Chapter Four

Dr. Carter pulled the sadly lopsided torte from the oven, as his fellow chef looked on eagerly. The two cooks cut the cake immediately without waiting for the formality of dessert. I did not refuse a slice for fear of offending.

“It is good,” I declared. “Congratulations.”

Lila’s natural response to compliments is to disagree with them and humiliate the giver with a contradiction. “My dear Cassandra, how can you say so—?”

But Carter interrupted her. “Mrs. Loch, stay! You will not deny the compliment from your sister. When you were a small girl, surely you learned that the proper response to a compliment is ‘thank you.’ ”

Only John Carter could have spoken so to Lila without receiving a tongue-lashing. She blushed slightly but said nothing. I giggled, and the giggle turned to a laugh. The others caught my mirth and laughed also.

Dr. Carter finally checked his merriment and looked at my sister. “Well…?”

“Well…what…?” she asked, with her torte-laden fork poised in the air.

“What do you say to your sister in response to her compliment?” He said the words half swaggeringly and half merrily. I laughed again. Never in my life did I expect to see the formidable Lila told what to do and how to behave.

Lila flashed John a dagger look and said, “I would have thanked her, Dr. Know-Everything, but you did not give me leave to finish my remark.”

Dr. Carter swept her a graceful mock bow. “I stand corrected, dear Mrs. Loch!”

“While peace reigns,” I said with a smile, “I want to ask a question of you, Dr. Carter.”

“More torte?” he replied.

“No, I thank you. I want to ask about Lady Georgina Lovell. I met her this morning and had tea with her. She is eccentric but very charming. I understand you know her.”

“Yes,” he replied. “Lord Lovell was a dear friend. When he and the child became ill, I attended them both.”

“The child!”

“Yes, Georgina bore a daughter. The child was five when the Spanish ague made its deadly appearance. She and her father died within a week of each other.”

“How tragic!”

Carter sighed and turned away, brushing his hand across his eyes.

“It must have been terrible for you,” I said in a quiet voice, “to be a physician and unable to help your friend—and your friend’s child.”

Carter nodded and murmured a half-heard remark. “…are worse things.”

Lila had the good grace to busy herself about the stove while John Carter recovered himself. He glanced at me, and his eyes glowed with warmth as though he honored me for my empathy. Good man! If he had known how little in the past I had felt for anyone except myself, he would have disdained noticing my pitiful attempt at sensibility! When had I ever felt for others? When had I pitied Rosamund during all her years of patient endurance? When had I considered my husband’s feelings? Or his mother’s?

In that moment when these thoughts passed through my head, Lady Lovell’s words about freedom sounded in my mind. Could my past selfishness be the result of the strict upbringing I had endured in my father’s house? There, manners were everything. One did not discuss one’s inner thoughts. Perhaps if I had displayed my emotions, my father would have pitied me and not coerced me into marrying Mr. Stanfield. Once married, I had attempted to drive away misery through visiting and shopping and gossip—until Bart had re-entered my life.

I must have sighed, for Dr. Carter touched my hand.

“We all have past sorrows.”

Lila turned from her busy scrubbing of the stovetop. “We do indeed,” she said. “I will never forget the day my husband passed away.”

I looked at her curiously, for she had never, as far as I could recall, mentioned that subject, at least not in front of me. “Do tell us about Dr. Loch, Lila. I never heard you speak about him at North Commons.”

She drew breath as though she would speak but then shook her head. “Another time, perhaps.”

The kettle at that opportune moment whistled, and we all busied ourselves with pouring tea and moving into the parlor. I brought up the subject of Georgina’s invitation.

“Lila, Lady Lovell was kind enough to ask me to travel to Bath with her and spend the month of October there.”

Lila set her cup down and stared at me. “Bath! But my dear Cassandra, what if you should meet…?”

“I understand your concern,” I replied, blushing, “but Lady Lovell moves in a different sphere from the ton. I will be safe.”

“Well, I do not know. I must think a bit about it.”

My heart hammered. “Lila, I am not asking permission. I am simply advising you of my intention to travel with her.”

An uncomfortable silence seemed to endure for several minutes but in truth probably lasted only a few seconds. Finally, Dr. Carter spoke, “A fine idea. It will make Georgina’s journey more pleasant, and Mrs. Stanfield will no doubt enjoy her time in Bath.”

“But Cassandra,” cried Lila, “what am I to do without you? October is the harvest month, and we will have no servants.”

Carter quickly replied before I could gather my thoughts. “Mrs. Loch, I will give you any help you require. But let me make a suggestion to you: Why not assist with the harvest?”

Lila’s eyes widened, and her eyebrows rose into dark arches. I studied the carpet to hide a smile.

“Assist with the harvest! You would have me march into the fields with the farmers with a great scythe slung over my shoulder?”

