They visited for another half hour before Nels announced dinner. Meredith and her aunt exchanged uneasy glances as their small party filed into the dining room. It appeared Lord Brookshire would not join them. Meredith’s hands fisted at her sides and she felt an embarrassed flush creep up her face.
The head of the table stood conspicuously vacant. The empty seat seemed to glare at all of them, reminding everyone of the slight implied by his absence. Doing her best to ignore the empty seat, Meredith steered conversation away from the mention of Lord Brookshire. Even so, Mr. Browne and Felicia’s eyes constantly drifted to the unused place setting, then back to her, clearly holding her responsible for the empty chair.
Then, before the first course was served, he arrived. “Forgive me,” he offered with a casual smile. “I lost track of the hour.”
Meredith felt the tension inside her snap. “Perhaps you need a timepiece, my lord?”
Her aunt gaped from across the table, letting Meredith know, in case she had any doubts, that she had been unpardonably rude. Nick, however, appeared unruffled as he seated himself at the head of the table. His eyes danced with amusement, but he only responded with a light shrug.
Aunt Eleanor quickly performed the introductions. In record time Felicia engaged Nick in conversation to the exclusion of everyone else. Meredith leaned as far to her left as she dared without falling out of her chair, trying to catch their words, finally giving up when she realized Sir Hiram was repeating himself due to her inattention.
“Might I inquire as to your future plans, my lady, now that Lord Brookshire has taken control of Oak Run?”
Meredith fidgeted, twisting her linen napkin in her lap. The news of her approaching motherhood had not yet spread, and she dreaded the revelation, fearing the reaction from those who knew of her estranged marriage. Gossip was inescapable.
Sir Hiram especially knew her relationship with Edmund had been less than devoted. Edmund’s abandonment had paved the way for his amorous attentions these many years. A widower of middle years, he lacked the sophistication to be called a rake. Left alone to raise a set of troublesome twins that had successfully terrorized every resident of Attingham at one time or another, Meredith believed his attentions were motivated solely by his desperation for companionship. Especially as no female was inclined to take on his two terrors in a more permanent arrangement. The fact that Meredith never showed the slightest interest had not swayed the man. A neglected wife such as she appeared the natural companion for dalliance.
Sir Hiram’s eyes gleamed hopefully, as if he believed his chances improved now that she was widowed. Still awaiting her answer, he touched her hand where it rested on her knee beneath the table. She jumped at the touch, sending her knees—his hand included—crashing against the table and jarring both their place settings.
Hiram winced and pulled his hand free, clutching the injured appendage to his chest. Nick looked on, his eyes hard with interest…and something else.
“Yes, where will you go now?” Felicia tore her attention from Nick long enough to pick up Sir Hiram’s line of questioning. As if the prospect of Meredith leaving were of no account at all, she continued chewing, her cheeks stuffed fat with food. A quick glance around the table revealed that everyone waited for her response. Evidently, no one expected her to stay on.
“Lady Meredith is not going anywhere.”
All heads swiveled in Nick’s direction. He stabbed a small roasted potato with his fork. At that moment, he appeared indifferent to their stares, simply a man enjoying his food. He took a swig of wine before adding, “Lady Meredith will remain here of course. This is her home.”
“And live with you?” Felicia exclaimed, her golden ringlets swinging as she looked back and forth between Nick and Meredith. For the first time, something besides disdain frosted the girl’s eyes. Jealousy shined in the china blue depths. “That is highly improper, my lord.”
“Is it?” Nick asked in a tone indicating his lack of interest in what was proper.
Meredith wanted to laugh at Felicia’s reddening face. If the girl’s outrage weren’t at the cost of her own reputation, she would have been overjoyed.
Mr. Browne’s unsolicited opinion rang out in strident tones. “It cannot be appropriate for two unattached persons to live together out of wedlock—”
“With her aunt to act as chaperone?” Nick shook his head in dissent. “I hardly think we are stretching the bounds of propriety.” His eyes drilled into the gentlemen present. “I dare anyone to sully Lady Meredith’s good name by implying differently.”
