Anna's Refuge

by Kerryn Reid

  Oh, yes, he’d noticed. “What did she say?”

  “It’s normal enough, though it takes different women different ways. Anna’s sister-in-law had the crotchets something fierce. Guess I’d rather have tears.”

  Either one sounded exhausting, both for the mother and those around her. Lewis collected his parcel from the sofa and returned to Anna’s room. She opened her eyes, dry for the moment, though bordered by dark shadows.

  “What’s that?”

  He laid it on the bed beside her and for the second time that day, lifted the baby from her arms. This time he was careful to avoid any awkward contact, however pleasant. She placed the package on her lap, untied the strings, and pulled off the plain paper wrapping. Her cheeks flushed pink, she breathed an “Oh” as she ran her hands across the furred fabric.

  “A blanket? It’s so soft!”

  The softest Lewis could find, costing more than he should have spent…though money was not so tight anymore. “Two blankets. One is for—”

  “For the baby!” She sat up straight and unfolded the smaller piece in a dusty jade. “Oh, how kind! Did you pick them out, Lewis? Was it your idea?”

  The blood rushed to his face. “Of course. Do you think I’m blind? I wouldn’t put that rag you’re using on a horse.” The baby gurgled and waved her arms, as if recalling him to his duty. When he looked up again, Anna was crying. But it was different.

  “They’re beautiful, Lewis.” She raised the wool to her cheek, closing her eyes at the luxury of it.

  Putnam peeked in the door. “I thought you might eat by the fire?”

  Lewis gave her the baby. He pulled down the bedcovers and piled the new blankets in Anna’s lap. “Hold that.” Ignoring her protests, he picked her up and maneuvered through the narrow doorway. He’d never carried a woman—what a relief to find it was easy. He wished the sofa were on the moon so he could carry her farther.

  But it was only a few steps, and then he had no excuse to keep her in his arms. She blushed as he set her down.

  Putnam had deposited the baby in her cradle and now flustered about, plumping a threadbare pillow for Anna to lean against and replacing the shawl over her shoulders. “Lift her feet now, sir.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” Anna complained. “I can—”

  Lewis peered up at her and winked. She broke off, blushing brighter. Blushes were far better than tears.

  Putnam shook out the folds in the new blanket and laid it over her, arranging and tucking it just so. Soft blue with a narrow white stripe. He’d chosen well. From the way her hands skimmed across it, caressing it, kissing it with her fingers, she thought so too. How would those fingers feel on his skin?

  It was the best dinner he’d had in weeks. A good thick stew from the kitchens at The Rose and Crown—beef and barley, carrots and onions scooped from chipped bowls using mismatched spoons.

  Their betrothal dinner, though he dared not mention the fact.

  The three of them ate together, talking about everything they didn’t know about raising a child. What would they need beyond a cradle, and later a crib? Did she need to be swaddled all the time? What did one feed an infant as she stopped nursing? When would she need shoes? How did one keep a growing girl in clothing that fit? By the time their bowls were empty, Lewis felt daunted. Judging from the women’s silence and their serious expressions, he was not alone.

  “I know who can help.” He brightened at the thought. “The vicar in Wrackwater Bridge has five children—I’ve done some tutoring for them. They’re not always clean, and not always well-behaved, but they’re well-loved and so happy! Mr. Redfern will be in Leeds tomorrow to discuss the wedding. You’ll like him. And when we get to Wrackwater Bridge, his wife can answer all our questions.” He lifted his head to see Anna’s face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s all moving so fast. Nothing at all happened for months and months, and now…” She mopped her eyes with Lewis’s handkerchief. “Now everything’s happening at once.” The tears dripped from her defiant chin. “And you never tell me anything!”

  “I am telling you.”

  “But you never ask me what I want. First Lady Wedbury, and now your vicar. You must have written him, but you didn’t tell me…didn’t ask me…”

  Lewis exchanged a mystified look with Putnam. She only shook her head. No help there.

  “Anna.” He leaned forward and took her hand. She snatched it away.

