Behind the Courtesan

by Bronwyn Stuart

  If she knew anything about the King, he would already have a man in mind. She wondered if that new man would find his place here, the place that she couldn’t.

  “Stupid, pigheaded, stubborn idiot,” she mumbled. As if the heavens agreed with her, lightning lit the afternoon’s darkness and a crack of thunder made her jump. Within two steps, her nerves heightened from anger to apprehension.

  Taking off in the storm hadn’t been the smartest of her latest moves and when Matthew’s farmhouse, the home of her somewhat happy childhood, came into view, she sighed and lengthened her stride. Her skirts pulled this way and that in the wind and her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

  Why did he have to be so rude? Did the man not know how to bite his tongue and keep his opinions to himself? He certainly wouldn’t last long as a duke in the capital if he couldn’t learn to think before he spoke. Someone would call him out at the very first slight.

  Lightning lit the sky again followed a split second later by another deafening crack of thunder. This time the sound was so loud, Sophie felt her entire body rumble. She ran the last twenty or so steps to Matthew’s front door, arriving breathless and terrified of the elements. Even if Matthew did have a horse, she wouldn’t be going anywhere until the weather eased a little.

  She shook the excess water from her hands before knocking on the door first once, then twice then a third time with no answer. Sophie bit her lip as she turned her back to the door and peered into the distance. Matthew should be back from the village and Violet wouldn’t be anywhere else but the farmhouse.

  She knocked again. Still no answer.

  Thunder boomed in the sky again and with a little squeal, Sophie pushed her way in, all sense of good manners gone with the howling wind.

  At first she only registered that the main room of the farmhouse had changed spectacularly in fourteen years. It was hard to believe she walked into the same room. The hot glow of coals in the hearth lent the space a glow that touched on a mismatch of rugs, throws and cushions. Fresh flowers with tiny pink buds erupted from a pot on one side of the huge, curtained window and to the other side, a table overflowed with well-loved books. Everywhere her gaze touched looked cozy and inviting, so different from her father’s limited, rustic taste. Trailing her fingers over the back of an old day bed that appeared to double as a sofa of sorts, Sophie moved farther into the house.

  Just as she got to the kitchen, the back door opened and Violet hurried in, one small hand supporting her overly large stomach.

  “Violet?”

  “What are you doing here?” The pail of water Violet held in her other hand crashed to the floor in a bid to outdo the noise of the thunder that followed.

  Sophie stepped back from the obviously distressed woman. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come in, I know, but you didn’t answer the door, and I...I...” She was out of excuses. “I’ll leave, I’m so sorry to have entered your home.”

  “That’s not what I—” Violet stopped talking mid-sentence, leaned over her belly and let out the loudest, longest moan Sophie had ever heard.

  Oh good God, no. Not now. “Is the baby coming?”

  “I think so, yes...no. I don’t know, but something isn’t right.”

  “Matthew didn’t come back?”

  Violet shook her head, her face pale, drawn, in pain and terrified.

  “No matter how you feel about me, I can’t leave you like this.” She couldn’t tell her that unless Matthew could swim a flooded river, then he wouldn’t be home any time soon.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Sophie bit her lip. Honesty? It was probably time for it. “I am a courtesan and I don’t belong in your very pretty home.”

  “I never said that. Well, not those exact words.”

  Before she could reply, another contraction ripped through her sister-in-law and Violet bent again. This time her knees gave out. Sophie only just caught her by the shoulders before she would have hit the rough floor.

  “How long have you been like this?”

  “Since last evening.”

  With slow, sure steps, Sophie managed to herd Violet back into the sitting room where she lowered her onto a chair. “How could Matthew have left you?”

  “He didn’t know. First babies always take so long and I didn’t want him to fuss.”

  And he would have been home well before dark if Sophie hadn’t dragged him into her mess. Perhaps Blake wasn’t the only one who needed to think before they spoke.

  “Please, don’t leave me. I need you.”

  She met the pleading eyes of a woman who didn’t care who was in the room as long as she wasn’t alone. “I’ve never actually delivered a baby, Violet.” She’d had the opportunity, but always left it to the experts to take care of. What if she did something wrong? She knew the loss of a child and would not be the cause for another woman to feel it too.

  “I have. I’ve—” Another scream filled the air and wound its way into Sophie’s heart.

  Once the worst of the pain had passed and Violet caught her breath again, she said, “I’ve attended births. You only have to do what I tell you and we’ll both be fine.”

  There was that word again. Fine. She sure hoped so. “What do I do first?”

  “Hot water and linens.”

  “That’s it? Nothing else?”

  “We don’t have time for anything else...” The last word drew out as Violet’s scream turned to a moan.

  Sophie took her hand and let her squeeze until the worst had once again passed. It took only minutes to gather the supplies Violet told her to get, linens from the chest upstairs and hot water from a kettle on the corner of the stove, but the time that passed felt like years. Silently she prayed to whoever listened that this birth would be uncomplicated and easy for her sister-in-law. She prayed for a miracle.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blake had had more than enough of the rain. He’d had enough of Daemon’s smug, superior grins of victory and he’d definitely had enough of Matthew’s scowls. Admitting that he’d slept with his best friend’s sister wasn’t the smartest move. Not that any of his actions in the previous week could boast of intelligence or even a glimmer of cleverness.

