Lady of Milkweed Manor (35 page)

He looked at her, an amused grin on his face. “Have a wart, do you?”

Embarrassed by this, she laughed. “No! But my employer is quite fond of milkweeds uses them to treat a whole list of ailments.”

“Does he now? I should like to know the contents of that list.”

“You shall have to come by the cottage. I know he would be happy to tell you.”

From the garden, Charlotte and Thomas walked to the top of the ridge, overlooking the sea. “Care to sit for a moment and enjoy the view?” Thomas asked.

“Thank you.”

He reached out his hands to take Anne, and Charlotte was surprised when the child went to the big man willingly. Charlotte sat on the edge of the lawn and straightened her skirts around her. Thomas plopped down not far from her, easily holding Anne in the crook of one arm as he did so.

She lifted her arms to take Anne back, but Thomas shrugged. “I’ll hold her, if neither of you mind.”

Lizzy bounded up and sat beside Charlotte. “Cook gave me a sixpence,” she said proudly.

“My goodness. For picking beans?”

“Well, there were the peas and lettuces this morning too.”

“What a hard worker you are. So, Lizzy, tell me about your brothers and sisters-three of each, I believe you said?”

“Right. There’s my sisters: Hannah, Hester, and Kitty. They don’t like the out-of-doors as I do. Then my brothers: Thomas here, of course. And Johnny and Edmund.”

“Edmund? That is my very favorite name. How old is he?”

Thomas leaned closer to Charlotte and said in a low voice, “We lost Edmund as an infant, but Lizzy still counts him.”

Charlotte looked at Lizzy, who was staring down at her lap. Feeling tears spring to her eyes, Charlotte put her arm around the girl’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Of course she does.”

Lizzy looked up, and Charlotte smiled gently at her. “And so do I.”

Lizzy smiled shyly in return.

A few minutes later, Lizzy ran off to find a litter of kittens a mother cat was reported to have hidden somewhere about the place.

“She’s a lovely girl,” Charlotte said, craning her neck to watch her go.

“Yes.”

“Is she the youngest?”

“No, Edmund would be nearly five now, had he lived. Kitty is seven. Lizzy there is ten. Johnny’s twelve. Hannah and Hester are twins at fourteen.

“It’s a wonder there are so many years between you and the others.”

“Not such a wonder, really.” Thomas tossed a twig out over the ridge. “Our mum took me in when I was already a lad of nine. Adopted me as one of her own. Hannah and Hester were but a year old at the time.”

“Were you relations?”

“No. My first mother was only a neighbor. Died in childbirth, the baby girl with her.”

“I am sorry.”

“Do not make yourself unhappy. I feel blessed to have Rachel Cox as my mother. And these children to call brothers and sisters.”

“How well do you remember your first mother, as you called her?”

Thomas’s eyes stayed on the distant sea as he thought. “Quite well, though I cannot recall her features as clearly as I once did.” He picked up a pebble and tossed it as well.

Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat. She asked quietly, “Do you miss her?”

He looked at her, clearly surprised by the question, or her shaking voice. No doubt he saw the tears in her eyes as well. He returned his gaze to the sea. He was silent for some time, picking at the pebbles near his legs, gathering them into his large hands. Finally he said, “I have all I could wish for with my family here. But … yes, there is a … a quiet longing for her. I am a man of two and twenty but still I sometimes dream of her. In the dreams, I cannot see her face, but I can feel her arms about me.”

Charlotte nodded, biting her lip. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Thomas looked at her, his expression serious and aware. He said nothing but simply waited.

She opened her mouth then closed it again. Finally, voice quivering, she whispered, “My son … is being raised by another.”

Slowly, he nodded his understanding. “Edmund?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, and neither said more.

As soon as Charlotte stepped into the parlor, Mrs. Taylor rose from the settee. “You have been gone a long while, Miss Lamb. I was beginning to fear I would never see you-or my daughter-again.” She smiled as she spoke, but an understandable mixture of relief and displeasure strained her features.

“Please pardon me, madame. I took Anne for a walk and lost track of time.”

Only then did Charlotte notice the older woman seated across from Mrs. Taylor, half hidden by the wings of the tall arm chair. The lady appeared to be in her fifties and had a beautiful coif of silver grey hair under an elegant black hat.

“Mrs. Dillard has been waiting for nearly an hour to meet Annette.”

“Forgive me. I did not realize you were expecting guests.” Charlotte handed the little girl to her mother.

“Here she is, Mrs. Dillard. Is she not beautiful?”

The older woman rose and Charlotte saw that her attire, though practical, was finely made. Mrs. Dillard stepped across the carpet with dignified ease. “Yes, lovely.” She patted the child’s head with jeweled fingers. “Very like you.”

“Thank you. Please, do sit down again, Mrs. Dillard. I shall call for more tea.”

But the woman remained standing. “Now that I have met your charming daughter, I really must be going. Ladies’ Charity meeting begins-” she lifted the watch pendant hanging from a chain at her waist “dear me, half an hour ago.”

