Shock stole Hannah’s breath. “Aunt Iris! That is a very personal matter between a husband and wife.”
Iris pulled Hannah to a stop and took her gently by the shoulders. “My dear, what are you so afraid of?”
Hannah’s mouth fell open. Her whole body began to shake uncontrollably, her legs almost giving out beneath the extra weight of her belly. Iris steered her to a nearby bench and sat down beside her.
Hannah’s mind whirled with the sudden realization that not only was she afraid—she was terrified. And she wasn’t sure what scared her more: loving Nolan or losing him.
Iris took one of Hannah’s gloved hands in hers. “My dear girl, you are like the daughter I never had. I trust we’ve become close enough for me to speak plainly.”
Hannah nodded, clutching the bench beside her as though to anchor her there lest she give in to the urge to flee.
“It seems to me you are deathly afraid of giving yourself completely to your husband. Of letting Nolan love you. Why would that be?”
The gentleness in her voice brought the rise of tears to Hannah’s throat. She shook her head, unable to answer.
“Do you think yourself unworthy of Nolan because of his father’s station?” With the tip of one finger, she raised Hannah’s chin. “Or do you think yourself so unlovable that you doubt his feelings?”
Unlovable. The word echoed in her mind, spinning its ugly truth like an insidious web. The lump in her throat became a sob that burst forth in a gush of tears. She collapsed against Iris’s shoulder.
Her aunt hugged her tightly until the spasms subsided. Then she pulled out a handkerchief to dab at Hannah’s face. “There, there. I can speak with absolute certainty when I say that you are the least unlovable person I know. Not only are you a beauty on the outside, you are more than beautiful on the inside, and I, for one, adore you. Can you at least believe that?”
Hannah looked into Iris’s sincere eyes and nodded.
“Good. And I hope you also know that your heavenly Father loves you unconditionally and without limit. You are a treasured child of God, most worthy of all goodness that comes into your life. And definitely worthy of a fine man like Nolan.”
Hannah stared at her lap and shook her head.
“What is it that makes you feel so undeserving, dearest?”
Hannah slowly raised her head to meet her aunt’s gentle gaze. She attempted to speak, then stopped, her mouth dry.
“It’s all right to say what’s in your heart.” Her aunt gave her an encouraging squeeze.
Hannah nodded and forced herself to admit the truth. “Ever since Papa died and Mum left me with Mrs. Bridges, I felt there must be something lacking in me—a reason why everyone leaves me. I must not be good enough, flawed in some way. People start out loving me, but then it fades . . . and they forget about me.” She bit her lip, once again feeling like the scared thirteen-year-old girl watching the carriage take her mother away. “Mum chose to keep Molly and not me. I wasn’t good enough.”
“That can’t be true.” Iris clasped her hands over Hannah’s fisted ones. “Your mother must have believed she was giving you a better life than you would have had with Mr. Fielding and his brood.”
Hannah shook her head, sadness seeping through her soul. “After losing Papa and our little brother, all I wanted was to be with my mother and sister. Nothing else mattered. I thought I must have done something terribly wrong for her to punish me that way.”
“Oh, my darling girl.” Iris pulled her back into an embrace. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. If only I hadn’t been so sick at the time, I would have gladly taken you all in. I’m sure my Edgar would have loved having the house full of family.” She sniffed, and Hannah was surprised to find her aunt’s eyes damp as well. “You mustn’t let your mother’s desperate actions determine your self-worth. I have to believe it was all part of God’s plan for your life. That there was a purpose for bringing you to Stainsby. One we have yet to learn.” She inhaled deeply. “Come now, let’s continue our walk.”
They rose to resume their place on the path. Daisy dashed ahead, eager for the rest of the outing. Iris remained silent as they walked, lost in silent contemplation. As they neared the end of the path, she looked over at Hannah. “I think this family reunion is long past due. I will continue to pray that God will heal old wounds and bring about a true reconciliation.”
