Lewis’s vicar arrived mid-afternoon the following day. He brought not only his wife but one of their children. Anna was taken aback, but determined to be on her best behavior today. He might joke about it, but Lewis would soon tire of being married to a watering pot.
“This is Kate, our eldest girl,” said Mrs. Redfern, stroking her daughter’s hair. “She’s just turned nine. We apologize for landing in your roost unexpectedly. It was decided only yesterday, so there was no time to let you know.”
How lovely she is! Her face framed by a thick cloud of dark curls, the woman glowed with life. Her smile was merely polite, her gaze assessing—yet Anna felt her warmth, her readiness to be pleased.
Thank heavens Anna had won her battle with Putnam this morning! Being clean from her toes to the top of her head provided some courage she sorely needed in meeting these people whom Lewis so clearly respected. The blue gown helped too—Putnam had let out the seams in the bodice. It was still tight, but with the shawl over her shoulders she felt almost like a proper young lady. What a laugh that was.
The girl, Kate, promised to resemble her mother. She had arrived wearing a big grin, holding tight to Lewis’s hand, and once the courtesies were done she gave it a tug. “Mr. Aubrey, where is the baby?”
“She’s keeping warm by the fire,” Lewis replied, leading her to the cradle. “But she’s sleeping, so you must be quiet.”
“Well of course.” She gave him a very adult look of condescension and dropped to her knees.
Lewis turned to Anna. “It’s time you sat down.” A mutinous don’t-tell-me-what-to-do flared, but she tamped it down. He was right.
Mrs. Redfern took the seat beside her on the sofa. “How long has it been since the birth?”
“A week today, ma’am.”
“Mr. Aubrey tells me she doesn’t yet have a name?”
Anna blushed. “No. I haven’t thought of anything that sounds right.”
Kate spoke from the baby’s side. “Oh, ma’am, how pink her cheeks are, like the roses in our garden. She looks more like you, I think, than Mr. Aubrey.”
The blush burned hotter. Did Mr. and Mrs. Redfern know which Mr. Aubrey had…? She didn’t dare peek, but there was an awkward pause. Yes, they knew.
Lewis interrupted the silence. “When she awakes, you’ll know how right you are. Her eyes are definitely her mother’s.”
Putnam set the cups and saucers on the little table and went to get sugar, cream, and all the rest. At a word from her mother, Kate jumped up to help.
Mr. Redfern cleared his throat. “Shall we get to business then? I dine with Reverend Fawcett at six, so our time is limited.”
There was a delay while Mrs. Redfern poured the tea. Kate distributed the cups carefully and then squeezed her skinny frame between the two ladies.
She beamed at Anna. “Mr. Aubrey is teaching me to fence.”
“Is he?” Anna’s responding smile was tenuous. She hadn’t known he fenced. There must be a great many things she didn’t know about him.
Mr. Redfern spoke to Lewis. “A common license will serve your purposes. That still means a drive to York, but it costs less than a special and avoids the banns. They’ll waive the bond if I’m there to vouch for you.”
Lewis shook his head. “I shan’t ask you to take a day from your schedule to take me to York.”
The vicar winked. “It’s good to be seen in the archbishop’s office now and again. But I can’t go until after Christmas.”
Christmas! Not once had Anna thought of Christmas.
“And once you have the license, you must wait seven days.” His gaze rested on Anna. “I’m guessing—”
“Nay, ’tis too soon,” Putnam said from her stance behind the sofa. “She should not be moved for three weeks yet. A day’s drive will tire her out. And the little one, in the cold…”
Mrs. Redfern nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Lewis stepped forward, looming over them.
“No. I want her out of here. Someplace warm and comfortable, with kitchens and regular meals. No insult to you, Putnam, the conditions here are impossible. In Wrackwater Bridge, Anna can start finding her feet. We can start looking for a nursery maid.”
