by Laura Landon
Hannah suddenly felt as if she owned the world. As if nothing was beyond her grasp. As if she’d been given the greatest gift anyone could receive.
She continued to rest her hand on Rafe’s arm, knowing the man she was holding on to had the power to make all her dreams come true.
Hannah woke the next morning more rested than she’d felt in months. She’d shown Rafe to the room Mrs. Grange had readied for him, then went to her own room. As usual when she came to Coventry Cottage, she was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She hoped that Rafe had slept well too. She also hoped he’d stayed awake long enough to eat the food she’d had sent to his room, but she doubted it. As long as he got a good night’s rest, though, that was all that mattered.
Hannah walked into the breakfast room and stopped short. Rafe sat at the table with a plate in front of him piled high with food. When he saw her, he placed his fork beside his plate and rose.
She hesitated to call any man beautiful, but she couldn’t think of another word that described him as accurately. Especially when he looked at her. Especially when he smiled. Especially when the expression in his eyes changed from blatant admiration to something so obvious that it could only be called what it clearly was—love.
“Good morning, Hannah. You look radiant this morning.”
“You look like you had a good night’s rest,” she answered, sitting in the chair he held for her.
“Excellent. Your staff has made sure I wanted for nothing.”
She smiled as she reached for the cup of hot tea one of the servants poured for her.
“May I fill your plate?” Rafe asked.
Hannah glanced at his heaping plate and laughed. “I wouldn’t dare trust you to fill my plate. I’d be so stuffed I wouldn’t be able to do any work for the remainder of the day.” She nodded to the footman who stood beside the serving table. “Graves will do it. Just some coddled eggs and toast, Graves.”
“Yes, miss,” Graves answered.
Hannah turned her attention back to Rafe. “I’m glad your appetite has returned. You went without a proper amount of food for too long. You need to eat in order to build your strength.”
“Is that why you allowed me to come here with you?”
“Partly.”
“There’s another reason?”
“Yes, but for now we’ll concern ourselves with making sure you eat properly so you build your strength.”
“You don’t have to fear on that account. My stomach is encouraging me to make up for the meals it lost.”
“Good,” she answered as she reached for the marmalade to spread on her toast.
Rafe continued eating, then paused to ask another question. “What are your plans today, Hannah? Do you have anything special in mind?”
Hannah looked out the window and saw that the day promised to be beautiful. The sun was already shining brightly, and there were no threatening clouds anywhere that she could see. “Perhaps,” she said, looking back at the hopeful expression on his face. “I’d like to show you one of my favorite spots on the estate.”
“I’d love that,” he answered with a smile. “So far everything I’ve seen has been impressive.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’ve never seen an estate like it. The windows in my room overlook the garden, and the view is remarkable.”
“Then you have several more to discover. There are five gardens in all. Each of them is unique.”
Rafe put another fork filled with sausage and eggs in his mouth and chewed. “However did you discover this estate?” he asked when he finished chewing.
“I didn’t find it. It was a gift. It was given to me,” she said, then watched to see the surprise on his face. He was obviously trying to decide who would have gifted her such a magnificent estate—and why. She realized the moment he understood.
Hannah nodded in Graves’s direction, and the room cleared. She was alone with Rafe.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell the story of how she’d acquired Coventry Cottage in front of the servants. Several of them had been employed by its former owner and knew exactly how she’d acquired it. Which meant that the newer members of the staff were also aware. But she still preferred telling Rafe the story without an audience to listen to her words.
“A gift,” he said. He placed his fork beside his plate. It seemed he’d lost his appetite.
“Yes, Rafe. A gift.”
Hannah lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip of the tepid tea. She struggled to appear as relaxed as possible. “When I first came to Madam Genevieve’s, I worked as one of her girls. I had different clients every night. Some of them I enjoyed being with. Some of them I prefer to forget.”
Rafe’s gaze lowered to a spot on the table to the side of his still-filled plate. He was uncomfortable when she talked about her life as a prostitute, but she refused to pretend it had never happened. She’d accepted the life she’d been forced to live, and Rafe would have to as well. Or…
Perhaps this was the ugly truth he needed in order to realize how different they were from each other, and that there was no hope for a future between them.
“One of my favorite clients was an elderly gentleman who visited me regularly every week. Sometimes more than once a week. He was a very special person, very intelligent as well as extremely wise about all things. I enjoyed talking to him and learning from him. He deserves the credit for encouraging me to purchase Madam Genevieve’s.”
“You don’t have to go into detail about your former life, Hannah. I know who and what you were. You don’t have to remind me.”
“Am, Rafe. Who and what I am. I am Madam Genevieve. I am one of London’s most well-known courtesans. Being a prostitute isn’t an occupation you can pretend you never had. You can lose many things in life and find them again. But your good name isn’t one of them. Once you lose your reputation, it’s impossible to get it back.”
Rafe’s features hardened. Hannah knew she could stop. She’d made her point. But she wasn’t finished. It was important that Rafe knew all about her. And about Coventry Cottage.
