by Riker, Becky
She sighed, “I am not sure what makes you behave in such a manner, Finn. I assume it is what you knew as a child.”
He assumed his mother had mentioned his father’s infidelity. Regardless, he did not care to discuss his dissolute behavior with his wife. She was, however, not finished.
“Perhaps, there is someone you can speak to who could help you with it.”
Finn furrowed his brow, “Who do you think could help me with this, I pray?”
“A clergyman, or Nicholas, maybe.”
Finn laughed, “I will not be speaking to a clergyman about this matter or any other, but, in case it will make your pious heart beat more easily, I’ll tell you that I did speak of it with Nicholas.”
Her face softened, “Really? And what did he say?”
Finn slid down into the seat, “There was little he could say. The deed had been done.”
“But, Finn,” she sat next to him. “What about next time?”
He straightened like a ramrod, “Next time?!”
“Yes,” Naomi took his hand, “I understand this is not the first time you have had this difficulty. Perhaps you can get some advice – ”
“It certainly is the first time!” he could not believe what he was hearing. And why was she so calm about him having a child?
She frowned in obvious skepticism, “You were arrested for gambling debts the first time you gambled?”
“Arrested for. . .” sudden revelation took his breath away.
“Are you ill, Finn?” she put her hands on his face and turned it toward her own.
He removed her hands from his face but held fast to her wrists, “I was not arrested for gambling,” he spoke slowly. “Rowan was.”
She gasped, “Oh, Finn. I am truly sorry.”
He pinned her arms to her sides and leaned forward. Her eyes widened in fear, but he could not stop now.
“You are right. He was not arrested the first time, but I have been bailing him out for years.”
She scarcely drew a breath.
“You will wonder, then, what I feared you had discovered.”
She did not look curious so much as terrified.
“I discovered last month that I had fathered a child about two years ago.”
Tears began to make their way down Naomi’s cheeks. He could not say if it was his news or because he was hurting her.
“I paid them to take her away, my love. So you need not worry that she will ever be a bother to us or be discovered by our friends and relations.”
She pressed her lips together, and he could see she was about to lose all her composure.
“I had hoped to keep it from you – to protect you from the ugliness of my past. Why would I mar my perfect and innocent wife with that kind of information? Why would I destroy all chance of happiness I may have with her?”
He dropped her wrists and stood quickly, “I can see you are only too ready to believe the worst of me,” he turned toward the door and spoke over his shoulder as he left the room. “I shall pretend no longer.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Naomi did not try to stop Finn as he prepared to leave the house. She did not know what to say or how she should react.
He had hurt her on three points. The first was that he had accused her of participating in gossip to spite him. Of course, she had not gone in with that intention, but the damage was just as severe as if she had been trying to injure him.
The second point was that Finn had a child from a previous relationship. He had not even known Naomi at that point, and, though she was still hurt by the disclosure, she knew he could not have done it to wound her.
The third point, and the most painful, was that Finn declared he was no longer interested in investing his energy into their marriage. In his eyes, she had betrayed him by believing the lies, and he could not forgive her for it.
Naomi stumbled blindly to her room, wishing she could harden her heart to her husband. Perhaps if she could view him as a stranger or with the same detachment she felt toward her father, this would not hurt as much.
She spent a good portion of the day crying in her room. Missy came to bring her some tea, but Naomi would have none of it.
“I do not wish to concern you, Missy,” she moved away from the tray, “but I have no appetite.”
“Miss,” she pressed, “you know you gets a bit lightheaded when you don’t eat.”
“I promise you,” Naomi stood and walked to the window, “I will eat tomorrow. Please do not press me about it today.”
The maid left.
While alone in her room, Naomi had lit upon another source of pain. Finn had said he did not even care to know his own child. He had paid someone to take her away. Naomi found she could bear the other wrongs more easily than that. How had he been able to turn his back on an innocent child who had no dealing in how she was conceived?
Naomi did eat the following day, but she consumed little. The next week followed suit. Mrs. Hollingberry began making meals that she believed would entice the young mistress.
“I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Hollingberry,” she remarked as they were planning the next weeks’ menu, “but I will eat when I am hungry.”
“You look thinner, madam.”
Naomi could tell a difference in her dresses as well, but she didn’t remark on that.
“Please just prepare what will please Mrs. Haydn,” Naomi stood up and left.
Spring came three weeks later. The snow was gone, it was not raining, and there were hints of green scattered about the garden.
“I think I will take a walk down by the lake, Missy,” Naomi tied up her bonnet. “It seems a shame to let the day go unseen.”
“I’ll fetch you another wrap, Mrs. Haydn,” the young woman moved quickly to the wardrobe. “It is like to be a bit nippy out near the water.”
Naomi doubted she was going to need more layers, but she didn’t argue.
“Perhaps, you should take a bit of a biscuit or a piece of fruit in case you get peckish while you are out there.”
Naomi laughed. She had eaten breakfast less than an hour before, but Missy and Mrs. Hollingberry were always attempting to stuff more into her.
