She sat on the bed, wishing she could climb between her mother and father and be comforted by their combined warmth.
A rattle came from the connecting door to Mama’s room. Patience pulled her gown more tightly around her, but there was only one person who could be using that door. It swung open slowly, and a petite, bare foot stepped inside.
“Mama,” Patience whispered, not wanting to startle her.
It didn’t work. Mama let out a screech and slammed the door closed amidst a fluttering of her skirts.
Only a moment later it opened again. Mama’s dark hair was pulled back in a braid, but just like Patience’s own, curls escaped it in every place imaginable. It made Mama look young, as if she were a daughter looking to find comfort here as well.
“Patience?” she asked.
“Good morning, Mama.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she stepped fully into the room. “What are you doing here? I thought . . . No matter what I thought, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” Patience looked down at her hands. The last thing she wanted to do was scare her mother away. “I couldn’t sleep.” Mama’s face softened. “I used to come here when . . .” Patience couldn’t finish.
“I know.” Mama stepped in and shut the door softly behind herself. “I used to do the same thing.”
“He shouldn’t have left us.”
“He shouldn’t have.” Mama sat next to Patience and rubbed her hand along the quilt that covered the bed. “We are the least likely family to survive without him.”
Patience held back a sob. Mama was right. They weren’t surviving. Not really. Nicholas hadn’t been ready to become a duke. Patience hadn’t been ready to grow up. Her ridiculous idea to run away and pretend to be a maid was proof of that. Mama was certainly not ready to be a widow. The past two years had broken each of them. They were floundering in a sea of uncertainty and grief.
Mama wouldn’t meet her eyes. She just kept rubbing her hand back and forth on the bed. “I don’t sleep here.”
“In Papa’s bed?”
“In this house.”
What could she mean? She doesn’t sleep? “Not at all?”
She laughed lightly and shrugged one of her slender shoulders. “Oh, I’m most likely exaggerating. Surely I sleep some of the time. Morning comes, and I think I might have dozed off for a bit. And sometimes in the library, after I have played the pianoforte and sung for a while, exhaustion will hit.”
“Mama.”
Her eyes sought Patience’s. The deep circles under her watery eyes were more pronounced than Patience remembered them. She always smiled during the day. “I’m sorry, Patience. I don’t know what I can do. I thought if I left and came back—”
“That is why you moved to Paris? To sleep?”
“No, I don’t need sleep. I’m fine, really. I was just so young when I married your father. I don’t remember much about life without him. I was happy in Paris once though, as a child, and I thought perhaps that was what I needed.”
“For two years?”
“I almost came back so many times. But I couldn’t. I have several tickets that I never used. I just couldn’t do it while the home was in mourning. I just couldn’t face the black and the quiet.”
So she had left them here to face it alone. It was so stupid of her. Nothing about her leaving had helped any of them. And just because Patience and Nicholas were no longer wearing black didn’t mean they were no longer mourning. No one would be out of mourning anytime soon. No one in the family knew how to mourn.
However, Patience had left as well and in a much more foolish manner.
Not knowing what else to do, Patience pulled back the quilt. She clambered over to the opposite side and slid into the cold bed. It didn’t smell like Papa. It had been too long for that, but it didn’t smell musty either. Servants were amazing. She had taken so much for granted in the past. How often had they ironed and changed this bedding on the off chance someone would use it?
“Rest here awhile.” She patted the bed next to her. “I’m a poor substitute for Papa, but perhaps you can sleep with me here.”
Mama’s face crumpled, but she climbed into bed. She curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, and Patience placed her hand on her silken curls. A shudder went through Mama’s body. “I’m so tired. I’m so tired all the time.” Her words were coming in small gasps. “I think I could do everything better if I weren’t so tired.”
“We’re fine, Mama.”
“We’re not.”
“But we will be. We will be. For now, just sleep.”
Mama nodded and curled more tightly into herself. Patience hardly knew this woman who was so small beside her. Mama was laughter, fun, and loudness. She wasn’t a frail, broken woman. Mama’s shudders slowly subsided, and her breathing became steady. Her face was turned away from Patience, but certainly she was asleep. The bed was no longer cold. Patience’s eyes grew heavy, and instead of fighting the urge to sleep, she allowed her exhaustion to set in. There was nothing for her to do this early in the morning, and she wasn’t about to disturb Mama’s deep sleep.
Patience awoke to a bright slash of light on the bed and Mama still next to her. Mama was no longer curled into a ball, but instead, she was stretched out with a hand under her cheek. No trace of the grief-stricken woman Patience had seen earlier was on her face. She looked at peace.
Patience carefully slid out of the bed and padded across the room.
“Patience?”
Blast, she had woken her.
Patience turned slowly.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Mama.” And she meant it.
***
“And how is your scone, Nicholas?”
Nicholas looked up in surprise. Mama had already asked the question to the table in general, but Patience had been the only one to answer.
Nicholas smoothed out the serviette in his lap. “Pardon?”
“I was wondering how your scone tasted.”
“Just as Patience told you, it is quite good.”
“And the estate in Hampshire?”
Nicholas narrowed his eyes at their mother. He hadn’t liked discussing any matters of the estate with Patience. It looked as though he liked it even less coming from Mama.
“Brushbend is doing well. I assure you I am managing properly.”
“I never doubted that.”
“I’m not sure why you would have asked it if you hadn’t.”