“Can you not? For I would go to any lengths to get you alone, love.”
“Don’t call me ‘love.’”
“Fine, sweetheart.” Wes held out his arm. “Shall we?” He wasn’t sure she would place her arm in his, but after a moment she did, though a bit grudgingly. A moment later they were in the garden, alone, and it was time for Wes to confess.
“I am glad to see your family doing so well. Your father sent me letters…”
“My father wrote to you?”
“Yes. Every quarter he would send me a note, asking about my progress and telling me about everyone here.”
“You didn’t tell him about our kiss, did you?”
“Of course not. It is not the type of thing a father wishes to hear.”
She stopped and turned to him. “Why did you leave? And why did you come back?”
“It is a long story.”
“I am certain there is an abridged version. Pray begin.”
There was nothing to it but to tell the truth. “I was a coward. That is not a very romantical beginning to the story, but I promise it will get better.”
“I am not certain it could get worse.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips for that. He wanted to linger, but the story would never come out if he did.
She put her hand on his chest to make him keep his distance, though the rosy glow in her cheeks made him think she enjoyed the kiss more than she was letting on. “You were saying something about being a coward and the story improving?”
“My feelings for you had deepened from a familial affection to romantical. And when I saw you that night looking so beautiful, I knew I was in over my head. Then when we kissed, I knew it was all over. There was no going back. You were never going to be just my sister’s friend ever again.”
“Then why did you leave?” The quiet question had more than a little anguish to it and Wes hated himself for having caused her pain. He tried to kiss her again.
“Explanation first, kiss second,” she said, holding him off.
“Very well. I am a third son.”
“I care nothing about titles.”
“I know that. But you would care very much if we had nowhere to live and little to eat. I had to find a profession and my father had cut off most pathways. I realized I needed to earn my way in Philadelphia to gain your hand.”
“Yet you did not think this was information I should have? You just decided to go off on your own? For a barrister, you are rather thick.”
“I am beginning to think so, yes. But now we can marry.” He leaned forward, prepared for a real kiss when she backed away from him as if he had fleas.
“Excuse me?”
“Now we can marry.”
“Pardon me, my lord, but do you not wish to phrase that as a question?”
This wasn’t good. Instead of the joyful, tearful acceptance he had longed for, she looked…cross. “Now, can we marry?”
“This is not a situation which calls for humor.”
“I believe marriage calls for a great deal of humor.” He sighed, then got down on one knee.
“Get up, before my family sees you!” She said, pulling him to his feet, even as she looked toward the house to see if they had been spotted. “I suspect marriage to you would require humor and some patience. You spoke of suddenly seeing me in a completely new light and the need to be able to support us. The latter is highly commendable, while the former is not nearly as flattering as you might think. And you have not asked how I feel about you.”
Wes’s heart clenched. If she didn’t love him, he would be devastated. “How do you feel about me?”
“I love you, of course. I always have. But I am not the girl you so expeditiously parted from two years ago. I have worked alongside Mama and I like this life. I like this work.”
“But you love me. You just said it.” And he prayed she wouldn’t take it back.
“I do. But I need time to think about this, to see if my heart is safe with you.”
“And if I promise it is?”
She smiled sadly. “I need time, Wes. I need to see for myself if that is true.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The urgent rapping at the door in the middle of the night woke the household. Violet’s first thought was that something had happened to her mother, who had been summoned to a birth the previous day. When she had not returned by evening, Violet’s father had gone to see what had happened.
Neither had returned by the time Violet had gone to bed.
Violet grabbed her wrapper and ran downstairs. Mr. Rigg was already at the door with Wes right behind him. They were talking to nine-year-old Luke Jenkins, who was terribly frightened.
“Luke?” asked Violet, as she went to him. “What is the matter?”
“It’s me mum,” he said, trying not to cry. “She’s been moaning and cryin’ out all night, though she di’n’t want me comin’ to get Lady Jane in the middle of the night. She’s ‘aving her babe! She needs Lady Jane!”
“I was telling Luke that her ladyship has not returned,” said Rigg. “And I fear my wife is still feeling poorly after her bout with the ague.”
“Mrs. Rigg must stay in bed and rest,” said Violet. Mrs. Rigg had often assisted Violet’s mother with births through the years and was an excellent midwife in her own right. But Violet did not want to risk her health, nor did she want to expose Mrs. Jenkins and the baby to the sickness. “I shall accompany Luke.”
“You?” asked Luke as politely as his astonishment would allow.
“I have assisted on countless births and am well able to help your mama,” Violet said as confidently as she could, not adding that she had never delivered a baby on her own before. “And I am afraid I am the best we have to offer. I will be down as soon as I dress.”
“I will pack provisions,” said Mr. Rigg, “then accompany you on your visit.”
“Thank you, but you are needed here,” said Violet. “Both by your wife and to let my parents know what transpired in their absence. But please pack some basic supplies while I dress.”
“I cannot allow you to go on your own, Violet,” said Rigg, who loved her as a second father and worried like one, as well.
“I will accompany her,” said Wes. “That way I can help her in whatever way possible and you can look after Mrs. Rigg and the children.”
