by Monica Burns
Victoria heard laughter coming from the kitchen, and as she stepped into the doorway the cook, scullery maid, and a footman looked at her in amazement. Mentally and physically exhausted, Victoria choked back tears, unwilling to let them see how upset she was.
“Good evening.” She forced a smile to her lips all too aware of how strained it must appear to the servants. “Mrs. Babcocke, I was hoping you might have some of your beef stew on the stove. I’m very cold, and I know a warm fire and your stew will warm me up really quick.”
“Good heavens, my lady, you look like death warmed over.” Mrs. Babcocke bustled to her feet. “We weren’t expecting you and his lordship for several weeks yet. How did you get home?”
“I walked from the train station,” Victoria said quietly. “If you could have someone build a fire in my room I’d appreciate it, and if you don’t have any stew then a bowl of hot soup would be nice.”
“You walked,” the cook exclaimed in horror. “Dear Lord. Is his Lordship with you?”
“No, Lord Guildford is still in London,” she said with a shake of her head. “I decided to come home by myself.”
Just the mention of Nicholas made Victoria’s heart ache, and she wearily turned away to make her way back to the main hall. Her travel bag in hand, she climbed the stairs and made her way down the hall to her room. The footman from the kitchen had taken the back stairs and was already in the process of building her a fire. It quickly became a roaring blaze, and after asking if she needed anything else, he left the room.
Eager to get out of her wet clothes, Victoria undressed as quickly as possible. She pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her then curled up in front of the fire. She was too numb and tired to think. Mrs. Babcocke came up with a hot bowl of stew and freshly baked bread. The woman had tried to fuss over her, but Victoria had gently made it clear she wanted to be left alone. The hearty stew made her realize how hungry she really was. Other than a piece of toast, the meal Mrs. Babcocke had prepared for her was the only thing she’d eaten all day. But the hot stew did little to raise her spirits.
Cold and weary, she tightened the blanket around her and leaned her head against the soft padding of the wing-backed chair. Why on earth had she been brought to this time period? Was it the universe’s idea of a big joke? Something to see how much pain she could endure? She’d always thought of herself as a strong person, but for the first time in her life she felt as if a MACK truck had run her over—twice, leaving her without the energy to get up.
Victoria closed her eyes. How was she going to live without Nicholas? She would be miserable until July when the baby arrived. Then she’d have someone to love. Even if he refused to have anything to do with the baby, she would never willingly abandon her child. She tried to visualize what Nicholas’ son would look like—and she was certain the baby was a boy. He would have dark hair and green eyes like his father, but the baby would have Edmund’s sweet smile. With a sigh, she let her mind wander, until she dozed off. A long while later she jerked awake at a soft sound.
The fire was burning low in the grate, and she saw one of the logs had fallen off to the hearth. Victoria uncurled herself from the chair then used the poker to roll the log back onto the flames. The chill in the air made her reach for the blanket again. As she wrapped it around her shoulders, she sensed someone watching her.
A shiver skimmed across her skin, and she whirled around to see Nicholas standing in the bedroom’s open doorway. Her heart skipped a beat. What was he doing here? Hadn’t she made it clear she’d left so he wouldn’t have to see her anymore? So she wouldn’t be a reminder of a child he didn’t want? Her heart leapt into her throat as he closed the door and moved toward her.
§ § §
Nicholas frowned as he studied Victoria’s face. She looked exhausted. No. Deeply hurt, and he knew it was his fault. He stopped in front of her, and caught her chin in his fingers, but she jerked free of his grasp then stepped out of his reach. Her reaction sliced through his heart like a sharp razor intent on cutting it out of his chest. He cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Babcocke said you walked from the train station to Brentwood Park this afternoon,” he said in a tight voice.
Edmund had been right to try and thrash him. If it hadn’t been for him she never would have wanted to leave London to begin with. At first he didn’t think she was going to respond, but she finally nodded.
“It’s a Sunday. There weren’t a lot of people around, at least no one with a vehicle I could ask for a ride.” She rolled her shoulders in a small shrug. “Why are you here, Nicholas?”
“Because my wife ran away.”
“I didn’t run away,” she said quietly but with a bit of that fiery spirit in her that he loved so much. “I came home.”
“Home?” Puzzled, he stared at her in bewilderment. “You mean home to Brentwood Park?”
“Yes, where else would I…” she met his gaze with a mixture of disappointment and something else he couldn’t decipher. “I wouldn’t deliberately try to bring on one of my headaches. I would never harm my child.”
“Our child,” he enunciated firmly. The moment he spoke, her soft features became cold and unyielding.
“No, Lord Guildford. You’ve made it quite clear you don’t want this baby,” she said with an icy calm that illustrated how deeply his desertion last night had hurt her. Frustration made him clench his jaw as he met her cool, disdainful gaze.
“Do you want me to lie and say I wanted children when they might be like my brother?” he snarled. The moment she flinched, Nicholas exhaled a loud whoosh of air from his lungs. Shoving his hand through his hair, he turned away from her. “When you said you were with child, all I could think about was that I would be to blame if our child was like Edmund. But it wasn’t the fact that you were carrying our child that horrified me. It was the thought that I would be like my father.”
