“We’ve brought washing buckets and harsh soap. Remind everyone that they must not touch anything after working there until they have washed thoroughly and to avoid touching their faces, especially their mouths.”
He raised quizzical brows at her, waiting for an explanation.
“To keep them from getting sick,” she explained.
The Earl nodded and strode toward the group of workers.
***
Jem rode with the other Twickenham workers, dressed in heavy work clothes and boots. They didn’t fit as well as the ones made specifically for him. He hoped he didn’t end up with blisters.
He’d used some of the bootblack Geoffrey used on Jem’s shoes to darken his hair and his eyebrows. A few smudges on his cheeks and a wide-brimmed hat completed the change. He doubted anyone would recognize him.
Jem had worked so long on his accent that he’d been dreaming about it. That shouldn’t give him away, as long as his fellow laborers didn’t use words he should know but didn’t.
Around him, the other servants chatted. One man complained about having to work for the tenants.
“Now don’t you go begrudging those little ones a chance to have some food in their poor bellies and a better place to live,” a woman said. “I never in my life saw anything so horrible as when we got there the first day.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“What you want to bet they’ll be living in hovels again in a month or two,” the man argued. “Them kinds never want to work.”
“Well, you just wait and see what our own Miss Clarisse has them doing then.” The woman straightened, her eyes flashing. “It’s a sight to behold, I tell you. She don’t brook no argument.”
“Then tell me what happens when she goes back home.”
“I hear the Earl is back from London.” The fae woman shot the man a knowing glance. “She may be one of them what stays.”
Jem grunted.
Chapter 18
REESE WENT TO THE WAGON and retrieved her basket of medical supplies. She wanted to check that the extra pots and cleaning utensils had been delivered. Her visits had an order to them, based upon her first day.
“Is that his lordship?” the old seamstress asked when Reese handed her a loaf of fresh bread. “Has he really come?”
“Yes, he has. He’s supervising the removal of that nasty ditch.”
“Bless you, miss.” The woman’s milky eyes glistened. “I remember him when he was young. He lost his lady and their babe, and it was as if he had lost himself too. Perhaps you are helping him to find it again.”
“Perhaps,” Reese said. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Oh, no, miss. Annie and her girl will be over in a bit for their sewing lesson. They see to my needs now.”
“Excellent.” That was just the kind of thing Reese had hoped to see, the neighbors helping and supporting each other.
She made her way to the next house, where she spent at least an hour. Never in her life had she met adults so ill prepared to raise a family. The mother and two older children were excited to learn, but they weren’t very good at follow-through.
“Don’t you dare,” Reese cried, picking up the youngest boy who had squatted to have a bowel movement in the middle of the floor. She carried him to the chamber pot that she had brought over the day before. “Even dogs are taught not to do that inside the house.”
“I forgot,” the child mumbled while his mother apologized.
“Do you remember what it can cause if not handled right?” Reese pointed to the privy.
“Cholera and typhoid, miss,” the mother said. “He will remember.”
“He better or you and the rest of the village will pay the price for his forgetfulness.” Reese then went over the list of hygiene rules with the mother again, wishing for an easy way to help them remember. Tough when they couldn’t read. Maybe if she drew symbols on paper that could be nailed to the walls, that might help. If anyone could figure out what they were. Art had never been a talent of hers.
Reese’s stomach was growling by the time she’d finished with the first row of houses. She stepped outside and shaded her eyes against the bright sunshine. A good three quarters of the ditch had been filled and replaced with clean dirt.
The workers were grouped by the tubs of water and furiously scrubbing. Reese paused, staring at the back of one tall man. His posture looked familiar, and her heart twitched. Had Jem come?
“Miss Clarisse.”
She turned and found a maid she recognized from Kellworth.
“Are you ready to wash up, miss?” the woman asked.
“Yes.” Reese glanced back at the tubs, but the man had disappeared. What would she have done if it had been him? Walked away again? Her stomach knotted as it did every time she thought of that day in the rain. She didn’t know if she could do it again.
The sound of the Earl’s voice drew her attention. He was with the engineer. The old man was talking animatedly, the Earl nodding his head. Good.
“This way, miss.”
Evidently, Reese wasn’t to wash with the other workers. She followed the maid to where a large pot was boiling. It must be the one they used to do laundry.