Carter laughed. “Such a vision! I believe you are strong enough to swing a scythe, but of course I was not suggesting any such thing. During the harvest, the women and children cook for the men. All the foodstuffs go to Jesse McCrae’s great barn, and trestles accommodate meals for the workers. I spend a great deal of time in that barn myself during harvest, for there are always injuries to attend to, fortunately most of them small. You have experience in medical treatments and would be a valuable aid to me.”

“I see,” replied Lila. “If I could be of use…then perhaps…”

“Of course you would be of use. Your very nature propels you to organize, and that is often the thing most needed.”

“I believe you would enjoy yourself, Lila,” I said. “Your strengths, both mental and physical, make it a tailor-made assignment for you.”

“The best part comes after the harvest,” added Carter. “The men move away the trestles, the fiddlers take their place, and everyone dances. The hard work of harvest is over, and if the men drink a bit too much ale, who can blame them? Their efforts have provided food for all of us through the winter.”

Lila leaned forward, eagerness displayed in her bright eyes. “I believe I will take your advice and participate. But who is the farmer you mentioned? Who is this Jesse McCrae?”

“His farm is very large and lies about three miles outside the village. He is a gentleman farmer, the second or third son of a fine old country family. He has two sons of his own and two daughters.”

“I have no objection to visiting the home of a gentleman farmer. This McCrae, if he behaves as a gentleman, as well as being born into a gentleman’s family, would be acceptable as a common acquaintance.”

I gave John Carter a glance of gratitude. “How exciting for you, Lila! I will be away only a month, and you will be so busy the time will fly.”

After this conversation, which assured me of my visit to Bath, the summer passed pleasantly. I visited back and forth with Georgina and learned to paint simple pictures under her tutelage. John Carter remained an attentive friend and neighbor, and Lila began to assist him in his doctoring duties.

One evening, Dr. Carter banged on our door just as we were getting ready to retire and begged Lila to accompany him, for the midwife was ill and it seemed, from what the child said who fetched Carter, that the labor was a difficult one.

I had never seen John Carter so abrupt and hurried. “I beg you,” he cried, when we opened the door, “one or both of you must come with me. I need you!”

Lila seized her cloak. “Cassandra faints at a cut finger. I will go.”

Thank goodness, I breathed to myself when they were gone. I would surely have fainted and disgraced myself. Then, ashamed of thinking of myself in such a situation, I spoke a little prayer for the health of the mother and child.

The babe arrived safely, and Lila came back full of Dr. Carter’s praises. From that time on, instead of bragging of her own abilities, which she was wont to do, she learned from him. His quiet method of instruction and his praise of her efforts and accomplishments worked what I can only refer to as miracles with her. She was a naturally strong, intelligent, well-organized, and observant woman, and John Carter used these gifts to their full advantage. By the time mid-September sharpened the wind and shortened the days, Lila was proficient in many treatments and could manage simple cases on her own. John Carter dubbed her “Doctor Loch,” and although she laughed at the term, I believe she secretly enjoyed hearing herself called so.

One morning we awoke to a cold, slanting rain. The sea writhed as huge waves battered the shore, and the beech trees swayed in the wind, showering orange and gold leaves into the turbulent ether. We stoked the fire ourselves, for Mattie would not walk from her father’s farm in such weather. We made cocoa and drank it accompanied by muffins and apple tarts. Alone together with a storm raging outside, we did not snarl at each other like two cats as we had done in the past but settled companionably in the parlor with hot tea, books, and our sewing baskets to while away the hours of the storm.

At one point, I laid down my book and observed Lila gazing out the window.

“You are far away,” I said. “Are your thoughts at North Commons?”

She turned abruptly as if I had awakened her from sleep. “Yes…in a sense.”

I waited attentively for her to say more.

“Cassandra…I want to speak of my husband, but…”

“But?”

“But you must assure me that the story I am about to tell you will go no further. Not even to your friend Lady Lovell or John Carter.”

“Of course, Lila.”

“My story will shock you, and I hesitate…”

“My dear sister, I am no longer a child You will feel relief if you share your story, and I assure you, I will keep your confidences.”

“You are correct. I must speak of this, for the truth has lain in my bosom for eleven years, and I can bear it no longer.”

I leaned forward, giving her my full attention. I felt a great deal of curiosity but also sympathy. This sister who had been a constant pillar of strength in my life—strength and sometimes cruelty—was in distress, and despite my ambivalent feelings toward her, I was sympathetic.

Lila drew a great breath. “Dr. Loch…”

“What is it, dear?”

“Dr. Loch killed my child.”

I stared at her, believing I had not heard correctly. “Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered.

She sighed deeply and twisted a linen handkerchief into hopeless wrinkles. She raised her head and gazed at me, with truth in her eyes.

“I must start at the beginning,” she said. Tears ran down her face, and for a time she could not speak. I wanted to comfort her, but I sat mutely, watching the twisting hands.