“Coventry Cottage’s former owner was the gentlest of men. He was slight in build, and his features were often referred to as being on the effeminate side. I think he’d gone through life having his masculinity questioned. A topic that humiliated him.”
Hannah rose from her chair and walked to look out the window. “One evening when I went down to meet him, I overheard the cruel jests made by one of Society’s more outspoken gentlemen, suggesting that my friend return home and let the males who were more adequately endowed satisfy the girls at Madam Genevieve’s.”
Hannah remembered the night as if it had happened yesterday. She remembered how outraged she’d been on her friend’s behalf. She turned to face Rafe. “I lost my composure and suggested that if this bully was concerned with satisfying the girls at Madam Genevieve’s, then he would do all of us a favor and allow my client to take his place.”
Hannah returned to her chair at the table and sat. “My comments were met with uproarious laughter that censured the bully who’d made fun of my friend.” Hannah took a deep breath before she continued. “It wasn’t long after that I noticed my friend seemed to have less energy. He’d always been a small man, but he seemed to be getting smaller. And he’d often spend a great deal of time sleeping instead of talking.
“I wasn’t surprised one day when I received word that he’d passed away. I was surprised, though, to get a letter from his solicitor informing me that I’d been mentioned in his will.”
Hannah reached for a glass of water and took a sip. “He’d left me Coventry Estate.” She smiled as she always did when she thought of her benefactor. “His family, of course, contested the will, but as Coventry Cottage and the land surrounding it weren’t entailed, there was nothing they could do about it. Plus, my friend had his solicitor draw up a document and had it signed by everyone, including the queen, stating that he anticipated tha
t his greedy relatives would challenge his will, but he insisted it remain as written.”
She looked at Rafe’s shocked expression. “That’s how I acquired Coventry Cottage.”
His mouth dropped. “You got it from Covey. From the Marquess of Coventry.”
Hannah smiled. “Yes. From Covey. Over the years, I’d been here often. I loved it here, and Covey knew it. When he died, he left it to me to do with as I saw fit.”
“And you saw fit to turn it into a home for the girls you rescued off the streets.”
“Yes. Heaven knows there’s enough room. One wing houses the girls’ rooms. They are required to care for their rooms and keep them spotless. The classrooms are on the west wing. The girls spend four hours each day at their studies. They learn to read and to do basic numbers. Then in the afternoons, they do various household duties. While there, they are evaluated by the staff.
“The girls who show an interest and the aptitude for running a household are given the opportunity to work with Mrs. Grange, the housekeeper. Those who show a talent for cooking are sent to the kitchen to help Cook. Those who show an interest in outdoor work are encouraged to tend the garden and take care of the produce. And those who enjoy tending the babes go to the nursery to take care of the children.”
“Babes? There are babes here?”
“Yes, they are kept in the east wing. There are always babes. They are the smallest victims in this tragedy. Would you like to see them?”
“Yes,” Rafe answered. “I’d like to see all the girls. I’d like to visit with them.”
Hannah rose to her feet. “Follow me, then.”
She turned to the door, but stopped short when Rosie rushed into the room.
“I think you’d best come quick, Miss Genevieve. Jenny is having her babe, and things aren’t going good.”
Hannah rushed to where Rosie held open the door. “Is the doctor here?”
“Yes, but he says he doesn’t think he can save her.”
“And the babe?”
“Probably not the babe either.”
“Damn Skinner,” Hannah said as she rushed across the marble-tiled floor and up the stairs that led to the rooms where the girls expecting babes were housed. “How much longer will he be allowed to murder innocent young girls?”
When Hannah reached the top of the stairs, she ran to Jenny’s room. She wasn’t sure she could go through this again. Wasn’t sure she could hold another young girl’s hand while life slipped from her body. But she had to.
Someone had held her hand while she’d been delivered of her babe. Someone had held her hand as life slipped from her body. And from her babe’s.
And that hand had kept Hannah from giving up.
Especially when her babe had died in her arms.
Chapter 18
Rafe had never prayed as hard in his life.
Several hours passed, and he paced the floor outside the room where the girl, Jenny, struggled to give birth to a new life. He knew it wasn’t going well. Everyone who exited the room wore a look of despair.
At first he’d heard muffled sounds coming from the room; now—nothing.
He turned as the door opened again and one of the servants walked out with a bundle of soiled linens in her arms. “Has she had the babe yet?” he asked, praying it was over.
The girl nodded. “She had a wee little lassie, but the doctor says it probably won’t live. The birthing was too hard on it.”
“And Jenny?”
She shook her head as more tears streamed down her cheeks.
Rafe felt a wave of desperation. He’d been at the bedside of several good Christians leaving this world, and for those who knew what awaited them, it was a joyful occasion. He wanted to make sure Jenny knew that comfort.
And there was the babe to baptize.
Rafe opened the door and took in the sight around him. The doctor was preparing to leave, and Rafe stepped aside as one of Hannah’s servants escorted him from the room. Mrs. Rosebury sat in a rocker in the corner of the room and held a small bundle in her arms. Hannah sat on the bed and held Jenny’s hand.
Rafe walked forward.
