To Ruin a Rake

by Liana Lefey

  “Oh, Harriett—the misery I have caused! How can I ever bear to—”

  “No!” Harriett said firmly. “You made a poor choice, to be sure, but the fault is ultimately his. He seduced a young girl who had never before experienced that sort of attention from a man. He manipulated and deceived you, Arabella. I am not saying you are blameless for what happened, but I understand the power of strong emotions.” She held her sister’s gaze. “I know just how dangerous they can be.”

  Tears slid down Arabella’s cheeks. “I wasn’t thinking, Harriett. I should have seen the truth of him. I should have known!”

  “You are human and prone to the same weaknesses as everyone else. Believe me, I know,” Harriett murmured. “When you are in love, it is as though you lose all ability to look ahead and see the possibility of your actions now having dire consequences later.” Her gaze dropped to Arabella’s midsection. I might very well be in her place in a few months. What would she do if Roland refused to marry her?

  “Harriett, has something happened?” Arabella peered at her, her brow puckered with concern.

  Forcing a smile to her lips, Harriett answered, “I was once engaged, you know.” She hoped it was enough to satisfy her sister’s curiosity. “Yes, you made a mistake. But it was a mistake anyone could have made.”

  “Not anyone,” replied Arabella, grimacing. She brightened after a moment. “But now you are here and we shall have time to visit and talk. I want to hear everything. Every bit of gossip, no matter how insignificant. I feel as though the entire world has passed me by while I’ve moldered away out here, swelling up like a whale.”

  With pleasure Harriett obliged, happy to speak of less weighty matters. They talked until Katie came for the breakfast dishes, followed by an unfamiliar woman in a white apron and Jeremy, who was loaded down with a large basket from the manor house.

  Harriett greeted the woman with a smile. “I am Harriett, Arabella’s sister. You must be Mrs. Whipple.”

  “Indeed, m’lady,” the midwife replied. “Just set it down over there,” she commanded Jeremy. “I’ll take everything out while you go back for the rest.”

  “What is all of this?” Harriett asked as she watched the woman pull out great quantities of bed linens, blankets, and what looked like plain cotton shifts.

  “They are for her lying in, m’lady.”

  “A bit soon for it, wouldn’t you say?”

  The woman gave her a sidelong look. “Best to be prepared, m’lady. The young lady has been restless of late, and the babe has already turned. Sure signs of an early arrival.”

  Harriett had her doubts, but kept them to herself. “Early” was a possibility, but it was more likely things were progressing right on time. “I’ve attended several births and will be happy to assist you when it is time,” she replied, keeping her voice low.

  Mrs. Whipple nodded briskly and returned to her task.

  “She has been a good companion,” said Arabella with affection, earning a quick smile from the woman. “As have Katie and Mrs. Jenkins. Even so, I have longed to be back in London with you and Cat and all of our friends. I’ve missed so much! I’ll have a great deal of catching up to do when I return. I shall have to pay everyone a visit.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be current in no time at all,” Harriett told her. Privately, she wondered whether her sister would be permitted to set foot in London until a full year had passed, maybe even two.

  The day progressed pleasantly enough. Harriett stayed with Arabella, taking the afternoon meal and then tea with her. When sundown approached, she said goodbye for the evening and returned to the manor with Katie, helping her carry the dishes from their evening meal. The walk back was refreshing after having sat so long. She’d hated to leave, but knew she could not spend the night there.

  After eating supper, she stayed behind with Mrs. Jenkins for a moment. “I want Arabella moved here tomorrow,” she told her after the others had left. “I’ll need Jeremy and one of the other men to help carry her.”

  The older woman’s face tightened with concern. “But m’lady, the master said she’s not to be here, lest someone come to call and learn of her shame.”

  “I shall fend off any callers. My sister shouldn’t be so far away. I know the midwife is there, but what if Arabella goes into labor in the night? Mrs. Whipple has no one there with her to send for us, and I would not have my sister left alone while she comes to fetch us. She will be moved first thing in the morning. If Papa learns of it and objects, I promise you it will be on my head.”