Mr. Browne sniffed at the indiscreet warning, but wisely chose not to offer further opinion.
“Besides,” Nick added in seeming afterthought, “Lady Meredith is increasing with my brother’s child—a better safeguard to her virtue I could not fathom.”
Meredith pressed her eyes shut against the immediate commotion that erupted around the table. Opening her eyes, she met Nick’s curious gaze and read the question there. You haven’t told them?
In a voice that sounded small and weak even to her own ears, Meredith tried to explain. “I did not know the best time to announce the news…what with Edmund’s recent passing there never seemed—”
Felicia had no trouble getting to the point. The young woman’s voice rose over her father and Mr. Browne’s well wishes. “Well, are you the earl or not?”
Nick leaned back in his chair, appearing to enjoy himself as everyone watched him with bated breath, anticipation writ on their faces. “That depends.”
“Depends?” Felicia snapped, clearly anxious to know if he was a prize worth winning. “On what?”
“On the sex of the child.”
All eyes swung back to Meredith, drilling into her with unnerving intensity—as if they could strip away her clothes to seek the answer buried within.
At her side, Sir Hiram’s voice dropped to a frantic whisper. “Lady Meredith, how can this be?”
Indignation welled up inside her. Who was he to ask such a question of her? She desired nothing more than to relieve Sir Hiram of his propriety air. Instead, she swallowed back the stinging set down she wished to vent. “I do not understand your meaning, Sir Hiram.”
As Sir Hiram struggled for words, Nick voiced his own question. “Yes, what do you mean, Rawlins?”
Apparently realizing how close he was to insulting his host and hostess, Sir Hiram abandoned his line of questioning and lifted his glass in a toast. “Felicitations and many blessings on the safe delivery of your child.”
Meredith nodded in polite acknowledgment and smiled weakly as the others joined Sir Hiram in raising their glasses.
She watched Nick drink deeply, his dark eyes trained on her over the rim. She gave him a small, grudging nod of gratitude for smoothing things over. Perhaps she even owed her aunt gratitude. By tomorrow all of Attingham would know she was with child. The matter of breaking the news would be out of the way. Even if no one believed it.
Meredith could not say what exactly woke her. She lay still in bed for a few moments and waited, listening to the silence. Then she heard it.
Voices. Floating from the first floor. They rumbled in the air like a distant drone of bees. The hour had to be very late. The night sky was pitch-black out her balcony window and the air almost unnaturally still. Grabbing her night rail, she pulled it over her cotton gown and hurried to investigate. She stopped at the top of the stairs, eyeing the scene below.
Young Ben Finney stood on the threshold, his hands waving wildly with his excited speech. Nels stood there as well, nodding as he listened to the boy.
“Nels?” Meredith called from the top of the stairs, clutching her night rail to her throat. “Is anything amiss?”
“Mrs. Finney’s time has begun. The lad here is to fetch Maree.”
“Give me a moment. I shall accompany her.”
Meredith hurried back to her room and made short work of dressing, changing into one of her old, brown wool dresses. She didn’t bothe
r with arranging her hair, simply allowed it to remain in its loosely bound plait. Perhaps she would have taken more care had she known she would face Nick in the foyer.
“My lord? What are you doing here?” she asked as she descended the stairs, coming to a halt before him.
“I heard voices.” His dark eyes examined her, roving over her plain clothing and untidy hair.
He appeared to have dressed in haste as well. His white lawn shirt flapped open to the middle of his chest and was tucked untidily into dark breeches. The tan of his skin presented a dark contrast to the stark white of his shirt, and Meredith experienced a strange tightening in her breasts the longer she looked at him.
“I am sorry you were disturbed. Mrs. Finney’s baby has chosen the middle of the night to greet the world,” Meredith explained.
Just then Maree ambled toward them, lugging a heavy basket. Nels rushed to help her. “I’ve got everything except the stove. Oh, did we wake everyone?”