“Lady Ellen said you should use this after you’re done scrubbing.” The girl held a small pot when Reese had finished. She scooped out a small amount and sighed in relief as she spread it over her dry hands.
“Are you ready to eat something, Miss Hamilton?”
Reese turned to find the Earl holding a chunk of cheese in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. Her stomach growled again.
“I will take that as a yes.” He grinned and nodded toward the wagon.
She followed him to where two small stumps sat around a larger one.
“If you will reach in my pocket,” he turned his right side toward her, “you will find a clean handkerchief to use as a tablecloth.”
Reese did as instructed, feeling a little awkward as she did so. The Earl must have noticed her discomfort because the corner of his mouth quirked up. She pulled out the napkin quickly and shook it out before laying it on the large stump. He put the cheese and bread on it.
“I will return with something to drink,” he said.
Reese sat and arched her back. They would need to return to the manor and their other responsibilities soon, but it had been a good day’s work.
The Earl carried two mugs of ale when he came back. When she grimaced, he hesitated. “I would offer you something else, but the options are limited.”
“It’s fine. I prefer lemonade.” And not getting drunk in front of the Earl. “But this is probably safer to drink than water.”
He glanced back over his shoulder at the half-covered ditch in the distance. “Definitely.” The Earl set a mug in front of her and sat on his stump.
Reese broke the bread apart and handed him the larger piece. He produced a knife and sliced a chunk of cheese off for her. She wondered what he had used the knife for before the cheese.
They ate in a companionable silence. The Earl’s seat faced the village, something Reese had done on purpose.
“I understand now what you meant about special needs,” he finally said, his voice soft. “I had never spoken to any of these people before, haven’t been here in years. I had no idea these tenants had suffered so much.”
“Every situation is different. That’s why—I believe, anyway—that a landlord should get to know his tenants. There are plenty of people who are always on hard times because they’re too lazy to work. But then there are ones like these,” Reese glanced around the little village, “who work so hard but it’s never enough.” She looked at Gareth. “I have no idea who the guy is who manages your lands, but from what I’ve seen, he’s pretty heartless.”
“Yes, so I am discovering. I have a meeting scheduled with him next week.” The Earl’s expression had gone hard, and she suddenly wanted to be in attendance. “We will have much to speak about.”
“Good,” Reese said, hopi
ng it meant things would change now. She brushed off her hands and took another small sip of the ale. Not used to drinking, she could already feel a slight buzz. Not good. She poured the rest out when the Earl was looking over his shoulder at some of the workers. Reese said, “While everyone is gathering up the tools, I have one more house to visit.”
“May I come with you?” He stood and brushed the crumbs from his jacket and buckskins.
“If you want,” Reese said. “The woman had a baby last week, and the child’s a little jaundiced. I don’t know if the mother will be comfortable having her liege lord in her home.”
“Liege lord.” The Earl chuckled. “That is downright feudal.”
“But isn’t this what these people are to you? Your villein?” Reese wrapped up the remaining cheese to take back to the wagon.
“They are not peasants, and I hardly have a standing army to defend them from raiding Normans,” he said, following her.
“Yes, some things have changed a little. But they still have to pay you a substantial portion of the fruits of their labors—and what do you give them in return besides this high-class village to live in?” Reese handed the cheese to the cook’s assistant, who had come with the other workers. “Thank you. It was delicious.”
The Earl frowned as he handed over their dirty mugs, but he didn’t look angry. Reese didn’t wait for him, and he had to jog to catch up with her.
“You have given me much to think upon, Miss Hamilton,” he said when they were clear of workers who had begun gathering up the tools.
“I appreciate that you’re willing to think upon it, my lord.” Her heart thrilled, but she kept a neutral face. Progress!
***
Jem stood by the wagon with the other workers who were eating. He stared at the tall lord as he hurried to catch up to Reese. Jem had thought he might have a chance to talk with her, but he hadn’t expected the Earl to show up. Then he’d picked up a shovel and taken the spot beside Jem and went to work on the ditch.
That was just the kind of thing that Reese would like. Jem wished the guy didn’t have such a powerful bearing about him. He looked the part too—tall, dark, and handsome. With his good looks, he’d have made a great politician too in their time. The only thing the lord needed to do now was kiss a baby.
***
Reese reached the house, Gareth beside her. She rapped on the door. The oldest child, Lily, a girl of about ten, opened it. She gave Reese a quick curtsy and then recognized the Earl. She turned and ran inside.
