Gawain chuckled and went to examine the walls. “I need something like this myself. Wrong country though. I’d want Indian scenes.”
“I’m sure your mother can come up with something. She’s very artistic.”
“Did she help you with your decorating, Magdalene?”
“She did. Gave me all her best names and sources in London. I did all the choosing myself though. I do love spending money.”
Gawain shared a glance with his friend. He wondered if Ann would soon be the same. So far she’d shown little interest in the house beyond making sure the nursery was hygienic. But they had been very busy and could not be said to have settled in, whereas the Shields had been married for a year.
“I would love to see more of the house if you are willing to show me,” Ann suggested.
Magdalene seemed shocked by the suggestion and didn’t respond, just stood there in the doorway. Of course, public areas of a home were just that, and private the same, but surely she could show Ann the rooms on the main floor.
Lord Judah cleared his throat and walked deeper into the room.
Gawain winced as Ann seemed to notice her gaffe.
“Or just the nursery,” she said in a low voice. “I would love to see what a modern nursery looks like.”
“Nursery?” Judah said. “Oh, we haven’t one of those yet.”
Ann frowned. “But you have a baby on the way. With everything that can happen during this special time, I always think it is best to make over a nursery early.”
Lord Judah’s gold-flecked eyes seemed to darken. Magdalene went pale and put a hand to her mouth, then turned quickly and dashed out of the room.
“See?” Ann smiled at Gawain. He shook his head and she glanced at Lord Judah. “Well, good heavens, he must know. She’s visibly lost weight since we saw her last. She must be losing every morsel of food she puts into her mouth. How could her husband not know?”
“I thought she had an illness,” Lord Judah said.
“A nine-month one,” Ann chuckled. “She should be in bed, Lord Judah. I can send you over a tea that I’ve found very helpful in these cases. Make certain she drinks a lot of water, even if she can’t keep food down for a short while. It’s very important.”
“Thank you,” Lord Judah said, making a helpless gesture with his hands.
“You want to cancel our dinner?” Gawain asked. “Maybe Magdalene needs you.”
“Could you go to her?” Lord Judah asked Ann. “There must be something our cook can make, or one of the servants can be sent for, if you made a list.”
“Of course. I can make a list for someone to give to Fern, who lives with us. She can send what you need back from our house while I stay with your wife.”
Lord Judah smiled slightly. “Yes, please. Unless it makes Magdalene more upset. I should have known.”
“Why?” Gawain asked. “When have you ever been around an increasing woman?” He went to a set of decanters and poured his friend a stiff drink, then rang for the maid.
When Penny, a long-term employee, appeared, Lord Judah collected himself long enough to say, “Could you take Mrs. Redcake to Lady Judah, please? Follow any of her orders as if they were my own.”
Ann followed the maid out without looking back.
“She’s in her element,” Gawain said, saluting Lord Judah with his own glass.
His friend collapsed onto a chair. “She’s been ill, or so I thought, for some time now.”
“Matilda was sick for about two months. Alys was only queasy. She had an easy time of it.”
“Then this won’t last forever?”
“Eventually she’ll have the child.”
Lord Judah laughed half-heartedly. “How far along do you think she is?”
Gawain drained his glass. “You’re asking me? I honestly don’t know, but based on my sister’s experiences, anywhere between one and five months.”
Lord Judah’s stomach rumbled. He and Gawain shared a rueful glance.
“Think Magdalene will have my head if we dine?”
“What else are we supposed to do?”
“Should we send a tray for your lady?”
“It will probably make yours sicker. I expect Ann is used to doing without in these situations.”
Judah sighed. “Would you let your wife move in for the next several months?”
“No.” Even if he wasn’t amused by her social awkwardness, what did he expect? She wasn’t used to a fashionable society lady like Magdalene, but he suspected the woman would soon learn to appreciate Ann’s competence in medical matters.
As he and Lord Judah went into the hall, they saw Penny dashing down the corridor.
“Why the haste?” Lord Judah asked, stopping her.
