“Lord Swartingham has most graciously helped with the new church roof.” Vicar Jones made eye contact with another guest. “I say, is that Mr. Merriweather? I must have a word with him. If you’ll excuse me?” The vicar bowed and hurried away.
Edward eyed the vicar’s retreating form with envy. The man must have attended the Clearwater soirees before.
“How lovely to have a moment alone with you, my lord,” Mrs. Clearwater said. “I did want to discuss your trip to London.”
“Oh?” Maybe if he caught the elder Mrs. Wren’s eye. It wasn’t done to just abandon a lady.
“Yes, indeed.” Mrs. Clearwater leaned closer. “I have heard that you were seen at some most unusual places.”
“Really?”
“In the company of a lady we both know.”
Edward’s attention swung back to Felicity Clearwater. What the devil was the woman talking about?
“Fe-lee-ci-ty!” A male voice, rather the worse for drink, yodeled nearby.
Mrs. Clearwater winced.
Squire Clearwater was making his way unsteadily toward them. “Felicity, m’dear, mustn’t monopolize the earl. He’s not interested in talk of fashions and fr-fr-fripperies.” The squire dug a pointy elbow into Edward’s ribs. “Eh, my lord? Hunting’s the thing. A man’s sport! What? What?”
Mrs. Clearwater made a sound that, in a male, might have been considered a snort.
“Actually, I don’t hunt much,” Edward said.
“Hounds baying, horses galloping, the smell of blood . . .” The squire was in his own world.
Across the room, Edward saw Anna put on a wrapper. Damn it. Was she leaving without bidding him good-bye?
“Excuse me.”
He bowed to the squire and his wife and pushed through the mass of people. But at this hour, the soiree had become quite crowded. By the time Edward reached the door, Anna and Mrs. Wren were already outside.
“Anna!” Edward shoved past the footmen in the hall and pushed open the door. “Anna!”
She was only a few steps away. At his shout, both she and Mrs. Wren turned.
“You shouldn’t walk home alone, Anna.” Edward glowered, then realized his slip. “Nor you, Mrs. Wren.”
Anna looked confused, but the older woman beamed. “Have you come to escort us home, Lord Swartingham?”
“Yes.”
His carriage was waiting nearby. They could ride, but then the evening would be over in a matter of minutes. Besides, it was a beautiful night. He signaled the carriage to follow behind them as they walked. He offered Anna one arm and Mrs. Wren the other. Although the ladies had left the party early, the hour was late and it was dark. A full moon shone, gloriously large in the black sky, casting long shadows before them.
As they neared a crossroads, Edward heard the sudden clatter of running feet ahead of them, loud in the quiet air. Immediately he set the ladies behind him. A slight form flew around the corner. It veered toward them.
“Meg! Whatever is the matter?” Anna cried.
“Oh, ma’am!” The girl bent double, clutching her side as she tried to catch her breath. “It’s Mrs. Fairchild, ma’am. She’s fallen down the stairs, and I can’t help her up. I think the baby’s coming, too!”
Chapter Fifteen
So Aurea flew back in her magnificent golden carriage, her sisters’ plan churning in her head. The raven greeted his returned wife almost indifferently. Aurea ate a splendid dinner with him, bade the raven good night, and went to her room to wait for her sensuous visitor.
Suddenly he was there beside her, more urgent, more demanding than he had ever been before. His attentions left Aurea sleepy and satiated, but she stuck stubbornly to her plan and kept herself awake even as she heard her lover’s breath settle into the evenness of sleep. Quietly, she sat up and felt for the candle she had earlier left on the table beside the bed. . . .
—from The Raven Prince
“Oh, my Lord!” Anna tried to remember when exactly Rebecca had thought the baby would come. Surely not for another month?
“Dr. Billings is at the soiree,” Edward said with calm authority. “Take my carriage, girl, and fetch him quickly.” He turned and shouted instructions to John Coachman as he waved the carriage forward.
“I’ll go with Meg,” Mother Wren said.