“I will stop by the kitchen and see if there are any scones left from breakfast, Missy.”
The maid scurried to follow her mistress, “I can do that for you.”
Naomi ended up with two scones and an apple, none of which would she probably eat.
She had walked a good distance and was tiring. She saw a fallen log and decided to sit and rest a while.
A flash of black and white from somewhere across the meadow caught her eye. Peering a little closer, she realized it was a house martin. She noted to herself that she should make sure the groundskeeper was putting out seed for the birds as it was early enough in the season that snow and cold were still distinct possibilities.
She stood to her feet and dusted off the back side of her dress. She was about to take a step when a wave a nausea overtook her, and she had to sit down.
Naomi had, in the past, suffered an occasional dizzy spell. They were usually the result of eating too little or too infrequently. She sighed, hoping the sensation would pass so she could be on her way back to the house. It was starting to turn chilly.
Naomi rose, more slowly this time, and began walking back up the path. Her stomach was no longer turning, but her head felt a little strange. She blinked at the black spots that danced before her eyes. They did not disappear. Naomi stopped walking and took a deep breath.
That did not help either.
Naomi took one more step at which point she perceived the ground rushing up to meet her. Then she saw no more.
“I tell you,” a voice hissed, “she would not want us to do it.”
Naomi tried to open her eyes.
“When the master discovers it, we shall suffer the consequences if we keep quiet,” that was Mrs. Smythe.
Naomi tried to speak, but it came out as a groan.
“Do not speak, my dear,’ Mrs. Smythe again. “You’ve taken a little spill.”
She groaned again.
“The doctor is on his way,” Missy informed her. “Best lie still until then.”
Naomi forced her eyes open. She glanced around and realized she was in Finn’s study. Her attempt to sit upright was thwarted by a firm hand to her shoulder.
“Just lay there, Mrs. Haydn,” the housekeeper ordered. “You’ll not have long to wait.”
Naomi cleared her throat, “I have evidently been moved from whence I fell. I see no harm in positioning myself more comfortably now.”
Missy helped her to a sitting position, “Careful now.”
“Why don’t you take a little sip of this broth,” Mrs. Smythe held a spoon to her lips.
Naomi allowed a few drops past her lips before turning her head away.
“You fell unconscious, madam,” Missy informed her. “You need to eat something.”
Naomi set her feet on the floor, “This is possibly true, but I would prefer to take care of that myself.”
Mrs. Smythe chuckled, “It is nice to know you still have your wits about you.”
Mr. Dillon knocked on the door and entered, “Mr. Mitchell, madam.”
Naomi frowned at her maid and housekeeper, “You sent for the doctor?”
The housekeeper rose and left the room swiftly, but Missy remained, moving only to sit in the corner of the room.
“You took a fall, Mrs. Haydn?”
“I did,” she saw no harm in admitting it, “but it was very slight, and I am feeling much better now.”
The man smiled, “I suppose you won’t mind if I take a look at your head and ask a few questions just for my own comfort.”
Naomi sighed.
It took all of ten minutes for the doctor to come to a conclusion, “You are with child, Mrs. Haydn.”
Missy shifted in the corner. Naomi used all her restraint to avoid looking at her.
“I have suspected as much,” she admitted to Mr. Mitchell, “but I have not dared give full rein to my hope yet.”
“You are right to have low expectations,” he packed up his bag. “Many women lose their babies in the first weeks. You are, without a doubt, however, in the family way.”
Naomi cleared her throat, “I have another matter I wish to discuss with you.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Are you otherwise unwell?”
“No,” she glanced at Missy. “This is not about me.”
The doctor was surprised at the lady’s questions, but he answered them as clearly as possible.
“I trust both matters we discussed today will remain between us.”
It was the doctor’s turn to look at the maid.
“Missy is the soul of discretion.”
He nodded, “Of course, Mrs. Haydn.”
Naomi rose and walked to the door, opening it for the doctor, “Thank you for coming.”
She closed the door and leaned against it.
“Are you unwell?” Missy was at her side in a moment. “I will go ask the doctor to come back.”
Naomi shook her head and opened the door again, “Thank you, but no.”
Missy recognized the dismissal and turned to leave the room.
Naomi stopped her with a hand to the arm, “I trust this will not be discussed.”
Missy nodded, “Of course, Mrs. Haydn.”
Naomi waited until she was alone and then buried her face in her hands and cried. She really did want a child, but the idea of carrying it and caring for it alone – without Finn – was heartbreaking. He would probably argue that this child was different than the one he had given up, but she could not shake the feeling that his casual dismissal of one child showed an apathy for life.
There was also a chance Finn was so angry with her right now that he would not want her to be with child. Granted, he had to eventually produce an heir. For all she knew, he had come home the month before just for the fulfillment of that requirement.
Naomi dried her tears and left her husband’s study. Given what she had seen in there, it was not her favorite room.
Nobody stopped her on her way to the master suite, but Missy was at her door within moments. She had food.
