The baby began to squirm uncomfortably, rooting about for the fist she had sucked on so contentedly a few moments before. Unable to find it, she let out a lusty wail and Drayton smiled down at her with even greater awe. Roused from slumber by the baby’s cry, Ambrosia opened her eyes and saw them. A moment later, Drayton’s eyes met hers. She looked away uneasily.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he apologized as he moved to place the baby in her outstretched arms. Her dark hair was tousled, her cheeks pale, but her eyes glowing as she took the child into her arms and comforted her. The gentleness she so rarely allowed anyone to see was there, and Drayton felt himself falling in love with that part of her all over again. He also felt, in spite of himself, a pang of jealousy. She looked hesitantly up for a moment before she unfastened her nightgown to allow the baby to suckle at her breast. Drayton glanced about for Lily but found that she had somehow managed to slip from the room unnoticed. They were alone. He watched Ambrosia feed the baby in silence, sensing her closeness to the child. He clenched his fists at his side to keep from reaching out to his wife, to keep from touching her cheek, or holding her hand. Pride could not allow him to do any of those things after the brutal lessons of the past. So he simply watched her, feeling isolated, like a stranger observing from a distance, his stomach knotting, his fists clenching ever more tightly.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Ambrosia said softly, running the tip of her finger over the small, dark head.
“More than that,” Drayton told her, his throat painfully tight. “She’s absolutely perfect.”
Ambrosia searched his face for a moment before she smiled, pleased that he seemed satisfied with a daughter rather than a son. There was a short silence. ‘’Her eyes are very blue, just like yours. I-I’m surprised how much she already resembles you.” His eyes warmed considerably at the comment, and she began to smile again as well. But suddenly she was aware of the lingering scent of cheap liquor that clung to his clothing, which was rumpled and soiled. For the second time that day, she knew a deep stab of disappointment. He had chosen to spend his day in a tavern even though he knew the child was coming.
“Lily said that urgent business took you from the house this morning,” she said, toying with the baby’s hand.
Drayton ran a hand nervously through his hair, and when Ambrosia glanced up at him, he was staring at the child. He said nothing. She bit her lip. “My father left Heritage when I was born,’’ she said softly, after a long moment. “He wanted a son. He was terribly disappointed. “ She frowned, finding that she was suddenly very near tears. She did not know why she had told Drayton any of this. She had never come close to telling anyone before...even Ledger. She felt him take a seat beside her on the bed, felt the warm strength of his fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Who told you that?”
“No one.” Her voice was small and childlike. “But I knew. A child always knows if he isn’t wanted.’’ For the next few moments she refused to meet his eyes again. All the same, he knew her words had come from the heart.
They touched his own. “This child is wanted,” he said finally in a quiet voice.
She nodded, then lifted eyes that were dark and gray and bright with tears. Somehow he had known they would be. A moment later she looked away from him, as she always seemed to look away. He did not know that she was suddenly recalling the threats he had made of taking this child away, of placing her in an asylum, threats which frightened her more now than ever before. He only knew that she was withdrawing from him again, that the single moment of intimacy was gone as swiftly as it had come.
“It’s late,” he said softly, rising and putting a more comfortable distance between them. “And you must be very tired. ‘’
Still carefully avoiding his eyes, she gave a nod. He bent to touch the baby’s hair, fine and soft as down, lingering a moment longer before he reluctantly mouthed a good night and left them to their rest.
Chapter 36
Drayton and Ambrosia spent the better part of the next morning choosing a name for their daughter, finally deciding on Mary Amanda, Mary for Drayton’s mother who had died when he was a child, and Amanda for Ambrosia’s grandmother Amanda Grayson. But within an hour the name was shortened to Mandy, a label that seemed to suit the tiny baby much better.
During the next two days, it seemed that Mandy spent every moment in Drayton’s arms that she did not spend in Ambrosia’s. He held her and studied her every move and expression, watching her as she slept, walking the floor and speaking to her in low, calming tones when she cried, smiling with joy when her wee fist wrapped tightly about his forefinger. He was every inch the proud father, even as Ambrosia was the adoring mother. But the apprehension, the uneasiness between husband and wife only fed on the time they spent together with their child.
The color flared in Ambrosia’s cheeks whenever he watched her breastfeed the baby clearly betraying her self-consciousness. And there were moments when suddenly their eyes would lock, and their smiles would vanish, a tense expectancy growing almost unbearable until one of them looked away. They were all but strangers to one another, held apart by barriers that had been erected long before. And a shared attachment to this small new life was not strong enough to begin to remove those barriers. As the novelty wore thin, the silent friction between them grew, and Ambrosia fearfully pulled further and further away.
Just two days after Mandy’s birth, Drayton knew he could not remain at Elmwood. The child he had shared in creating, the warm little baby who slept so contentedly in his arms, needed her mother far more than she needed him. Mandy belonged with Ambrosia, and he did not belong at all. On the morning of the third day, he quietly packed his things and made known his intentions to move permanently to the house in Gramercy Park.
“But you’re taking all of your things,” Lily protested in bewildered disappointment.
