by Tuft, Karen
She walked to the door and opened it a few inches. “Please have tea brought up,” she said to the footman and shut the door. She then returned to the chair she’d been sitting in. “I have spent the afternoon reflecting on the fact that my daughter-in-law’s aunt has taken under her wing the daughter of the man who beat my daughter-in-law; that my son’s friend who stood as his second in a duel against that man—oh, yes, I eventually hear about these things, you know, despite how hard they try to hide them from me—now plays the gallant to this young lady; and that they are now, respectively, Aunt Margaret and Kit. I intended to ask you some very pointed questions, Lady Elizabeth, but you have answered them for me before I could put them to you.”
Elizabeth remained silent and held her breath, waiting for Lady Ashworth to continue. Her heart held a seed of hope.
“The answers are these: that you have always been and appear to still be the Lady Elizabeth Spaulding whom I watched grow from a sweet young girl into an exquisite young woman, full of kindness for others, despite—if you’ll forgive my bluntness—her parentage.”
Elizabeth thought she might be able to breathe at last. Unfortunately, it came out in a strange gurgling sort of sound that turned into a choke and then a sob. And then she buried her face in her hands and wept.
“Oh, my poor girl,” Lady Ashworth said, crouching next to Elizabeth’s chair and placing her arm around her shoulders. “What a time of it you have had. I cannot forgive your parents, especially your father, for what he did to our Amelia. I hope you understand that. I know you must grieve his passing, and I am sorry for your loss, but it is still too recent, too painful.”
“I completely understand, Lady Ashworth.” And she did. She’d thought about it every day for the past year.
“But with that said, I must accept that we are partially to blame too. For that, I sincerely apologize. I’m afraid we were so focused on Alex’s well-being that we failed to recognize what his resistance might be doing to you. I shudder to think of all those Seasons and all the excuses we made for him. I can only imagine what you must have gone through. What a mess Ashworth and I made of things.”
Elizabeth simply continued to weep.
And then Lady Ashworth made a gulping sound, and Elizabeth realized through her tears that Lady Ashworth was weeping too.
“I have always loved your family,” Elizabeth said. “And I grieve for Alex, and I am sorry for your loss. He was taken too young. But afterward, I realized that after what Alex and I had gone through, it should not be repeated with Anthony, and we were agreed on that, you know. I was so happy that he found love with Amelia. Last summer, I could see the connection she and Anthony had made and knew it must have hurt her to know that marriage plans were being contemplated between us. And yet, she was only ever kind to me.”
“I think she must have seen the compassionate young woman who was hidden inside the perfect lady,” Lady Ashworth said. She sniffled and pulled out her handkerchief, then returned to her chair. “And, dare I suggest that, perhaps, our Kit has observed that same young woman?”
In their unguarded moments Kit called her Lizzie, and it seemed to fit what Lady Ashworth was saying. Elizabeth brushed away the last of her tears. “Perhaps.”
“Then he is smarter than I ever gave him credit for,” Lady Ashworth said. “He was always more of a doer than a thinker.”
Elizabeth smiled. “He still is.” But today, he had listened to Elizabeth for as long as she’d needed him to, and their time in the woods had brought whispers of peace they had both heard. She knew it.
“Tea, my lady,” the footman announced after a subtle knock at the door.
“Thank you,” Lady Ashworth said. The footman set the tray on the small table directly in front of their chairs, bowed, and left. Lady Ashworth poured for the two of them and added lemon to Elizabeth’s cup before handing it to her, smiling at her as she did so.
Elizabeth knew there was more she needed to tell. “Lady Ashworth,” she said. “May I share with you what transpired when Kit and I went into the woods this afternoon? I hope it will do your heart as much good as it did ours.”
“Certainly, my dear,” she said, looking at her curiously.
“It involves Alex,” Elizabeth said.