“You’ll never be like your father,” she exclaimed sharply as she rushed forward and tugged on his arm to make him face her. “If you were like him would you have gone to Italy and brought Edmund home to live with you? Are you going to stand here and tell me you don’t love your brother and would do whatever it takes to protect him?”
“No, I would give my life for Edmund.” Nicholas shook his head as her words sank into his brain as he saw the fierce expression on her face. She glared up at him.
“Then there’s no way in hell you’ll be like your father where our baby is concerned.”
The conviction on her face made his heart tighten in his chest, and he marveled at the love he saw shining in her eyes. Regret rolled through him as he cupped her face with his hands and placed a tender kiss on her brow.
“I was a coward for deserting you last night, sweet witch,” he whispered.
“I’m just as much to blame,” she said in a choked voice as she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder. “I knew you would think I was like Vickie and her lies all over again. I betrayed you by not telling you the truth from the start.”
“You are nothing like, Vickie,” he growled fiercely as he forced her to look up at him. “And you didn’t betray me. I would still have had doubts even if you’d told me right away.”
“Then you believe me when I say you’re not like your father and never will be?”
“Yes,” he said as a small smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He’d never had a more beautiful or passionate champion to defend him.
“I have a confession to make,” she murmured as she nibbled at her bottom lip. “I did think about bringing on one of my headaches, but the moment I considered it, I knew I’d never be able to do it. I want this baby, Nicholas.”
“As do I,” he said softly as he realized it was the truth.
Whatever happened, he would love the child, because the babe would be the culmination of their love for each other. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he heard her yawn.
“I know you’re tired, my love, but you ha
ve another champion who wishes to see you before you retire for the night.”
“Edmund?” she asked with a smile. “Where is he?”
“In the hall,” he said with a smile. “I knew better than to send him to bed, I imagine he would have punched me again.”
“He hit you?” Her eyes widened as she stared at him in astonishment as she left his embrace and moved to the wardrobe to retrieve her robe.
“He landed a couple of sound blows to my jaw when I came home from the club today. He was furious with me for having driven you away,” he said with a hint affectionate amusement. “I’m certain he’ll not be able to rest until he knows you’re all right, and God knows he won’t believe me.”
“Then I won’t disappoint him.” Victoria’s smile was filled with warmth and love as she looked over her shoulder at him. His heart had never been so full as it was at this moment. His wife loved him in spite of his faults. No other man in the world could have been as lucky as he was.
Chapter 33
Victoria grimaced as the baby moved inside her belly to a position that was obviously more comfortable for him. The only problem was it made her extremely uncomfortable. She stared down at the page in her journal and the last few paragraphs. She smiled despite her uncomfortable state.
I wish this baby would hurry up and get here. The weather has been boiling hot. Who knew England could be this miserable in summer. I thought it would be cool. It might be all these layers of clothing, and the pregnancy isn’t helping either. Dr. Bertram says it won’t be long now, but I’m not sure I trust him. Men don’t have a clue about what it’s like to be pregnant. Even Nicholas, as much as I love him, can be a bit of an ass sometimes about how uncomfortable I am.
Edmund is the only one who seems to get the fact that I’m really uncomfortable. He’s such a sweet man, and I love him dearly. I think about the time before I came to Brentwood Park less and less. It seems more like a dream. Perhaps Nicholas is right. It might be a fabrication my mind created while I was missing for three weeks. I can only assume the blow to my head changed my behavior for the better. No, I don’t really believe that. None of it makes sense, but I can’t believe my life in the future wasn’t real. At least everyone here doesn’t have to deal with the real countess any more. The woman was a major bitch and made everyone’s life miserable. It does worry me some that Nicholas hasn’t mentioned that bastard Reardon for the last several months. Every time I ask him about the man he simply says there isn’t any news.
Victoria closed the journal and tucked it back into its hiding spot in her desk. It was the second journal she’d almost filled completely, and her fingers brushed over the first volume as she put the second one back in place. After her death as an old woman, someone would read them and wonder how she managed to escape the psych ward.
A soft noise made her turn her head, and she saw Edmund standing near the door. She frowned in puzzlement at his wistful expression, and she beckoned to him. He raced forward to squat down in front of her with his elbows tucked in between his legs.
“I didn’t want to bother you while you were writing, so I kept still for the longest time.”
“That was very thoughtful of you Edmund. Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart? You looked really sad this afternoon.”
“I’m sad because you have to go away.”
“Go away?” She frowned as her heart skipped a beat in fear. “What do you mean?”
“I know you have to go, but I don’t want you to,” Edmund said with an angry frown.
“What makes you think I’m going away, Edmund?” Victoria stared at her brother-in-law with a growing sense of unease at his emphatic belief.
“My momma came to me last night, and she said you would have to go away.”
The certainty in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Did he somehow sense she wasn’t really supposed to be here? Was he intuitive like Anna?