  “Yes, m’lady,” replied Mrs. Jenkins, her relief clear. “ ‘Tis glad I am to hear you say it, for I’ve not liked her being so far away myself.”

  The next morning, Harriett ordered Arabella’s rooms prepared then took her sister breakfast. On arriving, she saw Arabella was outside walking beside the stream that fed the lake beyond.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Harriett scolded. As she approached, she spied her sister’s swollen white feet amid the dewy grass. “And barefoot out here in the chill air like an ignorant peasant, too! Have you no sense at all?”

  “I couldn’t bear being inside another moment,” explained Arabella, unrepentant. “Mrs. Whipple snored half the night. I simply couldn’t stand it anymore. She’s made it as hot as a furnace in there. I’m surprised she hasn’t burned the house down.”

  “Well, you’ll not have to worry more about any of that,” Harriett told her. “I’m moving you back to the house today. Jeremy will come to fetch you in a chair.”

  “I know I’m enormous but my legs will, as you can see, bear my weight,” laughed her sister. “I can save him a trip and walk myself.” She put a hand to the small of her back and stretched. “Walking seems to be the only way to stop the cramping.”

  Harriett stilled. “You’ve cramping in your back?”

  “Heavens, yes. Just there,” said her sister, rubbing it.

  “Has it always hurt there?”

  “No, just for the past day or so. Mrs. Whipple says it’s perfectly normal. The only way to relieve it is to walk.”

  “You are in labor,” Harriett told her, proud of how calm she sounded.

  Her sister’s face went white.

  Looking in the direction of the manor, Harriett was relieved to see Jeremy and another man approaching. “Here, quickly!” she shouted, waving. The moment they arrived, she began issuing orders. “Carry Lady Arabella back to the manor and tell Mrs. Jenkins to begin boiling water.”

  Mrs. Whipple came out of the cottage looking bleary-eyed and confused. “What is all of this commotion?”

  “Mrs. Whipple, I’m afraid we’re going to need you at the manor at once,” Harriett told her as the men formed a chair with their arms and hoisted her sister. “I’m moving Arabella there now. Her labor has begun.”

  The woman’s brows shot up. “You’ve moving her? But Lord Dunhaven—”

  “Is not here,” Harriett snapped. “Until such time as he arrives, I am the only authority to whom you need answer. You will gather what you require for the birthing and come to the house immediately.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” The midwife scurried back inside.

  “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,” groused Arabella as Harriett oversaw her transition. “It’s only a bit of cramping. Elizabeth once told me her back bothered her for a whole month before she gave birth.”

  “Yes, but she wasn’t walking about in the chill air, was she?” Harriett countered, holding open the garden gate. “No. She stayed where she ought to have been and where you should be now—in bed. Your recent activity may very well cause the early arrival of your babe.”

  Arabella did not argue, which surprised Harriett. She looked to see her sister’s face full of sadness. “I’m sorry, Bella,” she said as they brought her inside. “I don’t mean to be so harsh. I just want what is best for you.”

  Together the three of them carefully helped Arabella mount the stairs.

  “I suppose an ea
rly arrival would be a blessing in a way,” said her sister. “Less time for me to become attached.” Her hand again covered her gravid belly as she was eased onto the bed. “I—I’ve been feeling it move,” she confessed once the men were gone. “And I’ve been having dreams. Dreams of raising it. Impossible dreams.” Tears slid down her cheeks.

  Harriett put her arms around her. “Shh. I know, love. It will be difficult, but I promise I will do everything in my power to see your child is well cared for and safely placed in a loving home. But first we must concentrate on what is happening now. We’ll worry about the rest as it comes. Now, lie back. Mrs. Whipple should be along any moment to have a look at you.”

