Jimmy had seen it before. A woman stricken by a broken heart. Once warm eyes were now cold and distant. Did she blame him? But there was so much blood. So much blood and no way to stop it. What could he have done? Everyone was dying, why should this be different? Jimmy rubbed the shiny surface harder, wanting to polish the memories away. But the blood just kept coming; he hadn't even known people had that much blood. He was losing this battle, another one, but this one was perhaps the most important he'd ever fought. No matter how hard he rubbed the tarnish wouldn't budge. He scrubbed the spot until his arm ached and his fingers were raw. A red stain appeared on his cotton glove and he dropped the platter in horror. It clattered to the floor. In his mind bombs whistled and chunks of earth flew into the air. Before his eyes a silver platter lay innocuously on the floor.
"James?" a soft voice ventured, "Jimmy?" The hem of a skirt came into view and he raised his eyes to see Anna watching him, soft concern in her kind eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said automatically, stooping to scoop the silverware up off the floor, "I'll start again."
"No Jimmy, that's alright. Leave it for a moment." She couldn't be serious, nothing was more important that making sure the silver sparkled. Carson had to be able to see his reflection in it. Though why he'd want to Jimmy didn't confess to know. She attempted to take the plate from him but he clung to it.
"I really should finish this."
"You're sure you're alright?" the maid insisted. He was, or would be, if he could get answers. Suddenly, Jimmy was struck by the thought that Anna was Lady Mary's maid. Why hadn't it occurred to him before?
"Anna?"
"Yes?"
"Will you tell me about Lady Mary? It's just that she was so..." What word could he use? He wanted to say disturbed, or unstable, but knew Anna wouldn't appreciate that, "...unlike herself the other day. Is she well?" Anna hesitated. Jimmy couldn't be told no again. "Please?" Something passed between them. Maybe it was that Anna saw the sincerity with which he asked the question. She sighed.
"It's hard for her Jimmy, there's no denying that. But Lady Mary's a fighter. She's strong, I know she'll make it through this." That was wishful thinking and told Jimmy nothing.
"But now? How is she now?"
"Sad, that's all. She's just so very sad."
xxx
"Would you like me to help you dress for dinner Lady Mary?" Anna asked the same question every night. Lady Mary's declining to attend was understandable at first but people were starting to notice something was wrong. If someone like Jimmy was asking questions, the situation was certainly due to be remedied.
"No Anna, I think I'll take my meal up here tonight." Lady Mary made it sound like she'd made a decision, but she hadn't. Always, it was the same answer she gave. Anna sympathised, she really did, but Lady Mary's life was not her own. She was the eldest daughter of an Earl and duty would always call.
"I think Mi'lady, it might do you good to sit with the family," Anna ventured. "I know your parents would like to see you there." Mary turned slowly towards her, her hand rising to touch her throat. She focused her gaze on Anna, looking steadily at her, which was something she hadn't done of late.
"Have they said something?"
"No, but I know they'd like to know that you're..." Improving? Recovering? Those words were too cold, too presumptuous, "...well." It still wasn't the right word, but Anna was at a loss. She had no idea how to pull Lady Mary out of her despair. Her mistress had always been so strong and so sure of herself; this new side of Lady Mary was a mystery to her. Lady Mary's shoulders slumped and she raised a hand to her forehead.
"Very well," she sighed, "find me a dress."
xxx
The conversation bounced around Mary, but none of it sunk in. It was all just noise. What could they say that would matter now? But one thing she couldn't stand was being fussed over so she made a small effort to nod and smile when the conversation seemed to require her to do so. As the conversation ebbed and flowed around her, she longed for Matthew. She could picture him now, with his bright blue eyes and secret smile, sitting in his place at the table, as clearly as though he were there. She reached across and placed her hand on his.
"Did you have a good day dear?"
"Yes, thank-you Mary dear," he mother replied from beside her. Mary quickly pulled her hand away. Didn't her mother usually sit nearer her father? Had they forgotten already that the seat beside her belonged to Matthew? Silence fell around the table as her family turned to watch her with poorly concealed anticipation. They were waiting for her to show that she was better but she could not do it. How could she ever recover from such a blow? And the expectation was too much.
"If you'll excuse me, I've a headache," Mary managed to say, rising abruptly and leaving the room with as much surety as she could muster.