Hannah wished she could share her aunt’s optimism but feared it would take a miracle for that to come to pass.
Nolan paced the dirt floor of the McTeagues’ cottage, his attention fastened on the closed bedroom door. Any time now, Doctor Hutton would emerge after tending to Bert’s hands. Nolan prayed that this time he’d have better news for them.
Franny sat at a scarred table by the hearth, paring potatoes for their next meal. Every so often, she stopped to stare into the fire, her knife paused in midair. Nolan knew she was trying hard to be stoic, hiding her worry as best she could from her husband.
Nolan had had plenty of time since Bert’s accident to recall his friend’s words of advice in the smithy. Think of the good you could do for the servants and the tenant farmers. What better advocate could we have than someone who’s lived in our shoes? As Edward’s son, Nolan would make sure Bert and Franny were taken care of, even if he had to bully his father into doing what was right. This incident brought into sharp focus the plight of many of the older staff whose health might prevent them from being able to do their jobs. What would happen to those loyal workers?
Steam spewed from the copper kettle on the range. Franny pushed her frame up from the table and moved to take it off the heat.
“Please have a seat, Master Nolan,” she said with a frown. “You’ll create a dust storm in here with your pacing.” She poured boiling water into the teapot.
“I can’t sit doing nothing. Why don’t you put me to use around here while we wait?”
She rolled her eyes. “As if I’d ever let his lordship’s son do labor in my home.”
“Forget about my title, Franny. I’m still the boy you used to chase out of your garden for stealing carrots.”
Despite her gruff countenance, her lips twitched. “And I’ll do it again if I catch you now.”
The bedroom door swung open, and Dr. Hutton emerged.
Nolan went to meet him. “Any improvement, Doctor?”
“Not much, I’m afraid.”
It had been three days since Bert had taken a dizzy spell and fallen into the fire. The doctor had been back every day to apply new dressings and change the bandages.
“Will he be able to use his hands again once they’ve healed?”
“It’s hard to tell.” Dr. Hutton shook his head as he fastened his bag. “All we can do is wait and see. I wish I could give you better news.” He retrieved his overcoat, and after imparting some further instructions for Franny, he left the cottage.
Franny sank back onto her chair, softly weeping. “What if he can no longer work, Master Nolan? What will we do then?”
She voiced the very thing that troubled Nolan. He couldn’t picture Bert anywhere else but in his smithy.
Nolan patted her broad back. “Try not to imagine the worst. We must be optimistic for Bert’s sake.”
“But the master won’t let us stay here for free. Where will we go?” She dabbed the corner of her apron to her eyes.
A ferocious determination welled in Nolan’s chest. No matter what his father said, Nolan would do whatever he could to ease the McTeagues’ fears and ensure they were taken care of.
A loud knock tore Nolan’s attention from the troubled woman. “You sit. I’ll see who it is.”
When he opened the door, he could only blink.
Edward stood on the other side, his top hat in hand.
“Hello, Nolan,” he said. “I’ve come to see how Mr. McTeague is faring.”
Nolan swallowed his surprise and stepped aside for Edward to enter the small abode.
Edward greeted Franny, who ros
e to curtsy.
“The doctor just left,” Nolan said. “Bert’s improving slowly, but it will be some time before we know the outcome.”
“I see.” Edward glanced at Franny and back to Nolan. “I’d like to see him, if I may.”
Nolan hesitated, trying to decipher his father’s motives. From his shuttered stare, Nolan could tell nothing. “Very well. But only if you promise not to cause him any distress.”
“That is not my intention, I assure you.”
Nolan pointed to the bedroom.
Edward knocked lightly before stepping inside the room. As Nolan followed him in, the smell of unwashed body hit him full force, and he winced at what his father must think. Nolan hovered by the doorway, unwilling to leave Edward alone with Bert, ready to step in if necessary.
