Wedgewick Woman

by Patricia Strefling

  “You need not be worried, James. ‘Tis not my plan to do you harm. You’ve already been sacked. How much worse could it be? Although slithering away in the night did cause me some concern.”

  Comically, James swallowed. The Laird watched his Adam’s apple go up and then down again. Feeling almost sorry for the poor man, he turned from him and entwining his hands behind his back, paced slowly, calmly.

  “As I see it, we might, in future, become friends.”

  James looked bewildered…for the Laird was not known to dash about with fancy nor humorous words, nor to be about his business with other than a straight tongue.

  “Friends?”

  He watched almost entranced as the Laird paced. His sword lay across the huge desk and James could not take his eyes off it.

  “Aye, ‘tis a most unusual situation we are in, James. I find I need some assistance in acquiring some information that I know you must have.” For a long moment he gazed passively at James who was staring at the sword.

  “Think you worthy of my sword?”

  James started and reluctantly forced himself to answer.

  “Nay, indeed I think your father’s sword greater than any I’ve had the occasion to lay eyes upon.”

  “I have taken it up.”

  James swallowed convulsively and could only hope that the questions were not about the secret he kept with Annabel. God knows that he could not lie, yet he could not tell. His hands began to sweat and without realizing it he began wringing them nervously.

  “Is there anything you wish to say, James?” The Laird turned suddenly riveting his agitated glare directly into James’ worried eyes. “You seem high strung for someone who has no secrets.”

  His tongue became tangled so that he could only manage a squeaked, “Oh? Nay I have no secrets,” his voice, a mere whisper in the quiet room.

  “Your tone tells me you do.” The voice came back at him quick, loud, and sure.

  James opened his mouth then clamped it closed again. He could feel the quiver in his jaw and prayed the Laird did not notice.

  “Then there is a secret you carry?”

  Quick thinking, James replied, “Aye, have you no secrets, Laird?”

  Eyebrows raised, for he did not expect James’ curt reply. “Aye, ‘tis the way of it, I’m thinking.” He agreed only so long as to let James think he was so inclined.

  “I would have your word as a gentleman, James.” he countered quickly, stopping to stand in front of his former assistant who was still seated, so that James found himself being looked down upon as he spoke.

  James refused himself the pleasure of tugging at his shirt collar, knowing he’d be giving himself away. Choosing instead to be free of the Laird’s seemingly knowing green eyes, he stood, sidled past the Laird and walked on weak legs to the nearest window. He placed his sweaty hands on the casements and looked out, hoping to stall for time. His word as a gentleman required the truth…but in telling it, he may well ruin two other lives.

  Not being a particularly religious man, he found himself praying. God, help me, for I am not about living lies. The meek heart in his chest beat furiously now as he made his decision.

  Pulling a breath deep in his lungs, he turned. “Twas me that collected dues for Helen. You have found me out and I have paid back all.” He began in his own defense.

  “Aye, you have at that.” Laird Carmichael agreed, waiting.

  “I confess I have been giving the monies collected to Annab…Miss Wedgewick.” He finished.

  “First you say you collected for Helen’s debts and now I find that you continued giving funds to her young sister. Why?” he commanded. “Her own mother has fortune enough…at my cost.” He reminded him.

  “Aye, she does, for I wrote the cheque myself.” James reminded him.

  “I will not stand here whilst you parry with me, James. I have it that you made a mistake, corrected it and then ran out in the midst of my employment…fearing something else. What is it, man?”

  “Laird Carmichael, please understand…I cannot disclose the matter.” He closed his eyes, knowing he had just admitted he indeed carried a secret.

  “You use my employment to rob and cheat my servants and you tell me you cannot disclose the matter?” His voice was dangerously deep-throated.

  James, fearing for his position as a gentleman and finding himself deplorable, cringed at the words. Actually feeling pity for the Laird because he knew not that he had a daughter…one that was in dire need of his assistance even now…the thoughts tore through his conscience.