His servant waved a piece of paper at him. “I’m to take the carriage to Battersea for this medicine for Lady Judah, sir.”
“Is she any better?”
“She’s pretty rough,” the maid answered frankly. “But Mrs. Redcake says if she can be set to rights, this medicine will do it. But doesn’t she have a little baby that needs feeding?”
Gawain swore under his breath. “My wife is used to having a wet nurse across the hall, but of course we don’t have that now.”
Lord Judah said nothing, but Gawain knew what his old brother in arms was thinking. “I’ll go to Battersea and bring back the medicine, as well as Noel, if you can spare a room. That way Magdalene doesn’t lose Ann’s care.”
“Shouldn’t I see how serious things are?”
“Pretty serious,” Penny interjected. “I can bring back the baby and his nurse, sir.”
“It’s better if I go,” Gawain said, “but thank you.”
“I’ll have Cook keep dinner warm for you,” Lord Judah said. “I’ll order my carriage.”
A moment later, Gawain and Penny were alone in the hall. Penny sighed. “It’s a nice carriage, sir, and fast.”
“You can come with me,” Gawain offered.
She smiled. “No, my place is with my mistress. But thank you. Do you want me to ask around for a wet nurse, for when your lady is called out?”
“We won’t be needing one, but thank you.”
Of course, he was wrong about that. When he arrived home on Monday from a long day at his warehouse followed by an hour discussing carriage design with Lewis at his machine shop, he could hear Noel crying upstairs, yet Ann was in the parlor with a roughly dressed woman he’d never seen before.
“Ashwaganda is excellent for rebuilding female strength,” she was saying.
Ignoring the conversation and what it might mean for now, Gawain stomped upstairs to see what the fuss was. His son was squealing in his cradle, while Fern sat by the fire, sewing a pinafore. A ragged doll rested at her side, next to a neat pile of clothing and a pile of scraps.
Noel screamed louder. Seeing red, Gawain reached down and brandished the pile of clothing. “First, I see she’s turned my parlor into a consulting room, and now she’s got you making doll clothes for sale?” He threw the clothing into the fire, scarcely noting Fern’s horrified expression, and snatched up Noel.
The baby stopped crying as soon as he was picked up, and let out a loud burp.
The door to the nursemaid’s room opened and Jenna rushed in. “Oh, he’s spit on your lovely coat.” She rubbed at his shoulder with a nappy.
“Why weren’t you here?” he growled.
“Sick, sir,” Jenna said, clasping her stomach. “We’ve all a touch of it. I set Fern to making clothes for her old dolly so she’d stay still. Moving seems to make it worse. I’ve been bent over the chamber pot these past ten minutes.”
She reached for Noel but Gawain clutched the baby to his breast. “Go and lie down, Jenna. We don’t want him catching it.”
“He’s already sick, isn’t he? Spoiled his nappy four times today.”
“Go lie down,” he repeated. “Is my wife sick as well?” He coughed as the scent of burning fabric filled the room.
“No, sir, but she had a patient c
ome in. An ayah who works at the house on the corner. Turned up at the back door asking for Mrs. Redcake. The ayah doesn’t want to lose her job, but can hardly get up in the morning. Mrs. Redcake didn’t want to send her off since she knew she could help.”
He held back his growl. “Thank you for that information. Now, go.”
Jenna flashed him a grateful smile, then puffed out her cheeks and, suddenly pale, ran for the door. Gawain turned to Fern. Tears were sliding down her cheeks. With a sigh, he put Noel back in his cradle and crouched down beside the girl, ignoring the pain in his hip.
“I’m so terribly sorry, Fern. I shouldn’t have acted without thinking.”
She sobbed audibly, the sound harsh yet lovely to his ears. She was making noise!
He patted her shoulder. “There, now.” He pulled a half-crown from his pocket. “Here, you can buy all the new fabric you want for your dolly’s clothing. I wasn’t thinking and I’m so very sorry I threw her dress in the fire.”