Edward nodded and helped her and the maid into the carriage. “Is there a midwife to find as well?” He directed the question at Anna.
“Rebecca was going to have Mrs. Stucker—”
“The midwife is attending Mrs. Lyle,” her mother-in-law interrupted. “She lives four or five miles out of town. Several ladies were talking about it at the party.”
“Fetch Dr. Billings to Mrs. Fairchild first, and then I’ll send my carriage for Mrs. Stucker,” Edward ordered.
Mother Wren and Meg nodded from inside the carriage.
Edward slammed the door shut and stepped back. “Go, John!”
The coachman shouted to the horses, and the carriage rattled away.
Edward caught Anna’s hand. “Which way is Mrs. Fairchild’s house?”
“It’s just ahead.” Anna snatched up her skirts and ran toward the house with Edward.
The front door to Rebecca’s house stood ajar. All was dark except for a curtain of light that fell from the entrance onto the walkway. Edward pushed open the door and Anna followed. She looked around. They stood in the front hall with the stairs to the upper floor immediately before them. The lower part could be seen in the light from the hall, but the higher steps were in darkness. There was no sign of Rebecca.
“Could she have moved herself?” Anna gasped.
They heard a low moan from the upper stairs. Anna ran up before Edward could move. She heard him curse behind her.
Rebecca lay on a landing midway up the staircase. Anna thanked the fates that she had stopped here, instead of falling down the longer, second flight of stairs. Her friend was on her side, the great mound of her belly more prominent in that position. Her face shone white and greasy with perspiration.
Anna bit her lip. “Rebecca, can you hear me?”
“Anna.” Rebecca held out her hand, and she caught it. “Thank God you are here.” She gasped and her hand tightened painfully.
“What is it?” Anna asked.
“The baby.” Rebecca expelled her breath. “It’s coming.”
“Can you rise?”
“I’m so clumsy. My ankle is hurt.” There were tears in Rebecca’s eyes and traces of others on her face. “The baby is too soon.”
Anna’s own eyes were suddenly flooded with tears. She bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to control them. Tears would not help her friend.
“Let me carry you up to your room, Mrs. Fairchild.” Edward’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
Anna glanced up. Edward stood behind her, his face grave. She stepped to the side, letting Rebecca’s hand go. Edward eased his palms under the laboring woman, then squatted and positioned her in his arms before rising in one fluid movement. He was obviously careful not to jostle Rebecca’s ankle, but she whimpered and squeezed her hands in the front of his coat. Edward’s lips tightened. He nodded to Anna, and she went ahead of him up the stairs and down the upper hall. A single candle flickered on a bedside table in Rebecca’s room. Anna hurried to take it and to light several others. Edward turned sideways to enter, and then laid her friend gently on the bed. For the first time, Anna noticed that he was very pale.
She pushed a damp lock of hair off Rebecca’s forehead. “Where is James?”
Anna had to wait for the answer as another pain hit her friend. Rebecca moaned low, and her back arched off the bed. When it was over, she was panting. “He went to Drewsbury for the day on business. He said he would return tomorrow after midday.” Rebecca bit her lip. “He will be so cross with me.”
Edward muttered something sharp behind them and paced to the dark bedroom windows.
“Nonsense,” Anna scolded softly. “None of this is your fault.
”
“If only I hadn’t fallen down the stairs,” Rebecca sobbed.
Anna was trying to comfort her when the front door slammed below. The doctor had obviously arrived. Edward excused himself to direct the man up.
Dr. Billings tried to wear an impassive face, but it was evident that he was quite worried. He bandaged Rebecca’s ankle, which had swollen already and turned purple. Anna mostly sat by Rebecca’s head, holding her hand and talking to her in an attempt to calm her. It wasn’t easy. According to the calculations of the midwife and Rebecca, the baby was a month early. As the night progressed Rebecca’s agony grew worse, and she became despondent. She was convinced she’d lose the baby. Nothing Anna said seemed to help, but she stayed by the other woman, holding her hand and stroking her hair.