Mr. Rigg looked like he would object, but Violet ran upstairs to get dressed, leaving the men to get things sorted.
Moments later, they were underway on two horses, with Wes having taken up Luke behind him. The trip to the small cottage took less than a quarter of an hour. They found Mrs. Jenkins in her bedchamber, trying not to worry her two youngest children who were on the verge of tears.
“Mrs. Jenkins,” said Violet, as she entered the room. “Luke tells me your babe has chosen today as a birthday. He also says Mr. Jenkins is away.”
“Aye,” said Mrs. Jenkins with as much of a smile as she could muster. I expect him home today or tomorrow. Has Lady Jane come with ye?”
Violet tried to appear confident because it wouldn’t do to let Mrs. Jenkins see how nervous she was. “Mama was called away yesterday, but Mr. Rigg will tell her to come here as soon as she returns. You needn’t worry. I have done this many times.”
That was a bit of an overstatement but one thing Violet had learned was that women in childbirth needed reassurance and confidence in their midwife. Violet knew the basics and prayed all would go well. Besides, she truly was the best option available.
Wes called out to her from the main room. “Mayhap Luke and the children could show me how to get water.”
“That is an excellent idea,” said Violet as she smiled at the children, who reluctantly left the room. “We shall need plenty of hot water.”
“Who is that?” asked Mrs. Jenkins.
“That is Lord Wesley, a friend of my family. He accompanied Luke and me here.”
“Does he know anything about babes?”
“I do no
t believe so. But he is a good man to have around in times of need.”
Mrs. Jenkins had another contraction, which ended all conversation for the time being. Violet said a silent prayer, then went about making her as comfortable as possible.
* * *
He is a good man to have around in times of need. It wasn’t a wild declaration of love, but Wes was chuffed by what he had overheard Violet tell Mrs. Jenkins. He only hoped she had meant it and wasn’t just comforting a woman in pain.
“Lord Wesley?” asked the youngest child, a girl of about four whose name was Mary. “Is Mama going to die?”
Wes’s first instinct was to tell the girl no, but he knew some women did die in childbirth. While he was searching for a suitable response, Luke stepped in for him.
“Of course not, Mary,” said Luke, who then looked worriedly at Wes for confirmation.
“Listen to your brother, Mary,” Wes said gently. “He is very wise.”
“He’s afraid of snakes.”
“That only shows just how wise he is.”
“Do you think Mama will be well?”
“Yes,” said Wes, who prayed it would be so. “Now who can show me how a well works?”
“You don’t know?” asked Luke. This seemed to make him distrust Wes’s inherent authority as an adult.
“Of course I do. I just want to make sure you know,” said Wes. He did know how a well worked, mostly. How difficult could it be? And his goal now was to get the children’s minds off their mother.
With a liberal amount of spillage, which led to some much-needed laughter, Wes and the children carried several buckets of water into the house. After gathering firewood and a few unsuccessful attempts to start a fire in the stove, Wes was finally able to boil the water. Once it had sufficiently cooled, he took a basin to Mrs. Jenkins’s bedchamber.
With Mrs. Jenkins modestly covered, Wes set down the water, as Violet laid out her supplies of soap, clean sheets, twine and whisky.
“I am glad you brought the whisky,” said Wes. “That could be put to good use later.”
“It will definitely be put to good use soon.”
“Are you certain it’s a good idea to drink now? Though I would not refuse a glass.”
“It is not to drink. It is to clean. Mama discovered its use during the war.”
“That sounds quite irregular.”
“It is nothing of the sort. You can ask Papa for proof of how well it works. Mama used it to clean his wounds and he recovered quite nicely.”
Wes had heard vague references to the night in question. “Is that the night you were conceived?”
Violet’s bright blush was all the answer he needed. “I believe the children need you.”
Wes grinned, then bowed to Mrs. Jenkins. “I wish you well, ma’am. I will look after your children while we wait.”
“Thank ye, milord,” said the woman, before turning to Violet. “Yer man is a good ‘un, miss.”
“He is not my man,” Violet said quickly.
“Not for lack of trying on my part,” said Wes.
“You may go back to the children, my lord,” said Violet. As she turned her attention once again to Mrs. Jenkins, she could almost see Wes’s satisfied grin as he left the room.
* * *
Three hours later, Wes was wondering if Lady Jane would ever appear. He did not know how long it normally took to give birth. As a male, he has been kept blessedly ignorant of all details concerning such events. But surely this had already taken longer than normal. The children said their mother had been doing “poorly” most of the night. He hoped this did not bode ill for the child and Mrs. Jenkins, and prayed nothing would go wrong. On the rare occasions when Violet left the bedchamber, she did not seem particularly worried, though Wes wondered how much of that was for the children’s benefit.
He was also at wit’s end on how to entertain them. There were no books other than the Bible and reading from that seemed a bit ominous. He had completely exhausted his supply of the few children’s stories he could remember. He had tried to make dice from two small wooden blocks, but the children seemed more interested in stacking them than any sort gaming. He was running out of ideas and realized he was also quite hungry.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked the children, all of whom nodded in response. While it was heartening to have settled upon an activity, he also realized there would be no cook to assist him. He rummaged through the basket Mr. Rigg had sent along and almost wept with joy when he saw the efficient man had included an entire loaf of bread and enough meat and cheese to last at least a day. He hoped it would not take that long, since Mrs. Jenkins’s moans were becoming louder and more frequent. He could tell she was in a great deal of pain, no matter how much she tried to hide it.