She drew a deep, vibrating breath. “C-c-c.”
“And coat,” he agreed. “Oh dear, what else did I ruin?”
“S-s-s.”
“Stockings?”
She nodded. “P-p-p.”
“Petticoat?” He put a hand to his mouth. “Oh dear, her unmentionables. How dreadful of me.”
She giggled, silently this time.
“I am so proud of you for speaking to me, and I’m only sorry that I had to put you in a much deserved rage for you to speak.”
She shook her head.
“No, no, I understood you very clearly. I knew you could speak, and you’ll do better next time.”
She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her nose. For a moment, all was quiet, Noel in his crib and Fern by the fire. Then, Gawain heard an unholy noise from the region of the crib and a terrible smell offended his nose.
“Maybe Lady Judah really had a stomach illness after all,” Gawain muttered, as he got painfully to his feet.
Fern stood too, and together they changed Noel and resettled him. After, Fern held him while Gawain rang for additional assistance from his household, then he took the baby while Fern ran from the room, green as Jenna had been pale.
Most men would flee to their club about now, Gawain knew. But he couldn’t leave his poor son. He kissed the baby’s forehead. It felt warm, but not dangerously so. Didn’t Ann have a treatment for her own child? He pushed a rocking chair away from the fire before he sat down, just in case.
A few minutes later, the housekeeper entered the room, followed by Ann.
“As you can tell by the smell, things have not been going terribly well up here,” he observed.
Ann took the baby while the housekeeper removed Noel’s mess. “Can you take these?” she asked, putting a couple of small coins into Gawain’s hand.
“You took money from that woman?” he asked, incredulous. “You should not be taking payment.”
Ann shrugged. “She insisted. My skills are worth compensation.”
He frowned but kept his voice modulated for Noel’s sake. “Have I not provided you with an adequate home? I understand why you would help a desperate woman who showed up at our door, one time, but if you take money the word will get out and they will keep coming.”
“They will only keep coming if what I offer helps,” Ann said, shifting into a comfortable pose. “Now, I need to feed Noel. He needs to feed a great deal while his tummy is upset.”
“Won’t he just keep getting ill?”
“It doesn’t matter. He needs the milk flowing through his body.”
“I will tell the servants to turn off anyone else who comes. You are needed here to care for your own child and family.”
“I thought you wanted Jenna to care for him,” she said.
“There are things only a mother can do,” Gawain growled. “You are not to develop a reputation as doctor to the local servants.”
Ann didn’t respond, just focused on Noel and his feeding. Gawain watched them for a little while, then the housekeeper came back to the door and he left to ascertain the health of the other servants. How dare she twist his ability to hire household help into a way to turn his home into a hospital for local servants? He would not accept her choosing her medical interests over her wifely duties. She was no longer married to a provincial innkeeper and she had no need to earn a living.
What would the neighbors think of him if he allowed his wife to work? They would probably think he needed the money and that wouldn’t do. He’d come so far from those factory days, from those army days, from those employed-by-his-father days. He’d earned the right to have a decorous wife.
Chapter Fifteen
Fern squealed as Ann pulled her toward a hired carriage late on Wednesday morning. While she couldn’t take one more minute of this constrained, loveless existence, Fern seemed content to endure Gawain’s moodiness.
“Come along,” Ann said, already having a difficult time balancing Noel in one arm. “We need to be on the next train.” They had to be gone well before luncheon-time in case Gawain returned.
Fern pulled her arm away, then stopped on the sidewalk.
“Come along,” Ann repeated impatiently. “I’m not going to stay here another minute and be told what to do. We’re going back to Leeds.” Pretty dresses and less hard work were no compensation for a zenana-like existence.
Fern stamped her foot.
“He burned your dolly clothes Monday night, Fern! He has been utterly cross with me. He told the servants to turn away my patients. And he didn’t say a word when his friends were rude to me on Saturday.” Why did she even have to explain? Fern should trust her without question.
Fern pointed to Ann’s hand.
