“Wilcox.” Mary Rebecca snorted where she sat beside Graciela. “That old quacksalver. Is he even still alive?”
“I don’t know that he is. It’s been some years, but he told me after the second miscarriage that I was incapable—”
“You need to see my midwife. She delivered every one of my children and she understands a woman’s anatomy.”
“A midwife?”
“We use them in Ireland. My mother bore nine children with the aid of a midwife. Healthy babes all. You think I would let some old man with icy hands near me?” She shuddered. “What do stodgy old physicians and apothecaries know?”
She considered Mary Rebecca’s words for a moment. She had not thought she could refuse Dr. Wilcox. He was simply who Autenberry sent for to attend to her. He only ever called on her to confirm if she was in fact increasing, the one time she gave birth to Clara and on the occasions she miscarried.
“Yes. I should like to see your midwife as soon as possible.” She inhaled and already felt better saying the words.
She wished she could feel better about everything else. Colin. Marcus. Colin. The girls when they found out she was increasing, for she did not know how she would keep such a thing secret from them. And . . . Colin.
Her heart ached thinking about him and how she could never seem to get anything quite right with him anymore. Everything had changed between them and for all the passion and pleasure they had shared, she felt as though something had been lost, too. She missed the accord they had enjoyed. The easy smiles.
And yet she knew that had been superficial, too. It was strange to know a person for years and not really know him. Or know only one side of him at any rate. Now she knew him. Just as she knew they could never go back to before. Now she felt as though he were a part of her . . . Even if she wasn’t carrying his child, she would feel that way. The thought jarred her a little.
“Ela?” Mary Rebecca said her name gently, tugging her from her thoughts, which was just as well. She didn’t want to probe too much more into what it was she felt for Colin.
Chapter 19
As soon as possible ended up being the following day. The midwife, Mrs. Silver, was attending another expectant mother just outside the City, so it was late afternoon by the time she arrived.
Fortunately, Enid had wanted to visit her favorite bookseller and Clara decided to accompany her. Even as abundant as their library was, Enid was constantly acquiring new books. That’s what happened when she read everything she got her hands on, devouring the pages as quickly as one did an iced pastry.
Mary Rebecca accompanied Mrs. Silver, who was also an Irishwoman (no surprise), and the three of them shut themselves in Ela’s bedchamber. Minnie asked no questions when Ela asked for their privacy and not to be disturbed.
“Don’t be nervous,” Mrs. Silver said kindly in her familiar accent, smiling in a way that immediately put Ela at ease. Nothing about Dr. Wilcox had ever put her at ease. This was already a marked improvement . . . even if the circumstances were far from ideal. She was no longer a married lady, hoping fervently for the news that she carried a child.
Indeed not. She was an unmarried lady . . . who still found herself a fraction hopeful that she was with child, wrong as it was.
Mary Rebecca scooted a chair up to the bed beside Ela and took her hand, clasping it between cool fingers as Mrs. Silver conducted her exam.
“When was your last menses?” the midwife asked.
She replied and moistened her lips. Her friend gave her an encouraging wink. “I’ve never been very . . . fruitful,” Graciela added.
“Hm,” Mrs. Silver replied noncommittally, pressing gently against Graciela’s abdomen.
Ela continued, “I’ve lost three babes.”
“Sometimes the reason for that has nothing to do with your body’s fertility. There can be other causes. You may cover yourself again.”
Graciela pulled her dressing robe closed. Mrs. Silver helped her sit up. She slid to the edge of the bed, tightening the belt of her robe.
“Congratulations, Your Grace. You are indeed with child.”
She shook her head, feeling numb inside. “Dr. Wilcox told me I was broken inside. That I could never carry a child through to term.”
“That old goat?” Mrs. Silver huffed. “I’ve heard a great deal of him over the years. What does he know? Your body is very healthy, Your Grace. You are perfectly capable of conceiving a child . . . as you’ve done, and there is no reason you cannot deliver this baby. Now, take no needless risks, of course. Get plenty of rest and nutrition. Mild walks will do you and the baby good.”
Graciela nodded, shoving away the painful memories of those three miscarriages. They were in the past. There was only now and this was happening. She lifted her chin and blinked back the sting in her eyes. There was only going forward.
“Should you blood-let?” she asked, recalling that Dr. Wilcox had done so. It had never been a favorite procedure.
“Heavens, no! Why would that be necessary?”
“Dr. Wilcox—”
“Of course!” Mrs. Silver muttered something unladylike beneath her breath. “It’s a wonder you gave birth to even one healthy child. However did you keep up your strength with that old goat draining you?”
Graciela lowered down onto the bed, her head dropping back on the pillow. Had Dr. Wilcox given her poor care? Could that have contributed to her miscarriages? Perhaps this time would be different. Perhaps she could allow herself that hope. Heavens knew everything else up to this point had been different. Namely Colin.
As she sat there, staring unseeingly ahead, she contemplated all the strange feelings stirring within her. There was fear . . . but also elation.
She was going to have a baby.
Mrs. Silver stood back and gathered her things. “I’d be happy to assist you through your confinement and help you when your time comes, Your Grace.”