“Hello, Mr. McTeague,” Edward said. “I’ve come to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”
An expression of disbelief flitted across Bert’s face. “Your lordship. This is an unexpected surprise.” He went to lift a bandaged hand and flinched. “I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t know how this happened. One minute I was tending the fire, the next I was in it.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Is the pain bearable at least?” Edward stood at the foot of the bed, hat clasped behind his back, looking as out of place as a vicar in a brothel.
It occurred to Nolan that this was likely the first time Edward had ever visited the McTeagues.
“Aye. Thank you for sending the doctor.”
“It was the least I could do.” Edward shifted, seeming uncomfortable with the praise. “I want you to know that I intend to hire a temporary replacement until you are well enough to return to your post. You’re not to rush your recovery.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bert’s beard trembled.
“And you’re not to worry about money. Everything will be looked after until you’re back on your feet.” Edward straightened. “If you need anything at all, please let me know.”
Bert’s mouth hung open. If the situation were not so serious, Nolan would have laughed out loud at his shocked expression.
Edward cleared his throat. “That is all. Get well, Mr. McTeague. We will miss your fine work.” He nodded in Bert’s direction and returned to the main living area. “Mrs. McTeague, be sure to let us know if you require anything as well.”
The plump woman bobbed to her feet and rushed forward to grasp Edward’s hand. “Oh, thank you, my lord. Thank you. You don’t know how relieved I am.”
Edward’s cheeks reddened as he discreetly pulled his hand away. “You’re welcome. Good day.” He put on his hat, nodded to Nolan, then strode out the door.
Still unable to trust his father’s sudden show of generosity, Nolan followed him outside. He caught up to him at his horse, placing a hand on the stallion’s bridle. “That was a very decent thing you did in there. What made you change your mind about helping Bert?”
Edward would not meet his eyes. He flung himself into the saddle, grabbed the reins, then finally glanced down at Nolan. “One might say I’ve been forced to look at things in a new light as of late.” His mouth twitched up into a semblance of a smile.
Then he tipped his hat, clucked his horse into motion, and rode off.
Chapter
28
Ann Fielding’s arrival caused a flurry of excitement at Hartford Hall. Molly practically danced down the steps to greet the carriage with Aunt Iris right behind her. Hannah, however, hung back from the open doorway, shivering under her shawl. She’d worn her favorite dress for the occasion—lilac silk trimmed with lace and imitation roses. Her aunt’s maid had curled Hannah’s hair in a most becoming fashion, looping the ringlets to frame her face. Hannah made a mental note to have the girl re-create the same hairstyle whenever she would next see Nolan.
Her heart tugged at the thought of her handsome husband—if he indeed was still her husband. It had been so long since she’d seen him, she wondered if she could still remember his features. Once etched with precision on her memory, his face now blurred like an image in a distorted mirror. She thrust her hand into her pocket and fingered his last letter, which she’d kept with her since it arrived. A very nice note, one she could recall with word-for-word accuracy, but not filled with the declarations of love and pining she longed for.
Was Nolan missing her at all? He sounded so busy with all his duties and taking care of poor, dear Bert that it seemed he barely had time to give her a passing thought.
Hannah’s hand drifted over her now expansive abdomen where the babe kicked and squirmed. She welcomed these stirrings of life inside her. Each day, she came closer to holding her child in her arms. A child who would love her with an unwavering devotion. And whom she would love equally in return.
Perhaps then she would at last feel whole.
“Hannah, dear. Here is your mother.” Iris ushered Mum through the door into the vestibule.
Hannah took a moment to observe her. Though younger than Iris, hard work outdoors in the elements made her mother appear years older. Her faded brown hair, streaked with gray, framed a plain face, lined from years of worry and hardship, yet her eyes sparked with a light of welcome as she came forward to greet Hannah.
She pressed her cheek to Hannah’s, then stepped back to study her. “My word, look at you dressed up like a real lady.” In contrast, Mum smoothed down her brown cotton dress—most likely her Sunday best. Moisture filmed her eyes. “You’re beautiful, Hannah. As I always knew you would be.”