Chapter 17
The following afternoon, Kit rode over to Ashworth Park, hoping to pay his respects to the family, most particularly to Amelia and her continued good health, and hopefully, to spend more time with Elizabeth.
She had kissed him. She had kissed him. That aloof, so-called “statue of a lady” had pressed her lips to his, and he had been undone by it—by her sweetness, the budding passion, and her bravery.
He hadn’t made a list of things he liked, but if he had, that kiss would be at the very top.
He hummed as he rode down the private lane leading away from Cantwell Hall, he whistled as he went down the road, and he was full-out singing by the time he arrived at the private lane leading to Ashworth Park. “Come live with me and be my love,” he boomed, “And we will all the pleasures prove/ That hill and valley, dale and field,/ And all the craggy mountains yield.”
In the distance, he could see servants bustling about the courtyard, but he didn’t ponder it too closely, nor did it diminish his vocal fervor. “There we will sit upon the rocks,/ And see the shepherds feed their flocks,/ By shallow rivers to whose falls—” He stopped singing abruptly. Anthony was in the courtyard too, shouting directions and pointing this way and that. And now he was tearing at his hair and pacing and . . .
Kit urged his mount to a canter. Something was wrong.
Amelia.
Kit leapt from his horse when he reached Anthony’s side. “What is it?” Kit asked. “What’s wrong?”
“The babe has decided to come after all,” Anthony said. His face was contorted with grief and worry. “It is too soon, Kit. Too soon! She still has five weeks yet, but there is no stopping it this time. We have sent for Doctor Samuels and the midwife.” He dragged his hand through his hair and then pointed at a couple of servants who were on horseback, galloping in the direction from which Kit had just come. “There is water to be boiled and clean cloths and—I don’t know what to do—I have been banished from Amelia’s room, but I don’t know what—” He shook his head, words apparently failing him.
Kit handed off his horse to one of the stablemen standing nearby, anticipating Kit’s need. “Come, Tony,” Kit said, putting his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Kit felt wholly out of his depth, but he would do the best he could. “I am no expert at these things either—surely the least knowledgeable person to offer you advice right now—but I do know this: that babies born this early can and often do thrive. We will hope for the best, now, won’t we? Now is not the time for worry but for action. Let’s go see how things are faring.”
Anthony allowed Kit to lead him back inside the house. One wouldn’t know from the entry hall that anything was amiss. Buxton was speaking quietly to the housekeeper, and when he spied Anthony, he whispered something again to the housekeeper, and she hurried off.
“Lord Halford,” Buxton said. “I have arranged for some refreshment to be served in the billiards room.”
“Good plan, Buxton,” Kit said. “Isn’t it, Tony?”
“What? Yes, I—” he said. “What did you say?”
“A bit of refreshment in the billiards room. It sounds just the thing. Do you suppose your father would care to join us?”
“My father?” He looked around blankly.
“Lord Ashworth is in his study at present,” Buxton said.
“Where is the doctor? He should be here by now. And the midwife too.” Anthony wandered back to peer through the windows out onto the courtyard.
“Come, Tony,” Kit said. “Let’s invite your father to join us. I have it on good authority that this coming-into-the-world business takes time. A good game of billiard
s will help ease your mind for a while.”
As if on cue, a woman’s cry echoed through the open spaces of the entry hall. Anthony turned to Kit in alarm. “I must go to her, but they won’t let me go to her,” he cried. “I was with her after her whipping, you know. I stayed by her side. Night and day, I stayed. But this, they said, is for women to deal with; men only get in the way. Can you believe it? My own mother said those very words to me not an hour ago.”
“Your mother is wise. She had three children of her own and was there for the births of your sister’s children. Listen to her, I say. Let’s go find your father.”
Lord Ashworth was, indeed, in his study. He was seated at his desk reading, a brandy glass nearby. He looked up when the two men entered. “Ah, Halford. I wondered when you would eventually show up. Cantwell, good to have you join us. Please, have a seat, both of you.”