She nodded. There was a great deal she had not yet decided. Her head was still spinning, but she knew she would absolutely prefer this woman to attend her rather than the likes of Wilcox.
She scarcely noticed as Mrs. Silver exchanged words with Mary Rebecca before slipping from the room.
She turned to look at her friend, however, when she fell beside her on the bed.
“What shall I do now?” she asked with a tremulous smile.
“I shall help you. We’ll arrive at a plan.” Mary Rebecca patted her arm. “But first you must tell him.”
She had no difficulty identifying who him was.
Only how would she tell him? What would she do? Dios la ayude. And then there was her family. Who knew where Marcus had gone, but how would she tell the girls? How would this not affect them adversely? It would not only ruin her . . . it would ruin them. Clara’s future, all of her prospects, poof! Gone instantly once word of her scandalous condition made the rounds.
“Ela,” Mary Rebecca pressed. “You do intend to tell him now, don’t you?”
Mary Rebecca looked at her as though there were only one obvious answer to the question, but she knew it wasn’t as simple as that. None of this was. Nor would it ever be. She was in dire straits here and she couldn’t see an easy solution. Of course she would tell him, but she needed to think how to go about this first.
She squirmed slightly, recalling the realization she had reached earlier.
Now she felt as though he were a part of her . . . Even if she weren’t carrying his child, she would have felt that way. The thought rattled her a little.
Because as entangled as they were, there had been no promises exchanged, no words of forever.
It was a little after midnight when Colin was alerted to the fact that a lady had arrived at his back door. His butler had shown her to his office.
“Thank you, Lemword,” he told the bleary-eyed butler as he anxiously rose from bed and slipped on some breeches. He almost didn’t bother with a shirt but only at the last minute did he slip the loose garment over his head. Unnecessary, he
supposed. Ela had seen him in far less. Still, she was a lady and her face would color brightly if he strolled into his office without a shirt.
That was almost incentive enough for him to strip off his shirt again. He liked it when her face colored. He liked knowing he was the one to make her react in such a manner. But there were servants about the house that he did not relish seeing him in his altogether.
His feet carried him swiftly to the office. He knew that she couldn’t stay away. He’d been with enough women to know that what they had wasn’t something that could be replicated or easily cast aside. Their chemistry was too strong to deny and she knew it.
The door was partially cracked. He pushed it open and shut it behind him.
He leaned back against its length and surveyed the room, finding her immediately. She stood before the fire, her back to him, cloaked head to foot as she held her palms out to the flames to be warmed. Outside his office a slow sleeting drizzle fell that almost looked like snow through the glass.
He smiled and approached slowly, his palms tingling at the prospect of touching her again. If he’d lost his best friend over this woman, it wouldn’t be for nothing. He would enjoy his time with her. He’d make every moment of it count.
She must have sensed him, for she turned, pulled the hood back from her head and revealed her face.
It wasn’t Ela.
His chest deflated. “Lady Talbot,” he greeted, instantly on guard. What was Ela’s friend doing at his house in the middle of the night?
He crossed his arms over his chest. Her gaze scanned him, not missing the fact that he was only partially attired in trousers and a shirt, his feet bare on the plush rug.
A smile played about her mouth. “Have no fear. I’m not here to molest you.”
He released a short laugh, taking in her diminutive stature. “That is a comfort.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to fear that I have designs on you.”
“That is a relief. I was afraid I might have to fight you off my person.”
It was her turn to laugh then. “I know better than that.” The knowing light returned to her eyes.
“Let us not speak in riddles and evasions, my lady.”
“Yes. Let us not,” she agreed, waving a hand. “I do stand in your study in the middle of the night, after all. And you are having an affair with my best friend.”
Of course she knew.
Humor gone, he asked, “Why are you here, my lady?”
“It’s Ela.”
He took a step forward. “What is it? Is she well?”
“Ease yourself. Although I’m relieved to see your concern for her.”
“Of course I’m concerned. I . . . care for her.”
“Care for her, do you?”
“Of course I care . . .” His voice faded and her smile deepened. She looked amused as she gazed at him.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “What are you doing here? Vetting me?”
She angled her head and looked him over. “Oh, it’s not my approval you need concern yourself with.”
“Then what brings you here?”
“There’s something you need to know about Ela. Something she hasn’t told you.”
He tensed.
“I believe she will tell you. Eventually. She would never keep such a thing secret. But she’s frightened, you see. Not that she would dare admit that. Such a proud soul.”
“Please simply spit it out, my lady,” he growled. She’d already worried him and now she was testing his patience.
“Ela is with child.”
The words dropped like bricks into the space between them. She watched him with an unflinching gaze, awaiting his reaction.
He wasn’t certain how long it took him to reply. Five seconds. Five hours. He could only stammer. “I . . . Sh-she . . .”
He dragged a hand through his hair and backed up until he collided with the sofa. Sinking down on it, he blew out a breath. It was the last thing he had thought to hear from Lady Talbot.
He knew of Ela’s difficulties conceiving. The possibility of this had not even entered his mind. Marcus had called Clara a miracle child. Apparently there was more than one miracle to come out of Ela.