Finally she resumed, but slowly, as if she must force each word from her lips. “When I married Dr. Loch, I was with child, three months gone.”

“With child!”

“Yes. Dr. Loch did not know I was with child when he wed me.”

“Then…then the child was not his?”

“Yes, the child was his. We had failed in our duty to…to…remain chaste until marriage. He forced me to lie with him.”

“Forced you!”

“Yes, but I did not fight him as hard as I might have. I wanted to wed him and escape all the evils of my father’s house. Therefore, I was in a sense complicit.”

“Oh, Lila! To wed a man who forced himself upon you!”

“Do not judge me, Cassie. You know how cruel Father can be.”

“No, no, I mustn’t judge you. Pray continue.”

Lila raised her teacup with a trembling hand, while I waited, all agog.

“Because Dr. Loch used me before our wedding, he knew the child was his.”

I remained silent and waited for her to continue.

“He was the vicar of North Commons Parish, as you know. He said it was not possible for him to remain in his position if the people of the county learned of our mistake.”

“And so he forced you to use some method to end the quickening, to miscarry the child?”

Lila placed the twisted handkerchief on the table and took up her teacup. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to sip.

“It was worse than that, much worse.” She sighed quaveringly and continued, “I disguised my condition as well as I could so no one would know how far into my quickening I actually was. At full term, I delivered a daughter with no one in attendance except my husband. He had dismissed the servants on some pretext, and fortunately the birth was an easy one.”

Lila stared toward the window, but I knew she was seeing into the past, into that hour when her infant was born. I shivered, knowing what was to come.

“What happened?” I whispered.

But Lila did not answer. Her face turned pale, and she slid from her chair to the floor. I rushed to her and helped her sit up with her back against the wall. She stared at me as if not knowing who I was. Then she seized my hand and clutched it in both of hers.

“My child…,” she whispered. “My child. She was pink and beautiful. She waved her tiny arms and seemed to look at me as I held her. But then, Dr. Loch…”

My stomach churned, and I feared I was about to be sick. I turned away.

“Do not turn from me!” cried my sister. “I tried to stop him! But I was too weak!”

With difficulty, I controlled my horror. “I am not turning from you. Whatever happened was not your fault. Did Dr. Loch…? Did he…?”

Lila breathed hard. “He said we could not present a full-term child to the world. He would lose his position, and we would starve.”

“Oh, dear God,” I whispered.

“He said the child must die, and he took her from me. I struggled to keep her, but he pulled her from my arms. He…put a pillow over her face.”

“Oh God, no!” I cried. My tears fell as thickly as my sister’s. We were on the floor together, our hair and clothing all askew and our hands clutched together. For a time we could do nothing but weep. Finally my sobs stilled, and I carried my sister’s hand to my lips.

“Did anyone know?”

She shook her head. “We told everyone I had given birth too early and the child had died.”

“How you must have suffered! But, my dear, you stayed with Dr. Loch! How could you have borne his companionship knowing what he had done?”

She looked into my face, and her expression of sadness broke my heart. “I stayed with him because I had not your courage.”

“My courage! I made a terrible mistake. That was not courage!”

“You despised Stanfield. Has it not occurred to you that the reigniting of your passion for Bart was simply a ploy visited upon yourself to give you leave to fly?”

Her words roused me. I thought back to the night I had left my husband’s house. I had looked up at the stars and breathed one word—freedom.

“Perhaps there is something in what you say, but…you berated me so when I crawled home to North Commons.”

She smiled a bitter, mirthless smile. “I suffered with jealousy. You had rid yourself of your husband, and I had remained like a coward with mine. Ever since that terrible night, I have burned with a fire of anger. I took care of my husband and obeyed him until the blessed day he died, but I inflicted my rage on others.”

I could not argue that point. “Rosamund especially seemed to annoy you.”

“Father was the instigator of bringing Rosamund to North Commons, and I became his ally, convincing my mother it would be a good scheme. I thought the child could spend time at the parsonage with me and fill the void in my heart, but she was a skinny, sniveling child, afraid of her own shadow. She could never take the place of the little beauty I had borne, and I despised her for it. I loathed her for being alive while my child was dead.”

I struggled to my feet and helped Lila into her chair. I gently wiped away her tears with a clean cloth and straightened her hair. She smiled at me, and I hoped that telling her long-kept secret would give her some peace.

“We have both suffered,” I said, “but certainly your pain has been far greater than mine. And Lady Lovell’s, also, losing her husband and child at the same time. My own grief consumed me and I failed to consider that life might have given others worse things to bear than I have endured.”

Lila slowly rose and crossed the room. She opened a cabinet, pulled forth a bottle of port wine, and poured full glasses. I took mine willingly, and we sat in the parlor silently, sipping the strong wine and allowing it to soothe our fevered breasts.