Chapter 6: A Mother-Daughter Play
850 Words
“Lady Almira is in no serious danger, but she may catch a cold from being soaked. Just keep her warm and have her drink some hot tea,”
Doctor Robert, the Carney family’s private physician, said as he put away his stethoscope and instructed Helen on how to care for Almira.
“Yes, thank you, sir.”
“Just doing my duty.”
“Sir, what about the young masters?”
“Miss Adele is showing a slight fever from being soaked and frightened. I’ve prescribed a fever reducer. Master Albert is fine, just shaken up.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you out.”
Helen escorted the elderly doctor to the door of Almira’s room. Once his figure disappeared around the corridor, she closed the door. Today, Gwyneth Manor was shaken to its core—both Lady Almira and the young heirs had fallen into the lake. Fortunately, Almira had handled the situation perfectly. Perhaps thanks to the swimming lessons she had received as a child from the late Lady Carney.
Even so, the servants were held responsible for the incident. It wasn’t surprising that they had just been scolded harshly by the head steward and had their wages docked. They were lucky not to be accused of attempted murder on nobility—which, if proven, would have led straight to the gallows. Thankfully, Almira had shown mercy.
Helen entered Almira’s bedroom as she thought about these things.
Almira was reclining against the headboard, her fatigue obvious. Wearing that water-logged heavy dress from the garden to her room had been torture. But she had no regrets. The lake had been deeper than expected—any delay could have cost little Adele her life.
She wanted to be by the twins' side, but couldn’t let them see her this pale. The only thing she needed to do now was restore this body’s health. She sipped her hot tea. Just when she thought she could rest, the door opened.
In walked a woman heavily made-up, garishly dressed, adorned with glittering jewels, and trailing a cloud of perfume with each step. A group of maids followed her. There was no mistaking her identity. No woman other than the Viscountess would dare to strut around in such gaudy fashion.
The Viscountess sat on a chair beside the bed, took out a lace handkerchief, and dabbed the corners of her eyes—as if real tears existed there.
“My poor daughter. My heart ached when I heard what happened.”
Though Almira knew the woman was only putting on a show, she still played along in this mother-daughter melodrama.
“Dearest mother, I’m all right now.”
“Those wretched servants! How could they be so incompetent?”
“Mother, it was just an accident.”
“And why were you playing with those two children? It’s unbefitting of a young lady.”
“That was my mistake, dear mother.”
“You’re just like a ball of fluff...”
Irritated by Almira’s calm expression, the Viscountess began fanning herself more aggressively.
*Sigh.* “How are you supposed to impress Lord Ryan looking like this?”
“I’ll take care of this body. Please don’t worry, dear mother.”
“Hmph. You’d better remember those words.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Very well, I won’t disturb you anymore. Rest now.”
“Take care, mother.”
Once her purpose had been served, there was no reason for her to stay. She had made it clear that this body had value—it could be sold off to another man. Almira smirked bitterly. What a touching performance. She took another sip of tea and handed the cup to Helen, instructing:
“Wake me at seven. I don’t want to miss dinner.”
“Yes, my lady.”
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**In the room of the young heirs, Adele and Albert:**
“Kites flying in the blue sky...”
Albert sat on the bed, slowly turning the pages of a book, reading with difficulty. Beside him lay his little sister Adele, too weak from the cold to sit up. The maids had left after tidying the room, and the nanny was off fetching soup.
“Adele, are you feeling better yet?”
“No, still tired.”
“Albert is very scared when Adele is sick.”
Since birth, the twins had always been together—through every situation, sharing stories, dreams, and even life itself in the womb. Like many twins, they were two bodies with one soul.
Seeing her brother on the verge of tears again, Adele sat up and gently patted his head, smiling brightly.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here with you.”
Though children’s speech is not yet as complex as adults’, Adele tried her hardest to comfort her brother.
“Today, Mommy hugged me,”
She wrapped her arms around herself to show how happy she had been. Albert watched her, then nodded and leaned over to hug her.
Silently, he promised himself: I will grow up fast—to protect both Mommy and my sister.
- Writer