Anthony looked at his father as though he were speaking gibberish. “Father,” Anthony said in anguished tones. “How can you simply sit there and remain so calm? I can hardly comprehend it. I can barely think I am so distraught.”
“Now, now,” Lord Ashworth said. “You’d better get used to this, son. Your wife is one who will want to fill her nursery. I have heard words to that effect about her—some spoken from her very own lips.” He set his book aside and rose and poured two more drinks. “Here, son. We have a long wait ahead of us, I’m afraid.”
“Buxton is sending refreshments to the billiards room, my lord, if you’d care to join us there,” Kit said.
“Billiards, eh? I rarely allow myself the time for that sort of thing these days. Sounds tempting.” He looked at his son, who was staring at the glass in his hand.
“Will you join us, then?” Kit asked, his eyes pleading. He was wholly unequipped on his own to deal with a man who was about to be a new father. Someone who’d survived the ordeal would be a welcome addition.
Lord Ashworth glanced at his son again and then back at Kit. “Very well. Come, Halford, hearty food and a game of skill will do us all a world of good.” He rose from his chair, bringing his glass with him. “To the billiards room.”
“To the billiards room,” Kit echoed as he, too, rose from his chair, raising his glass in salute as he did. “And to impending fatherhood.”
Anthony followed blindly behind them.
***
It had been a long afternoon and an even longer evening.
Earlier in the day, the ladies had joined Amelia for luncheon when she’d suddenly gotten an odd look on her face and had declared, “I think the baby has decided to come after all.” Aunt Margaret had gasped, Lady Ashworth had jumped to her feet, and Elizabeth had frozen in her chair.
“Are you sure, dear?” Lady Ashworth had said. But it had quickly become apparent that, yes, it was time to prepare for the arrival of the baby.
Lady Ashworth, who was the only one of the four of them with any experience in any of this, had sent for the doctor and the midwife. She had also sent for Amelia’s personal maid. The housekeeper, Mrs. Shaw, had shown up at the door not long after. “The doctor is in the next village with a patient, my lady. We have sent a footman on to inform him of our need for him here. The midwife will be here shortly.”
Eventually, the midwife, a Mrs. Waite by name, which Elizabeth found highly appropriate, had arrived. After a quick examination, she’d announced that while the babe was definitely on the way, it would be hours yet.
During those ensuing hours, Elizabeth had read aloud while Amelia had endured her pains, and she had laid cool washcloths on Amelia’s forehead when the pains had intensified. She’d eventually taken Aunt Margaret up to her room so she could rest, assuring her that she would come to her the minute there was any news. She had also taken supper with Aunt Margaret, although neither of them had been particularly hungry.
She’d watched the sun drop low in the sky, had watched the sky turn from blue to gold to indigo to black, all the while reading aloud to keep Amelia distracted, and she had allowed Amelia to squeeze her hands when the pains had become severe.
At one point, for about a half hour, Elizabeth had been left alone with Amelia.
“What if my baby dies?” Amelia had asked in a hoarse, woeful voice.
“Have faith,” Elizabeth had said reassuringly. “Everything has been proceeding to plan.” And she’d prayed it would continue.
“But what if my baby dies?” she repeated. “Or what if—” She stopped speaking and turned her head on the pillow, facing away from Elizabeth and shutting her eyes.
What if she gives birth to a baby girl?
Elizabeth was almost certain that was what Amelia had been about to say until she’d caught herself.
It must be past midnight by now, Elizabeth thought. It belatedly dawned on her that Kit had planned to come to Ashworth Park this afternoon. They’d all been so preoccupied . . . She was sorry to have missed him.
Lady Ashworth and Mrs. Waite had returned long ago. Amelia had been sleeping fitfully between her pains. Since the others had returned, Elizabeth shut her eyes for a moment. She was exhausted, but then, Lady Ashworth was undoubtedly tired too, as well as Mrs. Waite. She could endure if they could, for Amelia’s sake, whose pains were coming closer together and growing more intense.