“The factories are due to open soon, Lily. I can’t expect Tom to handle all the responsibility himself.” He turned toward her slowly and met her eyes. ‘’I’m planning to stay in town,” he told her evenly. “I have a house there, and it’s foolish to waste time traveling back and forth.”
Lily searched his face, biting back the words that rushed to her lips. She knew very well he hated that house, that he was leaving here for a different reason. But to confront him with that knowledge now would only drive him further away. Perhaps he merely needed time by himself to think, she thought hopefully. And perhaps, if he left for just a little while, Ambrosia would think things through as well.
“We’ll expect you home for Sunday supper,” she said in what she hoped was a light tone.
“Not this week.”
“Then next. Promise me, Drayton.”
He sighed as he lifted his bags, giving her a small smile that did little to boost her hopes. “We’ll see.”
Ambrosia was relieved that Drayton spent so much of his time in the city during those first weeks, since his presence made her so uncomfortable. She was still so very afraid that he would lock her away forever, that she would be separated from her baby. Ambrosia knew that she would never survive that. But when Drayton paid only two brief visits to Elmwood during the months of August and September, that fear eased a bit, leaving her with only a feeling of tension and anxiety whenever she thought of him. He said very little to her during those visits, concentrating his attention almost entirely on his daughter. Drayton was awed by Mandy’s growth each time he saw her and thrilled with the way she was already beginning to respond to his voice. He questioned Ambrosia about her progress, about her daily schedule, and showed an interest in everything she told him. Yet Ambrosia noticed that whenever they spoke or chanced to touch, there was a cold, studied indifference to him, a careful keeping at arm’s length. She was quite hesitant, therefore, to speak with him about dismissing Miss Wilcox, even though the older woman had become overbearing and almost impossible for
Ambrosia to live with.
Almost two months after Mandy’s birth, Miss Wilcox still insisted on clothing and diapering and bathing the baby, refusing Ambrosia’s help and discarding any comments she made as to the baby’s care. The older woman was increasingly adamant in her suggestions that a wet nurse be hired for the baby, since “a proper woman wouldn’t want to risk the disfigurement long-term suckling might cause.”
It was only when Lily insisted that Ambrosia speak with Drayton that she managed to work up the courage to make the request just after Sunday supper. Ambrosia had eaten next to nothing, but the moment the meal was finished, she politely requested that Drayton have a word with her in the parlor. In private. She was shaking slightly as he closed the door, feeling the same tension she always felt when she was near him. She told herself that she must be calm so that she could state her case clearly, briefly. But it was very very hard to control the trembling in her voice, which sounded thin and shaky in spite of her best efforts. Her eyes only dared to meet his once, briefly, so she was unaware of the anger that flared in him when she related things Miss Wilcox had said arid done.
‘’The situation has become...quite difficult in the past weeks,” she concluded. She paused a moment and searched his face, not quite knowing what else to say. He was silent. “I-I know that you hired her to-”
Ambrosia stopped short, her eyes quickly avoiding his, her cheeks paling as she recalled exactly why he had hired the woman. For the first time since that night she felt more than just a brief pang of guilt for having tried to run away, for having endangered Mandy’s life as well as her own. She felt terribly ashamed. How had she ever rationalized such a reckless scheme in her mind, knowing that she carried a life? And how had she justified hating him for protecting that life, first in Charleston, by forcing her into marriage so that the baby would have a name, and again by keeping her prisoner here? She closed her eyes tightly against the burning tears that filled her eyes as she pictured Mandy, beautiful, healthy Mandy, thin and sickly and dressed in rags, a child of the streets, a child of poverty. She felt Drayton’s eyes upon her, waiting for her to continue. But she could not begin to lift her eyes to face the indictment she was certain was there in his face. She swallowed hard several times, the silence tearing at her control, the shame flooding her heart. “I-I have no intention of-of leaving here,’’ she said so softly that he hardly heard the words. She squared her shoulders and finally met his cold blue eyes, wanting very much to cry that she was sorry, that she finally saw how wrong she had been. But there was no reason to think he expected or wanted an apology now. His eyes said clearly that he wanted nothing from her. Nothing. “I-I give you my word that I will not leave Elmwood,” she forced herself to say.
Drayton stared at her for a long moment, remembering another time when they had played out a similar scene. She had disobeyed his order then and had only given her promise to obey when he had forced her to do so. He had won that battle, but all the while she had mouthed the words the hatred inside her had burned. And in the end that hatred had been the victor, leaving nothing of victory or even pride in him. He turned away from her squared shoulders and tear-brightened eyes, wanting to laugh now at Lily’s assurances that she had changed, that she was no longer hate-filled and full of vengeance. His wounds were too fresh and deep for him to begin to believe that, for him to risk feeling anything beyond anger or indifference. He had been a fool once too often to see anything in Ambrosia’s face that he could trust.
“I shall leave the decision of Miss Wilcox’s employment up to Lily,’’ he said finally, turning again to face her, knowing full well that Lily would dismiss the woman. At least by leaving the decision to someone else, Drayton had not admitted trusting his wife. It was something Ambrosia was instantly aware of and hurt by. “Is there anything else?” he asked in a cool , impersonal tone.
