Otherwise Engaged

by Joanna Barker

  But I could not expect that from him, not now. Any friendship between us was ruined, and I no longer had any claim to his comfort.

  I stepped forward, my hands clasped before me. “Thank you,” I said softly. “You arrived not a moment too soon.”

  He nodded but did not speak, toying with the brim of his hat.

  “How—?” I swallowed. Simply talking with him was painful. “How did you manage the journey so quickly? We did not expect you for hours yet.”

  He waved a hand up the stairs. “It was Lady Rowley. She insisted on riding instead of waiting for her carriage to be readied. A remarkable woman.”

  “She is certainly that.”

  Silence fell between us, thick as mud. I stared at the floor, tracing the grain of the marble. If this was how it would be now, I did not think I could bear it. No more comfortable teasing or frank discussions, only cold indifference.

  “How is your sister-in-law?” he asked gruffly.

  “As well as can be expected.” I rubbed my arms. The butler had closed the door behind Nicholas and retreated, but the entry was still cold, and the chill raised bumps along the length of my skin. “She will be bolstered by her grandmother though. You cannot imagine how you have helped.”

  He nodded again, accepting the thanks without fanfare. That was Nicholas through and through—sincere and unassuming.

  “Mama will wish to thank you.” I took a step backward. “I will go fetch her.”

  “No,” Nicholas said, holding out a hand. “That is, I do not expect it. She has far more important things to attend to.”

  I stopped. “Yes, you are right, of course.”

  “But please send word when you have news of the baby.”

  “I will.”

  He hesitated, shifting his weight. “And if you have any need of me,” he said, “please know I am willing to do all I can.”

  Why did he have to say such things? His kindness only made me feel all the worse.

  “Are you all right, Reb—?” He stopped. “That is, Miss Rowley.”

  Miss Rowley. At the moment, I quite hated the appellation.

  “Fine,” I managed. “Fine.” How could I answer anything else when Juliana and her child struggled just upstairs?

  A cry stabbed through the quiet of the house. Juliana. I clutched a hand to my throat as I spun to face the stairs. I had to go upstairs. I had to help, support, anything.

  But I did not move.

  “Do not let me delay you,” Nicholas said urgently behind me. “I will see myself out.”

  My mouth would not form words, just as my feet would not move. Dr. Turner must have tried to turn the baby, but what had Juliana’s cry meant? That it had worked? That it had made everything all the worse? But even my burning questions could not overcome the overwhelming fear that clutched at my soul.

  “Rebecca.” Nicholas was beside me, and his warm hand took my elbow and forced me to face him. His concerned eyes raked over me, like when I’d cut my hand in the meadow.

  My vision blurred. “I am sorry,” I whispered. “I simply need a moment. It’s only that—” My voice cracked.

  His hands found my shoulders, and his calm steadiness eased the rush of my heart. “Only what?” he asked quietly.

  I stared up at him. “Only I am afraid.”

  “Of course you are,” he said, squinting. “But that has never stopped you before.”

  I shook my head. “It is not the same. Juliana—the baby—they could die, Nicholas. I cannot see beyond that. The panic chokes me, and I cannot bear it.”

  His hands squeezed my shoulders. “That is not true in the least. You can bear it. You are strong and brave, Rebecca, more than you know. Do you remember what you said to me in the meadow? About your accident?”

  Our conversation came back to me in broken pieces through the haze of my memory.

  “You said you do not worry over what might happen in the future,” he said softly, “but instead focus on the joys of the now.”

  I sniffed. “I’m afraid there is no joy in my life at present.”

  “If you believe that, then I am not certain I know you at all.” He dropped his hands, leaving my shoulders cool from lack of his warmth. “Focus on your hope. That is your greatest strength, and it will see you and your family through tonight. They will need you, no matter the outcome.”

  Hope. I took a deep breath. Hope. I had to endure this dark night, the endless hours that still stretched before me. If everything went well, Juliana and William would have a child. A baby, a new niece or nephew for me. I tried to imagine William’s face as he held his baby, a beautiful boy or girl. That would be joy indeed.

  I looked up at Nicholas, his eyes still fixed on mine. “I will try,” I whispered.

  “Then go be with your family,” he said. “Help them.”

  He should not be so kind, so thoughtful. Not to me, the girl who had deceived him, however unknowingly.

  My throat closed over, so instead of speaking, I rose up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, unshaven and rough against my lips. He stiffened, and I pulled away with a jerk, my face flaming. What was I thinking? I could not pretend things were the same as before.

  I stared at the buttons of his waistcoat. “I . . . I will inform you when I have news of Juliana,” I said, stumbling over the words.

  He nodded, and I hurried up the stairs, not daring to see if he still watched me.

  When I reached Juliana’s room, I paused outside the door to listen. Was that Dr. Turner’s voice? I could not make out the words. But there were no more cries and no sign of tears. I straightened my back and slipped inside the room.

  Juliana still lay on the bed, her pale face stark against her dark hair, damp and matted on her forehead. Eyes closed, she rested against her mountain of pillows. Lady Rowley sat beside her as William paced at the foot of the bed.

  “Where have you been?” Mama murmured as I joined her near the window.