  The villagers showed the illusion of happiness and prosperity, but the truth was unattractive. He’d known it all along, but he didn’t want to believe it anymore now than he had two weeks, a year, even ten years ago. Sometimes the lies helped you sleep at night, helped you put one foot in front of the other. What other choice did they have?

  Just like Sophie.

  But perhaps in his anger at the world, at his parents and at Sophie, maybe he’d missed the point of everything. His mother had run to save her life and he’d thought her selfish when he looked back at his abandonment. Rather the truth was that she was ill and scared for her life and couldn’t drag her child into the unknown with her. His father had never claimed him. Even on his deathbed and before, the old duke had tried to destroy his supposedly illegitimate child. Probably because the truth could do so much more damage than their lies ever could.

  Then there was Sophie. Her betrayal had hurt more than the others because he believed her to be his salvation. Life with her would have brightened every dark day that had gone before. Or maybe that was the ultimate lie.

  They could have been happy or they could have been miserable. Who knows? But he had to go to her. He had to find her and have it out with her once and for all. She had to know what was in his mind before he lost his head again. Words always seemed to come out wrong when she raised his temper to a boiling point. He used to be rational.

  Perhaps he could gag her so she couldn’t argue? It was a warming thought as he climbed the stairs to her room.

  He knocked lightly on the door. If she was still furious with him, he would have to tread very carefully. “Sophie?” he called.

  No answer.

  “Please don’t do this. I want to speak to you, apologize, explain what happened.”

  Stil
l no answer.

  Blake’s anger began to grow and he took a deep calming breath before grabbing hold of the handle and throwing the door wide.

  His next words fell out in a rush. “I know you don’t want to see me but I have to explain. There are things you need to understa—” She wasn’t there.

  Cursing beneath his breath, he left the room and went back down the stairs. Maybe she was in the barn? She seemed to enjoy it there. As he stomped through the tap to the kitchen, Matthew called out to him, breathless and obviously worried.

  “Sophie is gone. We found your horse and her carriage out by the bridge, but she wasn’t there.”

  “Did you look for her? She probably went to find you. Did you check your house?”

  Matthew shook his head. “The bridge is gone, I couldn’t get across.”

  Blake didn’t have to be a mind reader to know the possibilities Matthew considered.

  Sophie could have been on the bridge when it washed away. She could have got there too late and done something reckless—she was certainly angry enough when she left—like swim across. “She wouldn’t do that, would she? She wouldn’t try to cross the river if the bridge was out.”

  “She could be anywhere,” Matthew said. “She may have tried to go around, but why would she do that on foot? She knows the way back to London but we don’t know which way she went all those years ago. And the landscape has changed around here. With all the flooding and shifting soil, she could be in real danger.”

  Damn Charles and his tightfistedness. If only the cur had fixed the bridge.

  You could have fixed it.

  And damn his own conscience too!

  “You take the east and I’ll take the west and we’ll circle back. If you find a safe place to cross, do it and check your place. We have to hope she made it across the river or is searching for a way over somewhere else.”

  “The closest crossing is miles away and it’s getting dark.”

  Blake sighed. “Then we better hope to find her quickly.”

  Within minutes the pair, along with Daemon, were stocked with the essentials for a search and set out into the blinding rain. Blake couldn’t help but remember the other time they’d searched in the dark for a girl who didn’t want to be found.

  He only hoped in this instance they were more successful. Sophie would not be so lucky a second time around.

  * * *

  “Do you believe things happen for a reason?” Violet asked, her face pale as sweat dripped from her brow.

  Sophie shook her head. “Not really. Do you think this happened for a reason? That I was out here because Matthew was not?” No need to explain that Matthew wasn’t there because of her.

  “No, I mean that you are here at all.”

  “As in alive?” Sophie asked. Were they to get philosophical at a time when Violet wore nothing more than a nightshirt and Sophie’s hands were covered in her blood? There was so much blood.

  Violet braced for yet another contraction, a long groan filled the air to drown out the pattering of rain on the roof. Once the worst was over, she continued, “No, I mean here, in this house, in this moment. When Matthew wrote you, you didn’t reply. We thought you refused to come.”

  “I didn’t want to put you in this position. I didn’t want to taint you or the babe with my presence, but he’s my brother. I could no more deny him than my next breath.”

  “You twist my words. It’s not that I didn’t want you to come. I did want to meet you. I just didn’t think you actually would.”

  Sophie was about to reply when another contraction gripped her sister-in-law. They were getting closer, but still no baby. Only blood. With every contraction more trickled out to stain the sheet. “Violet, is there supposed to be blood?” She hadn’t wanted to ask but she was ill equipped for any of this.

  Violet nodded but didn’t shed any light. Instead, she went on. “Why did you come?”