Hannah saw him first and looked up. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheek. She tried to smile, but Rafe saw how difficult it was for her.
“Hello, Jenny,” he said, smiling down on the young girl. Death was near. He knew it. And so did Hannah. “My name is Vicar Waterford.”
“Did you come because I’m going to die?” she asked in a weak voice.
“Only God knows if and when we’re going to die, Jenny. I came to tell you how special you are and tell you how happy you’ll be when God takes you to heaven.”
“That’s what our vicar said when my granny died. He said she was happy now.”
“Your vicar was right. Your granny is very happy. And you will be too.”
She looked at him as if she wanted to believe him—was desperate to believe him—but wasn’t sure.
He sat in a chair beside the bed. “Have you seen your babe yet?”
“For a minute. She’s awfully tiny. The doctor said she more than likely wouldn’t live either.”
“Have you given her a name?”
She shook her head.
“Have you thought of a name you’d like to give her?”
Jenny nodded. “Rachael. I heard it once in a story from the Bible and thought it was pretty.” She breathed a deep sigh. “I want to call her Rachael.”
“That’s a beautiful name. Would you like me to write her name in God’s book?”
“You mean baptize her?”
Rafe nodded.
“Would you? My granny said that’s what happened when I was baptized. My name got wrote down in God’s book so He’d know who I was when I got to heaven.”
“That’s right, Jenny. He’s waiting for you and so is your granny.”
“I miss her,” Jenny whispered. “Everything changed after she died.”
“Then you’ll be happy because she’s waiting for you.” Rafe stroked his fingers across Jenny’s damp brow. “You’ll be happy forever.”
Jenny was losing strength. The end was drawing nearer. He nodded to Mrs. Rosebury, and she brought the babe over. “Would you like to hold Rachael while we baptize her?”
Jenny nodded, and Mrs. Rosebury placed the babe in Jenny’s arms.
Rafe baptized the babe with clean water from a nearby basin, then let the babe rest in Jenny’s arms. He quoted the comforting parts of scripture until God took Jenny home.
No one moved for a long time. Even after Mrs. Rosebury took the babe from Jenny’s arms, Rafe and Hannah sat with her. Hannah held her hand, and Rafe stroked her cooling forehead. Tears streamed down Hannah’s face, but she wasn’t the only one who shed tears for the young life that ended far too soon. Tears streamed down Rafe’s face too. Tears he didn’t try to stop. Tears he didn’t try to hide.
The sun rose high in the sky, and he and Hannah still sat there. A maid brought in a tea tray with small sandwiches on it, but neither of them was hungry. And Rafe knew he couldn’t leave until Hannah was ready. They both owed the girl who’d given her life at such a young age to birth a babe who didn’t stand any better chance of living than her mother had.
Finally, Hannah lifted her head and looked at him. With a nod she rose and walked to the door.
He followed.
She walked down the hall, then up another flight of stairs and down a long hallway to another wing of the mansion.
What he noticed first were the sounds coming from a room at the end of the hall. Although the sounds were muffled, Rafe knew they were happy sounds—the sounds of laughter. The gleeful sounds of children at play.
He followed Hannah, and when she stopped at one of the doors, he reached around her to open it. The door swung inward, and Hannah stepped inside. Rafe followed her.
He took one step into the room and stopped.
The room was filled with children—not crowded, not throngs, but many children.
There were probably upward of twenty children in the room, from infants a few months old, to toddlers, to youngsters of four and five. In addition, Rafe guessed there were six or eight twelve-to eighteen-year-olds playing with the toddlers and those older, and six adults caring for the babes and overseeing the rest.
Rafe looked at Hannah and frowned. “Do you run an orphanage too?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly. These are all babes of the girls who were not fortunate enough to escape Skinner before he tossed them out on the street when they became with child. If the babe Rachael survives, she’ll be cared for in this room.”
He studied the children. “What will happen to them?”
“Occasionally, someone comes who wants a child so desperately they’re willing to overlook the child’s parentage. But mostly, all of them will remain and be raised here. They will be fed and clothed and loved unconditionally.”
He followed Hannah as she walked through the room. She picked up all the toddlers and babes and gave them each an equal amount of her attention. Then she sat on the floor where she was surrounded by the older of the children and played with them for several minutes. She eventually rose and walked toward him.
“Are there older children?” he asked.
She nodded and walked to the door.
Rafe followed her to another wing of the mansion. When they turned the corner, she opened the first door they came to. It was a classroom and the children were busy doing problems on a slate.
“These are the five-through eight-year-olds. They are learning to read, write, and do basic numbers. Their instructor is Miss Amanda. We rescued her off the streets when she was fifteen. As she learned, she showed exceptional teaching abilities. When it was time for her to leave to find a position, she asked to stay.” Hannah pointed to the little boy in the second row. “That is her son, Timothy. She didn’t want to be separated from him, so becoming a teacher at Coventry proved the best solution for them both.”
Rafe looked around the classroom, and his admiration for Hannah overwhelmed him. Before he could say anything, she turned and they left the room. They walked down the hall to the next room, and she opened the door. It was another classroom.