The Folly (29 page)

The last of the money went to pay for the funeral.  Edwina died quietly in Willa’s arms, her body suddenly becoming heavier and stiller as Willa held her to her chest, begging her not to go.  The round blue eyes stared at Willa, no longer seeing her
,
as
Willa cried silently, afraid to put her daughter down.  She felt the little body grow cold
and stiff
in her arms by the time she finally willed herself to put the baby down and go find a priest.  At least she had the baby baptized, lying to the priest and telling him she was a widow.  Edwina would have a Christian burial, no matter what it cost.  Willa and Ruby were the only mourners as the tiny coffin was lowered into the frozen ground, the clumps of earth hitting it with a finality that broke Willa’s heart into a thousand pieces. 

After that, nothing mattered.  Willa lived day by day, whoring at night and sleeping by day, earning just enough money to
eat and pay her rent
.  Tomorrow she would go hungry, but the fever left her with little appetite.  What did it matter?  She wouldn’t last long on the streets anyway.  As she huddled under her thin blanket, she prayed that death would be quick and merciful.

Epilogue

Boston

March 1820

             
The baby
finally
stopped sucking, his mouth releasing the nipple with a pop
,
as his eyes finally closed and his hand fell away from
Elizabeth
’s breast.  He was sated and happy and would sleep for at least three hours before howling for food again.  Elizabeth looked at the thatch of dark h
air
,
and the thick lashes fanned
against the rosy cheeks of the infant.  She thanked God yet again for her healthy, sturdy boy
,
and gently lowered him into his cot before slipping out of the room.  She had a tea party to go to
,
and she mustn’t be late. 

             
“Mama, the tea is getting cold,” complained three
-
year-old Mariah as she began to pour out.  Elizabeth settled herself at the low table and accepted a cup of tea, smiling at her daughter.  She was still terribly jealous of the baby,
despite
all the attention she got from her doting parents.

             
“I
’
m sorry, darling.  I had to feed Johnny,” Elizabeth answered, taking a sip of tepid tea.

             
“He
’
s always hungry,” complained Mariah, putting a cup of tea in front of her favorite doll.  “Why can’t Lucy feed him?”  Elizabeth didn’t answer her daughter, preferring not to explain about why she had milk and Lucy didn’t.  Lucy was only seventeen
,
and had been with the Suttons for the past two years as a maid of all work.  She was a sweet girl who
adored
Johnny and spoiled Mariah shamelessly. 

             
“Once he gets older you can invite him to your tea parties.  I
’
m sure he would like that very much.”  Elizabeth watched Mariah consider this idea and dismiss it. 

             
“My tea parties are for ladies only.  Johnny can go to work with Papa, so that I can have you all to myself.”  She seemed
pleased with this idea
,
and refilled Elizabeth’s cup.  Elizabeth chuckled, thinking what a handful her daughter was going to be when she grew up.

**

             
Elizabeth was just coming down the stairs when Jeremy came home.  The collar of his co
at was dusted with snow
,
and there were a few snowflakes nestled
in
his thick lashes.  Jeremy took off his coat and hat and handed them to Lucy. 

             
“You
’
re home early,”
observed
Elizabeth as she walked into his embrace.  “Is it a holiday?” 

Jeremy didn’t usually get home until supper.  He owned a print shop that was now producing a daily paper entitled “The Boston Correspondent.” 
The paper’s circulation had increased dramatically over the past few years, demanding that Jeremy work longer hours. 
The shop also specialized in
private
orders, printing countless religious tracts, romance novels penned by women under assumed names
,
and scientific journals. 

To Elizabeth’s dismay, Simon never left them.  Once they arrived in Boston he simply stayed, wanting to help Jeremy in his venture.  Simon changed his name, learned to set type
,
and now lived in the room above the shop.  He came to dinner at least once a week, the last couple of times being with his
fiancé
e
, Sarah
.  Elizabeth still didn’t trust the man, but he
’
d been on the straight and narrow for year
s
.  Simon no longer drank anything stronger than cider
,
and went to church every Sunday. 

             
“It is a holiday, of sorts,” said Jeremy as he pulled Elizabeth onto his lap and gave her a thorough kiss.  “I’ve had a letter from England.”  Elizabeth stiffened in his arms.  They never got letters from England.  There was
no one
in England who knew where they were, much less that they were alive.  Who would write to Jeremy and why was he so pleased about it?

             
“Who from?” asked
Elizabeth
cautiously.

             
“From a private investigator.  I contacted him a few years ago, asking him to forward me any information he found regarding certain people.”

             
Elizabeth stilled.  “What did the letter say?”

             
“It seems Sir Henry passed away a few months ago.  A heart attack.”

             
“Who inherited the baronetcy?” 

             
“Cousin George from Yorkshire.  He must be dancing for joy.  He always longed for a title.  He has three boys to succeed him.”  Jeremy kissed
Elizabeth
’s neck while she processed this bit of news. 

             
“Why are you so happy?”  She hadn’t seen Jeremy this gleeful since the birth of Johnny
,
and wondered why he should be so thrilled that Cousin George inherited Henry’s estate.

             
“Don’t you see what this means?  You
’
re a
now a
widow
,
and we can be legally married at last.”  Jeremy tried to nibble on
Elizabeth
’s ear as she turned to him.

             
“How can we get married?  Everyone who knows us thinks we are married already.  We have two children, for God’s sake.” 

             
“I never said we can be married in Boston. 
We
’
ll take a lovely holiday come summer
,
and get married while we
’
re away.  I
’
m sure a healthy donation to the church fund
,
and the suggestion that I have seduced you and gotten you with child
,
will induce a
vicar
to marry us quickly and quietly,” whispered Jeremy, returning his attention to
Elizabeth
’s ear. 

             
“Oh, I like the way you think, Mr. Sutton,” Elizabeth giggled as Jeremy lifted her off the couch and headed for the stairs.

             
“I have other talents as well, Mrs. Sutton.  I believe we have a half
-
hour before the little fiend
is hungry again
, so let’s not waste it.”  Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot
with emba
r
rassment
as Lucy peeked out of the kitchen, giving them a knowing look. 

             
It wasn’t until Elizabeth lay happy and spent in Jeremy’s arms that she truly considered what Henry’s death meant.  She wasn’t happy that Henry died, but she felt no sorrow either.  Ever since coming to Boston in May of 1816
,
her old life in England
seemed
like a distant dream.  She no longer had
nightmares about Rachel or Hugh
,
and the loss of the baby became a hollow ache, bearable, but not forgotten.

             
Now, after five years and two children
, she would finally become Jeremy’s legitimate wife.  Elizabeth drifted off to sleep, floating on a cloud of joy.  It had all been worth it.

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