  “Anna…Miss Wedgewick has a child.” He said quietly. “One that is, shall we say, ill. At this moment, she needs funds for a surgeon.”

  “Why didn’t you say as much, James? I knew there was a child. Ewan perchance made a visit for me at Miss Wedgewick’s and found it out.”

  James turned quickly and sought the Laird’s eyes. “Oh, ‘tis a weight off my soul, Laird Carmichael, that you finally know about your daughter.” He let out a long breath.

  “Daughter?” Pause. “I have a daughter?” his eyes narrowed.

  James knew instantly he had revealed what he had promised to keep secret and groaned aloud. He dropped into a chair and held his head in his hands. Sighing, he looked up and realizing it was over, confessed.

  “She is Helen’s child…and yours.” He stated simply.

  “The child…is mine?” The Laird’s eyes bore into his. “You knew of my wife’s… indiscretions.”

  “Aye…” he agreed. “But the child has your looks.” He conceded.

  Lee remembered the last rendezvous with his wife before she’d finally gone off to London to reacquaint herself with her lover. Groaning aloud, he gave his back to James and walked to the window staring out over his beloved Scotland. He had a child…

  “Tell all, James.” He said in a muffled tone.

  No one spoke for long minutes as silence filled the room.

  “I would know it all.” He repeated and turned back to face the man who held the secret of his own child.

  The defeat in the Laird’s voice caused James to come to his full senses. He truly respected the man standing before him.

  “My conscience will not allow me to bear this burden a moment longer…” James stood to his feet and faced him.

  “It began when Helen wanted me to collect the dues. At first it was so ludicrous I laughed; but not for long because I fell under her commands. She had my entire soul believing I and the others would be turned out in the streets to beg food should anyone deny her wishes.”

  “Aye.” The Laird agreed.

  “She effectively created a resource for funds that neither showed on the accounts nor would be whispered about; for each was made to feel ashamed for not giving. I continued the farce after Helen extracted a promise from me on her deathbed that I would continue collecting the monies and give them to Annabel for the child. I felt I had no other choice.”

  “She died in childbirth, then?”

  The Laird’s quiet voice haunted James’ soul.

  “Yes. She made Annabel and me promise that we would care for the child; I was to see to the funds, Annabel would raise the child as her own.

  “Helen did not want me to know.” He stated quietly. James saw his back, the Laird’s arms outstretched on either side of the window his head hanging low.

  “No.” James admitted. “She was cruel to the end, Laird Carmichael. ’Twas not you she hated but herself.”

  “When was the child born?”

  “She is nearing the age of two.”

  “Two? I have a wee lass and no one, no one thought I might like to know?”

  James cringed at the truth.

  “Who else knows?” The words tore from his throat as he turned back furious pinning James with his eyes.

  “No one except Annabel, me and Annabel’s housekeeper, Phoebe.” He was ashamed at the look of sadness he saw in the Laird’s eyes.

  When the Laird said no more, James was quiet fo
r awhile, then spoke…

  “Laird Carmichael, may I ask your forgiveness for my most regrettable actions?”

  “I will withhold my judgment until I have heard all.”

  “You may go James, but I ask you not to inform Miss Wedgewick that I know. It is all that I will ask of you.”

  “As you wish.” James agreed. “You will tell her won’t you?” James had to ask it. “For I wish no more to be a part of this deceit.” For long moments James waited.

  “Think you that I would abandon my own child?”

  “Aye. You would not.”

  Silence.

  “What is wrong with the lass that she needs a surgeon?”

  “The child is lame…her foot is turned.” James spoke quietly.

  Lee’s heart belied him. His own child and she was in need and he knew her not.

  “Is that all, James?” His defeated tone affected James’ own voice.

  “That is all.” He choked.

  “Then be on your way; but do not mention this to anyone.”