  “I don’t understand, Anna. Redfern will be marrying us. We must—”

  “What if I wanted someone else? What if…”

  What the hell was going through her brain? “You want to marry in Bristol?” Unbelievable. “It has to be one or the other.”

  “No! I only want… This will be my only wedding, shouldn’t I have some say? What if I want roses instead of orange blossoms? What if I want to decide who should give me away? What if I want a green gown, and you’ve chosen blue? Everything’s spinning and I can’t stop it. When I awake tomorrow, no doubt you’ll have assigned a name to the baby, but I’m her mother! I’m the one who…” On another rending sob, she jumped up. “Oh God, what’s wrong with me?” She started for her room but her feet caught in the blanket puddled on the floor. Lewis lurched forward as she pitched headlong, catching her before she hit the floor.

  Without thinking, and certainly without giving her a say, Lewis picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. Putnam followed him, clucking like a mother hen. “She’s exhausted, poor child. Don’t you worry about what she said.”

  “Leave us please, Putnam.”

  Lewis sank onto the bed with Anna on his lap. He wrapped her close, tucked her head beneath his jaw. She pulled herself closer still, fingers digging into his coat and cravat. Was she crying? The only sound was Putnam crooning to the baby in the parlor, yet Anna shuddered as with a fever as he rubbed her back, her shoulders, her neck, pressed his lips to her temple.

  Gradually, the shivering slowed, then stopped. He drew a little away and tipped her face toward his. Cheeks red against pale, pale white. Lips bloodless. Glazed blue-gray eyes that dropped from his to where her hands still clutched his clothing.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered, extracting her claws and smoothing the fabric.

  “For crumpling my cravat? I’m not sure I can.”

  “No.” He wanted to kiss the O of her trembling mouth. “For being such a monster. I’m so ashamed of the things I’ve said to you.”

  “Hush.” He guided her head to his shoulder where it belonged. “I think there’s a monster inside everyone. Let’s wait until you feel better. Then we’ll see what your monster has to say.”

  Chapter 38

  Lewis’s vicar arrived mid-afternoon the following day. He brought not only his wife but one of their children. Anna was taken aback, but determined to be on her best behavior today. He might joke about it, but Lewis would soon tire of being married to a watering pot.

  “This is Kate, our eldest girl,” said Mrs. Redfern, stroking her daughter’s hair. “She’s just turned nine. We apologize for landing in your roost unexpectedly. It was decided only yesterday, so there was no time to let you know.”

  How lovely she is! Her face framed by a thick cloud of dark curls, the woman glowed with life. Her smile was merely polite, her gaze assessing—yet Anna felt her warmth, her readiness to be pleased.

  Thank heavens Anna had won her battle with Putnam this morning! Being clean from her toes to the top of her head provided some courage she sorely needed in meeting these people whom Lewis so clearly respected. The blue gown helped too—Putnam had let out the seams in the bodice. It was still tight, but with the shawl over her shoulders she felt almost like a proper young lady. What a laugh that was.

  The girl, Kate, promised to resemble her mother. She had arrived wearing a big grin, holding tight to Lewis’s hand, and once the courtesies were done she gave it a tug. “Mr. Aubrey, where is the baby?”

  “S
he’s keeping warm by the fire,” Lewis replied, leading her to the cradle. “But she’s sleeping, so you must be quiet.”

  “Well of course.” She gave him a very adult look of condescension and dropped to her knees.

  Lewis turned to Anna. “It’s time you sat down.” A mutinous don’t-tell-me-what-to-do flared, but she tamped it down. He was right.

  Mrs. Redfern took the seat beside her on the sofa. “How long has it been since the birth?”

  “A week today, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Aubrey tells me she doesn’t yet have a name?”

  Anna blushed. “No. I haven’t thought of anything that sounds right.”

  Kate spoke from the baby’s side. “Oh, ma’am, how pink her cheeks are, like the roses in our garden. She looks more like you, I think, than Mr. Aubrey.”

  The blush burned hotter. Did Mr. and Mrs. Redfern know which Mr. Aubrey had…? She didn’t dare peek, but there was an awkward pause. Yes, they knew.

