Page 65 of Watching the Earl

“And if it was consumption?”

Rose shook her head as she sat back down on the settee. “Nothing would have helped. If he’d coughed up blood, it was definitely consumption.”

Immediately, Georgina rose. “I know who would know that. I will call on her forthwith.”

“Wait, Georgie. Why do you wish to know what the late Lord Durham died of? Do you suspect ill will?”

“No, just the opposite.” She’d turned and started to exit the parlor when she realized she couldn’t very well walk to the dowager Durham’s sister’s place. Hopefully, her coach had arrived. If not, she’d have to borrow one.

In little time, Georgina was settled into her coach on her way to call on Philip’s mother. She didn’t look forward to bringing up the subject of her husband’s death, even if it was three years ago. Georgina couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose one’s husband. Just the thought of losing Philip had her heart stuttering.

As she imagined herself a widow, she felt tears welling up, and she quickly looked outside to get her mind off such morose thoughts. Philip was young and would live many years yet. They didn’t even have children yet. He needed to have children to carry on the line, and they were certainly doing all they could on that score.

She grinned as she thought of all the chapters they had gone through in the book. Once they finished, she was determined to be creative and find other ways and other places to conceive children.

Once she arrived at Lady Redding’s, she was shown into the parlor.

“Georgie, how lovely of you to visit me.” The dowager looked past her. “Is Philip with you?”

“No, he is otherwise engaged, so I thought to come on my own.”

“No matter. I’m happy for the opportunity to get to know my daughter better. Come sit by me.” The dowager gestured toward the straight-back chair next to her. “The tea is fresh, would you like some?”

“Please. Extra sweet.”

Georgina waited as the dowager poured then offered sweets. As there were Shrewsbury cakes, she accepted.

“Now, you must tell me all about your time at Crestfield.”

She felt her cheeks heating. “It was lovely.”

Her mother-in-law must have noticed. “My dear, I don’t mean your honeymoon. I mean how you settled in.”

“Oh, yes. It feels more like home than anywhere I’ve been. The staff are wonderful and Mr. Beeson has found two dove pairs to put in the dovecote. We have determined that we want to keep it to twenty at the most. There is a young wren who was sitting on her eggs when we were there. I was sorry to leave her before they hatched, but it was time to return to Town.” She stopped talking when she noticed the dowager’s teacup was paused halfway to her lips, as if she were shocked. “Is everything all right?”

The dowager blinked. “My dear, I have never heard anyone talk about the birds at Crestfield. I was simply surprised. I expected you to talk about your rooms or the décor or the tenants.”

Georgina’s cheeks heated for a second time. “I admit my interest in birds can seem odd and take over a conversation. I will try to refrain.”

“Not at all. I enjoy hearing about areas of Crestfield I never thought about. That dovecote has been empty for almost as long as Philip has been alive.”

Georgina took a sip of her own tea and a bite of cake, wanting to discuss the dovecote more but feeling it wasn’t the time.

“Do you like your rooms? They may be in need of refreshing. I redid those when Philip was still in leading strings.”

“They are lovely. Philip did say I could make some changes. I’m partial to green, so I was thinking of changing the color, if you don’t mind.”

“Georgie, those are your rooms now. When I return to the country, I will move into the dowager house. It is much smaller and more manageable. And what of Philip? Has he finally moved into his father’s rooms? Will he allow those to be redone?”

She took a deep breath, picking her words carefully. “He told me he plans to move into them at the end of the Season.”

“That is very good to hear. I feared after his father passed that he might never do so.”

She was about to explain why he wanted to move into them, but swallowed her words just in time. Based upon Philip’s relationship with his mother, she had a feeling he wouldn’t want her to know. “If I may ask, how did your husband die?”

Dowager Durham set down her teacup and stared at her lap. “He wasted away, as the physician stated. One day he was as healthy as you or me, then slowly, almost unnoticeably, he started eating less and losing weight. He would have a bout of night sweats and chills then get over them. His skin became paler and he started coughing every day, then it became every hour. Still, he oversaw everything at Crestfield, even from his bed when he had to. He wasn’t happy unless he was busy.” She looked at Georgina, the sadness in her gaze difficult to meet. “The night he passed was almost a blessing. He suffered for so long.”

Georgina set her hand on her mother-in-law’s. “Did he cough blood before he passed?”