A little over three hours after the doctor had arrived, Mrs. Stucker, the midwife, blew into the room. A short, rotund woman with red cheeks and black hair, now liberally sprinkled with gray, she was a welcome sight.
“Ho! This is a night for babies, it is,” the midwife said. “You’ll all be glad to know Mrs. Lyle has another boy baby, her fifth, would you believe it? I don’t know why she even bothers to call me. I just sit in the corner and knit until it’s time to catch the wee one.” Mrs. Stucker took off her wrapper and a great many scarves and threw them over a chair. “Do you have some water and a bit of soap, Meg? I do like to wash me hands before I help a lady.”
Dr. Billings was looking disapproving, but he made no protest at the midwife seeing his patient.
“And how are you, Mrs. Fairchild? Holding on well, despite that ankle? My, that must have been painful.” The midwife laid her hand on Rebecca’s tummy and looked at her face shrewdly. “The babe’s eager, isn’t it? Coming early just to aggravate his mother. But you’re not to worry about it. Babies sometimes have minds of their own about when they want to come out.”
“Will he be all right?” Rebecca licked dry lips.
“Well now, you know I can’t promise anything, luv. But you’re a good, strong lady, if you don’t mind me saying so. I’ll do my very best to help you and that baby.”
Things looked brighter after that. Mrs. Stucker got Rebecca to sit up in the bed because “babies slide better downhill than up.” Rebecca seemed to regain hope. She was even able to chat between pains.
Just as Anna felt as if she were going to drop from fatigue right there in the chair, Rebecca began to moan deeply. At first Anna was terribly alarmed, thinking something must be wrong. But Mrs. Stucker wasn’t perturbed and stated cheerfully that the babe would soon be there. And indeed, in another half hour, during which Anna came wide awake, Rebecca’s baby was born. It was a little girl, wrinkled and small but able to bawl quite loudly. The sound brought a smile to her mother’s exhausted face. The baby had dark hair that stood on end like a baby chick’s fluff. Her blue eyes blinked slowly, and she turned her head to Rebecca’s breast when she was snuggled against it.
“Now, then, isn’t that about the prettiest baby you’ve ever seen?” Mrs. Stucker asked. “I know you’re tuckered out, Mrs. Fairchild, but perhaps you’ll take a little tea or broth.”
“I’ll go see what I can find,” Anna said, yawning.
She slowly stumbled down the stairs. When she got to the landing, she noticed a light gleaming in the downstairs sitting room. Puzzled, Anna pushed the door open and stood there a moment, staring.
Edward sprawled on Rebecca’s damask settee, his long legs hanging off the end. He’d removed his neckcloth and unbuttoned his waistcoat. One arm draped over his eyes. His other arm stretched to the floor where his hand almost enveloped a half-empty glass of what looked like James’s brandy. Anna stepped inside the room, and he immediately raised his arm from his eyes, belying the impression that he had been asleep.
“How is she?” His voice was raspy, his countenance ghastly. The fading bruises stood out starkly in his pale face, and the stubble on his jaw made him look dissolute.
Anna felt ashamed. She’d forgotten about Edward, had assumed he’d gone home long ago. All this time he’d been waiting downstairs to see how Rebecca fared.
“Rebecca is fine,” she said brightly. “She has a baby girl.”
His expression didn’t change. “Alive?”
“Yes.” Anna faltered. “Yes, of course. Both Rebecca and the baby are alive and well.”
“Thank God.” His face hadn’t lost the strained look.
She began to feel uneasy. Surely he was overly concerned? He’d just met Rebecca tonight, hadn’t he? “What is the matter?”
He sighed and his arm returned to cover his eyes. There was a long moment of silence—so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer the question. Finally, he spoke, “My wife and babe died in childbirth.”
Anna slowly sat down on a stool near the settee. She hadn’t really thought about his wife before. She knew he’d been married and that his wife had died young, but not how she’d died. Had he loved her? Did he love her still?
“I’m sorry.”
He lifted his hand from the brandy glass, made an impatient movement, and then let it settle on the glass again as if too weary to find another resting place for it. “I didn’t tell you to elicit your pity. She died a long time ago. Ten years now.”
