Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Celestina looked over Richard's shoulder when she heard the shout. It sounded like someone had called wait .

It was Sylvia. Celestina's first reaction was one of relief. She felt the knot of concern release in her chest and breathed out slowly. Sylvia had been far too long, and only now could Celestina admit she was starting to get worried. But ahead, at the end of the path, sat a carriage.

Celestina frowned. That wasn't right. Sylvia had been on foot. It was then that she saw the man get out. He was handsome in his way. Nothing like Richard, of course, but his eyes sparkled with something intriguing.

"What's going on?" she asked, as much to herself as to Richard.

Richard spun around. "I … don't know. That's Mr Rivers. He's a solicitor with whom I've had some dealings in the past. Do you think he's here to see you?"

Celestina raised her eyebrows. "It looks like he's here with Sylvia."

As the pair continued up the path, Celestina's heart thudded louder, more insistently, anxiety a snake that twisted around her spine. She was glad when they finally arrived, and the man spoke.

"Mrs Courtenay, Your Grace," he said, nodding to them both. "Please excuse the intrusion. My name is Walter Rivers and—"

"Oh, Celestina," Sylvia cried. "Something terrible has happened! Mr Rivers here has been so kind to me but … but …"

She burst into tears, and Celestina gasped. She'd never before seen her lady's maid quite so emotional. She normally had a stoicism enviable by even the coldest of people. She stepped forward and folded her into an embrace, not caring for their difference in status. They had been friends for far too many years to make that distinction when one was in such turmoil.

"Come inside, everyone," she said, then she led Sylvia in by the hand and sat her on the sofa. Richard and Mr Rivers took up seats opposite them, but Celestina only had eyes for her poor maid. Not letting go of her hand, she said, "Now. Tell me what happened."

When Sylvia turned to look at Mr Rivers, so did Celestina. The man explained everything.

"I'm afraid to say that Syl—Miss Taylor—was the victim of a pickpocket. I'm only glad I was there to assist. She fell to the ground at their brutish behaviour and … I don't quite know how to tell you this, Mrs Courtenay, but the funds she had secured for your goods are quite lost."

Celestina swallowed, her eyes darting back to Sylvia. "Is this true?" she asked.

Sylvia nodded, but she couldn't meet Celestina's gaze and said nothing.

"Oh, you poor thing." She enveloped her in yet another embrace. "Are you all right? They didn't hurt you, did they? Physically, I mean?"

Sylvia finally met her eyes and shook her head. "No. But they took everything. I was so happy. So foolishly happy! I got a good amount for the vase and even sold a bracelet that …"

Her tears overwhelmed her once again, and Celestina patted her back. "Hush now. Shush. It's all right."

But even as she was saying the words, she knew it wouldn't be all right. They desperately needed that money if they had any hope of surviving. The little they'd saved already wasn't enough, and though Richard's offer was kind, Celestina hadn't wanted to rely on that entirely.

She pulled back from Sylvia, feeling faint. It wasn't her maid's fault. Of course, it wasn't. And if anything, she felt nothing but worry and concern for her. But it felt like yet another thing in a long line of things that had gone dreadfully wrong.

If her path had been laid out for her as a child, then it was the wrong one. Her world was falling around her, and she didn't know how to put it back together. She didn't even know how to hold onto the little sanity she had left.

"We alerted the authorities," Mr Rivers said, his low and soft voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. "They said they intend to find the men and punish them accordingly. Perhaps, Your Grace, a little nudge from you might help them stick to that intention."

"Yes, of course," Richard said quickly. "Anything I can do to help. It truly astonishes me how thoughtless some people can be—and for something as petty as money!"

"Money is only petty when one has plenty," Celestina muttered.

The men were no doubt desperate, and she knew that feeling, though she could never forgive them because no matter how desperate she became, she knew she would never behave that way.

"I am dreadfully sorry this has happened to you," Richard said, but Celestina's thoughts were too loud for him to penetrate. They screamed at her, crying and telling her that this was the last straw. There was no more. She couldn't take anything more.

"That was the last of it," she muttered, her tear-filled eyes darting across the carpet. "That was the last of anything worth selling. We have a small amount put away but … not enough to get us through even a couple of weeks."

"It'll be all right, Celestina," Richard's voice sang in her head. It gave her an anchor, something to cling onto, and she was grateful for that. But her hands were slippery, and she couldn't get a grip. Holding on became more and more difficult by the second.

"If you don't mind," Mr Rivers said, his voice swimming through her sea of panic, "I would like to look into the matter of your husband's financials."

Celestina looked up sharply, and Mr Rivers squirmed in his seat, looking away from her. What did he know of her husband's financial affairs?

"I do apologize for being so bold, but I believe it warrants saying. I have heard the rumours, Mrs Courtenay, and …" He glanced at Sylvia as if unsure whether to say the next bit, but Sylvia nodded, and he continued, "And Miss Taylor has told me about your predicament—only out of concern, you understand."

"I understand," Celestina said quietly, though her head and her heart both screamed for something—for peace, for understanding, for comfort.

"I knew your husband, albeit briefly. As a solicitor, I meet a great deal of people. And your husband had something of a reputation, as I'm sure you're aware. He was a good businessman, Mrs Courtenay, and I can confidently say that. It was not merely conjecture or rumour."

"What are you saying, Mr Rivers?" she asked.

He squirmed again. "I … I don't quite know yet. But, with your permission, I would like to at least look into it. Perhaps everything is as they say it is, and I was dreadfully mistaken. But I don't believe that I'm sorry to say. Not with your husband's reputation as it was."

Celestina sat back, her head swimming. She struggled for breath, pulling on each drop of air as if it were her last. Her chest rose and fell quickly, snatched moments of air all she could manage.

"Do you give your permission?" Mr Rivers asked, his voice insistent, but Celestina couldn't hear him clearly. "I would not like to do so without your permission."

"I … um …" She cleared her throat, but it cleared neither her throat nor her vision. "Of course. Whatever you need to do."

She blinked, but it felt like the world had turned on its head. Nothing made sense anymore. Her vision wavered in front of her, taunting her. The sounds of those around her echoed in her head.

Celestina? Mrs Courtenay? Are you okay? I'm not sure she can hear us. Celestina, answer me. Where have you gone?

She didn't know where she had gone. She couldn't know. Her world rushed around her. She tried to breathe, but she couldn't. Her parents: dead. David: dead. Her money: gone. Her life? She didn't know about her life. Everything was different, too different.

She blinked again, but the colours of the world swirled in front of her, teasing her. Edward. Richard. Pickpockets and Sylvia. She couldn't. It was … it was …

"Celestina!"