Read Online The Vital Principle by Amy Corwin - Free Book Online Page A

But she hesitated before venturing out into the hallway. It was nearly eight. Although most of the houseguests wouldn’t arise until nine, a few men might chose to ride early. She had no desire to meet any of them.
    She glanced down the silent corridor and wondered if Lady Crowley were awake and wanted company. Her hostess was usually an early riser, and Pru had often met her outside just as the sun was rising.
    Just yesterday, she had discovered Lady Crowley in the rose garden, walking with a straw basket swinging over her wrist and a pair of clippers in her gloved hand to collect fresh flowers before the sun dried the dew. Chrysanthemums and asters in vibrant shades of gold and purple lined the walks. The experience left her longing for her own garden full of flowers. Unfortunately, first she had to have a cottage where she was not just a guest.
    But today, Pru doubted her hostess would be outside, and the lower floors were likely to be infested with men. So she chose instead to knock on Lady Crowley’s door.
    A bedraggled, pallid maid in a wrinkled apron answered, opening the door and stepping aside to let Pru enter. The girl looked like she had spent the night worrying over the dowager and twisting her worn skirts worriedly in her thin hands. Her appearance evoked a rush of concern for Lady Crowley. Pru quickly brushed past her to check on her hostess.
    Lady Crowley sat propped up in bed, leaning listlessly against a mound of lace-trimmed pillows, with a tray resting on her knees. The food appeared barely touched. The cup of chocolate was full and a soft roll had been broken in half, buttered, and slathered with orange marmalade, but then abandoned in the middle of a fragile, bone china plate.
    Her gray skin sagged in deep folds, and her eyes were sunken into dark, bruised hollows beneath heavy lids. She barely glanced at Pru when she hovered near the bed.
    “I’m so sorry, Lady Crowley. Is there is anything I can do for you—even the slightest thing?”
    “No.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “There's nothing to be done. They're laying him out—his valet—in his bedroom....”
    “Are you sure there's nothing I can do? Perhaps help select his clothes?” Pru asked, desperate to find something—anything—to ease the pain in Lady Crowley's face. To lose both her husband and her son in less than a year defied all thoughts of solace, especially when her son had died under such dreadful circumstances.
    “His valet will know what to do. I can't—I can't bear to do it, myself.” She raised a trembling hand and focused her pale blue eyes on Pru. “Is that so dreadful? Have I failed him, too? I should be strong and take care of him one last time—my darling son—but I....”
    “No, Lady Crowley. You must rest—that's all you must do. Matters are well in hand.”
    The maid nudged Pru’s arm and murmured in her ear, “Get her to eat, can't you? Poor thing, she hasn’t had a morsel and that’s her favorite marmalade, too.”
    Pru smoothed the pale blue coverlet and adjusted one of the pillows behind the dowager's head. “May I sit for a moment?”
    Lady Crowley waved her heavily veined hand and stared blindly at the tray. A few tears coursed over her cheeks, running into the grooves between her nose and lips and dripping into the corners of her mouth.
    “Forgive me, but you must eat, Lady Crowley. Wouldn’t you like just one bite of this lovely roll?”
    “I can’t.” Her lips barely moved. “My son is gone. Everyone is gone.”
    “I know, Lady Crowley, but you must be strong and eat. Just one bite?”
    “Why? What’s to become of me? This house?” She lifted a shaking hand and then let it drop to the coverlet. “It’s all gone…. Why ? Why would someone do such a thing ?”
    “Come.” Pru picked up the cup of chocolate with one hand and Lady’s Crowley’s limp wrist with the other and pushed the cup into her hand. “Just take a few sips. Then eat a bite or two. After you finish,