Anna remembered precisely when she had last awakened to a feeling of optimism. Cassie’s ball in April. Eight months and a bit more, in which she had aged eighty years.
But today she was alive. Today was for looking forward.
Rising from the bed, she opened the curtain to blue sky and a sliver of sunshine. Lewis would not find her moldering in darkness today.
She longed to wash her hair, but it was too late for that. Who knew when he would come. She washed as well as she could with soap and cold water and sat to nurse the baby—my daughter!—in that narrow patch of sunlight.
“I’ll try the blue gown today, Putnam.”
“No, you won’t. It’s not near time for that.”
“I shall receive Mr. Aubrey in the parlor, and I’ll not do it in my nightdress!”
“You will stay in bed as you were instructed, miss. Mr. Aubrey would be the first to say so.”
“Is there so much difference between a bed and a sofa? I’ll put my feet up and you may wrap me in as many blankets as you choose.”
Putnam grumbled but gave in. “Don’t know what Mrs. Milledge would say, but the truth is I’m so happy to see you happy, I’d be hard put to deny you anything.”
Anna grinned. It almost hurt, it had been so long. “I must think how best to take advantage of your good will.” Anna was through worrying about light and drafts. This horrid little closet was no place to be shut up for a month. By the end of a month, she might be a married woman. Could it happen so quickly?
Mischief fled, replaced by doubt. She grasped Putnam’s arm as she passed by. “Will you stay with me when…when I marry, Putnam? I don’t know how much I can pay you.”
Putnam bent to rest her cheek on Anna’s head for a moment. Her voice trembled. “Aye. I’ll stay.” She straightened and gazed into Anna’s face, smoothing the hair from her cheek. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we? I reckon you’re my girl now.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
Anna kissed her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Now, may I wear the blue gown?” Their shared laughter made her cry, though she had sworn not to cry today.
It didn’t fit. And when Putnam held up the two ghastly garments she’d worn since arriving in Leeds, Anna decided the nightdress looked better than either of them. With a shawl over her shoulders and a pile of blankets on top, it wouldn’t much matter what she wore.
Putnam lifted the baby against her shoulder. “Oh, miss, isn’t it a blessing what Mr. Aubrey has done? Ever since I saw him in the church that night an’ followed him to the Rose and Crown, I’ve been praying for this. Now, aren’t you glad I wrote him that note? It’s the best thing that could have happened.”
Putnam fairly danced around the room with her tiny partner, heaping accolades on God and Mr. Aubrey. Anna brushed her hair and watched the poor babe peering over Putnam’s shoulder, eyes wide and glazed as she struggled to make sense of the world swirling about her.
I know how you feel, little one. It’s a new world for me, too. The brush slowed as Anna’s spirits sank. She was not sure about God, but Lewis definitely deserved his share of praise. She hated to think what he was getting for his compassion, his selflessness, his pain.
She cut into Putnam’s jubilation. “He’s only marrying me out of pity for the baby. He doesn’t even like me.”
Putnam grunted and laid the baby on her tummy on the bed. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“How could he possibly feel otherwise? I’ve treated him horribly. I didn’t know I was capable of such cruelty.”
“It’s the circumstances, Miss Anna. He understands that. Your heart isn’t cruel.”
“Evidently it is.” Anna slumped in the chair. “And he will be chained to me for life. Along with his brother’s child.” How long before he regrets it?
Putnam slipped the hairbrush from Anna’s unresisting hands and put it back to work. “Don’t you worry about the child. Mr. Aubrey’s half in love with her already.”
“Is he?” Anna sighed.
“I’ll just braid your hair, then you need your rest.”
What had become of the high spirits that greeted the day? Was it only fatigue that dragged her down? How ridiculous that a few steps round that tiny room, a quick wash, and changing clothes twice should exhaust her so.
She climbed carefully into bed so as not to wake the baby. “Leave her with me,” she said, and Putnam beamed at her.
Anna curled herself around her daughter. Which of them provided greater comfort to the other?
Lewis had braved her father in order to bring her good news…with flowers. What was more, he’d behaved as though he truly thought it good, however impossible that seemed. Putnam seemed to think he liked her a little. Could she be right?
She heard voices from the parlor. Putnam, then another woman’s voice. One of the neighbors.
The latch rattled as her door opened. Anna tensed and the baby grumbled in her sleep.
Lewis’s voice came from just outside. “No, not yet.” He sounded stern. A woman spoke in response, the words unclear.
Anna struggled to sit up as he came in, shutting the door firmly behind him. He came to the bed and squatted down beside it. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured, shifting the blanket to give him a better view of the babe’s face. “Putnam says you haven’t given her a name.” Though his tone was mild, it felt like a reprimand.