  “Thanking Nicholas,” I said without thinking. Then I coughed. “Lieutenant Avery, that is. For bringing Lady Rowley so quickly.”

  Mama eyed me but did not press further.

  “Did it work?” I managed. “Did the baby turn?”

  She nodded. “Yes. It was difficult, but Dr. Turner says the position is right now, and he is hopeful there will be no more complications.”

  The knot inside me loosened by the slightest margin. Hope.

  I slipped my arm through Mama’s. She froze, her arm rigid. I bit my cheek. I’d already lost Nicholas because of my wretched secret engagement. Would I lose my relationship with my mother as well?

  Then she exhaled and placed her other hand on my arm, her soft touch reassuring. I had no misconceptions—our problems were far from over. But I would do everything in my power to rebuild her trust in me.

  “Please,” I said. “Tell me how I can help.”

  I spent the next hour working with Sophie, serving tea, directing servants, bringing anything Dr. Turner requested. Lady Rowley, Mama, and William stayed by Juliana’s side in turns, helping her through each pain as it came. She barely made a sound as she bore the agony inside her, but she was weakening. She did not speak unless Dr. Turner asked a question, and even then it was in short, gasping words.

  I did everything I could to keep my mind occupied. I stoked the fire and fetched water, things the maids certainly could have done, but I could not bear to be idle even a moment. The second I stopped, I would remember my fears.

  Juliana’s pains came quicker, only a minute or two apart as she clenched her teeth and ducked her chin into her chest. Dr. Turner examined her once more, and when he allowed Sophie and me back into the room, his somber expression told me all I needed to know, though his words confirmed it.

  “It is time.”

  A strong dose of panic shot through my veins. J
uliana lay in bed, her eyes glassy and unfocused, while Mama and Lady Rowley bustled around her, adjusting the bed linens and helping her into position as Dr. Turner directed. William stood at the foot of the bed, and both hands grasped the bedpost as he watched his wife prepare to deliver their child.

  No matter how I loved Juliana, William’s fear must have been a thousand times worse than mine. I stepped to him and laid a hand on his arm. He swung to face me, his eyes wild and red, his hair in disarray. William was always neat and tidy to a fault. But this night had undone him, as it had all of us.

  “She will be all right,” I whispered. “And the baby too. Dr. Turner is experienced. He knows what to do.”

  William stared at me, almost as if he had not heard me. “And if they are not all right?” he rasped. “If something happens and—”

  I tightened my hold on his arm. “You cannot think like that, William. Juliana is strong. She can do this, but she needs you.”

  He turned back to Juliana, his face etched with unease.

  “Have hope, William.” I released his arm.

  He gave a short nod, then straightened. He moved to Juliana’s side and brushed back the hair from her face. She gave him a wan smile.

  “Are you ready, Mrs. Rowley?” Dr. Turner asked.

  Juliana took William’s hand. “Yes,” she said, and though her voice was weak, determination shone through. “I am ready.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The milky light of dawn slipped through the windows. My body protested as I sat up, knowing perfectly well that I’d had a fraction of the sleep I was used to. Well, that and the fact that I had slept in an armchair, which, while cushioned, was not nearly the equivalent of a bed.

  “Ah, she awakes.”

  William’s quiet, teasing voice crowded into my head, and I rubbed my eyes before focusing across the room. Juliana slept, her head tipped to one side, her cheeks claiming their natural pink once more. Mama sat in the chair beside the bed while William stood near the window with a bundle in his arms. No, not a bundle. A baby.

  The events of last night blurred in my mind, but even exhaustion could not make me forget the moment just after midnight when all my fears had left me in a rush of exhilaration.

  “A boy,” Dr. Turner had declared.

  “A boy?” William had gaped from where he’d held Juliana on the bed. “Is he well?”

  “Perfectly well.”

  “A boy, William,” Juliana whispered.

  Lady Rowley had gone to Juliana and laid the wailing child in her arms. She had beamed, taking one tiny hand in hers as she’d shushed the sweet cries. William had wrapped one hand around her, laying the other gently on his child’s tuft of dark hair.

  Now that dark hair was hidden beneath a white cap, though William’s soft smile remained as he gazed down at his son in his arms, both lit by the morning glow outside.

  “What time is it?” I spoke quietly so as not to rouse Juliana. She needed her rest. In fact, she deserved a week of sleep after all she’d gone through.

  “Not yet six o’clock,” Mama said.

  “Where have the others gone?”

  “To bed, hopefully,” William said. “Where you both should be.”

  “I would have gone to bed if you had woken me,” I grumbled, not at all serious. I hadn’t wanted to leave.

  William narrowed his eyes. “Your snores were so soothing to little Andrew that we didn’t dare disturb you.”

  “I was only preparing him for his father’s wretched snores.”

  “Oh, hush, you two,” Mama said. “You’ll wake Juliana.”

  William shook his head. “I doubt she would wake even if you brought the pianoforte up here and pounded out a concerto.” He made his way across the room to me, bouncing his precious bundle with every step. “You did not have the chance to hold him last night,” he said.

  “Oh.” I’d purposely kept back and allowed Mama, Lady Rowley, and Sophie to shower the baby with love. “All right, then.”