“How old was she?”
“She’d turned twenty a fortnight before.” His mouth twisted. “I was four and twenty.”
Anna waited.
When he next spoke, the words were so low she had to lean forward to hear them. “She was young and healthy. It never occurred to me that bearing the child might kill her, but she miscarried in her seventh month. The baby was too small to live. They told me it would have been a boy. Then she started bleeding.”
He took his arm away from his face, and Anna could see that he was staring sightlessly at some inner vision.
“They couldn’t stop it. Doctors and midwives, they couldn’t stop it. The maids kept running in with more and more linens,” he whispered to the horror in his memory. “She just bled and bled until her very life bled away. There was so much blood in the bed, the mattress was soaked through. We had to burn it afterward.”
The tears she’d withheld for Rebecca’s sake ran down Anna’s cheeks. To have lost someone you loved so horribly, so tragically, how awful it must have been. And he must have wanted that baby very badly. She already knew that having a family was important to him.
Anna pressed a hand to her mouth, and the movement seemed to bring Edward out of his reverie. He swore softly when he saw the tears on her face. He sat up on the settee and reached for her. Without any sign of strain, he lifted her off the stool and onto his lap and settled her there so she sat across him, her back held by his arm. He brought her head to his chest.
One big hand gently stroked her hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you about that. It’s not for a lady’s ears, especially after you’ve been up all night worrying about your friend.”
Anna allowed herself to lean against him, his masculine warmth and the petting hand wonderfully comforting. “You must have loved her very much.”
The hand paused, and then resumed. “I thought I did. As it turned out, I didn’t know her that well.”
She tilted her head back to see his face. “How long were you married?”
“A little over a year.”
“But—”
He pushed her head back to his chest. “We hadn’t known each other long when we became engaged, and I suppose I never really talked to her. Her father was very eager for the match, told me that it was agreeable to the girl and I simply assumed . . .” His voice roughened. “I found out after we were married that my face repulsed her.”
Anna tried to speak, but he hushed her again.
“I think she was afraid of me, too,” he said wryly. “You may not have noticed, but I’ve something of a temper.” She felt his hand touch the top of her head softly. “By the time she was pregnant with my child, I knew that something was wrong, and in her last hou
rs she cursed him.”
“Cursed who?”
“Her father. For forcing her to marry such an ugly man.”
Anna shivered. What a silly little girl his wife must have been.
“Apparently her father had lied to me.” Edward’s voice turned as icy as winter. “He desperately desired the match and, not wanting to offend me, forbade my fiancée to tell me that my scars revolted her.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Shh,” he murmured. “It happened a long time ago, and I have learned since to live with my face and to discern those who would try to hide an aversion to it. Even if they lie, I usually know it.”
But he didn’t know her lies. Anna felt cold at the thought. She’d deceived him, and he’d never forgive her if he found out.
He must’ve mistaken her tremble for continued sadness at his tale. He whispered something into her hair and held her closer until the warmth from his body had chased her chill away. They sat quietly then for a little while, taking comfort from each other. It was beginning to grow light outside. There was a halo around the closed sitting room curtains. Anna took the opportunity to rub her nose against his rumpled shirt. He smelled like the brandy he’d drunk—very masculine.
Edward leaned back to look down at her. “What are you doing?”
“Sniffing you.”
“I probably smell fetid right now.”
“No.” Anna shook her head. “You smell . . . nice.”
He studied her upturned face for a minute. “Please forgive me. I don’t want you to hope. If there were any way—”
“I know.” She got to her feet. “I even understand.” She walked briskly to the door. “I came down to get something for Rebecca. She must be wondering what happened to me.”
“Anna . . .”
But she pretended she didn’t hear and left the sitting room. Rejection from Edward was one thing. Pity she didn’t have to take.
The front door banged open at that moment to admit a disheveled James Fairchild. He was like a vision from Bedlam: his blond hair stood on end, and his neckcloth was missing.
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