“No. I was expecting a boy.” The words sounded harsher than she’d intended. She saw his jaw clench and bit that sharp tongue of hers. It had become a despicable habit, one she must break.
She whispered. “I was afraid to…when I thought she wouldn’t be mine. Thank you.”
Lewis met her gaze, lifted her hand, and kissed it.
He cleared his throat, but his voice was still husky. “As usual, Anna, my timing is atrocious. I brought… Perhaps you heard them? Cassie and her mother stopped in Leeds last night on their way home from Bath. I’ve brought them to see you.”
She heard herself gasp—or was it a sob?—and lashed out to hide her insecurity and shame.
“How could you think I would receive them? I can hardly get out of bed.” So much for breaking her habit.
“You don’t need to get out of bed. They can visit here. They won’t stay long.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I feel sick.”
“They’re here, Anna. They’d be halfway to Wrackwater Bridge by now, but they stayed to see you.”
“No, Lewis. I’m not ready. I don’t want them to see me like this.” The perfect society matron in this crumbling, godforsaken building? Allowing Cassie in the same room with a strumpet and her bastard child?
“They know the situation. They don’t expect perfection.”
Her back stiffened, her voice grew shrill. “You told them I look a wreck?”
“I couldn’t possibly, because it’s not true.” He tugged at his hair in a gesture of frustration she’d come to know well. “When we marry, the Wedburys will be the closest thing we have to family.” A glint came into his eye. “And I’m not sure I can keep Cassie out.”
She swallowed a lump the size of a full-grown sheep. She had no choice about this, either. “Where is Putnam?”
“She’s making tea. What can I do?”
He brought her dressing gown and helped her into it, draped an old shawl over her shoulders. Putnam would have done more, but it would have to do. When Lewis went to summon the guests, Anna pinched her cheeks to put some color in them.
Cassie flew into the room, arms wide for a hug. It was awkward with Anna in bed and the baby lying at her side, but Cassie got one arm around Anna’s shoulders and squeezed. Anna reciprocated, clinging so tightly it must have hurt. Then she burst into tears. What an appalling display.
“Oh, Anna, I’m so excited to see you again. And twice as pleased that we’ll be sisters, or as near as makes no difference. Heavens, I’ll be an aunt!” She clapped her hands and laughed in delight.
The baby startled awake, her face puckering for a vocal protest. Anna swept her up in hopes of forestalling the outburst. One mortified glance showed Lady Wedbury a scant half-step inside the room, one neatly-shaped eyebrow raised in judgment. Lewis stood beside her, wearing a little smile Anna could not interpret.
She pressed her cheek to the baby’s forehead. “Oh, please don’t cry.” It was barely a whisper, but it worked.
“I’m sorry I woke her.” Cassie spoke softly, now that it didn’t matter. “I’d offer to hold her, but I expect they’d hear her crying in Wrackwater Bridge. I’ve never held a baby.”
“Neither had I.” Lewis strolled toward them. “Until two days ago. She bears with me surprisingly well.”
That odd smile still played about his lips. Is it… Could it be pride?
“Yes, but I’m merely an aunt,” Cassie said. “You’re going to be her papa.”
Lewis contemplated the child in Anna’s arms. “But she doesn’t know that. Anna, shall I take her to Putnam?”
“Yes, please.” His arm touched her breast as he took possession of the wriggling bundle. He flushed and muttered an apology.
The sight of him cradling her daughter brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. But oh, she wished she could draw, as he did. That would be a picture to treasure.
As he moved toward the door, Lady Wedbury came to Cassie’s side. “Well, Miss Spain.”
Anna rushed to avert whatever scathing comment she was about to make. “I’m so sorry to receive you like this, Lady Wedbury. If Lewis had asked me, I would have—”
“Begged off? Quite understandable. I’m happy to have seen you, however. You’ve had a nasty time of it, haven’t you? Well, Lewis is determined to do right by you. For his sake, Sir John and I will stand your friends.”
Anna choked out an awkward, “Thank you, ma’am,” as Cassie fairly bounced with glee.
“Of Cassandra’s support you can have no doubt,” Lady Wedbury added, with the slightest hint of a smile. “Now come, dear, we must be on our way.” She paused in the doorway. “It’s fortunate your daughter resembles you.”
Returning to Anna’s at dusk, Lewis made his way up the creaking staircase with his purchases. He found a note on the door in Putnam’s writing. Hush. Sleeping. He set down the tin bucket he carried in one hand and tapped softly. When she didn’t come, he tried the handle. The door swung open to silence.
The parlor was empty. Putnam’s cloak hung on its hook, so she must be in the building. Perhaps she was sleeping too. No doubt she needed it.