Wes managed to make sandwiches for the children, though he had been uncertain about how much meat a child of four would eat. He was not even sure the child in question was four. But that seemed about right. Then, chuffed with his culinary skills, he ventured to the doorway of the bedchamber, careful not to look inside. “Would either of you ladies like a bite to eat? I have already given the children their meals.”
“No thank ye, my lord,” said Mrs. Jenkins between moans. “But thank ye kindly for lookin’ after my young’uns.”
“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Jenkins. Miss Violet? I do believe you should eat.”
“I am presently occupied, my lord.”
“Then eat it when you can,” he said, placing the dish of bread, cheese and venison on the ground, then pushing it in the direction of the interior of the bedchamber. At that point, Mrs. Jenkins let out a terrifying scream. “May I be of assistance?” he asked, worried for Mrs. Jenkins and almost equally worried Violet would take him up on the offer.
“Can you please take the children outside?” asked Violet.
Wes quickly ushered the children out of the house.
* * *
Violet had never been this frightened in her life. She kept up a silent prayer when not reassuring Mrs. Jenkins that everything would be well. The poor woman was exhausted, but the labor was not progressing as it should. Violet had never attended a birth where the woman had died before, though she knew her mother had a few times. She could not bear to lose Mrs. Jenkins, could not think of how devastated her husband and children would be. Violet wanted nothing more than for her own mother to walk through the door.
“Mrs. Jenkins, I have to feel if the babe is in the right place.”
“I know she’s still inside me and not out yet,” said Mrs. Jenkins with as much of a smile as she was capable of.
“I hope that will soon change. I must check to see if the babe is in the correct position. It may be uncomfortable.”
“We’re way past uncomfortable, I promise ye that. But please do what ye can, miss.”
Violet took a calming breath, then gently inserted her right hand while pressing down on Mrs. Jenkins’s belly with the left. Just as she had feared, the babe was in a breach position. Violet had never turned a babe before, though she had assisted her mother. “Mrs. Jenkins, I need to adjust the babe….”
“And I wager this will hurt.”
“Unfortunately, so. Shall we begin?” With a nod from the brave mother, Violet began the slow process of turning the babe, praying that she was not doing more harm than good. The babe was moving on its own, which was a very good sign. At long last the baby was in the correct position.
Then Mrs. Jenkins screamed.
Violet almost broke down into tears.
“The babe is coming!” said Mrs. Jenkins. “This is like the last three times.”
Violet wasn’t certain if the woman was simply hopeful or if she was correct, but within the next hour, the pains grew more and more frequent, until finally the babe rushed to make its appearance after taking so long to get there.
“You have another son!” said Violet, as she carefully withdrew the baby and handed him to his mother.
Both Mrs. Jenkins and
Violet were crying tears of joy as Violet called out to the children in the next room, “You have a baby brother!”
That was met with cheers, until Mary said “I wanted a sister!”
Violet laughed through her tears, as she bathed the baby, then wrapped him in the clean warm blanket that Mr. Rigg had supplied. Her back ached, she was tired and suddenly aware of being ravenously hungry. After satisfying herself that both mother and babe were safe, she went out to the main room. “Would you like to see your mama and baby brother?”
Luke’s look of relief was so profound that Violet had to hug him before he went bounding in to see his mother. And despite everything Mrs. Jenkins had gone through, Violet was suddenly seized with the fervent need to one day have a son or daughter. And not just any son or daughter. She wanted Wes’s child.
She looked up to see him, then had to laugh. He looked just as exhausted as Mrs. Jenkins and almost as scared as Luke. Violet was certain she looked a fright, but he made quite the picture. His hair looked as if he had just risen from sleep, which gave her stomach an odd fluttering. His jacket and cravat had long since been abandoned and he had the look of a hunted man. The once tidy main room was a mess.
“Is everything well in there?” he whispered.
“Quite. The bigger question is what happened here.”
“We were in need of a team of nursemaids. I swear I have never been this busy in my life. We….”
Violet collapsed into his arms, unable to keep the tears at bay. “She is safely delivered of a beautiful boy.”
Wes held her, his strong arms around her, one hand rubbing her back. Violet was completely lost in his warmth, in the safe haven of his arms.
“I am here for you, Violet,” he whispered. “I will always be here for you. Now that I have you in my arms I never want to let you go.”
Violet knew she was emotional, but she could not hold herself back from him. She had to kiss him. Fortunately, he succumbed quite willingly.
She had come so close to losing mother and son. She needed this affirmation of life and love. It was a meeting of lips, but truly a melding of souls. And she knew she never wished to part from him again. Therefore, it was disheartening when he drew back from her and she became aware of a man clearing his throat. And not just any man. Her father, who had a glowering look about him.
Never and Always (Emerson Book 6) Page 8