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The carriage rolled to a stop outside the Hamilton residence. Fanny Antill reached for the handle to open the door before the driver could come around, but her sister placed a hand over hers to stop her. Polly peeked out the window, looking nervously at the building.
“Are you sure, Fanny?” Polly asked, uncomfortable. “This feels…intrusive. Their son just died.”
Fanny felt a lump form in her throat.
She’d grown up adoring Philip. When she’d read in the paper what happened to him, she’d felt his loss like a blow to the stomach. The idea that she would never again be pulled into one of Pip’s bear hugs had left her dizzy. But it had been four years since she’d left the Hamilton’s home to live with Polly and her husband, long enough that no one around her seemed to deem the loss as her own.
“I wish to give my condolences in person,” Fanny said, hoping that sounded mature and reasonable even as she swallowed down tears.
Polly still looked uncomfortable, but she removed her hand from Fanny’s. The driver had come around and the door opened just as Fanny pushed, causing her to stumble slightly. She caught her footing and descended without the assistance of the driver, rushing to the door as fast as propriety allowed. She’d already rung the bell before Polly was by her side.
A young maid Fanny didn’t recognize answered the door. “May I help you, ma’am?”
Polly answered, “My name is Mrs. Lansing, and this is my sister, Miss Antill. We are here to see your master and mistress, if they are at home?”
The maid looked surprised and uncertain. “Well, ma’am, they are at home, but they aren’t receiving visitors at the present time. There has been a…a family tragedy, you see. If you were to come back, maybe in a week or so….”
“No, please,” Fanny interrupted, desperate, not caring if she was being rude. “They know me. I…I grew up here. Please, just ask them if they’ll see me. Please.”
The maid now looked confused and even more uncertain. She glanced back inside, as though hoping to see someone else, then back at the two women on the doorstep. At last, she opened the door to invite them in.
“If you’ll both just step into the parlor, I will inquire if Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton will see you now,” she explained, motioning them to the warm room with the fire blazing. Fanny stepped inside, the smell of home comforting to her in a way nothing else had been since she’d read that horrible newspaper report.
Polly sat on the edge of the chair near the fire, the one Papa liked to sit in with his paper after breakfast on Sunday. Fanny took a turn around the room to examine the familiar knickknacks and finery. Her stomach started to twist as the minute hand on the mantle clock continued to move without any sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Had they refused to see her?
It had been four years since she’d been part of the family. She’d seen them a handful of times since, but she was much older now, sixteen, nearly a grown woman. Maybe she’d overestimated her place in their affections?
Oh, but they just had to see her. Her big brother had just died. All she wanted was to share her grief with people who had known and loved Philip, too. Should she really have taken Polly’s advice and written a letter of condolence instead?
She sank into a seat and closed her eyes. She remembered, as a very little girl, being sat down by Mama and Papa on the very sofa upon which she now waited, while they gently explained to her that her father had died up north. She hadn’t remembered him well enough to mourn him, but it had been her first introduction to the idea of death. The loss of the elusive father figure who'd featured in stories and an occasional letter had left her with terrible nightmares of Mama or Papa dying, too.
She recalled one night slipping out of bed and downstairs, hovering in the partially opened doorway to Papa’s office. His candle was burning low, his face shadowed as he scribbled out notes with great concentration. After watching him for several minutes, she’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask, “Papa?”
He’d startled slightly. “You shouldn’t be up, my little lady.” Beckoning her towards him, he added, “What’s the matter?”
She’d crawled up into his lap, worrying her lip as she leaned against him. “Are you going to die?”
She’d watched his face, saw him swallow back his knee-jerk “no” and consider her question carefully.
“Someday,” he’d said. “Hopefully not for a very long time.”
“But you don’t know that,” she’d pressed.
“I don’t,” he’d agreed. His hand soothed over her back in a comforting rhythm. “We can only do the best we can with the time God gives us. But I can promise you that you’ll always be loved and cared for by your family, whatever might happen to me.”
She’d taken such comfort in that assurance, that whatever might come, she had a family who would love her. Had that just been a kindness, a soothing lie to a frightened child?
Finally, finally, she heard footsteps coming towards the parlor.
She jumped out of her seat, shifting nervously and practically holding her breath.
Papa stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Fanny felt a new wave of grief crash over her at the sight of him. He looked ill, pale and shaky. His pallor was even more stark against the suit of deep black he wore.
Now, after all her doubtful thoughts, she wasn’t sure what to do. She stood there, staring at him, her lower lip quivering as she worried the end of a satin ribbon on her dress with her hands.
He looked at her with glassy eyes for a silent minute. Then his lips formed into a half smile and he held out his arms. “Come here, sweetheart,” he invited with a hoarse voice.
She all but ran over to him, crashing into his embrace and squeezing him tight. Hot tears rushed down her face; she turned her head into his soft jacket to hide them from him. “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know if…if it was…I…I wanted to….” She struggled to speak, her voice high and halting through the tears that suddenly wouldn’t stop coming.
“Hush, my little lamb,” he cooed, rocking slowly back and forth on his heels as he held her and rubbed her back, just like he had when she was a little girl.
She cried even harder, letting out an embarrassing little hiccup when she tried to catch her breath. She didn’t know what to say or do, and instead she let out a plaintive, “Papa.”
“It’s all right, Fanny. I know. Everything’s going to be all right,” he soothed.
When she finally had her crying under control, she leaned back, her cheeks flaming red from her tears and a blush. She hadn’t meant to go into hysterics; she had meant to come here to comfort him.
He produced a clean white handkerchief from his inside breast pocket and offered it to her. She took it and wiped her eyes, then her nose, which had started running. A sniffle escaped her as she cleaned her face, and Papa ran his thumb across her cheek to dry the last of her tears.
“There, there,” he said gently. “That’s better now. You’re all right.”
She nodded and he pulled her into his embrace once more.
“Mrs. Lansing, thank you for bringing her over here today. At this difficult time, I'm sure you can imagine the comfort of having our family together,” Papa said to Polly. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, perhaps we could keep Fanny with us for a few days?”
Fanny felt relief and love course through her at his words.
“If that’s all right with you, of course, my dear?” he added, pulling away a little to look at her again.
Fanny nodded. "Yes, please."
“Of course, General Hamilton, but…well, Fanny isn’t prepared for any kind of stay,” Polly said hesitantly.
“I’m sure some of Angelica’s old things will suit for a few days,” Papa said. "We'll make sure she has everything she needs."
“Well, all right,” Polly agreed, standing from her chair, her brow furrowed slightly. “I’ll send the coach for you on Friday next, if that’s agreeable?”
Fanny nodded to her sister and untangled herself from Papa’s arms long enough to give her a hug goodbye. Polly squeezed her once, then let go. Polly stopped before Papa and said, “I…I am so sorry for your loss, General.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lansing.”
When Polly had gone, Papa kissed her on the forehead, then placed his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “You are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, smiling weakly. “Look how you’ve grown.”
“I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want to see me,” she confessed.
He shook his head. “Never. You are always welcome here, my dear little lady.”
She smiled at the old pet name and hugged him again.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “Mama’s anxious to see you.”
“She is?”
“Of course.” His arm settled around her shoulders as he led her from the room.
She trailed him upstairs and fell into the warm embrace of her family.