“I will accompany you, Maree,” Meredith volunteered. Maree gave a grunt of acceptance, accustomed to Meredith’s presence at the birthing of tenants’ children.
Nick followed them outside and took her arm to assist her into the Finney wagon. Their eyes locked as she settled on the hard seat. She felt certain his thoughts were on the last time he had assisted her. Warmth flooded her face at the memory of those strong hands on her derriere. She felt the heat of those black eyes boring into her back as they rode away in the wagon, but she dared not look back.
“That one appears to do a good deal of looking at you,” Maree murmured.
Meredith cut a sharp glance to the boy at her side. Thankfully, Ben appeared too lost in his worries to pay attention to their conversation. She replied in hushed tones, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Maree’s keen eyes and worldly aura reminded Meredith that this woman had done her fair share of living outside of Attingham. “He’s not your average man. I never seen no gentleman like him in all my days. Don’t travel with a valet. Brought just one bag with him…and no coach, just a horse.” Maree made a clucking sound and shook her head in wonder. “Sure he has manners enough to be Quality, but take one look in his eyes and you can see it.”
“See what?”
“You ever look an ol’ beat-up dog in the eyes? He’s got that same look. Like deep down he’s dead inside. Like there ain’t nothing in the world that can reach him. Not even you.”
Meredith frowned. Nick possessed a wounded spirit, with that she would agree. With his past, how could he come away unscathed? But she refused to think him dead inside. That would mean he was lost, and for some reason she would not allow herself to believe that of him. No soul was ever completely lost. Besides, his eyes burned with life. Especially when they looked at her.
“He’s not dead inside,” she said a touch defensively. “He fairly hums with vitality.”
Maree squinted at Meredith’s face, as if trying to distinguish her features in the shadows. “Oh, Lord.” She laughed. “He’s already got to you.”
Meredith opened her mouth to deny the outrageous words, but Maree did not give her a chance to speak.
“One look at him should have warned me you’d fall for him. Be careful, Meredith. You can’t afford to fall in love with him. Not this one.” She patted Meredith’s belly in reminder, her thick brows dipping meaningfully. “You’ve made other plans. Keep that in mind and steer clear of him.” Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper. “He won’t be the gentleman if he finds out. Men don’t like being fooled, and something tells me this one would be more than you could handle.”
Meredith bit her lip in concern, considering Nick’s reaction should he uncover her deception. He might not want the inheritance, but he would not thank her for being deceived. Maree was correct on that score.
The wagon hit a rut that jarred her from her troubling reflections. Her fingers dug into the rough wood bench beneath her for support.
“Easy, boy,” Maree huffed, clutching the basket to her ample bosom as the mules took a turn in the winding road that nearly lifted the wheels of the wagon. “We’ll be no good to your ma if you overturn this box and break our necks.”
Both Meredith and Maree breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the Finney farm without mishap. Tom Finney waited in the yard with his sons. He rushed to help the two women down.
“So glad you came. It’s taking so long. It didn’t take Sally this long with the others…well, maybe just the first one, but that’s the way they say, with the first one,” he rattled as he followed them to the cottage door.
It appeared all of the Finney males would have followed them into the cottage if Maree had not blocked their way. “We’ll have enough bodies in here with all the girls. The rest of you wait outside.”
A putrid smell assailed Meredith upon entering the cottage. Sally Finney’s low moans rent the air. Three young girls peered wide-eyed from the loft above. Meredith could see the fright in their little faces as the eldest girls, Catie and Hannah, tended their mother.
Maree wasted no time and set to work examining Sally. “Have you started any pushing yet, love?” she asked from between the woman’s trembling thighs.
Sally shook her head jerkily on the pillow, sweaty strands of coppery hair clinging to her cheeks.
“I’d say it’s about time then,” Maree declared.
“Thank God,” Sally sighed.
“Can you hold your legs up or do you need help?” Maree asked, taking a bowl of water from Catie.