“What else did your mother tell you?”
“Mama said you forgot about the secret. She said I should show it to you again so you wouldn’t forget.” Edmund tipped his head to one side as he spoke.
“What secret, Edmund?” Puzzled, she frowned.
Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed her hand and solicitously helped her to her feet then pulled her toward the fireplace. On the left side of the mantle, Edmund reached out and pressed the third rose down from the top of the shelf. The flower was part of the intricate pattern of roses that wound its way up the sides of the fireplace to meet at the center of the mantle.
The moment Edmund pushed the flower inward, she heard a soft click, and the whole side of the mantle swung open to reveal several narrow shelves capable of holding valuables. The cleverly concealed compartment joined with the mantel’s wood inlay in a seamless joint, which made the secret compartment impossible to detect.
“Edmund, does anyone else knows about this hiding spot?”
“No, not even Nicholas,” he said. “Momma said you would remember about the book when I showed you the secret door.”
Trepidation tightened her throat. Christ, first she’d been thrown into the past, suffered from frightening visions and now Edmund was telling her about a ghost. She snorted silently. Why should Edmund’s story about his mother surprise her? She was from the future living in the past. Living the life of another woman. How could she question the logic of a message from a dead woman?
Because she wasn’t from the future. It was simply a lie her brain had created. A voice laughed at her in the back of her head. She simply wanted to believe that because it would eliminate the fear that she would eventually be pulled back to her own time. Her heart skidded along as fear threatened to take over her thoughts, but she pushed the emotion back into the darkness from where it had crawled from.
She peered into the hiding place with its dusty shelves. Sneezing, she saw something shoved all the way to the back of the top shelf. Cautiously, she pulled the item out of the cubby hole.
“See, Victoria, it’s the black book you hid there before you came back as a nice person.” The nervous tension in his voice made her glance in his direction. Fear pinched his features, and she patted his arm to calm him.
“It’s alright, Edmund. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a book.”
He shook his head vigorously in protest, but didn’t move. Returning her attention to the book, she flipped it open and frowned. There were names, dates, and locations. Among the references, she immediately recognized the familiar London icon, Big Ben. The letters P. M. in front of so many names rang a bell with her too, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen them before.
Frowning, she turned one page after another to find the slim volume filled with different names at the top of each page. It didn’t make sense. What would Vickie be doing with a book like this? Toward the rear of the volume, her eyes focused on the name Darby.
Fear snaked through her as she stared at the name and that terrible night at the opera flooded through her. She forced the horror of those terrible moments aside to focus on the book in her hand. There was nothing about it that made any sense whatsoever.
If she showed it to Nicholas he might know what all the names meant. He would be home day after tomorrow when Parliament went into recess. She would show it to him then. Victoria put the book back into the cubby hole and shut the secret door. She turned toward Edmund and smiled.
“I don’t remember why I have the book or why I hid it, Edmund. But it looks important, so we’re going to leave it hidden until Nicholas comes home. We’ll show it to him, and he’ll know what to do with it. Sound like a plan?”
“I’m afraid, Victoria. I don’t want the bad men to come and hurt you.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nicholas will know what to do with the book, and no one’s going to hurt me.” What men was Edmund referring to? The men in her nightmares? She shivered.
“Are you all right, Victoria?” The fear in Edmund’s voice made her reach for his hand.
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“Of course, sweetheart.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “There’s nothing to worry about. Nicholas would never let anything happen to either one of us. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yep. Nicholas will keep us safe,” Edmund said with renewed confidence.
“All right, now isn’t it time for tea?”
“Uh huh.” With a grin, Edmund, with his hand still holding hers, pulled her toward the door. “Cook made me apple tarts today.”
“You and your apple—” her words came to an abrupt halt as a rush of warm liquid ran down her legs and formed a puddle at her feet.
“Victoria, you peed all over the floor.” Edmund’s wide-eyed look of appalled amusement made her choke out a laugh despite the sudden, hard contraction that twisted painfully in her belly.
“Edmund, go get Mrs. Beechum.” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but failed. A look of fear swept over Edmund’s face. She shook her head and smiled despite the painful contraction. “It’s all right, Edmund. The baby is coming. Go find Mrs. Beechum and Molly now.”
A look of wonder swept over her brother-in-law’s face, and with a bob of his head he raced out of the room. The contraction easing, Victoria pulled out a lightweight lawn nightgown from her wardrobe. Her hair was already sticking to the nape of her neck, and her water breaking had left her legs sticky as well.
She moved into the bathroom at a slow pace and wet a cloth to apply to the back of her neck. She lifted her head and stared into the mirror and smiled. She was about to have a baby. Another contraction twisted through her, and she sucked in a sharp breath before releasing a cry of pain. The contraction seemed to go on forever, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the pain faded.
“You’re being a real pain in the ass, baby, just like your father can be sometimes.”
“More like his mother I think.” The familiar voice echoing in her ears made Victoria jerk her head toward the bathroom door. Her heart sang as Nicholas closed the distance between them.