  “You have my word, Sir, if you can find it in your heart to accept it.” James did not fault him for his bitterness. It had been a cruel telling and he, for one, was more than ashamed. Now it seemed as though they had all been wrong. It should have been he who told the truth long ago. James felt less than a man as he watched Laird Carmichael turn and leave the room, his wide shoulders bent slightly.

  * * *

  As for the Laird, his mind registered nothing but his own sorrow. He heard, in some distant part of his mind, James’ carriage pulling away, feeling as if he had been defeated in battle.

  Ross was not at his doorpost and for that he was grateful. He did not wish to see anyone. He walked slowly to his own bedchamber.

  Throwing the door closed he lay flat on his back on the bedstead at mid-day and let the tears fall from his manly eyes. He had a child…a wee lass. And she was lame. And he, her own father, had not so much as known she existed.

  At odds with his own heart, he stood and paced for an hour then slumped into an overstuffed chair as darkness settled around him. Taut with emotions, he finally broke and let his head fall into his hands and wept.

  Helen had borne his child and died forcing a promise out of Annabel and James not to tell him. Had she hated him so much that she sought even at death to punish him? Perhaps, the thought entered his mind abruptly, the child was not his after all. Helen had lovers, several that he knew about.

  Then he remembered James’ comment that the little one possessed his features.

  For several hours he replayed in his mind each moment of the last three years. His foolishness at the games. Falling in love with his young wife only to learn she knew not what love was. Her faithfulness to him was lost within months of their nuptials and now this. She had borne his child and deprived him even of that knowledge.

  Suddenly angry, he stood to his feet. Helen was gone and Annabel Wedgewick was a deceitful woman. The same as her sister.

  He must see the child for himself.

  “Ross, gather The Four.” He shouted, for he had known Ross had returned to his post just moments before. “We are riding to London.”

  Ross appeared instantly, made the Carmichael sign and wondered what was about. He sensed a look of betrayal in the face of his employer, his hair in disarray, his voice not his own. The intensity he saw in his red eyes disturbed him.

  “Blithers, see that Knight is brought immediately.” Lee shouted to his valet when he attempted to enter the room only to be stopped by his chief guard.

  “Aye.” He said and hurried away to relay the message. Blithers knew something was about the castle and if he knew anything at all, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  Chapter 22

  Annabel paced the small wait room at St. George’s Hospital while the doctors met to discuss the new surgery. The conference would take hours, they told her, but she could not leave London without knowing what they decided.

  Seeking to spend the time, she sought out James at work only to find that he’d been called to Dunbeernton by Laird Carmichael. Leaving his office with a sense of disappointment for she sorely needed comfort, she sat at the hotel, sipping tea and jumped each time the clock struck a bell.

  Finally, she could not tolerate another cup of tea and walked the bricked streets of London’s downtown. Passing this shoppe and that, she peered in, but saw nothing. After a time she made her way back the doctor’s office. They were still talking.

  An hour later, she heard voices and the creaking of a door and was instantly down the hall to greet them, her heart in her eyes.

  “Mrs. Wedgewick, please come sit. We will tell all.” Dr. Kane said gently. “The news is good.” He added as they walked the short distance.

  “In the matter of four days, we will have gathered together a team of doctors. Each will be anxious to try the new surgery and there will be much to learn. Eleanor’s case is unusual in that she is nearly two and that will require some extra work. Most times the patient is younger, bones softer; but that does not mean she will not benefit from the operation.” He finished quickly, seeing the worry in her eyes.

  “Four days?” she whispered. “Have I to do anything, anything at all to prepare Eleanor?”

  Smiling Dr. Kane said, “Just love her as you always do. That will be enough.”

  “Thank you, doctors.” She felt the tears coming.

  “Uh, Mrs. Wedgewick, will Eleanor’s father be present?” Dr. Hey inquired.

  “No.” Eleanor said, ashamed to be caught. “Why?”

  “It might be, shall we say wise, if you have someone near you, to sit with you, make sure you won’t need medical attention yourself.” The elder man said gently.

