Page 15 of Enlightened
“Let’s have something to eat while we talk,” she suggested.
As they settled themselves at the table, David took in the changes that the last few months had wrought on his friends. Catherine—until now, a round and vivacious girl—was noticeably thinner, her manner much more subdued than the girl he remembered. She served only a very small portion of food onto her own plate and pushed what was there around for the most part, eating little. Was she too anxious about her father to eat, David wondered?
Donald was changed too. Always the most jolly of men, he looked suddenly careworn, his forehead etched with deep furrows from frowning.
“Forgive my bluntness,” David said when the inevitable small talk had been disposed of, “but—how is your father?”
Catherine and Donald exchanged a look, then Donald said, “He does not have long left, David. It will be a matter of days.”
Catherine flinched at that, though she didn’t disagree.
David paused. “Then I should like to see him as soon as I can. Would this evening be possible?”
Catherine pressed her lips together unhappily. “I’m afraid Mama won’t have visitors in the evening. She says Father’s too tired.”
“Surely, given the circumstances—” David began carefully.
Donald interrupted, his tone flat. “Your best bet is tomorrow morning. She won’t refuse you then, not when he’s specifically asked for you. Otherwise, I suspect she’d take great delight in sending you away— She never liked you, you know.”
“Donald—” Catherine protested weakly.
“Well, it’s true!” he retorted. He turned to David again. “She was convinced you had designs on Elizabeth, even though it was plain as day that you weren’t the least bit interested. And, of course, she blames you for Elizabeth running away.”
Catherine sighed. “I know it’s not satisfactory, Mr. Lauriston. But you’re probably better visiting in the morning anyway. Father takes a sleeping draught every evening, and once he’s had it, he becomes a little disorientated.”
That was all very well, David thought, provided Chalmers was still around tomorrow morning. But he nodded his agreement and allowed Catherine to change the subject.
As soon as the meal was over, Catherine excused herself, pleading tiredness.
“Is Catherine all right?” David asked Donald once she had left the room. Donald was busy getting some whisky out of the sideboard, but at David’s question, he paused, staring down at the decanter in his hands.
“Not really,” he said simply. “She suffered a miscarriage a few weeks ago. On top of everything else, it was pretty unbearable for her.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
Donald looked up and gave a sad half smile. “The doctor sees no reason to worry she won’t conceive again. It’s just—she’s still very dejected about it. She tries to hide it when people are around, but when we’re alone, she’s inconsolable. And it’s not just the baby. She was frantic about Lizzie when she ran off, and now there’s her father, dying. Catherine adores him. All the girls do.” He sighed and set the whisky down on the table, fetching two glasses before he settled back in his chair and poured them both a large measure.
“She hasn’t been herself for weeks,” he continued gruffly. “I’ve been working here as much as I can, so I can keep an eye on her. I don’t like her being too much alone. It makes her melancholy.”
“I’m so sorry,” David said again. “Catherine’s always been such a merry girl.”
Donald sighed again, a heavy, careworn sound. “And I’ve been so preoccupied with work.”
David felt an immediate stab of guilt. Donald had taken a raft of cases off David’s hands when David had gone to Perthshire with Murdo to recuperate from his accident. Donald had dealt too with all the trustees’ duties for the trust Chalmers had put in place to provide for Elizabeth, even though, as his cotrustee, David should have borne an equal share of the responsibility.
“I’m sorry, Donald,” he said now. “I’ve taken you for granted. You’ll have to let me know what I can do to rectify matters.”
“Don’t be silly.” Donald pasted on a ramshackle smile. “It’s not as though I didn’t get paid for dealing with your cases. I’m not that much of a martyr!”
“Even so. You’re overworked and worried about Catherine. We’ll work something out. I need to start thinking about my own future in any event.” He paused, then added, “And what about Elizabeth?”
Donald shrugged. “It’s still too risky for her to return to Scotland—we’re sure Kinnell’s had Chalmers’s house watched. Ours too, probably.” He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. “The fact is, she’ll never see her father again, and that’s difficult for everyone. Catherine’s been especially upset by it, particularly when her mother uses it as an excuse to malign Lizzie.”
David could just imagine. Elizabeth’s mother would have detested the scandal Elizabeth had caused.
After a pause, David asked, “Do you know why Chalmers wants to see me?”
“Well, Lord knows he’s fond of you—boasts about your achievements like you’re his own flesh and blood.” Donald paused. “It’s possible he wishes only to say good-bye, but I can’t help thinking there’s more to it. I know he’s worried about Elizabeth too. I’ve tried to get him to talk to me, but…” He trailed away helplessly.