Loving a Fearless Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book(43)

“Edward, you’ve helped quite a bit. I need to get my hands on a copy of Debrett’s Peerage, then I can locate him.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a book published every year that lists all the lords. Everyone in the House of Lords. In case you want to know how they will vote on an issue, or if they are single or where they live or which club they belong to.”

Penelope looked at Edward. “Can we go home?”

Without waiting for permission from the priest, Edward said yes and rose.

Father Stevens rose also. “I will notify you when I hear back from Avery Stanton. Take care of your mother. I’ll check in on you.”

Edward lifted his mother out of the chair, taking her hand and pulling it up. They walked home.

Edward put his mother in the parlour and made her tea. He allowed Penelope to bring in the tray and pour. He told Penelope to sit with her, but she was not to expect any talking from her. Their mother was in shock.

He checked every kitchen cabinet and the pantry to see how long the food would last. He searched for money. Did Father have a money jar? Did he keep it under the bed? He would search there now. He would search the rest of the house when his mother went to bed.

Edward was hungry. He would have to make dinner for the three of them. He checked the parlour.

He walked in to see a teacup on the table in front of his mother. “Anything?” he said to Penelope.

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I talked to her. I sang her favourite song. Nothing.”

Edward nodded. “Are you hungry?”

Penelope nodded.

“I’m going to make something; I don’t know what. And Mother won’t eat much, but maybe the smell of food will make her eat something.”

Penelope looked up at him. “Do you want me to help?”

“Have you ever cooked before?”

“No. Not really. Just watched.”

Edward shook his head. “We’re better off if I cook and you watch Mother.”

Edward went back to the kitchen and looked in the cauldron. Stew toward the bottom. He cut a carrot and put it in then stirred the mixture.

The heat was loosening the broth. It was a nice thick consistency the way Edward liked it. But they would need it for another day. He added water.

When it was ready, he put it in three bowls, making the third bowl less than the other two. If she ate at all, he would get more for her.

Penelope and Edward each took an arm and led her into the dining room. They sat her down between them. Edward and Penelope ate what they had then weren’t so hungry. Edward took her spoon and pressed a little through her lips, hoping the taste would wake up her senses. No luck.

They guided their mother upstairs to her bedchamber. It was the nicest in the area but was modest compared to the descriptions they heard of houses built on faraway estates. Still, Father did well enough in the shipping business.

Edward left his mother fully dressed in the middle of the bed. He built a fire then left Penelope to make their mother comfortable. She took off her mother’s short boots and stockings and put them all in front of the fire. She turned her mother sideways and undid the buttons from her neck to past her waist. Then she slipped off the dress and left her mother in her chemise. After covering her, she left the room.

“Should I sleep in there tonight? What if she wakes in the night?”

Edward’s shoulders sagged. “I’ll sleep there. She’s too heavy for you to carry.”

Penelope said, “I’ll sleep in bed with her and wake you from the settee if I need you.”

Edward agreed, and they both went to prepare for bed. When they came back, Penelope settled in with their mother, and he brought a blanket to the settee. He swore Penelope grew up a year in a day. He hated her childhood slipping from her grasp. The second thing this week that would never be back.

Slowly, at a pace made for a snail, Cecilia returned. A cup of tea here, a brush of her hair there. Progress was slow but measurable. Edward was thrilled when she started to speak.

He had searched everywhere for money. There was no place he hadn’t looked. He needed his mother to tell him where it was.

“Mother,” he said slowly, “do you know the hiding places in the house?”

Cecilia looked at him. “That seems like an odd question. Hiding places? Where are the hiding places, Edward?”

“No, Mother. I don’t know where there are hiding places. Do you know where there are hiding places?”

“No. Do you think I hide my undergarments?”

Edward closed his eyes and counted to ten. He needed that money. After close to a week, the kitchen was beginning to run low on food.

The next day, Edward tried a different approach. “Mother, we need more food. Where’s the money?”

“What money, Edward?”

“The money we used to buy food. Where is it?”

“There is no money to buy food. There’s money for whisky and money for gambling, but there’s no money for food.”

Edward breathed deep. All that searching, and there was no money. “How did we have food in the kitchen?”

Cecilia talked to him as if he were a little boy. “I told your father I would go into town and buy his whisky. He gave me his money to pay for it. I bought whisky and food. I paid a boy to bring the food to the back door. I came in through the front door with the whisky. Your father got the change. He never knew.”