Chapter 14: Tragedy Strikes

Over the next three months, Don Antonio Ruiz de Costa became a frequent visitor at the Carters’ home. He and Eleanor spent an increasing amount of time together and it was clear to everyone that their mutual infatuation increased with each visit. Harriet Carter did not insist on the presence of a chaperone anymore since she had come to trust the young man. Harriet had also developed a strong level of understanding with Antonio’s mother and she often accompanied Eleanor when she visited the Colombian embassy. The two mothers would have tea unconcerned with the fact that Antonio and Eleanor sat together somewhere unsupervised. Perhaps it was that trust that motivated the two young people to restrict the expression of their affection to kisses and hugs.

They also joined Ellen and Richard on Sundays to go to concerts and theatre plays. Richard’s free time was restricted. He worked long hours for Sir Robert Norton and the better he learned his duties, the more tasks were assigned to him. He admired the energy of Sir Robert and cursed him at the same time. He was looking forward to the impending departure of Sir Robert for Portugal and to his own wedding and honeymoon.

Ellen began to help Lucy with her charity work to pass her time, and she found that she liked it. With Richard busy all week and Eleanor either visiting with or being visited by Don Antonio, her only other distraction were the weekly teas with Lady Lambert. Sometimes there were other visitors, but most of the times the two unlikely friends, and friends they had become, were just holding friendly conversation with each other. From time to time, Lord Lambert joined them but he seemed distracted. He had aged considerably over the winter and Lady Lambert constantly admonished him to eat more since he also had become haggard.

It was early April 1827 when she visited Lady Lambert again. The impending wedding demanded a large part of Ellen’s time by now, but there were things that she needed to ask Richard’s grandmother. Lord Lambert sat with them, but after a while he excused himself.

“I don’t know, I’m not feeling that well,” he said looking absentminded. “I’ll lie down for an hour. Please excuse me, Ellen.”

Ellen rose. “But of course. Are you all right or should we have the doctor visit?”

He waved his hand. “For heaven’s sake, no more bleeding. That’s all that stupid quack does. No, let me sleep for an hour and I shall be fine.” He sounded almost drunk, talking slowly and slurring the words.

They watched him as he left the tea room and heard him walk up the stairs.

“My Richard is getting old,” Lady Lambert sighed with an expression of pain on her face.

Ellen was in thought. “I don’t know, he looked strange to me. Did you hear how he talked? This did not sound right. I think you should have the doctor visit, I really do.”

Lady Lambert contemplated. After all, Ellen lived in a surgeon’s household, and Lucy knew of such things too. Ellen’s word carried more weight for the old woman than the girl knew.

“I shall go and talk him into it. He doesn’t think much of Dr. Benting. Excuse me for a moment.”

She left and climbed the stairs after her husband. Ellen sat at the table, unable to return to the letter she was composing. She felt disturbed for some reason. A moment later, the anguished cry of Lady Lambert made her jump and run upstairs.

She found the old woman kneeling on the floor of their bedroom, bending over the prostrate body of her husband. In a flash, Ellen knelt on the other side. As taught by her father, she felt the pulse under the chin. It was weak and fast. He was breathing laboriously and his face was strangely out of symmetry. She looked up. The old butler Jerome was standing in the door wringing his hands and more servants crowded the hall behind him.

With an authority that surprised herself, Ellen began to issue commands to the dazed servants.

“Jerome, somebody lift His Lordship on his bed! Be quick about it, man! Somebody fetch the coachman! Yes you, run! Lady Lambert, let me help you up. Sit down here. I said, lay him on the bed! What are you waiting for?”

When Lord Lambert had been lifted onto the bed, the coachman arrived. Ellen knew him; he had driven her home a few times.

“Wilkins, you remember where I live?” He nodded. “Drive there as fast as you can and alert my mother, Lady Wilkes. Tell her Lord Lambert had a stroke. Do you remember that? A stroke! Tell her to please come immediately and to bring my father, Sir Jonathan. Did you understand that? Good! Be quick!”

The coach man left running. Thank god, she thought, at least Wilkins still hat his wits about him. She looked around and her look fell on one of the maids, a girl her own age.

“Ally, you have young legs. Run as fast as you can to Nº 12, Camden Court, the house of Sir Anthony Carter. Alert Lady Carter. Tell her to come to her parents’ house and to bring clothes for the night. Can you repeat that?”

The girl repeated the message faithfully.

“Good, now put on some shoes and run!”

That done, Ellen bend down to Lady Lambert.

“I have done all I can right now. We must wait for my father. Do you need anything?”

The old woman shook her head, tears running over her cheeks.

“I don’t need anything. Do you think he will be all right, Ellen? What can I do without him?”

“You must be strong now to see him through this. Should I get you some brandy? You look terribly pale and we cannot have you break down too.” She looked for the butler. “Jerome, a glass of brandy for her ladyship!”

“Now, sit back a little whilst we make your husband more comfortable.”

She looked around. The butler was just returning with a glass of brandy on a tray. His hands were trembling and he was near tears. Ellen felt her own eyes burning too, but she willed it away. Lady Lambert needed her now and she must not show weakness.

