In everything do to others as you would have them do to you …
Matthew 7:12
Avalon brought the horse to a gentle stop with a slight pull of the reins. The small cart creaked as she threw the fur rug aside and jumped to the ground. Henri did the same and soon stood by her side.
“My lady, you had cook load the wagon full this time. Are you expecting a blizzard?” A sly smile tugged at her lady’s maid’s lips. “Perhaps we should have asked the vicar to join us. With those brawny arms of his, he could unload the wagon in half the time … well, speak of the devil.” Henri nodded in the direction of the north pasture.
There in all his glory, their vicar strolled across the furrowed field with a basket in his hand. Dressed in a black greatcoat, he appeared larger than life. The shoulder cape rippled from the cutting north wind, but none of it seemed to bother him. He raised a gloved hand in greeting, and a genuine smile graced his lips.
She and Henri raised their hands in return.
Shortly, he stood before them. Only his red cheeks indicated that the mighty wind had any effect on him. So perfect in color, he appeared as if he were blushing from a kiss inflicted by the brisk wind.
Avalon shook her head, desperate to clear such thoughts. She had to quit reading Lord Byron’s romantic works so late at night. It was all bother.
No. Devan Farris was all bother and nonsense.
“Good afternoon, my lady.” He bowed slightly, then did the same to Henri.
Henri grew flustered for a moment, then quickly recovered. “Vicar. This makes the second time today we’ve had the pleasure of your company.”
“No, I beg to differ, Miss Calvert. The pleasure is all mine. Plus, I’ll even have more pleasure this evening when I come to dinner and see you again.”
Her lady’s maid blushed like a schoolgirl.
It was a sweet gesture to acknowledge her maid with such a greeting, and for an instant Avalon felt her own cheeks heat at the display. Henri was so dear to her, and the fact that the vicar acknowledged her thusly pleased Avalon immensely.
“Mr. Farris,” she answered in greeting. Just then an ear-piercing screech rent the air around them. “That sounded like Byrnn.” Without waiting for the vicar or Henri, Avalon rushed to Annie’s door, which guarded the outside world from the simple but sturdy cottage.
“Annie!” She banged on the door with her fist all the while praying that all was well inside. The infant’s wailing grew louder and more pitiful, as if he was truly in distress. “Annie?” she called again, this time louder.
But then Devan and Henri had joined her. The maid peeked into one of the glass windows that framed the door. It was an extravagance, but Avalon had insisted that each cottage had a way for the inhabitants to look outside, plus it had the advantage of making each cozy cottage appear a little larger from the inside.
“I don’t see Annie, but Byrnn is sitting in the middle of the floor.” She stole another peek then bit her lip. “He’s mighty upset, my lady.”
Without a thought, Avalon pushed the latch, but the door didn’t give. “It must be locked from the inside.”
“Stand aside,” Devan’s deep baritone announced behind her.
Avalon did as asked, expecting him to ram his shoulder against the door. Instead, he dropped to his knees and pulled from his pocket a pin of some sort. Immediately, he put it in the lock and fiddled with it. In seconds, he swung open the door.
Her eyes widened as she glanced between him and the open door.
A sheepish grin broke across his lips. “I learned this trick at Eton.”
Without a word in answer, Avalon swept around him and rushed into the main room. Without hesitating, she scooped the baby boy into her arms. He was wet and his diaper soiled. He shivered in her arms and she cuddled him close. “Sweetheart, what’s happened,” she cooed.
Dried tears left streak marks on his tender cheeks, and a new tear fell as he let out another cry of distress. She kissed his cheek, then handed him to Henri. “Will you change him? Annie keeps his clothes in the basket by the hearth. See if you can find something for him to eat.”
Devan was already at the fireplace building a new fire. “My lady, would you like me to go into the bedroom first?”
They all knew what he was saying. Whoever went into the bedroom first would find Annie. If she’d passed away, then the sight might be something none of them would ever forget for the rest of their lives. Quickly, Avalon shook her head as she made her way to the bedroom.
When she opened the door, she sucked in a deep breath. Annie lay in the middle of the bed curled into a ball as if in pain. Avalon rushed to her side and sat on the bed.
“Annie,” she soothed as she brushed her hand over the woman’s wet brow. Immediately, the sweat reappeared as if staking a claim on the woman. The fiery flush colored her cheeks from a fever.
“My lady?” Annie’s weak voice gave way to a bone-chilling rattle of a cough. Her teeth started chattering immediately after. “I fear the baby’s coming.”
By now, Devan had come into the room. Avalon didn’t need to see him as she sensed his presence behind her.
“On the oak chest is a clean blanket. Will you fetch it?”
