A/N: Isn't Alice a wonderful muse to have? I always wondered why this line niggled with me; surely Helen represents the more sane side of the Kingsleigh family?
"Don't people dream other dreams?" Alive was concerned as the carriage trundled along.
"I don't know." Her mother's raw honesty unnerved Alice.
Helen Kingsleigh was right, she didn't know. Maybe before she had dreamt of other things before his death but now her dreams were polluted with him.
She dreamt of his death every night, it plagued her as he lay feverous in her arms.
Malaria the doctors said herbalists called is ague or bad air. All she knew is they couldn't cure him. He'd spent too long investigating Africa's potential in his company – Victorian missionaries would always be a source of revenue but Charles had been taken ill. If only she'd have been with him; she'd have seen the signs as she shared their rooms but Charles was always stubborn when he was ill – refusing to admit it. She had travelled with him times ago, but their daughters' births meant she had to remain at home and Charles had promised her the next time she could come.
He was brought home swiftly when his friend noticed his condition, the mercenaries did nothing but prey and the medical supply was weak at the best for the African settlements so they hoped Charles would be healed back in Europe. But the sea voyage only made him worse, he ranted and raved scaring the sailors. He was brought back to London, a messenger been sent ahead and the Kingsleigh family had gathered in a rented townhouse.
He had barely recognised her but oh Helen could remember it so vividly. The darkened unfamiliar room, she barely remembered the apothecary and the doctors telling her it was no good, they returned to the parlour outside. Alice seeing her father stricken and sweating, Helen had seen the tears building but the girl holding herself as the man who helped her nightmares fought his own. Margaret had come from her own home in the county of Essex and sobbed when she saw him. This had only aggravated him more as a small part of his brain seemed to recognise his sobbing daughter. Alice had dragged her out before Helen had even her opened her mouth. A red eyed Margaret came back in and kissed her father before waiting outside with her younger tight lipped sister.
It had gone back to being the two of them and Helen remembered his sole moment of clarity. It broke her heart as he seemed to realise his time had come.
"Look after Alice, Helen; do not let her be unhappy. The dreams will return from where she had hidden them in her head if she is unhappy." He clutched her hand and she kissed his forehead from her position as he opened his mouth once more. "I will love you forever Helen Kingsleigh." His eyes fluttered shut as she returned his words and a small held on his face before there was a sudden slackness to his body.
She sobbed quietly before calling the Doctors in, letting them verify it who then offered her condolences. His best friend Jonathan Pewter had been waiting downstairs and it was Jonathan who did almost everything while Helen moved in a numbed stated – nothing seemed to register. Her soul mate was dead. She was only just aware of her daughters grief as well, she hugged Alice harder than ever before and the only thing that penetrated that cloudy fog of her brain was Alice's upcoming nuptials.
Helen allowed Margaret to plan with Lady Ascot, she was unhappy to lose her daughter when her grief was so raw but she allowed it to happen – it gave her daughter a security she did not believe she could offer.
So Helen Kingsleigh could not answer her daughter's questions about dreams but it was only as she looked more closely at Alice that she saw Charles more and more in her. She saw the shape of his face, the wandering spirit and the fierceness that would never be tamed. She almost lamented Alice's womanhood for she knew Hamish Ascot would never encourage those qualities. If she had been male she would have flourished.
For the remainder of the trip they had been very quiet – Alice thinking about her dreams and Helen thinking of hers. She had travelled to many places as a newlywed, the honeymoon tour had been far more exotic that Europe's main cities, Egypt, then on by boat to India, the by elephant to Siam and Vietnam and then again by ship to Papua New Guinea and Australia, with a brief sojourn in New Zealand. But now these wonderful memories of an amazing experience with her new husband had been marred. Her dreams took her beloved memories and turned them into nightmares – in each country Charles died. It was only by day she forced her errant brain that it was without her watchful eye that her husband had fallen ill; that these amazing places were where she and Charles had a most fabulous time and where in India on their return trip, she was fairly sure Margaret had been conceived in Kashmir.
She smiled wistfully at the passing scenery.
She missed Charles more than she could know and she was allowing his favourite daughter – parents never admit but there are always favourites – to marry into a life that would not suit her free spirit. Helen swallowed the regret that her grief induced fog had taken away so much control in her youngest's future; over romantic Margaret had made a life she wanted in Alice's name. Biting her lip in worry, Helen refused to dwell on it – after all what could she do?