Dignity and Depravity

Chapter XVI

The resounding chorus of gasps drew all eyes towards Thomas where he stood with Amelia. Her limp body lay as a dead weight in his arms. The pallor of her cheeks and her lack of movement struck fear into Thomas' chest, as for only a moment, he might have sworn that Amelia had crossed from the living. The barely visible, but slow and rhythmic, rise and fall of her bosom waylaid these fears and Thomas hoped that her revival was only a matter of time. Thomas lightly stroked his finger over the top of her hand where it lay in his, and whispered gently into the air.

"Mrs. Dyer? Amelia?"

A fluttering of eyelashes was the only response. Before Thomas could breathe another word, John was at his side and he began to fret over the sorry state of his wife. He stroked her cheek and placed his palm over her forehead.

"Amelia, darling, please tell me you can hear me," John cried out, anguished as she remained in her syncopal state.  Fretfully, John searched her face for answer.  "Thank you, thank you for your care, Archer."

The pother surrounding the men had now reached the highest height of enthusiasm.  For those who had been dipping quite deeply, the commotion of Mrs. Dyer's drop was highly entertaining.  Young ladies were tittering as they spoke in attempted hush tones, behind their fans and over their handkerchiefs. Murmurous words were also running rampant among the gentleman. No doubt Mr. Archer's dramatic rescue and Mr. Dyer's discomposed reaction would be discussed broadly by all throughout the county.

Mr. Archer felt indignant at the lack of compassion so readily visible in the assemblage. Mrs. Dyer had outdone herself in preparing a beautiful evening, but her efforts were now overshadowed as she lay a in a destitute state. Had any other young lady or dandy fallen ill, very few would have batted an eyelash.

"Dyer, should we not seek to place madam in a more comfortable location?" Thomas inquired subtly, attempting to hide the fervency he felt.

Oblivious of being the subject of the on dit, John raised his eyes away from his wife's face and looked plainly at his friend. Noting the veiled stringency of Mr. Archer's request, John seemed to come to his senses. He glanced about the room, noted the loose talk and gossiping proclivities of the guests, and nodded immediately.

"Why, yes, of course," replied John. He immediately turned to the footman and said with a commanding voice "Open these doors and guide Mr. Archer towards the west parlour. There is is settee upon which Mrs. Dyer may be set."

Thomas nodded in ascent and followed the footman forthwith.

"You there," John said, directed to a second footman. "Find Jennings and send him to me at once."

No sooner had Thomas laid Amelia down on the prescribed settee, when both Lottie and Mrs. Moore rushed into the room. 

"Amelia," cried Mrs. Moore, as she knelt down next to her daughter. "I have never seen her in such an insensible state.  She is not prone to fits of nerves."

"It was rather warm in the dining room, Momma," replied Lottie.  "It isn't unusual for the crush to become too much."

"Quite true," conceded Mrs. Moore as she patted her younger daughter's hand. "Amelia has been working so diligently to make this ball a success.  Fatigue may also have been a factor."

Mrs. Moore affectionately stroked Amelia's head causing her eyelids to flutter once more.  Lottie clutched her breast as she regarded her sister.  She placed her reticule on a nearby side table and joined her mother.  Anxiety was evident in both women.  Mrs. Moore rang her kerchief around her fingers, twisting and bundling the tissue, as if worrying it to carry her woes. 

A small whimper erupted from Mrs. Moore's throat and she brought the fabric to her mouth to cover her emission.  If only we had something to revive her, thought Lottie as she watched her mother agonize over her daughter.  Suddenly, triggered by something her her mother's mannerisms, Lottie cried out  and reached for her reticule.