Dignity and Depravity

Chapter XVIII

It had been late into the night when Amelia retired once more to the sanctity of her covers. The remaining ephemeral traces of the son she had dreamed off seemed to dance about her shoulders as she peered into the fire.  As haunting as the specter seemed, she was Amelia was not yet ready to wish it away. The verisimilitude of what she had seen during her dreamscape had shaken her. Was the vision a gift from the Fae, teasing her for a future that was yet to come?  If so, it was cruel trickery!  How dare the willful sprites place such a gift into her grasp only to inharmoniously rip it from her? Puck himself must have overseen the endeavor!

Furthermore, the barbarous injustice of the interlude had dealt a pointed blow. Her imagined son's eyes were blue! How could that be? Although Amelia did not claim to be an expert in reasoning or Providence, keen observation had suggested to her that offspring must in some ways resemble their parentage. Yet, the boy's eyes were azure in nature. Her own eyes were viridescent and John's boasted intermingling tawny and olive hues. Even when using an artist's palette, it would be impossible to blend such different tints to create a blue tone.

How curious! Rather, Amelia pondered carefully, her child's reflected the look of her sister's gaze. Cerulian and clear, but not quite as deep as those which compose the gaze of Mr. Acher's irises.  Amelia started. Her brow furrowed and creases appeared on the bridge of her nose. Robin Goodfellow, indeed! she thought. Puck, I shall not ponder your shrewd and knavish trickery any further, you michevious Hobgoblin! Such impish impropriety is not welcome here! Using the guise of a child to beleaguer my rest with unsettling visions. Damn you!

"May King Oberon whisk you away to the Seelie court and damn you for all eternity!" Amelia exclaimed aloud, nearly spitting the words. Her hands were clenched at her sides. Her own surprise at the vehement feelings was only supplanted by another shock: a sudden and overwhelming urge to purge her stomach. Amelia quickly reached for the chamber pot, and deftly emptied the hydrous contents of her belly.

"Lud! God bless an empty pot!" stated Amelia, as she wiped her mouth with a hankerchief. A sheer layer of perspiration lay across her brow.  Recovering, Amelia rose and crossed to the washstand.  The chamber maid had brought a pitcher of hot water when she lit the morning fire.  Thankful, Amelia trickled the now tepid water out over her hands as she filled the basin.  She wetted her face thoroughly, appreciating the sensation of the droplets running down her face and cleansing away the sick.  Gently dampening the woven linen towel, Amelia cooled the back of her neck and delighted in having even more rivulets of water trail across her skin. As immediately as the nauseating sensation arrived, it had vanished.  

Amelia crossed back to her dressing table, and picked up her brush.  She idly started running it through her locks, her mind wandering anew to her dream.  What little rest she had acquired over the night seemed to have ebbed away. Amelia peered at her reflection. Deep mauve rings outlined the base of her eyes, making her appear haggard and tired. Yet, there was a dewy brightness to her countenance she had not noticed before. 

A knock at the door, and the succeeding appearance of Hill disturbed Amelia's cogitation.

"The master would like to see you, Madam," she said with a short curtsey.

"Thank you, Hill," replied Amelia. "He may enter as he pleases, for I am finished my ablutions."

"Yes, Madam," responded Hill. She glanced behind her into the hall, but paused before going. "He is not alone, Madam," she added with a conspiratorial whisper. "He has brought the physician with him."

Amelia smiled inwardly as she knew Hill's superstitious nature as it pertained to men of medical science. Having been brought up in the village, Hill had seen little beyond the countryside surrounding Eagleton Manor. She had grown up learning remedies through the other women in her household, and the other women at the estate. Hill now considered herself somewhat of a healer. Naturally, she remained leery of other who would promise miracles cures or the like. Yet, she is not above seeing the barbarous surgeon to have her teeth pulled, thought Amelia with a shudder. I should not like any such quack to perform such fowl procedures for me.