Anna’s fingers hurt, so tightly were they clenched. Her breath shuddered as she inhaled, opening her claws to spread them flat across her lap. He might love her, or he might not. Either way he would take care of her, because he was a remarkable man and she was—would soon be—his wife.
Silence caught her attention. The vicar and his wife held some sort of unspoken conversation between themselves, and then Mrs. Redfern nodded and turned to Anna.
“My dear, would you come to us? The vicarage is not opulent, and it’s certainly not quiet, but we have a pleasant room you can keep as warm as you like, with a nice big chair for nursing or reading. You may keep the baby with you, or she can sleep with Toby, our two-year-old. There’s room for your maid—Putnam, is it?—and a nursery maid too if need be. In fact, I know of someone who might suit.”
“Oh!” was all Anna could say as those hated tears threatened. She glanced at Lewis, but his thoughtful frown was directed at Mrs. Redfern. Did he know about this? Does he disapprove?
Kate peered into her face, all eagerness to hear the decision Anna was incapable of making. She soldiered on as best she could.
“It’s so kind of you. I… I don’t know what to say. I’m grateful for your generosity, yours and Mr. Redfern’s.” That the vicar himself should take in a fallen woman and her illegitimate child… What would people think?
She could give no answer without knowing Lewis’s mind. And his attention was on the fire.
Mrs. Redfern reached across Kate to pat her hands. “You needn’t say anything now, Miss Spain. You are certainly not ready to travel with us tomorrow. You and Mr. Aubrey must discuss things, and when the time comes, you’ll let us know what you’ve decided.”
“I will.”
Some slight movement from inside the cradle set it in motion. Stirred from his thoughts, Lewis peered down, the frown dissipating.
A whimper sounded. Kate flew off the sofa and perched on the floor at Lewis’s feet. She rubbed the baby’s tummy and cooed something Anna couldn’t hear, perhaps not words at all. A jerk of swaddled legs again rocked the cradle accompanied by the baby’s familiar cross sounds. Anna shifted forward, ready to rise and go to her. Putnam bustled forward on the same errand.
Kate beat them both to it.
“Careful!” Lewis bent down, his hands outstretched to intervene.
His caution, totally ignored by Kate, proved unnecessary. Cross-legged on the floor, her lap made a cozy nest, just the right shape and size to hold an infant. She babbled and made funny faces while the baby lay still, watching her. Lewis smiled on them from above. Another subject for a drawing. Anna could see the title. “Family.”
“Kate is so good.” Anna pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve as she fought tears. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
But she did know. In the short time they’d been there, Anna saw how close Kate and her mother were, saw the relationship she had wanted and never known. The relationship she wanted with her own daughter.
Mrs. Redfern squeezed her arm. “My dear, go easy on yourself. Everything is forgiven a woman after childbirth.”
“How long do I have, ma’am?”
Mrs. Redfern laughed, a melodious ripple of sound. “Oh, at least three months. Pay attention, Mr. Aubrey!”
“I beg your pardon?” he said, shifting his gaze their way.
“Miss Spain has three months to become a normal, thinking woman again.”
“A normal, thinking woman?” The vicar chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I’m not certain those three words belong in the same sentence, dearest.”
“You!” exclaimed his wife. “You shall get your comeuppance, sir!”
Anna laughed too, and Lewis. But the mirth faded quickly when their eyes met. Is that how a married couple should be? Can we hope to achieve anything like it? She could not imagine how it was done.
But oh, she meant to try!
Anna made her adieus and Lewis escorted his friends downstairs to their carriage. He was laughing as he left. Before today, when had she heard his laughter? Perhaps a handful of times.
After all the excitement of the last hour, the baby began to fuss. When Lewis returned and sat beside her, she warned him. “I need to feed her soon.”
Lewis felt for the feet inside the wooly new blanket and gave them a shake. “I’d appreciate it if you’d allow us a few minutes, baby girl. Your mama and I have decisions to make.” He tickled the baby under her chin, grinning when she gurgled at him.