  “Oh that. I am quite capable of taking care of myself, doctor. Thank you just the same. I will see that I have someone here, however, should you think it wise.”

  “Aye, see to it then, my dear, and we shall see you and Eleanor in four days. Bring her to the hospital at five o’clock in the morning hours and we shall prepare her.”

  “Thank you both.” She cried. “I will do my best, gentleman to repay you for your services just as soon as I can arrange it.”

  “We will see about it later.” Dr. Hey closed the subject and left them.

  “Mrs. Wedgewick, I have a post that requires employment in my office some four times a week, if you would be interested in filling it.” Dr. Kane offered kindly.

  “Oh Dr. Kane, I was thinking of just such an arrangement. I would be most grateful and will work extra hours, until all is paid.” She said, fresh tears running from her brown eyes.

  “It is done, then.” He said, looking embarrassed. “Do not fret, it is going to turn out all right, I daresay.”

  “Yes, yes, it will. I have faith in Dr. Hey and in you Dr. Kane. Thank you so much. Now I must go home to Eleanor.”

  “Uh, Mrs. Wedgewick, have you taken supper yet?” he asked quietly.

  “Oh, I have yet to think of eating anything.” She admitted.

  “Would you…would you perhaps dine with me before you return home then?”

  Anxious to be getting home to tell Phoebe the good news and hold Eleanor, she almost declined, then decided she would like to ask the doctor a few more questions. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

  “May I?” he offered his arm.

  She took it, slipping her gloved hand onto his elbow. “You are most kind.” She said looking up at the handsome man upon whose arm her hand lay.

  Feeling quite happy at the arrangement, he turned the topic quickly to other than medical questions and was quite content, much to Annabel’s dismay, to ask her the questions, mostly concerning herself.

  After he seated her at the table, he began. “How is it you came to live in London? Were you born here?”

  She answered and tried her tack at changing the topic only to find that he wished to tell her how he had come to London, from New York.

  Before she knew it, Dr. Kane had given her a full
report of his family and how he had chosen the life of a doctor, coming from a lineage that created both doctors and teachers.

  Truly interested, Annabel saw immediately that Dr. Kane would be easy to talk to and easy to work for. Grateful for her good fortune, she smiled often during their dinner, then checking her tiny timepiece, discovered it was late.

  “Oh my, I’m afraid we have talked overlong. The last mail coach has left.”

  The doctor noted the dismay that registered in her eyes.

  “You cannot afford that cost, right now. I shall see you home.”

  “But it is five miles out…and it is…unseemly…I do not have an escort.”

  “Then I shall call upon my secretary to join us. The early evening ride will do us all good. I’ll get my carriage and retrieve you on the front steps of the hotel in just a few moments.” He was gone before she could utter a word.

  “My secretary, Miss Pamela Bernard.” He introduced a lovely young blonde-haired woman that appeared to be her own age.

  “My pleasure, Miss Bernard.” She greeted the woman and took the seat across from the good doctor and his secretary.

  The English countryside passed by them and no one spoke for sometime.

  “England is lovely. Almost as lovely as New York.” He smiled over at her.

  “I have never seen New York, or the Americas for that matter.” She sighed. “Have you Miss Bernard?”

  “No, England is my home. My father has just begun a new business here in London.”

  “I see.” Annabel smiled.

  “You must see the State of New York sometime, ladies. As well as New York City. For both of you will be quite excited to see mountains just as beautiful as your rolling hills and buildings taller than anywhere in the world.”

  Smiling, Annabel gazed out at the passing scenery, content to be going home.

  “Will your husband be about?” The doctor asked quietly.

  “No.” Annabel’s conscience burned. She must be completely truthful with the doctor. “I have no husband.”

  The doctor’s face colored slightly. “I am sorry.”

  “Do not be. Eleanor is not my child. I am her caretaker. I shall never marry, so that I may see to Eleanor’s raising.”