  “You needn’t sound so thrilled at the prospect.”

  I did not answer as he gently laid the baby in my arms, his head in the crook of my elbow. I sat frozen, staring down at him. Small, round nose, smooth skin, and pink eyelids closed to the world. His breathing was the tiniest rhythm against my chest.

  A lump formed in my throat. “Hello, little Andrew,” I whispered. “You gave us a fright last night. But I am so glad you are here.”

  His lips puckered at my words, as if displeased, and I traced his little fingers that curled about the edge of the blanket. When I’d first held Rachel’s oldest, a testy girl who had howled at anyone’s touch beside her mother’s, my fifteen-year-old self had anxiously handed her off as soon as possible. But now . . . the rough edges around my heart began to fall away. Perhaps children were not so terrible.

  I looked up to see Mama and William exchanging a glance as they came to sit beside me, some understanding passing between them.

  I cleared my throat. “Now seems as good a time as any to apologize.”

  Mama sighed. “Please, Rebecca.”

  “No, I must say this, Mama.” I held Andrew a little tighter, as if he might calm my unease. “I knew I was lying and that I was breaking your trust. I convinced myself it was for the best, that I knew what was best. But if I’d told you both from the start, yesterday would not have been such a mess. Neither of you needed the extra strain that I caused.”

  Mama held up a hand. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened with Juliana. It was unfortunate timing, to be sure, but not of your doing.”

  “I can certainly still blame myself for not telling the both of you about Edward.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “Indeed, I spent a great deal of last night doing the same thing. Blaming you, that is.”

  I hated the disappointment in her voice. I’d never made such a mistake before, never tested our relationship in this way.

  “I am sorry for it,” I said softly. “I went about it all wrong, and I fear I have forever ruined not only your opinion of me but also of Edward. He is a good man, I swear.”

  “A lady does not swear, Rebecca.” Mama spoke in reproach, yet her voice was almost amused.

  “Save for Juliana,” William said. “Though she might also take issue with being called a lady.”

  I squinted at the two on them. They were teasing me. “Are—are you not angry with me?”

  Mama’s fingers ran over the arms of her chair as if searching there for the right words. “I cannot say what I am feeling. I was angry; I cannot deny it. I could not imagine why you felt you could not tell me about—” She waved her hand, and I knew she could not bring herself to say Edward’s name. “But after last night, it all seems less important now. And I do not want to be angry anymore.”

  “Neither do I,” William said quietly. “I think it is time we were all truthful with one another. About everything.”

  I looked at him, then back to Mama. “Does that mean you will tell me what happened? Between Papa and Mr. Bainbridge?”

  “Yes,” she said. “There is no reason you should not know.”

  Andrew still breathed softly in my arms, warm against my chest. It was unfathomable to me that he was here, safe, when only hours ago he had struggled for his life.

  Mama set her hands carefully in her lap. “Perhaps it might be helpful for you to tell us what you already know.”

  I nodded. “Yes, of course. Well, I read Papa’s record, though not much of it. And then I found his letter.”

  “Letter?” William repeated “What letter?”

  “From Mr. Bainbridge,” I said. “He threatened to reveal a secret about Papa and the company, something that would ruin him.”

  “You read that?” William sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Why did you not ask me about it?” He shook his he
ad. “Never mind, because it would have given away your secret, of course.”

  “Yes.” I shifted my weight. “But it troubled me; I will not lie. I could not understand why Papa would pay Mr. Bainbridge unless he had been involved in some wrongdoing.”

  Mama’s shoulders dropped in resignation. “You are right.”

  I’d spent the last two weeks attempting to convince myself it had been an error, a misunderstanding. I could not fool myself any longer. “What happened?”

  “Your father made a mistake,” she said, voice thick. “All good men do, and he was no exception.”

  “What mistake?” I pressed.

  “Fifteen years ago, the company was still in its infancy, barely afloat. While Papa was traveling to India to procure a shipment of silks, the tariff was raised in England. When he returned, he did not have the money to pay the full amount.” Her eyes hardened. “Mr. Bainbridge convinced him to bribe the tax collector, told him it was commonly done. Your papa was desperate. He would have lost the company without this shipment. He felt he had no choice and agreed.”

  My stomach twisted painfully. Papa had been in the wrong. But not at all like I had imagined.

  “He regretted it immediately,” Mama went on, voice laced with sorrow. “Afterward, he decided he would never compromise his integrity like that again. Mr. Bainbridge was less willing to make the same decision. That is what drove them apart and, consequently, our families.”

  “So that is the secret Mr. Bainbridge meant to reveal?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “After Papa bought Mr. Bainbridge’s share in the company, the horrible man was greedy for more, bitter he’d had to sell. He knew all the details of the bribe and could prove it happened. Only your father would take the blame. So Mr. Bainbridge threatened to expose him if he did not pay him an exorbitant amount once a year.”

  “Papa paid,” William said. “Though you know that from the letter. He was determined to fix what he’d done to save our family’s future. He paid every year until he died.”

  His words spun in my mind. “Why did you not just tell me this weeks ago?” I said softly.