  The cramping grew worse over the next several hours, increasing in intensity until Arabella lay moaning on the bed, her fists knotting the coverlet. Harriett read to her from her favorite book, talked of the goings on at home, anything to distract her. The minutes dragged interminably, and still there was no sense of urgency on the part of the midwife.

  “You’ll worry yourself for no cause,” said the woman with infuriating calm. “It’ll come when it comes. There’s no rushing these things.”

  It was nearly time for supper when Katie came in, panic written on her face. “M’lady, there is a gentleman here to see you, a Lord Manchester. He says he must speak with you at once.”

  Harriett’s heart began to pound. “Merciful God. Tell His Grace I am indisposed and—and that he must leave at once. I don’t care what you tell him, just get him out of this house.”

  “I already tried, m’lady, but he wouldn’t listen,” wailed the little maid. “He came in anyway and sent me up with this.” She proffered an envelope bearing Harriett’s name on it, written in her father’s hand.

  Snatching it, Harriett opened it and read. The blood drained from her face, leaving it numb. Turning to her sister, she forced an encouraging smile to her lips. “I will be back in a moment, Bella.”

  “Harriett, why is he here?” asked her sister, breathing hard after having just endured another long pain.

  “There is a matter I must resolve,” Harriett told her, pushing a limp hank of hair off her sister’s sweaty brow. “I will not be gone long. Just listen to Mrs. Whipple and do as she says. I’ll be right back.” Despite her upset, she forced her legs to move at a stately, calm pace. There at the foot of the stairs he stood, waiting for her.

  Twenty Two

  Roland had trouble containing his impatience. Five minutes passed. Would she greet him with warmth or spite? Would she curse him, or could he dare to hope she might repeat the words he so wanted to hear?

  In his pocket burned the special license he’d secured last night. He and Dunhaven had gone to the rectory at St. James’s and awakened the bishop. Such an inconvenience had come with much grumbling and at an exorbitant price. Still, he had it, and that was all that mattered. Any man of the cloth in Berkshire could perform the ceremony.

  Ten minutes. Still she had not appeared.

  Though he’d been wakened at an even later hour than the bishop, Mr. Blume had been much more amenable. Roland knew not how long he might be gone from London and he didn’t want the other governors thinking he’d abandoned his duties at the Hospital, especially with Harriett gone as well. As Mr. Blume had been heavily involved with the Hospital’s finances, he’d appointed him temporary administrator until his return. Upon hearing of his intent to marry Lady Harriett, the solicitor had, to his surprise, offered heartfelt congratulations. Roland found his opinion of the man much improved.

  Fifteen minutes. What the bloody hell is taking so long?

  He strode to the staircase, determined to hunt her down if she would not come of her own volition. A noise above drew his attention. Harriett stood there, staring at him from half a dozen steps up, her hazel eyes wide in a face as white as tallow.

  Seeing her, his fears melted away. She wasn’t angry. She was terrified.

  “Your Grace, I must apologize, but I am in no position to receive guests at this time,” she said, coming down. “You may return tomorrow evening, at which time we will discuss matters between us.”

  “And give you an opportunity to run away again? I think not. No. We shall discuss it now. Your father has given his blessing, and I have no desire to delay.”

  “Yes, I am aware,” she told him, holding up the letter. Her hand shook violently. “And I will be happy to talk about it with you at length—but not just now. Please, I beg you to return tomorrow. I promise you I shall be here.” Her gaze, like that of the little maid who’d let him in, kept flicking back toward the top of the staircase.

  “Harriett, what is going on? Is something the matter?”

  “It is my sister,” she answered, her voice quavering. “She is very, very ill.”

  “Your father told me about the child.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “You need not worry,” he said quickly. “I will tell no one. But if she is both pregnant and ill, ought we not fetch a doctor?”

  “Arabella is in labor, and I must attend her,” she explained. “The midwife is already here. If you wish to help, then I beg you to postpone this discussion until after she is safely delivered.”

  “Of course,” he said at once, putting aside his impatience.

  “Thank you.” She turned to go, but then paused. “I don’t suppose you’ve made arrangements for lodging at the village inn?”