  “I had to. Matthew asked.”

  “You didn’t have to. Please, be honest with me. From one woman to another, why did you come?”

  Sophie’s hands rested against her own stomach as her heart skipped a beat. “I was pregnant.”

  “Was?”

  “I lost the baby. I couldn’t face another party, another ball, another man.”

  “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something?”

  Another contraction passed before Sophie answered. “It was for the best. A woman like me has no business raising a child.”

  “A woman like you?”

  “A courtesan. A harlot. A common prostitute.”

  “There is nothing common about you. You did what you had to to succeed. I see that now. That makes you unique and cunning, not common.”

  Sophie could almost believe Violet respected her, the decisions she’d made. Almost. “You are kind, Violet, but we both know the truth. It’s why you wouldn’t have me in your home.”

  “You’re right and that is my shame to bear. I didn’t want a courtesan in my home, around my baby. I am truly sorry for that.”

  “Thank you, Violet.”

  She’d been wrong about so much. About life in the country and about being accepted somewhere where people did know her name. Could she have been so wrong about Blake too? She doubted it, since he was the one who had started so many of their fights. Perhaps they were both too stubborn to see what was in each one’s way? If she could change her perceptions of him, then perhaps she could change his perception of her?

  “Oh, God, oh God, oh God.” Violet’s moans filled the air along with her blasphemy and Sophie had no more time to think about Blake or his thick head.

  “Is it coming?” Sophie asked. “Is this it?”

  Violet nodded and made the strangest sounds. Sounds Sophie would never in all her days forget.

  She held the toweling for what felt like forever until finally a fuzzy head appeared. “Oh, I can see it, I can see the baby’s head.”

  “What... What color is...his head?”

  Through all the muck in the hair and on his skin, it took a few seconds to see but eventually she replied, “Pink. His head is pink.”

  Only ten minutes later and Sophie held the baby in her hands, staring at her red face as she screamed her little lungs out. “It’s a girl, Violet. A beautiful baby girl.”

  Violet held her arms out and Sophie laid the baby against her chest. Her eyes welled and a tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at her niece in awe.

  “Thank you. Thank you for being here for me, with me.”

  Sophie nodded but couldn’t say a word. The lump in her throat had grown so big, she feared it would choke her.

  So many things were different here, where strong women gave birth on their kitchen tables. A city woman, noble or not, would have screamed for a doctor and probably held their legs closed until one arrived.

  As her hands went to her stomach again, Sophie thought about the baby she had lost. Would she have had the strength to deliver a baby in the midst of a storm? If she was the country woman she was meant to be, would she have been able to carry the baby all the way rather than lose it early? So many thoughts went through her mind, it was impossible to pin one down and concentrate on it.

  “There is another baby, Sophie.”

  Sophie shook her head. “Not for me. I won’t do it. I’ll not bring a child into a world where his mother is with a different man every other season. I won’t do it, I can’t.”

  “No, I mean there is another baby to come.”

  Sophie snapped her gaze to Violet’s and ran to take the baby from her. She put the girl on the floor on a mass of linens and covered her with a soft woolen blanket.

  “How do you know?” Sophie asked.

  “I can feel another. He still kicks.”

  The next thirty minutes were filled with Violet’s screams, this baby so much harder to bear, and the occasional roll of thunder. When Sophie thought perhaps Violet had been wrong, that something had gone wrong, another head appeared.


  “What color?” Violet asked, her barely there voice coming out in exhausted huffs.

  “Not pink. I think, almost blue. Violet, you have to push, you have to push now.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to. Please, please push.”

  She would not lose this baby. “Violet, push,” she yelled.

  One more contraction, one more almighty push and the body fell into her hands. Sophie didn’t have to ask what to do now. She’d seen this with sheep in the years before she’d left the country. It all came flooding back as fast as the river had taken the bridge.

  “He’s not crying,” Violet said, her voice shaky. “Why isn’t he crying?”

  “Give me a moment.” Sophie gently placed the baby on the table between Violet’s legs and placed her fingers around his little neck. Once she had the long, bloody cord away from his throat, she cleared the muck from his mouth and breathed into it with short puffs. She turned him over in her hands and patted firmly between his tiny shoulder blades, once, twice, the third time even harder.

  With a little splutter, a short breath and an almighty wail, he clenched his fists and screamed his complaints long and loud, his skin turning three shades of pink.

  Sophie fell to her knees on the floor, tears now flowing unheeded down her face to drip on the crying infant she clutched to her chest. “Looks like we are both stronger than we thought, little one.”

  * * *

  “Any sign?” Blake roared to be heard over the rushing river.

  Matthew shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth. “We have to go back. We’ll never find her in this.”

  “I’m not leaving her out here.”

  “You’ll kill yourself looking,” Daemon said as he pulled his horse to a stop in the mud.

  Blake ignored the freezing sting of the rain as it pelted his head and face. He should kill himself looking for her. It was his fault that she’d left. He could have made her welcome. He could have ignored her own barbs and acted the gentleman he knew was in him somewhere. It was all his fault.