Dignity and Depravity

Chapter XXIV

In all her years of service at Eagleton Manor, Hill had never quite seen the excitement that befell the house on this fall day. She had been assisting the cook with preparation for the evening dinner (as even Cook was perplexed by the strange dietary requests being made by M. Lemaire for the mistress of the household). Unwilling to disappoint the master, Hill had chosen to help Cook prepare the meal rather than listen to continually grousing during nightly preparations. Therefore, Hill was deep into peeling vegetables when Mr. Archer rushed into the kitchen to raise the alarm. The cry was so pained and urgent that there could be no doubt that something serious had occurred!

"Hill! Summon the physician!" commanded Mr. Archer. "Where is Jennings? The Master? We must seek him out and convey him to Mrs. Dyer's chambers at once!"

Responding initially to the exigency of Mr. Archer's call, Hill immediate rose from her post and caught the eye of one of sharpest looking kitchen maids. "Seek out Jennings, my dear, and be quick about it. Tell him to procure the physician straight away!" The maid nodded immediately and quitted the room as quick as a shot allowing Hill to return her attention to Mr. Archer. She wiped her hands on her apron and prepared herself to be of help and perhaps alleviate the source of Mr. Archer's frenetic energy and vexation. However, the sight she confronted was staggering.

Lying prostrate in Mr. Archer's arms was Mrs. Dyer, her very mistress and benefactor. Her skin was sallow and stricken with perspiration. Hill stifled a gasp into her kerchief and moved forward to assist. In do so another abject horror confronted the housekeeper. A gown and petticoats stained crimson in a most alarming way.

Compulsively tracing the sign of cross three times, Hill glanced back at the knife she had dropped in her haste. No other blade had been crossed and Hill fears were allayed. She had not brought more misfortune to the house. The fate that was befalling Mrs. Dyer was painful enough.

"Hill" cried Mr. Archer once more to secure her attentions. Superstitions be damned, he thought. One cannot balk at times like these. "Your mistress needs your aide! Your continued promptitude is required. We must aide her as best we can until the physician arrives."

The authoritative tone woke Hill senses and she nodded to acknowledge his request. She had not intended to stand shilly-shally. Since coming to Eagleton Manor, Mrs. Dyer has been a most beneficent mistress and she could not flounder at this crucial time. Thus, she set to action.

"Mary! The Master was set to visit the parsonage this morning. Send one of the young boys down the lane to seek him out. Do not alarm him, but convey the urgency of his immediate return. Jane! My box of medicinals is in my chamber. Seek it out and bring it to me."

At this moment, Jennings entered the room so abruptly that he had to steady his frame by placing a hand on the wall. The collar of his shirt was turned about and his dark necktie had been loosened. It was clear that bustle of activity from the housemaids had not gone unnoticed by this astute man.  He too had been affected by the tasks needed in this midst of this most exigent set of circumstances, the likes of which Eagleton had never seen before.

"I have sent the footman to call on Dr. Thurston," Jennings stated with authority in the direction of Mr. Archer. As he addressed the gentleman, he glanced over his mistress. It seemed that it had been but a short interlude since Mrs. Dyer had endured a similar fate in the crush of the ball. However, Jennings solace was short lived. As he crossed the room he took observed the true state of affairs and his eyes widened in realization at what had likely befallen her.

"Mr. Archer, it is my opinion that Mrs. Dyer would best be placed in the lower bedroom near the library. It will present swifter access to the physician when he arrives, as well as ensure that the Madame does not endure further abuse with transport."

"I concur, Jennings. That is a most expedient and rational decision. Hill, see to it that the Master is updated accordingly."

"Yes, sir," replied Hill, nodding in understanding. She hesitated momentarily before adding: "I should like to oversee the placement of Mrs. Dyer safely and return to post-haste."

Mr. Archer felt he must assent to this condition. It was as if the entirety of Hill's countenance was imploring his permission to acquiesce to what could only be deemed a timid request (even it had not been posed as a question). He nodded.

Just then, a small and weak voice broke free from the person in question in the form of a barely audible whisper. Craning his neck closer to Mrs. Dyer's face, Mr. Archer listened intently.

"No, no, no...My child..."

These words slipped freely and quietly but their impact was as devastatingly pernicious as a hammer blow and seemed to fall on the ears of those present as loudly as if the devil himself was playing a cacophony of torment in that very room. Hill once again crossed herself in triplicate, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked to Jennings for guidance.

"Follow me, Mr. Archer," Jennings with uncharacteristically brash authority before turning about quickly and walking in the direction of the front hall.

Mr. Archer might have stooped to being offended to be spoken to in such a harsh manner had he not noticed that the butler also had a lachrymose expression. It was most endearing to see the care proffered to Mrs. Dyer. It was a testament to her most beauteous and pleasant presence at Eagleton Manor. Thus he followed along in complaisant silence.

Before long, the sombre party arrived at the recommended bedchamber and they immediately fell to work. Hill crossed to the bed and opened the linens so that Mr. Archer would have a place to lay his precious cargo. Simultaneously, Mr. Jennings set about closing the curtains for both privacy and necessary dullness required in the presence of someone so ill. Finally, unconcerned with what tasks were fitting her rank, Hill set upon making a fire. Soon she stepped back and a satisfying warmth began to ebb forth from the hearth.

Mr. Archer gingerly placed Mrs. Dyer down on the bed. She uttered a small cry of pain, but was otherwise silent. Free from their burden, Mr. Archer's arms fell to his sides like leaden weights, shaking in the aftermath of effort, and his back ached severely. However, he could not tear himself away from his post.

An alarming pallor had washed away the rose tint of life normally present in Mrs. Dyer's cheeks and her lips were dusky and dry. Fresh stains were forming on her frock, as well as on the bed linens. Fear once more traced its icy fingers down Mr. Archer's spine and he shivered deeply. Having twice now played the role of saviour to this woman, it had become dreadfully apparent how loathed he was to consider losing her acquaintance.

"Mr. Archer?"

The question broke through the gentleman's reflections and caused him to check himself. Lifting his head towards the speaker, Mr. Archer steeled his expression.

"Yes?"

"I will send the ladies maid with additional linens and a change of attire for the Mistress. Would you like me to have your valet prepare something for you as well?"

Mr. Archer cast his gaze down and for the first time noted the disheveled state of his appearance. Dirt and other detritus had stained his garments and a button was missing from his waistcoat. He could not remember where he had placed his top hat, gloves or walking stick, nor did he inwardly care. Mr. Archer's sole concern was a viable outcome for Mrs. Dyer. Yet, he could not profess this reality aloud.

"Yes, I think that would be advisable," Mr. Archer replied quietly, yet he still could not move. Inquietude whispered foreboding taunts to his soul and he desperately hoped that no further trauma or torment lay forth for him or the Dyer family this day.