He hung up his greatcoat and took the bucket containing their dinner to the wobbly old table, setting it there for her to deal with.
The borrowed cradle sat empty in its spot by the hearth. He crept to Anna’s open doorway.
Anna held the sleeping babe with a sort of tender ferocity, tears dripping from nose and chin onto the blanket. He heard a choked sob, then a thread of tear-stained lullaby. Heartrending.
But what did it mean?
Steeling himself against anything, Lewis walked in. Her head jerked up, eyes wide and startled. She clutched the baby protectively.
“Second thoughts, Anna?” The words sounded harsh to his ears—but he had thought it was done. Yesterday’s note confirmed it, and everything she’d said this morning. If he never won her love, he could be content knowing she and the child were safe, and he had made them so.
“Oh no.” She shook her head, groping one-handed among the bedclothes until she found her handkerchief. She blew her nose and took a long, shaky breath. “I will marry you, though I should not.”
“You should not? Faced with the alternative?”
“I know, it looks like the perfect solution.” She swallowed hard. “But this can’t be what you want. I’ve been an absolute beast. The things I’ve said to you…”
Her voice faltered. “And there’s more. I learned during the summer that my father is…not my father. I’ve seen what happens when a man is forced to raise another man’s child, all the resentment and hostility. He cared far more for his bone china than for me. And it’s understandable, isn’t it?”
“To harm an innocent child because he hates her mother? No! Don’t you dare compare me with your father.”
She met his anger with earnest appeal. “How can I not? You’re a far better man than he could ever have been—but if you should find yourself with similar feelings, despite your best intentions? You would hate yourself for it, and you would fight it as he never bothered to do. You might even conquer it. But surely it would take a toll on all of us?”
Her voice softened as she gazed at the infant in her lap. “But it’s the only alternative there is. She’s too precious. I could never leave her.”
“Neither could I.” Anger deflated, he sat beside her on the bed. “If you really didn’t want marriage, I would raise her myself. But I’d much rather have you too.”
“Anna, please don’t cry.” He wiped a tear with his thumb as it rolled down her cheek. “There have been enough tears.”
“I can’t seem to stop. As soon as it stops, it starts again.”
“So I’ll be marrying a watering pot?” Hoping for a smile, he got none.
“I was so humiliated, weeping in front of Lady Wedbury. What she must think.” She shook her head at the thought.
“On the contrary. She called you poor dear.”
“Humph. She has no fondness for me.”
“Not yet. But she’s rather a Gorgon where her children are concerned, and she regards me almost as one of her own. She’ll take you under her wing soon enough.”
He squeezed her hand. “We were friends once, Anna. If we can only find our way back to that, I will be very pleased to be your husband. Do we have a chance?”
She nodded through a fresh onslaught of tears. He gave her his handkerchief in place of her soggy one.
Was all this lamentation normal for women following childbirth? The past two weeks had provided about all the melodrama he could bear. Yet her turmoil had gone on far longer. She had earned her tears.
He went to fetch the parcel he’d left in the parlor and was surprised to see Putnam in a chair by the table. She had removed the various items from the dinner bucket—a large crock, a loaf of crusty bread, and a messy packet of half-melted butter.
“There you are,” she said, slipping off her seat and busying herself with the food. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“I wasn’t,” she said as she carried the crock to the fireplace and nestled it among the glowing coals. Back at the table, Putnam pulled out a dull knife and hacked at the bread. “I went to see the midwife about the eternal weeping. I expect you’ve noticed.”
Oh, yes, he’d noticed. “What did she say?”
“It’s normal enough, though it takes different women different ways. Anna’s sister-in-law had the crotchets something fierce. Guess I’d rather have tears.”
Either one sounded exhausting, both for the mother and those around her. Lewis collected his parcel from the sofa and returned to Anna’s room. She opened her eyes, dry for the moment, though bordered by dark shadows.
“What’s that?”
He laid it on the bed beside her and for the second time that day, lifted the baby from her arms. This time he was careful to avoid any awkward contact, however pleasant. She placed the package on her lap, untied the strings, and pulled off the plain paper wrapping. Her cheeks flushed pink, she breathed an “Oh” as she ran her hands across the furred fabric.
“A blanket? It’s so soft!”
The softest Lewis could find, costing more than he should have spent…though money was not so tight anymore. “Two blankets. One is for—”
“For the baby!” She sat up straight and unfolded the smaller piece in a dusty jade. “Oh, how kind! Did you pick them out, Lewis? Was it your idea?”
The blood rushed to his face. “Of course. Do you think I’m blind? I wouldn’t put that rag you’re using on a horse.” The baby gurgled and waved her arms, as if recalling him to his duty. When he looked up again, Anna was crying. But it was different.