Hannah’s heart swelled. “It’s good to see you, Mum.” For once the words were true. Somehow here, without the fear of Mr. Fielding looming over her shoulder, her mother appeared lighter, happier.
Mum turned and held out a hand to Molly. “And look at my wee Molly. You seem all grown up too.”
“It’s the lovely clothes Aunt Iris ordered for me. Underneath, I’m still the same.” Molly laughed.
Iris threw her arms around them and squeezed. “Come, darlings. Let’s get comfortable in the parlor with a nice cup of tea.”
For an hour, Hannah and Molly listened politely while her mother and aunt caught up on years of news.
At last, Mum set her cup down and turned her attention to Hannah. “Now where is that handsome husband of yours?”
Hannah licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. “Nolan is at Stainsby Hall.”
“What? Why would a man not be with his wife? Especially at a time like this.” She looked pointedly at Hannah’s abdomen.
“Nolan is getting to know his father,” Iris explained. “And learning the ways of the nobility, while Hannah is resting and taking care of her health, away from any potential conflict.”
“What sort of conflict?”
Hannah kept her gaze trained on the delicate patterns in the carpet. “The earl does not approve of our marriage and, in fact, may have”—she swallowed—“had it annulled.”
Her mother gasped. “This is terrible. Your poor child will be a—”
“I’m quite aware of that.”
“I’m sure it will all get worked out before long,” Iris added quickly. “In the meantime, Hannah and the baby are always welcome here—marriage or no marriage.”
“That is most generous of you, Iris.” She shot Hannah a frown of disapproval. “But what have you done to drive Nolan away?”
Barbs of pain lodged in Hannah’s chest. Of course, it had to be all her fault. Just like everything that happened during her childhood with her siblings. From a bruised knee to a broken cup, it would always be Hannah’s fault.
“The doctor has recommended that Hannah avoid stress,” Iris said. “She’s only following orders. I’m sure Nolan will show up very soon to remedy matters.”
Would he? Sudden tears burned Hannah’s throat. Other than a few impersonal letters, Nolan had not initiated contact. Had never indicated that he missed her or that he was ready to resume their marriage.
Just as Hannah feared, it seemed she didn’t matter enough.
She pushed to her feet, clutching her stomach. “Excuse me, please. I think I need to lie down for a while.”
And before anyone could deter her, she rushed out the door.
Nolan strode into the drawing room where his father had requested his presence. They didn’t often use this room, since it was smaller than the formal parlor and decidedly more feminine—perhaps decorated by Penelope Fairchild or Nolan’s late grandmother. The room afforded a grand view of the Stainsby gardens, now mostly dormant due to the cold weather.
Edward stood at the long window, staring at the bleak landscape.
Nolan paused in the doorway. “You wished to see me?”
“Nolan.” He turned with a brief smile. “Come in. I have news.”
“What kind of news?” Nolan crossed the floor. Fragrant bouquets of flowers from the Stainsby hothouse sat atop the piano, lightly scenting the room.
“I have received an invitation to Hartford Hall.”
The mere mention of Hannah’s place of exile made Nolan’s pulse sprint. “From whom?”
“From the duchess herself. It seems that Mrs. Fielding is visiting and Lady Hartford wishes to host a gathering in her honor. A type of family reunion, I believe, is how she put it.”
Nolan’s thoughts swirled. Hannah’s mother at Hartford? Surely he would be invited too. “Did Lady Hartford mention my presence at this gathering?”
Edward moved to a table beside the piano where he picked up a square of vellum paper. He scanned the missive. “Yes, your name is here as well.”
“Was there any note from Hannah?”
“No. Just the invitation and a short note from the duchess.”
His stomach fell. Why wouldn’t Hannah have sent a personal message, indicating her wish for him to come? Hadn’t he honored her request and kept away, giving her the space she claimed to need? How much more time did she require?
A cloud of frustration pushed Nolan to pace the carpet. “Edward, I need to know once and for all the true state of my marriage.”
A Most Noble Heir Page 23