Chapter Nine (cont.)
On her way to get some dinner, Grace was pulled aside by the healer who had often been there when she was sick as a child. He had helped bring her into the world and knew her better than most people, so she prayed he did not see through the disguise.
“I have never been one to accept the gypsy chants and healing potions,” he said as he grabbed Grace by the arm. “But whatever you have done for Dedre, it has been wonderful.”
Grace held back a sigh of relief and smiled gently. “Sometimes words and laughter are the best in helping.”
“Perhaps, whatever it was, Dedre is looking a feeling better. Just days before you arrived she had a terrible fever and a severe cough. Now only a trace of that cough remains. I must thank you, young lady, and commend you. You have done a great service for the countess.” The smile on the healer’s face slowly disappeared. “Unfortunately it is not enough I fear. I believe Dedre only has months left with us. She has gotten better, but I am afraid it cannot last.”
Grace’s heart thumped inside her chest. “You believe that?”
“She has been sick for so long, months. I see improvement, but she was greatly weakened by her illness and her mind, it is all but left us. I just wanted to thank you for making what time she has left easier.” He nodded politely and left Grace standing alone and confused and even a little hurt.
Her mother could not possibly die, not yet. She was doing better. Grace had noticed a slight cough, but it was go away soon. Dedre had Grace now and she would live for years to come.
* * * *
The next morning was unusually cold. Grace moaned and shuffled slowly around the cabin while the other three stayed in their warm beds. The walk seemed too long to make, but she pressed on to see her mother.
She no longer waited for anyone to show her in. Everyone just allowed her to move about the grounds. A few guards nodded to Grace as she passed and she returned the nod and added a smile.
Grace yawned long and hard before pushing Dedre’s door open. The countess seemed distraught. She was tearing through her belonging, looking for something. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were strewn about the room. Grace had never seen her mother in such a frantic state.
“You! Servant! When did we hire you? Did Daniel take you from one of the villages? Oh it does not matter, just help me find my black veil, I must wear it to bury my father today.”
Grace looked at her mother and let her jaw drop. Her mother’s father had died three months before Grace’s birth. That had been over twenty-three years ago.
“Do not just stand there, girl. Are you deaf? Or dumb?” Dedre snapped angrily.
“Mother...”
“Mother? I have no child outside my womb yet? Who do you call mother?”
“Countess Dedre, I think you are confused,” Grace stepped toward her mother, “Your father has been buried for well over twenty years.”
“Nonsense, he has only just passed away. Now help me find the veil.”
Dedre looked right at Grace and she felt an icy air fall over the room. Her mother truly was stuck in the past. George had mentioned these fits to her the first day she was in Arganis. But Dedre had been so much better since Grace came home.
It all hit her suddenly. The healer was right. Grace could ease Dedre’s life, but she could not prevent what was to come. Dedre coughed loudly and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to cover her mouth.
“Help me!” She shrieked.
Grace did as she was instructed. She looked for a few minutes and then instructed Dedre to get some food and take some rest. Grace said she would continue looking. Dedre scowled and lay down on her bed, falling asleep within minutes.
She slept for only twenty minutes, but when she woke she was still a different woman. She called Grace several different names. Names of maids long since gone from Arganis. Grace left her chambers hours later feeling upside and tired.
* * * *
Two weeks passed for Grace in Arganis. Dedre got worse. A few days she recalled Grace and lived in the present, but most of the time she lived in various stages of her past. At one point the fever and cough returned. So, Grace never left her side. She watched helplessly as healers came in and out, attempting to cure Dedre. Grace realized perhaps she was beyond help now.
Dedre was lying on her bed, looking thoughtfully at Grace. “You need some real rest, Grace. Not just sleeping in a chair by a dying woman’s bedside.”
“Mother, I said I would not leave your side until you were better.”
“And I keep telling you, I am not going to get better.”
Grace knew that was true, but she still clung to some hope. Dedre looked so sickly, so pale, so withdrawn. Her cheeks were hollowed out and she had not had a solid meal in days. Her body burned, but she complained of a cold, a cold deep within her bones. She coughed violently and every so often little droplets of blood appeared on the corners of her mouth. Still Grace hoped against hope, though she recognized it to be futile.
“You will continue to make me proud, will you not?”
Grace took her mother’s hand and with her other stroked her hair. “Of course I will. Come now, you promised to tell me about how you first came to Arganis.” Grace figured if her mother was still talking, she was still alright.
Dedre smiled weakly. “My parents were from Arganis, but I was born on the Nareroc Islands. I dreamed of coming here for as long as I can remember. I was sixteen when I finally got the chance to follow my father here.” Dedre paused, the act of talking was draining her. “I was to meet a dear friend of my father’s. He was Daniel’s father and they had the idea we should marry. I ignored that fact when I set foot in the port though. The trees seemed so large and full to me.” She paused again, for longer. “So beautiful and cool. Not stuffy and humid like the islands. I just wish I had been able to...” This pause was the longest of all.
“Just able to what?” Grace pressed her to speak.
“Just able to enjoy it more fully. Without the threat of marriage over me.” She smiled and her eyes grew heavy. The began to close slowly. “The trees were so lovely...I loved the smell of the forest...” Her eyes shut completely. Her grip on Grace’s hand loosened.
“Mother?” Grace waited a moment, a tear slid down her cheek.
Dedre’s chest had stopped moving up and down. The drain had slowly been draining from her as she spoke to Grace.
Her daughter wanted nothing more than to cry, but she could not. She had to alert the healers. She had to alert George.
Outside two guards were patrolling the halls. She approached them slowly. “Get the ‘ealers. Countess Dedre ‘as left us. I’ll inform the lord of the ‘ouse.” The two guards did not waste a minute. They hurried to find the healers and spread the word. Grace made for George’s study.
He was hunched over a scroll, studying it intently. “My Lord?” He looked up, “Your wife ‘as passed.”
He made no move, just stared. His eyes seemed to bore into her. “It is alright to cry. I understand it is a great loss to lose one’s mother.”