Amanda's Story

After the Funeral

Amanda sat up in bed, forcing her eyes open, shaking her head as she pushed the fogginess away and realized what was going on around her.

Her room was the same. Her sisters were there, with thin smiles and attempts at being encouraging. She had a tray at her bedside with a biscuit and some tea.

Betsy had come in and brushed out her hair, not even bothering to get her out of bed. She had tied a black ribbon around it. She also wore a black band on her sleeve.

Marian and Rachel wore black dresses. Amanda looked to her wardrobe. She only owned one gray dress, and nothing in black. Certainly she had something...

"Maman wrote to the dressmaker already. She's canceled the yellow and ordered a black one. With different sleeves, of course." Marian nodded as she said it, as if encouraging Amanda to believe her.

"My wedding dress," Amanda whispered, feeling a raw ache open up again. There would not be much of her body left that wasn't raw and vulnerable after this week. Each tiny detail of her life reminded her of Dabney, and each detail must now change or be eradicated—the joy of her wedding was turning into torture.

"Father will be home tomorrow," Rachel said. "Maman, too"

Amanda nodded. That meant the funeral was two days ago.

"The new curate gave the sermon in church. Mr. Watson, you remember how Phoebe mentioned he'd come?" Amanda didn't nod but Marian kept talking. "He will be a good preacher, I think. Not like Father, but then, we always notice how he slides in little remarks that are meant only for us. Mr. Watson speaks with such a beautiful lilt, you almost wish the sermon were longer. He's a bit shorter than Father, thinner, and he's got a funny nose. Reminded me of a horse."

"Marian!" Rachel's tone was all chastisement. "He looks nothing like a horse."

"Well, of course not. It's just funny how that nose..." She let the thought taper off as Amanda sighed.

A moment of silence passed, then Amanda looked up, surprised. "Don't stop. I like to hear of it." She tipped her head, considering. "But then, I've been tiresome to you. I apologize."

"No, dearest," Marian said. "You are never tiresome. Rachel and I would be here—will be here—at any time you need us."

Amanda nodded. They must be indefatigable, the way they'd stayed at her side for a week straight. It wasn't like hers was the body that needed funeral mourners at the watch each hour. Her body was unfortunately quite alive, and quite full of pain. Each minute, each pain, reminded her that she was alive and he was dead.

"I told him not to go." A mere whisper passed Amanda's lips.

"What was that?" Rachel asked.

Amanda cleared her throat, glancing shyly at her hands twisting the quilt. "I had told him, asked him, to let us stay another couple of days. I had a feeling... a fear so strong that I could almost see the carriage wreck. Dabney promised all would be well." She looked up at Marian and then Rachel. "He promised all would be well!" she whispered, and tears pooled in her eyes. Rachel bounded forward with a handkerchief, and Marian moved to sit on the mattress beside her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. She began to sob. "Oh Dabney!" she cried. "You promised all would be well."

#

Marian pulled a chair up closer to the settee, and Rachel perched on a stool. Maman and Father were exhausted from the journey, but they'd eaten dinner and now had time to satisfy all of the girls' questions before they retired for the night.

"His father was distant, as can be expected," Father said, turning to Rachel. "The steward had voiced his suspicions to him. After the funeral, he took me to his library and asked many questions. I explained everything from the pedigree to the training to the horseshoeing. He never accused, thankfully, but never looked satisfied, either."

"But what of the constable? The one at the inquest in Selby?" Rachel said.

"He was very helpful. He and I rode out to the site where the accident had taken place. The turn was very sharp, and the brook came along the curve there, making a steep bank. If one wheel went three or four inches too far, and the phaeton was going at a great speed, the wheel could catch and the rig would flip in seconds."

"Was there a someone else on the road? Perhaps another coach was passing. They could have collided."

"The townsfolk remembered a post coach coming in about fifteen minutes before the hue and cry was raised. But some said it had come from a different direction. If it had been on Dabney's route, there's no doubt that corner would have created such a blind spot that the coaches would have collided. But it looked like there wasn't a collision. Perhaps it was just too crowded, and the error on Dabney's part was to try to squeeze past it instead of reining to a stop and giving way."

"The roads are horrid through there," Maman added. "Your father is more fervent than ever in making sure our parish road committee allots the appropriate funds for upkeep."

"Yorkshire's road will not be in disrepair." A muscle along his jaw clenched, and he arose and went to the fireplace, drumming his fingers on the mantel.

Maman stood, and the girls followed suit. "We should give Amanda her mourning ring," she said, pulling a small package out of her reticule. She unwrapped the ring and held it out for Rachel and Amanda to see. It was a gold ribbon-twist band, with a round crystal, under which was woven a strand of hair to form an eternity knot.

"It's beautiful," Marian said.

"How thoughtful," Rachel added.

"I'd much rather have seen a wedding band, but at least... she'll have this." Maman shuddered and tried to swallow back a sob.