“You’ll want to be eating something now,” she set the food down on a small table.
It occurred to Naomi that Missy was right. She was not responsible only for her own health now. She had the child to consider. Naomi placed a hand on her flat tummy.
“Does maple chicken sound good to you?” the maid lifted a lid off a plate. “Mrs. Hollingberry made crescent rolls too.”
Naomi inhaled. It smelled good.
Missy left her alone to eat by herself. Naomi wished she had some company for these times. On occasion, her mother or sister would come for a visit, but what she really wanted was her husband.
Her appetite left her.
Naomi walked over to her writing table and opened a drawer. She withdrew her latest letter from Finn. She had received it the week before and had not yet replied.
Dear Naomi,
From your last letter, I gather you are in good health. It is good that you are able to walk so much about the grounds. Now that the weather is beginning to clear, you will likely have more opportunities to do so.
In answer to your question regarding the bend in the creek, yes, it does tend to flood every year. However, it also produces the loveliest kingcups there. A little further up the creek bed, you will find some irises as well.
You mentioned that you are anxious to see me, but I find there is much to be done in town right now. I do not believe I will be back to Selby soon. Perhaps it will be easier for you if you do not write so often.
Sincerely,
Finneas Haydn
The hurt was just as great reading it now as it was when she first read it, but she knew she needed to inform her husband of the doctor’s discovery.
Dear Finn,
I am sorry to have been troubling you with my letters. I do not wish to cause you any undue stress. I had intended to wait a while longer to write.
However, it has come to my notice that we are to expect a child in the autumn. I am well, and the doctor has stopped by to visit me.
I will keep you updated on the progress.
Sincerely,
Naomi Haydn
She sealed the letter and rang for a maid.
“Mrs. Haydn,” Missy’s voice was full of rebuke, “you have not touched your food.”
Naomi almost laughed, “I did not call you here to take my food. I felt it necessary to send a letter to Mr. Haydn immediately.”
She placed the envelope in her maid’s hand.
Missy colored, “I beg your pardon.”
“Thank you, Missy,” Naomi sat back down and picked up her fork. “That will be all.”
Three days passed and Naomi had not heard from her husband. He surely had received the letter. Naomi had not expected a response, but she had hoped for one.
“Would you like me to take the rest of the mail to Mr. Dillon’s office?” the young maid stood expectantly beside her mistress.
“Yes, thank you,” Naomi’s answer was rather distracted.
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but are you feeling okay?”
Naomi refocused and looked at the girl, “Yes, I am well, Marianne. Thank you for asking,” she gave the letters up and went to find her mother-in-law.
Diana was unexpectedly sober. Naomi was relieved.
“I need a moment of your time, Mrs. Haydn,” she remained standing and attempted to speak in a respectful manner.
Diana was seated at a table and appeared to be working on a screen, “Have a seat.”
Naomi did as she was told.
“What is it you wish to say?”
Naomi thought she sounded like a queen condescending to speak with a subject.
“I came to speak to you about your lady’s maid.”
“Liz?” the woman turned her full attention to Naomi. �
�Whatever could interest you regarding her? She spends the vast majority of her time dusting the same table.”
“She also spends time with the carriers,” Naomi did not beat around the bush.
Diana’s expression did not falter.
“And the carriers bring more than produce and supplies from town, Mrs. Haydn. They also bring gossip.”
“Just what are you implying?” her hard tone gave evidence of her irritation.
Naomi reminded herself to speak softly, slowly, and distinctly, “I do not want Liz to be bringing tales to or from the carriers. In fact, I would like you to forbid her to meet the carriers when they come.”
Diana’s reserve broke, “What makes you think you can come into this house and start making rules about my servants?” her voice rose.
Somehow, Naomi found the yelling easier to stomach than the cold treatment just moments before.
“I will remind you, Mrs. Haydn, that you are now a guest in my home. While I would like you to feel welcome in my home, I am now requiring you to follow the rules of the house.”
Diana’s nostrils were flaring, and Naomi almost feared the woman was going to suffer an apoplectic fit. However, she needed to continue.
“There will be no strong drink allowed in the house from now on.”
Diana gripped the arms of the chair.
“My husband detests liquor, and I am doing this to please him.”
Diana shook her head and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Naomi dipped her head as a small measure of respect toward the older woman, “Good day, madam.”
Naomi left on shaking legs, hurrying down to the music room where she knew she would find some comfort in the piano.
After a time no less than an hour, Naomi ceased her attention to the instrument and went to find Mr. Dillon.
“I would like you to gather the staff so I may speak to them. Is there one time that will be more convenient than another?”
He gave her a time.
“Thank you,” she took a breath, “and I will require Mrs. Haydn’s maid to be present.”
His gaze did not even flicker, “Yes, ma’am.”
Naomi left him then to take her afternoon walk. She hoped the stroll would calm her nerves, but she discovered it only made it worse. The flowers and trees were not distracting her from the thing she must do.