And this miracle would be theirs. A product of them. The knowledge left him reeling.
“Lord Strickland.” Annoyance hugged Lady Talbot’s voice. “Have you nothing to say?”
He nodded slowly. “I have a great many things to say, but they are words reserved for Ela.”
She nodded in satisfaction and squared her shoulders, a faint smile on her lips. “Very well. I trust you will do the right thing. That’s why I came here. You’re a good man, Lord Strickland.” She pulled her hood back up over her head and turned for the door. “I imagine she won’t be very happy with me, but it’s my hope that she will thank me later.”
“I’ll thank you now,” he said, anger finally starting to take root. If not for Lady Talbot, would Ela even have told him? Damn her. He’d had to hear news of his impending fatherhood from Lady Talbot and not Ela herself. It was wrong on countless levels.
First thing in the morning, she would explain herself. And then he would explain himself. He would let her know that as the mother of his child, she would become his wife.
As though she could read his mind, Lady Talbot stopped before exiting through the door of his office and looked back at him. “Oh, and you may not want to tarry too long. When I left her, she was packing for the country.”
Chapter 20
Graciela couldn’t sleep, so she decided to take over her own packing. Minnie had started it earlier and stopped in order to ready Graciela for bed. Only after Minnie left, she’d tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Finally, she’d given up.
The task of packing for the journey home occupied her time at any rate—even if it did not fully engage her mind. It was difficult not to think about Colin and the baby and her dubious future. She still found herself drifting to the mirror and smoothing a hand over her stomach as she considered herself appraisingly.
She still hadn’t told the girls they were leaving on the morrow. She winced at the oversight. There were quite a few things she hadn’t told them. To be honest, it wasn’t an oversight as much as it was avoidance.
She’d had an opportunity over dinner with them but decided against wrecking the evening with that announcement—or any others. It could hold until morning.
At dinner this eve, Clara had chattered on as usual, blithely unaware of the turmoil riddling Graciela. And that was as it should be. A mother’s troubles should not become her child’s problems. A mother’s purpose was to protect her child, to shelter her from all things within her power. She would continue to do that no matter what came to pass. Clara would not suffer for her mistakes.
Clara was eager for spring and an end to the infernal cold. Over leek soup, roasted pheasant and parsnips, she waxed on about the long rides and the longer walks she was going to take and the trip to the coast that Graciela had promised before Christmas.
Graciela remembered that promise she had made even though it seemed a long time ago and she a different woman then. Untouched by desire. Oblivious to what it even was to want a man. To crave and need him as much as your next breath.
“Where has Marcus disappeared?” Clara wondered aloud. “It’s not like him to not come and see us while we’re in Town. He hasn’t been here in days.”
Graciela feigned fascination with her soup as she answered her. “I believe he decided to escape Town for a bit.”
“Without telling us?” Enid frowned as she stirred her spoon into her soup. “It’s not like him to leave without saying good-bye to us.”
“An oversight, I’m certain.” The lie felt horrible on her tongue. Enid was right, of course. Marcus had always said farewell before. Just further evidence that all was not well with him if he would punish the girls because of her.
“I wonder where he went.” Clara clanked her spoon against the inside of her
bowl. “Doubtlessly some place sunny and exciting.”
“Hm. I believe the Black Isle was mentioned.”
“So far north?” Enid looked quite perplexed at that information, her wide, gray eyes blinking slowly.
“Well, that’s not sunny or bright. That sounds ghastly this time of year.” Clara shivered, sounding and looking every inch the horrified English girl in that moment. It did Graciela’s heart good to know that her daughter had assimilated so well. She was accepted even if Graciela was not. “I do believe my Spanish blood makes me quite unfit for cold climes.” She nodded decisively, looking so very mature right then. It was strange to consider that Ela had a baby growing inside her but also a daughter on the cusp of womanhood.
“I’m sure it’s quite beautiful in the winter,” Graciela countered, knowing very well that the last thought on Marcus’s mind had been the inhospitable weather of where he was escaping. He could have very well frozen on his journey north and his demise would be all because of her. Apparently, remaining in Town so close in proximity to Graciela and Colin had been an intolerable notion. No, Marcus’s foremost thought had been removing himself from both of them.
“More like quite freezing,” Enid corrected. “Which is unusual. Marcus was never one to enjoy the bluster of winter.” Again, that perplexed look came over Enid’s face. She was too clever to not wonder at the unusualness of her brother’s abrupt departure.
Compelled to offer some explanation, she proposed the one Colin used. “You must admit he has not been himself since the accident.”
“Hm,” was Enid’s only reply to that.
Thinking back on that conversation now, Graciela hoped Enid wouldn’t think her sudden need for departure tomorrow too strange. The girl was by far too shrewd.
Graciela knew they wouldn’t want to go, but she couldn’t very well leave them behind. They would all go. Fresh air. Away from prying eyes. Distance from Colin. It would serve her well and clear her head so she could decide the right thing to do.
She wouldn’t have too much time to reach that decision. She would be visibly increasing soon.
The Scandal of It All Page 17