“Yes, I know we are married. But I cannot take another breath in this house. I need to go. He doesn’t love me. That became perfectly clear when we were at Redcake Manor. I think he regrets marrying me. I need to go home.”
Fern set her jaw. The carriage driver called impatiently.
“You are my family, Fern, not his. Now come along,” she ordered, in a tone she never used.
Fern complied, but very slowly.
When they reached the station, they discovered they had missed the next train, but found seats on the one after that. Ann was grateful that Noel was so young. He didn’t provide complications, other than the need to carry him.
“If my skin were white, none of this would ever have happened,” she told Fern. “He doesn’t mind the things his sister Matilda did. I’ve heard the entire family is pretty fast. And that precious Magdalene Shield is from a scandalous family. Her aunt was mistress to the Prince of Wales, can you imagine? But me he has no forgiveness for. He’s a hard man.”
Fern turned away, pretending to ignore her. After a few more outbursts, Ann gave up speaking. It wasn’t as if Fern would have a conversation with her. She knew what Fern would say if she could. That she had married Gawain and she needed to remain with him. Two weeks ago she’d married him with hope in her heart. They’d had a perfect wedding night but since then nothing had gone right. None of the love she’d imagined had been evident, at least for her. No, he’d focused his attention on Matilda’s problems. For her, he offered only irritation or outright anger. Wells had petted and supported her, and she would accept nothing less from Gawain.
Still, she wanted him to follow her to Leeds. It might be the only way to regain his attention. If only she didn’t want it.
Gawain walked into the Redcake’s manager’s office, holding the letter Lord Judah had sent. His friend’s secretary set a tasting plate of biscuits on the table by the fire and closed the office door behind him. Lord Judah was already seated in one of the two cozy armchairs and pouring from a large brown pot.
“You didn’t ask me to come in order to taste test,” Gawain said.
Lord Judah handed him a steaming cup of Darjeeling. “Tea biscuits. Changed the blend of spices. See what you think.”
Gawain sighed and sat down. He could
use a restorative. While Noel and Fern had seemed to recover from their illness by the time he returned from the warehouse yesterday, Ann had continued to hover in the nursery, fussing over them. And without her in their shared bed he hadn’t slept well. He was already used to her.
He sipped at his tea, then took a biscuit. “Delicious.”
“You have the look of a man who might as well be tasting cardboard,” Lord Judah said.
“You do not look so lively yourself. How is Magdalene?”
“Your wife’s tea is helping, but she isn’t sleeping well. Too queasy.”
Gawain yawned. “We had a stomach ailment blast through the nursery over the past few days. I did wonder if Magdalene really had that instead.”
Lord Judah set down his teacup. “No, I’m sure she is expecting. Hopefully our household will stay healthy.”
Gawain was glad Ann had been right. It would be embarrassing for a healer to misdiagnose an illness for a pregnancy. “That would be best.”
“I called you here because I’ve had word about that Caliatan royal necklace.”
Gawain sat up. “It has surfaced?”
“About six months after the murder. A London collector has it now. It took me a few attempts to get him to tell me who had sold it to him. I have the fence’s name. Do you want to interrogate him with me?”
“Yes,” Gawain said, dropping his cup into its saucer with a clatter. “Do you have time now? The seller is likely the killer.”
“For this, I’ll make time.” Lord Judah went to his safe and unlocked it, then pulled out his pistol and tucked it into the pocket of his greatcoat. “We’re going to Seven Dials.”
“I’m glad it’s full daylight,” Gawain commented. “Do you have one of those for me?”
“You’ve got your walking stick. I happen to know it has a steel interior.” The two men grinned at one another, then Gawain followed Lord Judah downstairs and out back into the alley, where a nondescript carriage awaited them.
The carriage drove out of the fashionable area of London and into the eastern part. The air seemed to thicken into murk. Even though it was day, Gawain found it hard to see by the time they reached the mouths of the seven passages that made up the Seven Dials.
His Wicked Smile Page 20