“I know there’s a name inside her waiting to be discovered, but how long can we go on calling her the baby?” Anna said. “She made Kate think of roses. How about Rose?”
Lewis pursed his lips in thought but said nothing, so she hurried on.
“Or Carol, because it’s Christmas? Or Hope? Helen is nice.”
Still he said nothing.
“You don’t care?” Her voice quavered.
“I care about her, and I’ll care just as much whether she’s called Rose or…or Nettle. Don’t name her after my mother, that’s all I ask.”
“Nor mine.” Anna ducked her head. “But perhaps after you. Louisa, or Eloise?”
“Ugh. No, you don’t want to do that.”
She could hardly speak. “You gave her back to me, Lewis. I can never give you anything half so valuable.”
He took her trembling hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles, lingering there for just a moment. “You owe me nothing. The two of you are ample compensation.”
His voice sounded as husky as hers. His gaze fixed on their locked hands, he went on. “I hope you don’t think I view your dowry as payment for marrying you. I would have done it in any case, but we might have ended up in a place like this.” His gaze made a brief circuit of the room, his lips stretched into a grimace. “That’s not what I want for you, Anna.”
“The thought never crossed my mind, Lewis. I know you better than that. I am curious, however, to know how much my father paid to be rid of me.”
He told her. “You could think of it as how much he paid to ensure your comfort and happiness. But knowing what I know now, I’m amazed I was able to get a shilling.”
“I expect it’s Mama’s money, but regardless, you must have made quite an impression on him.” Lewis only laughed, but she felt better. She brought something to the marriage, something tangible. A comfortable silence lengthened, the baby gurgling contentedly between them.
“They’re very nice, your friends,” Anna ventured.
“The Redferns? They’re the best people I know. It’s the perfect place for you, except for the constant commotion. It would be quieter at the Wedburys’, but with Jack the way he is… In any case, Lady Wedbury didn’t offer. They’ve promised their carriage for the move, however. I go home with the vicar tomorrow—I’ve some arrangements to make. I’ll be back here the day after Christmas, and we’ll drive north together the following day. If that suits you.”
“Will you stay with the Wedburys? Until the wedding?”
“No. I’ll live with my parents. Afterward we all will, for a few months.”
She wrinkled her nose but said nothing. It would be dreadfully rude to insult his parents. She hadn’t even met them yet.
He read her expression easily enough. “Believe me, it’s not my first choice either. But I care very much that you should feel welcome in Wrackwater Bridge. We have the Redferns and the Wedburys behind us. If people see that our marriage is accepted by my family, and yours as well, we’ll do fine. Your mother sent a betrothal announcement to the papers.”
Anna stiffened. “Did she? When?” He lifted his gaze to hers, cautious. Guilty.
“Tuesday. I wanted them written and posted while I was there to make sure it happened.”
She pulled her hand from his, strangled by the abrupt, irrational fury rising in her throat. “Six days ago. Before I even learned of your offer, much less accepted it.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I let them think you had. It seemed a more effective bargaining position.”
She shoved the squirming baby at him and pushed herself up. Took three angry steps to the right and three steps back.
“Anna. You’re being—”
“Stupid? I know.”
“Irrational.” The very word she’d used on herself. She could hardly scold him for it.
Standing, Lewis wedged the baby securely in one corner of the sofa. He stopped Anna as she passed, his hands warm on her shoulders.
“I suppose it was a bit high-handed. But you’ve accepted me now, if only because there was no other choice. Does it make so much difference when the announcements were sent?”
“No—but must I admit it?”
“Look at me.”
She didn’t want to. “Mrs. Redfern said I could have three months.”
He raised her chin. His expression showed amusement, but his voice was serious as always. “You may have as long as you need, sweetheart. But I can hope for less, can’t I?”
She nodded and he kissed her temple, the only place he could reach as she soaked his shoulder with a new sort of tears.