Within seconds, Devan was by her side again and carefully spread the blanket over Annie’s curled body.
“It’s too early,” Annie whispered.
“I know, but help is here now.” Avalon grabbed her cold hand and squeezed. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Hmm…” Annie turned away from her. “I don’t want anything.”
Henri came into the room still holding the baby. “My lady? What do you need?”
“Go find the midwife and tell her to hurry. See if you can find a wet nurse.” Avalon reached into a concealed pocket on her cloak and brought out a clean handkerchief. She wiped Annie’s brow again. Heat radiated from the poor woman’s forehead. “Take Devan with you, he can drive the cart.”
“No, my lady,” Henri said. “I’ll put Byrnn in a basket next to me. Mr. Farris should stay here with you.”
“I agree,” Devan answered behind her and handed her his handkerchief as hers was already sopping wet. “I can help you more here.”
Avalon nodded.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Henri’s words floated to nothing along with Byrnn’s whimpers as Avalon’s maid quickly took her exit. The sound of a door closing soon followed.
“Tell me what to do, Avalon.” Devan’s deep baritone seemed to surround her.
Her own heart raced as she didn’t know what to tell him. She didn’t even know what she should do herself. “Pray.”
“I’m already doing that,” he answered.
Numb, she sat for a moment stroking Annie’s forehead with a trembling hand. Her stomach twisted itself into knots. She’d never seen anyone this ill before. “I can’t think of what else we should do.”
“Avalon, let’s change Mrs. Dozier’s bedding,” he said gently. “Perhaps she’d be more restful in dry clothes. I’m sure that would help.”
She nodded once. She stood and pulled Annie closer to her. Devan rummaged through the chest until he found a clean set of linens. Within minutes, they had changed the bedding. Devan left the room, leaving Avalon alone with the ill woman.
Annie’s shivers increased until her entire body shook. She clutched her swollen belly as if in pain. As best she could, Avalon tried to hold her in support, but Annie shook her head, spurning any comfort.
Devan returned with a basin of steaming water and several clean clothes. “Here. Why don’t you try to bathe her. It might help with the fever.”
Unable to speak, Avalon nodded as her throat had closed with fear. The pregnant woman seemed to be lapsing in and out of consciousness.
“Shall I step out of the room, or do you need my help?” He placed his hand on her shoulder, and in response she placed one of her hands over his, drawing strength from his composure.
“Why don’t you step outside?” She turned to him.
He watched her with a grim face. “You’re doing everything you can for her.”
She shook her head as guilt seeped into every crevice of her body. “I should have been here every day. I knew she wasn’t well.”
“Hush.” He lowered his voice. “You’re here now.”
He squeezed her shoulder once, then left.
Avalon swallowed as a sense of desolation swept over her. She pushed her guilt aside as best she could, then proceeded to clean Annie. Chills racked her prone body, and Avalon completed the task as quickly as possible. She pulled a clean nightgown over her, then brought the covers and the extra blanket over the woman. She unhooked her cloak, still warm from her own body, then draped it over her.
Annie reached one trembling hand out from under the covers and took Avalon’s hand. Annie’s grip tightened, and Avalon matched it.
“Thank you, my lady,” Annie whispered.
“My pleasure.” Avalon continued to hold her hand as Annie squeezed even harder before she loosened her grip.
The baby was coming and there wasn’t a thing any of them could do to stop it. By her calculations, the baby shouldn’t come for a least a month or a month and a half. Avalon bowed her head and prayed while still holding on to Annie’s hand. As long as she held the woman’s hand, Annie would know that Avalon was there by her side, and she wasn’t alone.
Foolishly, she thought that if she continued to hold the woman’s hand, then death couldn’t come and steal her away.
“Don’t be concerned about Byrnn,” Avalon said, trying to keep the worry from her voice. “Henri has him. She’s feeding him and making certain he’s warm. All you have to think about is you and the baby.”
Annie didn’t respond, and Avalon squeezed her hand.
Suddenly, a flurry of activity erupted on the other side of the door. In an instant, the door swept open and the local midwife, Mrs. Jennings, came in with Patricia, her oldest daughter.
“Hello, dear Annie,” she said with a firm voice. “What’s this that you’re ill and the baby is coming early?” She sat across from Avalon on the bed. Her hand reached to touch the woman’s brow. “She still has a fever.”
Avalon nodded. “I bathed her, and that brought it down. She’s resting, but I think the baby is coming.”
Mrs. Jennings waved her daughter into the room. “Why don’t you wait outside with the vicar, Lady Warwyk? My Patricia will help me. We’ll see where Annie is in the birthing process.”
