The stool in front of the dressing table refused to help her; she sagged sideways onto its corner, almost fell as she scrambled for balance, and found it. “Mama? Oh, Mama!”

Fitz had watched her without going to her aid; finally he moved from the doorway, strolled across the carpet to rest one hand on her bare shoulder, its long fingers pressing her flesh lightly. “My dear, it is for the best.”

“Yes, yes! But she is only sixty-two! I had fancied she would make very old bones.”

“Aye, coddled like a Strasbourg goose. It is a mercy, all the same. Think of Mary.”

“Yes, for that I must be thankful. Fitz, what to do?”

“Set out for Hertfordshire first thing in the morning. I will send to Jane and Charles to meet us at the Crown and Garter by nine. Best to travel together.”

“The children?” she asked, grief beginning as shock went. What were the old, when there were young to fill the heart?

“They stay here, of course. I’ll tell Charles not to let Jane cozen him into taking any of theirs. Shelby Manor is a commodious house, Elizabeth, but it will not accommodate any of our offspring.” Reflected in her mirror, his face seemed to harden; then he shrugged the mood off, whatever it had been, and continued in his level voice. “Mary says that she has sent for Kitty, but thinks Lydia is better left to me. What a truly sensible woman Mary has become!”

“Please, Fitz, let us take Charlie! You will ride, and I will make the journey alone. It is a long way. We can drop Charlie back at Oxford on the way home.”

His mouth slipped a little awry as he considered it, then he gave his famous regal nod. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.” She hesitated, knowing the answer, but asking the question anyway. “Do we hold this dinner tonight?”

“Oh, I think so. Our guests are on their way. Your mourning weeds can wait until tomorrow, as can the subject.” His hand left her shoulder. “I am for downstairs. Roeford is sure to arrive at any moment.”