“They’re beautiful, Lewis.” She raised the wool to her cheek, closing her eyes at the luxury of it.
Putnam peeked in the door. “I thought you might eat by the fire?”
Lewis gave her the baby. He pulled down the bedcovers and piled the new blankets in Anna’s lap. “Hold that.” Ignoring her protests, he picked her up and maneuvered through the narrow doorway. He’d never carried a woman—what a relief to find it was easy. He wished the sofa were on the moon so he could carry her farther.
But it was only a few steps, and then he had no excuse to keep her in his arms. She blushed as he set her down.
Putnam had deposited the baby in her cradle and now flustered about, plumping a threadbare pillow for Anna to lean against and replacing the shawl over her shoulders. “Lift her feet now, sir.”
“I’m not an invalid,” Anna complained. “I can—”
Lewis peered up at her and winked. She broke off, blushing brighter. Blushes were far better than tears.
Putnam shook out the folds in the new blanket and laid it over her, arranging and tucking it just so. Soft blue with a narrow white stripe. He’d chosen well. From the way her hands skimmed across it, caressing it, kissing it with her fingers, she thought so too. How would those fingers feel on his skin?
It was the best dinner he’d had in weeks. A good thick stew from the kitchens at The Rose and Crown—beef and barley, carrots and onions scooped from chipped bowls using mismatched spoons.
Their betrothal dinner, though he dared not mention the fact.
The three of them ate together, talking about everything they didn’t know about raising a child. What would they need beyond a cradle, and later a crib? Did she need to be swaddled all the time? What did one feed an infant as she stopped nursing? When would she need shoes? How did one keep a growing girl in clothing that fit? By the time their bowls were empty, Lewis felt daunted. Judging from the women’s silence and their serious expressions, he was not alone.
“I know who can help.” He brightened at the thought. “The vicar in Wrackwater Bridge has five children—I’ve done some tutoring for them. They’re not always clean, and not always well-behaved, but they’re well-loved and so happy! Mr. Redfern will be in Leeds tomorrow to discuss the wedding. You’ll like him. And when we get to Wrackwater Bridge, his wife can answer all our questions.” He lifted his head to see Anna’s face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s all moving so fast. Nothing at all happened for months and months, and now…” She mopped her eyes with Lewis’s handkerchief. “Now everything’s happening at once.” The tears dripped from her defiant chin. “And you never tell me anything!”
“I am telling you.”
“But you never ask me what I want. First Lady Wedbury, and now your vicar. You must have written him, but you didn’t tell me…didn’t ask me…”
Lewis exchanged a mystified look with Putnam. She only shook her head. No help there.
“Anna.” He leaned forward and took her hand. She snatched it away.
“I don’t understand, Anna. Redfern will be marrying us. We must—”
“What if I wanted someone else? What if…”
What the hell was going through her brain? “You want to marry in Bristol?” Unbelievable. “It has to be one or the other.”
“No! I only want… This will be my only wedding, shouldn’t I have some say? What if I want roses instead of orange blossoms? What if I want to decide who should give me away? What if I want a green gown, and you’ve chosen blue? Everything’s spinning and I can’t stop it. When I awake tomorrow, no doubt you’ll have assigned a name to the baby, but I’m her mother! I’m the one who…” On another rending sob, she jumped up. “Oh God, what’s wrong with me?” She started for her room but her feet caught in the blanket puddled on the floor. Lewis lurched forward as she pitched headlong, catching her before she hit the floor.
Without thinking, and certainly without giving her a say, Lewis picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. Putnam followed him, clucking like a mother hen. “She’s exhausted, poor child. Don’t you worry about what she said.”
“Leave us please, Putnam.”
Lewis sank onto the bed with Anna on his lap. He wrapped her close, tucked her head beneath his jaw. She pulled herself closer still, fingers digging into his coat and cravat. Was she crying? The only sound was Putnam crooning to the baby in the parlor, yet Anna shuddered as with a fever as he rubbed her back, her shoulders, her neck, pressed his lips to her temple.
Gradually, the shivering slowed, then stopped. He drew a little away and tipped her face toward his. Cheeks red against pale, pale white. Lips bloodless. Glazed blue-gray eyes that dropped from his to where her hands still clutched his clothing.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, extracting her claws and smoothing the fabric.
“For crumpling my cravat? I’m not sure I can.”
“No.” He wanted to kiss the O of her trembling mouth. “For being such a monster. I’m so ashamed of the things I’ve said to you.”
“Hush.” He guided her head to his shoulder where it belonged. “I think there’s a monster inside everyone. Let’s wait until you feel better. Then we’ll see what your monster has to say.”