  Lewis interrupted the silence. “When she awakes, you’ll know how right you are. Her eyes are definitely her mother’s.”

  Putnam set the cups and saucers on the little table and went to get sugar, cream, and all the rest. At a word from her mother, Kate jumped up to help.

  Mr. Redfern cleared his throat. “Shall we get to business then? I dine with Reverend Fawcett at six, so our time is limited.”

  There was a delay while Mrs. Redfern poured the tea. Kate distributed the cups carefully and then squeezed her skinny frame between the two ladies.

  She beamed at Anna. “Mr. Aubrey is teaching me to fence.”

  “Is he?” Anna’s responding smile was tenuous. She hadn’t known he fenced. There must be a great many things she didn’t know about him.

  Mr. Redfern spoke to Lewis. “A common license will serve your purposes. That still means a drive to York, but it costs less than a special and avoids the banns. They’ll waive the bond if I’m there to vouch for you.”

  Lewis shook his head. “I shan’t ask you to take a day from your schedule to take me to York.”

  The vicar winked. “It’s good to be seen in the archbishop’s office now and again. But I can’t go until after Christmas.”

  Christmas! Not once had Anna thought of Christmas.

  “And once you have the license, you must wait seven days.” His gaze rested on Anna. “I’m guessing—”

  “Nay, ’tis too soon,” Putnam said from her stance behind the sofa. “She should not be moved for three weeks yet. A day’s drive will tire her out. And the little one, in the cold…”

  Mrs. Redfern nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Lewis stepped forward, looming over them.

  “No. I want her out of here. Someplace warm and comfortable, with kitchens and regular meals. No insult to you, Putnam, the conditions here are impossible. In Wrackwater Bridge, Anna can start finding her feet. We can start looking for a nursery maid.”

  Anna’s fingers hurt, so tightly were they clenched. Her breath shuddered as she inhaled, opening her claws to spread them flat across her lap. He might love her, or he might not. Either way he would take care of her, because he was a remarkable man and she was—would soon be—his wife.

  Silence caught her attention. The vicar and his wife held some sort of unspoken conversation between themselves, and then Mrs. Redfern nodded and turned to Anna.

  “My dear, would you come to us? The vicarage is not opulent, and it’s certainly not quiet, but we have a pleasant room you can keep as warm as you like, with a nice big chair for nursing or reading. You may keep the baby with you, or she can sleep with Toby, our two-year-old. There’s room for your maid—Putnam, is it?—and a nursery maid too if need be. In fact, I know of someone who might suit.”

  “Oh!” was all Anna could say as those hated tears threatened. She glanced at Lewis, but his thoughtful frown was directed at Mrs. Redfern. Did he know about this? Does he disapprove?

  Kate peered into her face, all eagerness to hear the decision Anna was incapable of making. She soldiered on as best she could.

  “It’s so kind of you. I… I don’t know what to say. I’m grateful for your generosity, yours and Mr. Redfern’s.” That the vicar himself should take in a fallen woman and her illegitimate child… What would people think?

  She could give no answer without knowing Lewis’s mind. And his attention was on the fire.

  Mrs. Redfern reached across Kate to pat her hands. “You needn’t say anything now, Miss Spain. You are certainly not ready to travel with us tomorrow. You and Mr. Aubrey must discuss things, and when the time comes, you’ll let us know what you’ve decided.”

  “I will.”

  Some slight movement from inside the cradle set it in motion. Stirred from his thoughts, Lewis peered down, the frown dissipating.

  A whimper sounded. Kate flew off the sofa and perched on the floor at Lewis’s feet. She rubbed the baby’s tummy and cooed something Anna couldn’t hear, perhaps not words at all. A jerk of swaddled legs again rocked the cradle accompanied by the baby’s familiar cross sounds. Anna shifted forward, ready to rise and go to her. Putnam bustled forward on the same errand.

  Kate beat them both to it.

  “Careful!” Lewis bent down, his hands outstretched to intervene.