She swallowed a large lump in her throat and shook her head. Without another word, he turned his back on her and left the room.
After Miss Wilcox’s departure in late September, Ambrosia struggled to keep up with her baby’s immediate needs, clumsily changing Mandy’s clothing and bedding and worrying herself sick each and every time the baby cried. Even with Emily’s help, Ambrosia found it difficult. She had never realized that the skills of child care were learned with a great deal of time and practice, but she was determined not to relinquish her responsibilities to anyone else. She loved Mandy too much for that. And eventually her determination to learn won her confidence and skill.
By the first week of October Mandy had settled into a schedule of regular napping in the morning and afternoon, leaving Ambrosia free for several hours each day. She began to spend her free time walking about the grounds of Elmwood, where the vivid colors of autumn were splashed so dramatically across hill and sky. The pleasant crunch of dried leaves marked her every footstep and a nearby brook rushed and gurgled, but otherwise there was only peace and quiet. Overhead were the same trees she had studied from an attic window weeks before, though they were no longer lush and green. The green had yielded to gold and brown and crimson, and the air whispered of a harsher winter than she had ever known at Heritage. Everything was different here. Often when she thought of home she was keenly aware of the emptiness that still remained in her heart. For so much of her life she had lived only to be strong and brave. Even as a child Ledger had recognized that part of her, had admired her for her courage and strength. They were the only qualities anyone had ever admired in her, the only ones she had ever thought to accept in herself. But in spite of her mightiest efforts to be strong and brave as her father had been, to deny pain and grief and loss as he would have done, she had failed. Loss had broken her. There was nothing left of the courage and strength that had been her identity. The realization filled Ambrosia with fear and despair. Sometimes when she was far from the house, she would fall to her knees and cry, wondering why she had been left to face life after her soul had been destroyed, almost wishing that her body had died as well. But then she would think of Mandy, so soft and warm and perfect, lying in the crook of her arm, depending on her, drawing nourishment from her breast. She did not feel worthy of the love Mandy gave her. And Lily... The woman who had stayed beside her and cared for her the day Mandy was born. Ambrosia could not understand why Lily had been so kind, so warm to her, after all she had done. It frightened her. So many things frightened her now. More than anything she feared that she would never deserve the love that was given to her so freely here, at Elmwood. But she did know that she desperately needed that love now, that she could no longer face the thought of existing without it.
It seemed there were never enough hours in the day for Drayton to accomplish all he wanted to do after the factories commenced production in early September. In addition to managing the warehouse, taking full control of the books, and monitoring the factories themselves, he made personal calls on over fifty carriage manufacturers in and around the city seeking to market his products. Though the new grinding process turned out an obviously superior grade of color, a fine texture never before possible, selling those paints still proved the most difficult task of all. Too many businesses had been hurt in the past year by unreliable deliveries or were still giving refunds for the inferior paints Aaron had substituted without their knowledge. Any carriage painter willing to talk with Drayton was offered full compensation for damages suffered at the fault of Rambert Paints in the form of the new, top-quality paints. Though an expensive proposition, it did prod several reluctant painters to try the new products, and by the end of October sizable reorders were being processed, filled, and delivered to companies who had begrudgingly accepted compensation six weeks earlier. The factories were only operating at a fraction of their capacity, but the first glimmer of light was shining at the end of a long tunnel.
Chapter 37
The month of October flew swiftly past without Drayton’s visiting Elmwood a single time. Though clearly disappointed at his absence, Lily r
egularly excused her nephew by talking about the tremendous amount of work he was doing to rebuild his father’s business, the almost impossible task he had undertaken. Whenever Lily spoke of Drayton, Ambrosia would force herself to appear pleasantly attentive, but she actually felt uncomfortable. She could not forget the guilt she’d felt the night she’d asked for Miss Wilcox’s dismissal, and she was always relieved when Lily steered her conversation in another direction.
The days became shorter, the air sharper as the month of November began. In spite of Lily’s repeated invitations, Ambrosia kept away from the parlor whenever the Spindle sisters came for their weekly card games and refused to go with Lily on her visits to friends who lived nearby. She even shied away from sharing an occasional dinner with Reverend Walsh, taking her dinner instead in her room to avoid confronting an outsider. In her fear, Ambrosia carefully sidestepped strangers, perceiving them as threats to her quiet, peaceful existence here at Elmwood. As the weather turned cold, Ambrosia was forced to spend more and more of her time in the house, and the confinement forced her to rely on her sketching and Lily’s bright chatter to fill her empty hours. While Mandy was napping, Ambrosia would sit sketching in the library, listening to Lily read amusing letters from friends of years past, or speak wistfully about the daring things she had done as a young girl. Often Ambrosia would find herself smiling, even speaking a little of her own childhood. Lily was both pleased and encouraged to see that the ice was finally breaking. But it worried her that Ambrosia still remained so closed to outsiders, so closeted in her life here. It was almost as if she was afraid of the outside world. Nearly every part of her existence hinged on Mandy’s care, and as the days passed, Lily saw clearly that Ambrosia needed more.
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