“I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, Mrs. Dillard.”

“No need to apologize. I understand how difficult it is to find a dependable nurse.” The woman spoke as though Charlotte were not standing there in the doorway. “My daughter has been through two in the last four months. The first one nearly ate the larder down to the walls.” She pulled on her gloves. “Thank you for the kind invitation, Mrs. Taylor. I do so hope you enjoy your holiday here.”

Mrs. Taylor’s smile was forced. “You are very kind. Thank you.

The woman bid her good-day and Charlotte held her breath, preparing for the worst.

The door closed, but Lizette Taylor still stared after the woman. “There will be no answering invitation, I can promise you.”

“I am sorry, madame.”

“Yes-you did not help me impress the ladies.” She sat down heavily on the settee, jostling Anne, and waved her hand in a fatalistic gesture. “But they would not be impressed in any case. The other two ladies left before tea was even served. They remembered some church meeting they `simply must attend.’ I am surprised Mrs. Dillard stayed as long as she did.”

Before Charlotte could form some consoling response, Mrs. Taylor continued, “They were eager enough to respond to my written invitation. And how they smiled when they first arrivedsurprised to find a doctor’s wife so finely dressed, I think. But then I began to speak and how their smiles fell from their faces. When they realized I was French, they could not leave quickly enough.”

“Perhaps they really did have obligations.”

Again the dismissive wave.

“Mrs. Taylor, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I never considered how it must be for you to-“

Lizette Taylor held up her palm, ceasing Charlotte’s words midsentence. “I may be a French woman living apart from my country and my family … but you are in no position to pity me, Nourrice.”

Charlotte looked down and Mrs. Taylor followed her gaze, until her eyes widened.

“Your hands … what has happened?”

Charlotte looked down at her dirt-streaked gloves.

“I stumbled upon a patch of milkweed and wanted to bring some back, but I fear they proved too stubborn.”

“Why?”

“Well, the roots as you may know are very strong and run very deep, so I settled on bringing back the one.”

“No. I meant why would you want to bring this back. This weed?”

“The milkweed has medicinal qualities, as you are no doubt aware. I thought Dr. Taylor might find it useful, having none in the garden here.”

Mrs. Taylor continued to look at her, her gaze scrutinizing. So Charlotte continued, “I have always loved a garden, but I confess I thought milkweed a mere nuisance. But then I saw your husband’s garden in London-all the varieties of plants for this medicinal purpose and that.” The more Charlotte prattled on, the less she recognized her own voice. She realized too late that Mrs. Taylor knew how to use silence to her advantage. That by saying nothing, Charlotte felt compelled to blather on, chipping away at her own dignity with each word. “Quite the man of science, your husband.”

“Indeed? Well, here is the man of science now.”

“Hmm?” Daniel looked up from the post in his hand to smile amiably at his wife and then at Charlotte. “What have I missed?”

“My dear, tell me, where did we find such a nurse?” Her voice sounded pleasant enough, but Charlotte detected suspicion in Mrs. Taylor’s tone.

“From the Manor, as I believe I told you. But I knew Miss Lamb’s family a long time ago as well.”

Her rather thick eyebrows rose. ‘And how were you acquainted with this woman’s family?”

“It was during my apprenticeship in Kent. I called often on her mother with Dr. Webb.”

Mrs. Taylor turned again to Charlotte. “And your mother, how is she now?”

“I’m afraid she died. Many years ago now.”

‘And how is it you came to be a nurse? I don’t mean … the particulars. I mean, where is your own child?”

Charlotte swallowed. “I’m afraid he … he is gone as well. I had him but a few days.”

Mrs. Taylor looked at her husband, eyes wide under tented brows. ‘And this is the fit woman you would have nurse my child?”

“Lizette. You have no cause for concern. I can attest to Miss Lamb’s character and her health. She has cared for Anne these many months while you were … indisposed.”

“If madame prefers, I can leave on the morrow,” Charlotte quietly interjected.

She could feel the woman’s stare on the top of her bowed head. Charlotte was mortified, but if she wasn’t wanted, she would leave. Even if it meant saying good-bye to Anne.

“No, do not be foolish. I meant no offense, Miss Lamb. I am simply a mother concerned for her child. You understand, non?” Suddenly the woman’s face brightened. “Of course you must stay. Clearly my daughter needs you, and who knows how long it would take to find another suitable nurse? Please. Consider this your home. For as long as Annette needs you.”

She said it graciously, but Charlotte did not miss the message. Accented or not, her English was skilled … and pointed.

And every one knowes how hard a thing it is, to finde a good [nurse], because they have been so often beguiled, and deceived therein.

JAMES GUILLEMEAU, CHILDBIRTH OR THE HAPPY DELIVERIE OF WOMEN

CHAPTER 23

itting in the nursery at Fawnwell, Sally held little Edmund l close, studying the shape of his nose, his brows, his mouth. “The image of yer mum, you are,” she cooed, running a finger over his smooth cheek.

“What did you say?”

Sally looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard the mistress, but there she stood, looking sternly down at her.