“I can do it—” Sally began, trying the pull her shaking legs back, but gave up, letting them collapse heavily on the mattress. Meredith grasped one knee to help her. Catie took the other.
Sally smiled weakly at Meredith. “This is the last one, I tell you. I’m not going through this again.”
“You said that last time, Ma,” Catie teased, patting her mother’s knee.
“Aye, well I mean it. From now on your father can sleep in the barn.”
They all laughed, the levity welcomed.
“God has a way of making you forget the pain. Then you’re left with a beautiful babe who soon grows and leaves you pining for another.” Maree grinned from between Sally’s sweat-slick legs. “Right, love?” she asked in soothing tones.
Sally gave a wobbly smile. “Aye.”
“Fine, whenever you feel it building up on you, push,” Maree instructed.
Sally pushed, her face purpling from the strain. Tiny wheezes of breath escaped noisily through her gritted teeth. Before long Sally’s groans grew into agonized screams. Over the din, Meredith heard a toddler weeping in the loft.
“Hannah,” Meredith commanded. “Take the little ones outside. They don’t need to be here.”
Hannah obeyed, fetching them from the loft and ushering them out while their mother labored.
At last a mewling, slippery life arrived. Maree held it upside down, slapping its bottom and eliciting a furious howling. Sally fell back on her pillow, a contented smile on her face. “What is it?”
“A girl,” Maree beamed.
“Go get the family, Hannah.” Sally weakly waved her daughter to the door. “Tell them to come greet their little sister.”
Maree rubbed the baby vigorously with a blanket before handing her to Sally.
“She’s beautiful,” Sally pronounced, watching her new daughter latch onto her finger.
“You do make pretty babes, Sally,” Maree agreed.
The entire Finney clan filed into the room, laughing and exclaiming over the infant. Sally relinquished the baby to her proud father. It was a happy time for a happy family, and Meredith felt a little lonely and apart from the scene. She took solace in the knowledge that she would soon have a child of her own, a baby to hug close. Even if she would not give birth herself, she would forever have a child to love. Someone who would not reject the offering of her heart.
As Maree tended to Sally, Meredith watched Tom Finney kiss his wife. Holding his daughter in one arm, he placed
his other hand on Sally’s sweat-beaded brow in what could only be described as a possessive, devoted gesture. Looking on, she felt like an intruder, acutely reminded of her aloneness in the world. For a brief second she wondered how different her life would have been if Edmund had been a real husband, if he had not turned from her on their wedding night.
Meredith moved to stand by the door, unnoticeable and out of the way, but near enough should Maree need her. A chill draft fluttered the hairs along her nape and she rubbed her arms for warmth. Through the happy clamor, an all too familiar voice spoke near her ear. “It’s quite a celebration.”
She looked over her shoulder at Nick standing in the threshold, before turning back to observe the Finneys. “What did you expect? They’re a happy family.”
“Well, I have no experience with that.”
Meredith gave him a long, considering look. “No,” she murmured. “I suppose not.” After a pause she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I told Nels I would drive the carriage over to collect the two of you.”
“You should not have troubled yourself, my lord.” She latched onto his title like old, familiar armor. “One of the Finney boys could have returned us. You should not lose sleep on our account.”
He shrugged. “I sleep little as it is.”
She hugged herself tighter, clinging to any conversation that kept her from lonely thoughts, and at the same time wanting to destroy the kinship she suddenly felt with him—another soul who knew what it felt like to be alone. “Is that so? Have you no need for sleep like the rest of us?”
With his arms crossed, his eyes glittered like hard chips of coal. “I didn’t say I need less, only that I sleep little. For some, sleep does not come easily.”
“My lady,” Maree called, waving Meredith over to the bed and saving her from responding to Nick’s enigmatic words.
Approaching, she looked to the bottom half of the bed as Maree indicated. The sight horrified her. The foot of the bed was drenched in blood. Too much blood for any human to lose and still sustain life.
Once Upon a Wedding Night Page 7