Rebecca’s own parents walked about the house with grim expressions. Her father was a frequent visitor to the sickroom and had insisted that no expense be spared if it would help Mrs Cooper recover.
On the tenth day of Mrs Cooper’s illness, the girls were in the schoolroom with Miss Albarn, trying but failing to concentrate on French verbs, when a housemaid tapped at the door.
‘Excuse me, Miss Albarn, but the doctor said I should fetch Miss Sarah to see her mother right away.’ Her face looked drawn, and Sarah immediately leapt to her feet, her hand clasped to her mouth.
Miss Albarn scowled. ‘This is most irregular. Sarah usually visits her mother after tea. Why must she go now in the middle of our lessons?’
‘Excuse me, miss, but I don’t know. All I know is Mr Winton agreed and said Sarah must indeed come at once.’ The maid gave a small curtsey and held the door open. Sarah rushed through, followed by the housemaid. Rebecca hesitated for a moment then made up her mind. It was more important to be with her friend right now, than learning about the past perfect tense. She glanced at Miss Albarn, shrugged an apology and ran off, ignoring the governess’s protests.
Mrs Cooper had been put in one of the main bedrooms on the first floor. It was easier, Mr Winton had said, to nurse her there than in her usual apartment in the servants’ wing, where Sarah also slept. Rebecca ran down to the first floor and along the corridor to the sickroom. There was a crowd of people in the room and in the corridor, all speaking in hushed tones, their faces worn and worried. All the upper servants were there, and Spencer, his eyes sad and tired, was trying to keep them calm. Rebecca pushed through them to the door, but was held back by the butler.
‘Miss Rebecca, I’m afraid I don’t think it is wise for you to go in,’ he said, gently. Rebecca liked Spencer. He was a kind and capable man, who had helped defeat Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo, fighting alongside her father. He’d been the Wintons’ butler ever since he’d retired from the army. He and Mrs Cooper had managed the house for as long as she could remember. There was a time when she’d thought they were married to each other, until Sarah laughed at her and told her they were not.
She pulled away from him. ‘But Sarah’s my friend – she’s like my sister. She’ll need me if something awful happens.’
‘She will indeed, and you are a kind lass for recognising that. But right now her poor mother, poor dear Isobel, is in her final moments, and Sarah needs to say a quiet goodbye. You may watch from the doorway but I cannot allow you to enter the room.’ Spencer led her through to the door of the room, which stood ajar, but he kept a hold of her shoulder.
Inside the darkened room, Rebecca could just make out Mrs Cooper’s form under mounds of bedclothes. At her head stood one of the nurses, who was constantly dabbing at her brow with a cloth. Dr Millbank and Rebecca’s father stood at the foot of the bed in silence, their hands clasped behind their backs. But it was Sarah who drew Rebecca’s eye. She had climbed onto the bed beside her mother, and had tucked her head onto her mother’s shoulder, draping her arm across her chest. She was whispering something in her mother’s ear, but Rebecca could not hear what she said. As she watched, Mrs Cooper weakly raised a hand and laid it on her daughter’s face. Sarah turned her head to kiss her mother’s palm, and Rebecca could just see the glint of tears running down her face.
The room was silent, apart from the harsh but feeble sound of Mrs Cooper’s breathing. Rebecca could not take her eyes off her friend. How she longed to go over and place a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder. If only there was something she could do, or something she could say. It was too awful to have to watch your own mother die. But Spencer still had hold of her although she could feel his hand shaking, and with her father in the room she dared not disobey. She could only stand and watch.
How long she and everyone else stood there she could not say, but she gradually became aware that the harsh breathing was growing ever quieter. Mrs Cooper’s hand slipped off Sarah’s face. Sarah gave a little cry and clasped her mother’s hand. The doctor took a step forward and placed his fingers on the housekeeper’s other wrist. He stood for a moment, then shook his head sadly. Sarah seemed not to have noticed his approach for she did not move at all. Spencer, still holding Rebecca’s shoulder, gave a stifled sob, and she looked at him in surprise. The butler was usually so calm. It was odd for him to show any emotion.
She watched as her father approached the bed. He put his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. ‘Come, child. Leave her. There is nothing more you can do. Let her rest in peace now.’
‘Nooooo!’ Sarah wailed as she realised what he meant. ‘No! It cannot be! Mama!’ She threw herself across her mother’s body and curled into a ball, as though she was a small child being cradled on its mother’s lap. Rebecca’s heart broke for her friend. She could not imagine being left motherless. And Sarah did not have a father – at least not one anyone knew about. Her mother had always said that Sarah’s father had ‘gone away’. Sarah was now an orphan.
‘Come, child,’ said Mr Winton, again. ‘It’s time to leave.’ He looked over to the doorway and beckoned to Spencer, who let go of Rebecca and went in. Spencer bent over and scooped Sarah into his arms, and carried her out of the room. Sarah was clinging to him tightly.
She tried to go after him but her father pulled her back. ‘Spencer will look after her. He will send for you when the time is right for you to see her. Go and find your mother now, and tell her Mrs Cooper has passed away. I shall be downstairs shortly.’
Rebecca glanced inside the sickroom once more, and saw the doctor raising a bed sheet up over Mrs Cooper’s face. Mr Winton gently pulled the door closed, then spoke to the gathered servants. ‘It is over. Return to your duties, everyone.’
The servants began to disperse, many of them wiping their eyes. Mrs Cooper had been a popular member of staff, firm but fair. Rebecca set off to the morning room in search of her mother. She wondered whether her parents would employ a new housekeeper. She supposed they would have to, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else running the household. And what would become of Sarah?
Mrs Winton was in the morning room, sitting by the window on a green silk chaise longue, with a piece of embroidery in her hands. She listened quietly as Rebecca told her what had happened, then she carefully put away her stitching before pulling Rebecca to her in a brief embrace.
‘Oh, child. I am sorry you had to witness Mrs Cooper’s passing. But perhaps it is for the best that she is gone. She will suffer no more. And the child Sarah, where is she now?’
‘Spencer carried her away. I don’t know where. Mama, I would like to go and see her and try to comfort her. May I?’
‘Of course. In good time. Sit here with me until your father comes. We will keep each other company in the meantime.’
Rebecca sat on the chaise beside her mother, feeling very grown-up to be asked to keep her mother company. Normally she spent just half an hour before tea in her parents’ presence, answering questions on what she had been learning with Miss Albarn. Sometimes Sarah was with her on these visits, and other times Rebecca was alone. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was just after eleven. Miss Albarn would be wanting to start on another lesson.
‘Mama, I am worried that Miss Albarn will wonder where we are. She did not come down when the maid came to fetch Sarah.’
‘Don’t worry, child. I will send someone to tell her. Lessons