  He shook his head. “Dunhaven said I might stay here the night—provided we marry tomorrow. I would have fetched a priest on the way in, but I was afraid the hour would be too late to continue my journey, and I wanted to get here as quickly as possible.” Coming up the steps, he reached up and touched her cheek. “I needed to see you. I needed to know you were well.”

  “I shall give orders to have a room prepared for you.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

  “Harriett—”

  “M’lady, she is asking for you!” called another woman’s voice from above. There was a frantic edge to it.

  “Tell her I shall be up in a moment,” Harriett answered back. She turned to him. “Our discussion will have to wait.”

  “I understand,” Roland said, nodding. “Go. And tell your sister her father sends his love.”

  A tremulous smile flickered on her lips. “Thank you, I shall. No doubt it will greatly ease her mind.”

  He watched her mount the steps, his heart much lighter. She hadn’t refused him. At least not yet. And she wouldn’t. He wouldn’t allow it. Tomorrow, Harriett Dunhaven would become Lady Manchester. As for the delicate situation unfolding upstairs, he was prepared to help. There would be a small scandal over their elopement, enough perhaps to distract London for a while. Her convalescent sister’s return would cause hardly a ripple by comparison.

  Then there was the child to consider.

  The hours passed at a slow crawl, the pace that inevitably accompanies anticipation. He took the evening meal alone in the dining room, served by a nervous Mrs. Jenkins. Afterward, she led him upstairs to the room that had been prepared for him.

  As he passed one door, he heard muffled groans and urgent voices.

  “She’ll be fine,” whispered Mrs. Jenkins, her calm words belied by the concerned look on her face. “Not to worry, Your Grace. Lady Harriett and Mrs. Whipple have everything under control. There’s naught we can do to help, save stay out from underfoot.”

  Just as she said these words, there was a prolonged cry from within and Roland heard Harriett shout, “That’s it, Arabella. Now push! Push!” followed by an agonized shriek that froze the blood in his veins. In the silence that followed, a different cry sounded—the high, thin wail of a newborn babe.

  “Excuse me for one moment, Your Grace,” said Mrs. Jenkins, tears welling in her eyes. She eased open the door just enough to poke her head in, and Roland heard a hurried exchange. Backing out, she closed the door and turned to face him. “It’s a girl,” she said, her eyes now shining. “Praise be to God, a healthy baby girl! She is very
small, but just listen to her, bless her!”

  The door opened again, and a tired-looking Harriett squeezed out. “Mrs. Jenkins, tell Jeremy we need more coal brought up. This room must be kept warm, and tell him to—”

  Roland’s heart raced as her gaze settled on him. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” His face stung with sudden heat. How ridiculous it must have sounded, considering the circumstances! “I mean—”

  “It’s quite all right,” she said, a soft smile curving her mouth. “The birth of a healthy child is always a miracle worthy of celebration.”

  “I cannot but agree,” he replied, glad to know he hadn’t put his foot in it.

  “Indeed. You’ve the right of it, you do,” said Mrs. Jenkins with enthusiasm. “A healthy child is always a blessing.” She looked between the two of them for an awkward moment. “I’ll just go and relay your needs to Jeremy, shall I? Yes. I’ll do that.”

  Roland waited until the housekeeper had bustled off out of earshot. “Harriett, I would like to offer my help with regards to your sister’s situation.”

  “How?”

  “After we are married, we will adopt the child.”

  ~ * ~

  Astounded, Harriett stared at him. “You would do this? For Arabella?”

  “I would do it for you, and for our family.”

  She wanted to hope, but...“If anyone were to ever find out the truth—”

  “They won’t,” he promised. “No one will think it strange for us to adopt a child, not when we are both involved with the Foundling Hospital. Everyone knows how much you care for those children. We can adopt two, if you like, to lessen the chances of anyone suspecting something. Neither would be able to inherit, of course, but I would see to it they are always provided for.”