  His caution, totally ignored by Kate, proved unnecessary. Cross-legged on the floor, her lap made a cozy nest, just the right shape and size to hold an infant. She babbled and made funny faces while the baby lay still, watching her. Lewis smiled on them from above. Another subject for a drawing. Anna could see the title. “Family.”

  “Kate is so good.” Anna pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve as she fought tears. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  But she did know. In the short time they’d been there, Anna saw how close Kate and her mother were, saw the relationship she had wanted and never known. The relationship she wanted with her own daughter.

  Mrs. Redfern squeezed her arm. “My dear, go easy on yourself. Everything is forgiven a woman after childbirth.”

  “How long do I have, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Redfern laughed, a melodious ripple of sound. “Oh, at least three months. Pay attention, Mr. Aubrey!”

  “I beg your pardon?” he said, shifting his gaze their way.

  “Miss Spain has three months to become a normal, thinking woman again.”

  “A normal, thinking woman?” The vicar chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I’m not certain those three words belong in the same sentence, dearest.”

  “You!” exclaimed his wife. “You shall get your comeuppance, sir!”

  Anna laughed too, and Lewis. But the mirth faded quickly when their eyes met. Is that how a married couple should be? Can we hope to achieve anything like it? She could not imagine how it was done.

  But oh, she meant to try!

  Anna made her adieus and Lewis escorted his friends downstairs to their carriage. He was laughing as he left. Before today, when had she heard his laughter? Perhaps a handful of times.

  After all the excitement of the last hour, the baby began to fuss. When Lewis returned and sat beside her, she warned him. “I need to feed her soon.”

  Lewis felt for the feet inside the wooly new blanket and gave them a shake. “I’d appreciate it if you’d allow us a few minutes, baby girl. Your mama and I have decisions to make.” He tickled the baby under her chin, grinning when she gurgled at him.

  “I know there’s a name inside her waiting to be discovered, but how long can we go on calling her the baby?” Anna said. “She made Kate think of roses. How about Rose?”

  Lewis pursed his lips in thought but said nothing, so she hurried on.

  “Or Carol, because it’s Christmas? Or Hope? Helen is nice.”

  Still he said nothing.

  “You don’t care?” Her voice quavered.

  “I care about her, and I’ll care just as much whether she’s called Rose or…or Nettle. Don’t name her after my mother, that’s all I ask.”

  “Nor mine.” Anna
ducked her head. “But perhaps after you. Louisa, or Eloise?”

  “Ugh. No, you don’t want to do that.”

  She could hardly speak. “You gave her back to me, Lewis. I can never give you anything half so valuable.”

  He took her trembling hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles, lingering there for just a moment. “You owe me nothing. The two of you are ample compensation.”

  His voice sounded as husky as hers. His gaze fixed on their locked hands, he went on. “I hope you don’t think I view your dowry as payment for marrying you. I would have done it in any case, but we might have ended up in a place like this.” His gaze made a brief circuit of the room, his lips stretched into a grimace. “That’s not what I want for you, Anna.”

  “The thought never crossed my mind, Lewis. I know you better than that. I am curious, however, to know how much my father paid to be rid of me.”

  He told her. “You could think of it as how much he paid to ensure your comfort and happiness. But knowing what I know now, I’m amazed I was able to get a shilling.”

  “I expect it’s Mama’s money, but regardless, you must have made quite an impression on him.” Lewis only laughed, but she felt better. She brought something to the marriage, something tangible. A comfortable silence lengthened, the baby gurgling contentedly between them.

  “They’re very nice, your friends,” Anna ventured.

  “The Redferns? They’re the best people I know. It’s the perfect place for you, except for the constant commotion. It would be quieter at the Wedburys’, but with Jack the way he is… In any case, Lady Wedbury didn’t offer. They’ve promised their carriage for the move, however. I go home with the vicar tomorrow—I’ve some arrangements to make. I’ll be back here the day after Christmas, and we’ll drive north together the following day. If that suits you.”

  “Will you stay with the Wedburys? Until the wedding?”