“Elizabeth,” a gentle voice said. “Elizabeth.”
She blinked her eyes open.
“You’ve been sleeping,” Lady Ashworth said kindly. “You need to go to your room and get a good night’s rest.”
Elizabeth blinked off the fog surrounding her. “I—no, I’m not asleep. I’m fine.” She reached for her book.
Lady Ashworth placed her hand over Elizabeth’s. “No more reading for tonight. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking, anyway, to have a young single lady attending at the birth of a child. Society would be scandalized. You’ve been such a help today; now, go and rest.”
Mrs. Waite was examining Amelia, but she looked up when Lady Ashworth said those words. “’Tis nearly time, my lady,” Mrs. Waite told Amelia as Lady Ashworth stroked the hair back from Amelia’s forehead. “You’re doing well. Not much longer now.”
And then Amelia lurched forward and screamed.
“Out!” Mrs. Waite barked at Elizabeth. “Get whatever women who’ve borne children up here now. I need people here who know what they’re doing. Had I only known . . . Get more hot water. More rags! Go!”
“And send for Doctor Samuels!” Lady Ashworth said, reaching for Amelia.
Elizabeth scrambled out of her chair and fled the room.
***
Kit, Anthony, and Lord Ashworth had tired of billiards hours and hours ago. They’d eventually had supper—Kit being invited to stay—and had been joined by Lady Ashworth. Elizabeth, Lady Ashworth had told them, had chosen to dine with Lady Walmsley in Lady Walmsley’s room, as the elderly woman had been too distressed over Amelia to join them.
“You are not to be alarmed, Anthony,” his mother had told him. “Amelia’s Aunt Margaret is unfamiliar with the goings on of childbirth, having had no children of her own. But rest assured, all is proceeding well.”
Anthony hadn’t looked convinced.
After supper, they’d retired to the study. Kit had suggested they play whist, and at some point later on they’d switched to playing vingt-et-un. Finally, Lord Ashworth had risen from the card table. “I believe I shall retire now, gentlemen. I shall tell Buxton to have me awakened when there is news.” He rounded the table and set his hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “Good night, Halford. And you too, Cantwell. Thank you for being here with my son.”
Kit was touched by the marquess’s words. “I’m honored to stand with him in his hour of need, Lord Ashworth. He is my friend.”
“It is not the first time you have stood with him,” Lord Ashworth said. “Do not think I don’t remember.” He squeezed Anthony’s shoulder one more time. “
Soon you will be a father, Halford, and you will finally understand.” Then he bent down and kissed the top of Anthony’s head. Kit averted his eyes to allow them privacy during such a loving, intimate scene.
He was immediately overtaken by a slash of pain. Oh, how he missed his own father and mother! The ache in his chest grew until it nearly strangled him. To have his father set his hand upon his shoulder like that one more time. To place a father’s kiss upon his head! He felt wracked from the disquiet of the day and the sharp anguish of loss, and the illogical anger of abandonment he’d felt at his parents’ passing. He’d been fully adult, both he and Phillip, and yet the loss had made him feel as helpless as a young boy. It had been sudden and shocking, and Alex’s death had been that way, too, and just as difficult, but for entirely different reasons.
Kit had lost too many people he loved.
“How about chess?” he said to Anthony, hoping he sounded normal, trying desperately to change the direction his mind was taking. This wasn’t the time to be maudlin; there was too much at stake happening upstairs.
“I don’t know.” Anthony ran his hands over his face vigorously and breathed in deeply. “I wish I knew what was happening. Who made this rule that a man can’t be with his wife when bearing his child?”
“I’m not diving into a philosophical discussion about the propriety of such things with you at this late hour,” Kit said.
“Nor would I want you to.” Anthony rose to his feet and stretched. “Nevertheless, I’m going to see what’s happening. Are you coming with me?”