. She is wearing only a chemise; it is too large, gaping at the neck. Her feet are bare. I am stricken once again by her thinness, which—while not quite yet to the point of danger—still lends her a fragile, serrated quality. She is like a glass knife, sharp and brittle, as likely to shatter as to cut.
Blue-gray eyes meet mine. “Master Mendes,” she says.
I am disarmed, by both her state of undress and the intensity of her gaze. “Mistress Thorowgood. Forgive me, I…Are you not cold?”
She glances down at herself. The chemise slips lower, revealing the slope of her shoulder, and I glance studiously away. “I am fine,” she says.