Avalon stood and bent over Annie. “I’ll be right in the next room.”
She waited for a response, but when none was forthcoming, she took her leave. After she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. From nowhere, tears streamed down her cheeks.
Suddenly, strong arms enveloped her and, unable to resist such comfort, she leaned into the embrace. Devan offered a comfort she sorely needed but doubted she deserved. Without a word passing between them, she stayed enfolded in his arms.
His arms were like steel bands, and all she wanted in that moment was to take the solace and warmth he offered.
“Come and sit by the fire,” he coaxed. “We can’t have Lady Warlock taking a chill. We all need you too much to allow that.”
Her normal umbrage failed to make an appearance at his teasing. She allowed him to lead her to the two chairs set in front of the fire.
“I should have visited her before this.” She wiped her tears from her cheeks. “I failed in my duties to her.”
The skin creased between his eyes. “Why would you say that? Do you think you could have stopped her fever or kept that baby from coming?”
“No. But I could have prayed for her more. I could have arranged for the midwife to come sooner. Perhaps she wouldn’t be in so much distress now.” Her tone turned challenging. “At least, Byrnn wouldn’t have had to suffer so.”
“Perhaps. But why do you think the entire responsibility falls on your shoulders?”
“Because, these are my people.” She clasped her hands tightly. It was the only thing she could control at the moment as her heart felt as if it were breaking into pieces. “I’m responsible for their welfare. Every effort they expend upon the Warwyk estate or the commerce they provide benefits my community.”
“Is it only yours?” His poise never wavered. “Doesn’t this village, this parish, belong to all of us?”
She let out a deep breath. “Of course. But you know what I meant. They welcomed me when my very own husband didn’t want me. I’d do anything for them.” She turned her gaze from her hands to his face. His patient countenance held no judgments, and for a moment, she wanted to rail at him while simultaneously taking every comfort he offered. “Tell me this, Mr. Farris, why does God heap so much suffering on people like Annie Dozier?”
She saw him flinch when she formally addressed him. Their earlier ease in calling each other by their Christian names forgotten or, in her case, ignored. She was incensed at herself and God for Annie’s sufferings. Unfortunately, the poor vicar happened to be the one who would bear the brunt of that anger.
He studied her as if he could see every hurt and slight and agony she’d ever borne. In defiance, she stared back, waiting for some trite saying of scripture or prayer to come from him so she could challenge him again. At this moment, she could care less if either Devan Farris or God himself called her a heretic and faithless in spirit.
He leaned forward until there was no more than a foot that separated them. The green of his eyes seemed to smolder, whether in anger or shock made little difference to her.
“People suffer, Lady Warwyk. Why God allows others to bear more than some is a question that I can’t answer, and I won’t even try.”
She blinked slowly, wondering how to reply.
“But I can tell you this. I believe He knows best. None of us can fully understand, but He sees everything and knows infinitely more than we do. My faith derives from that knowledge. When I doubt”—Devan’s gaze turned tender—“and we all, including me, doubt at times. We’re human. But Paul gave us this thought: ‘Only in heaven shall we understand God’s will.’”
She released a breath and allowed the comfort of his words to console her.
“Remember, Avalon, even you, the mighty Lady Warwyk, who believes she is responsible for everyone, can’t keep watch over all your people at the same time. The universe doesn’t work that way.”
Before she could respond, the front door opened, and Henri entered. “Vicar.” She nodded, then turned her undivided attention to Avalon. “My lady, I dropped Byrnn off at Mr. and Mrs. Stevens’s house. Mrs. Stevens says he can stay with her as long as Annie needs him to.”
Mrs. Jennings came into the room, and Avalon and Devan stood.
“My lady, you and the vicar should go home. Patricia and I will take care of Annie now. I believe the babe will come tomorrow. If something changes, I’ll send someone to fetch you.”
“Would you like me to stay?” Devan offered.
“No, Mr. Farris. We’ll see you tomorrow.” The midwife smiled at them, then addressed Avalon. “My lady, we’ll get her through this.”
Avalon nodded. “I’ll send a footman to stay with you. He can help with the fire, fetch food, and come get me when you need me.”
“That would be much appreciated, my lady,” Mrs. Jennings said. “Have him bring more linens, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Avalon answered.
Mrs. Jennings gave her the cloak laid across her arm. “You’ll need this, Lady Warwyk.”
Devan reached and took the garment from the midwife’s outstretched hands. Without a word spoken, he draped it around Avalon’s shoulders, then proceeded to don his greatcoat.
Avalon took one last look at the cottage inside and said a silent prayer.
One was for Annie and her unborn child.
The other was a thank-you for delivering a certain vicar into their midst.