“Thank you, Jerome. Now, I want you to get His Lordship’s confidential servant and another manservant to undress His Lordship and put him under the covers. When that is done, I want you to go and have one glass of brandy for yourself. You look like a ghost.”

With the help of the servants, the old man was stripped of his shoes, coat and trousers and laid to bed properly. The servants stayed in the room at Ellen’s behest. The butler had just left for the prescribed glass of spirits when a commotion was heard from the entrance hall. Seconds later, Harriet Carter stormed into the room followed closely by her husband and by Eleanor.

“Mother, what happened? Oh my god, father!” she cried throwing herself on the bed. Sir Anthony put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up whilst Eleanor went to her grandmother to hug and comfort her.

A minute later, another bustle sounded from below and soon Jonathan Wilkes burst into the room.

“I came as fast as I could. Luckily, I was at home when your coachman came. Ah, there he is. Can somebody tell me what happened?”

Lady Lambert cast a begging glance at Ellen, and the girl spoke up.

“We had been sitting at tea when His Lordship complained that he did not feel well. He said he wanted to lie down for an hour. He sounded strange, as if drunk, but he’d had no spirits at all. I told Lady Lambert that she should have a doctor visit him, but she wanted to ask him first. Then I heard her cry and ran upstairs to find her on her knees and His Lordship lying on the floor. I had the servants lift him onto his bed, and I sent the coachman for you, and a girl servant for Lady Carter. I hope I did not forget anything.”

“No, Ellen, you did everything possible,” Sir Jonathan assured her. “Now, let us have a look.”

For a few minutes, he looked into the old man’s eyes, pinched him here and there, and lifted his arms and legs, one after the other. Then he looked at Lady Lambert with regret.

“Milady, from what I can see, your husband suffered a very severe stroke. His entire right body half is paralysed. Usually, this is accompanied by a loss of speech. I fear that in such severe cases a recovery is very unlikely.”

“Will he survive at least?” Lady Lambert asked hopefully, but the painful expression on Dr. Wilkes’ face told her the truth before he could answer.

“Again, this is difficult to predict. It all depends on the next days. We have to fear the worst though. I am most sorry.”

He turned to Harriet.

“Harriet, can you take over here for a couple of days? Lucy will help you I am sure. We will need to feed him with broth. If we can get him to drink broth, he may yet survive. Lucy will have to prepare some teas to reduce the fever that is certain to come. I shall give more instructions to Lucy.”

He took Harriet’s hand. “Look after your mother too. See to it that she eats and drinks. It happens too often that relatives neglect their own health in the care for their loved ones.”

For five more days, the tough old sailor fought for his life. He valiantly battled the first days of fever and he even regained some consciousness, raising hope in his family. His face seemed to relax whenever his wife sat beside him and held his hand which was indeed most of the time. She had a mortal fear that he might pass away in her absence and without the comfort she could provide. During those days Ellen practically ran the household, received the visits of friends and distant relatives, rejected the morbidly curious and made sure that the other women ate regular meals.

It was Ellen too who, during the sixth night, woke up disturbed. She hurried to Lord Lambert’s bedroom and noticed that his breathing had changed to a laboured gasping, sometimes ceasing altogether. He was disturbed and thrashing with his good left side. Ellen ran to wake Lady Lambert.

“Please come! I think the end may be near.”

She supported the old woman and led her to her husband’s bed. Lady Lambert took hold of her husband’s left hand and the thrashing ceased after a few moments. The breathing became weaker and weaker though, and silent tears ran down the old woman’s cheeks.

“Ellen, dear, can you leave us alone? There are a few things I need to tell him in private.”

Ellen nodded and left the bedroom sobbing silently. She had the coachman woken and sent him to alert the Carters. They arrived after only twenty minutes and silently climbed the stairs, Ellen taking Richard’s hand. Harriet knocked on the door, but no answer came. When she lifted her hand to knock again, the door opened from within and Lady Lambert stood there looking composed.

“His suffering is over,” she stated calmly.

The list of dignitaries to attend Admiral Lord Lambert’s burial was long. Five full admirals and one real-admiral, Anthony Carter, served as pallbearers, and the Duke of Clarence, the former Admiral of the Fleet, spoke the eulogy. The condolence book read like a who-is-who of the political and military elite of the time. Among the principal mourners, Lady Lambert was supported by her grandson and his fiancée, whilst Harriet Carter was helped along by her daughter and her friend Lucy Wilkes. Emily Lambert had come to London with her four young daughters who stood bewildered in their unaccustomed black dresses. It was cruel that Andrew Lambert, the heir to the title, was absent, far away in the Mediterranean, and unable to lend his support to his mother. For most purposes, Sir Anthony Carter had to stand in as son-in-law. He too was deeply saddened by the passing of the old admiral who had been his supporter for most of his adult life. Harriet had recovered somewhat, but she was still shaky. The two young women, Eleanor and Ellen, together with Sir Anthony and Richard, had shouldered most of the preparations for the burial.