“Do you have a talent for frightening children?” Reese asked.
“I had not thought so,” he said dryly, “but I am not often in their company.”
Lily appeared at the door again, her color heightened. “Beg pardon, my lord.” She went into a deep curtsy and stumbled when she tried to straighten. The Earl took her arm to steady her, and the child gasped. He dropped his hand. “This way, please,” she said with a shaky voice and bobbed another quick curtsy.
They followed her into the dark hovel. It was much cleaner than it had been the first day because Reese had put in some real elbow grease into it. The father must be working his field as usual. Lily had been the first child and the only one who had survived. A little pallet lay near her parent’s bed where the girl slept. The mother, Sarah, smiled when she saw Reese.
“How is he today?” She approached the bed, and the mother held up the little bundle. Reese took the squirming baby and brought him over to the single window.
“Why must she keep it so dark in here?” the Earl whispered.
“Because candles cost money, and if you have the choice between light and food, food wins out.”
He grunted.
“I need more light.” Reese stepped out the door. She pulled back the blanket and held a tiny arm in the sunlight. Pressing a thumb against the skin, she wished there was more fat under the flesh. The yellow tinge was even more pronounced today than it had been yesterday. Frowning, she held the baby’s face to the light. He squirmed and shut his eyes.
“Here, hold him for me.” She handed the baby to the Earl.
“What?” He held up his hands to ward her away, but she put the baby boy in them instead.
“Shift him into the light.” Reese pulled on the Earl’s jacket. She gently opened one of the baby’s eyelids. He cried, and she wanted to join him. The whites of his eyes were definitely yellow.
“What is it?” the Earl asked, his voice low.
“The jaundice is still getting worse.” Lily had sat outside with the baby in filtered sunlight the day before to help with the bilirubin, but it hadn’t been enough. Back home, parents could rent a light to put in the crib, but sometimes babies had to be hospitalized for more severe cases. Nothing in this time could help.
“It sounds like you are speaking a foreign language,” he said, frustrated.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She chuckled at his expression. “Next time you’re tempted to say that to Ellen, remember how it made you feel.” Reese wrapped the baby again and turned to Lily. “Do you remember what to do?”
“Yes, miss.” The girl took her brother and went over to a tree which filtered the light.
Reese went back inside and to where Sarah lay. “I know your breasts—” Behind her, the Earl gave a strangled cough. Well, he had asked to come with her, and if he couldn’t handle hearing about womanly issues, he was welcome to leave. “You’re probably still really tender, but the baby needs to feed more frequently. Having him out in the sunlight will help, but it’s not enough. Is there anything I can get for you?”
“No, miss,” Sarah said with a weak smile. “After six babies, this is the first one I feel pampered with.”
“Are your older children with your husband?” the Earl asked.
“No, my lord.” The mother’s eyes glistened, and her lips trembled. “All but Lily died a few days after they were born.”
Reese sucked in her breath, feeling like she had been struck. His lordship said nothing but put his arm on her shoulder, sensing that something troubled her.
“I’ll send over more food so your body can make more milk.”
“Thank you, miss. You’re too kind.” Sarah bowed her head at the Earl. “My lord.”
Reese put her hand on the one he still had on her shoulder and practically dragged him from the house.
“What is it?” he asked when they were outside.
“Not where Lily can hear.” Still with her hand in his, they approached the wagon.
The Earl placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and she realized what it might have looked like to the workers and the cottiers. He remained silent until they were on the road back to Kellworth.
“Now tell me what troubled you back there,” he said, his voice low, though from the young groom’s snores they had privacy.
“It might be nothing,” she said.
“Or it might be . . .”
Reese closed her eyes. “There’s sometimes a blood incompatibility between the father and mother’s blood types.”
“Blood incompatibility?” He shot her a sidelong glance, his brows furrowed. “Blood types? I have never heard of these before.”
“You wouldn’t have yet.” Reese rubbed her face. “When a couple’s first child does fine but every baby born afterward sickens with severe jaundice and dies, that’s probably the cause.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes.
“Is there nothing to be done for the child?” he finally asked, and she wondered if he was thinking of his own son who had died a few hours after his mother.
“Nothing more than I’m already doing. We should know by tomorrow,” she said.
***
The day had been a bust. Not once had Jem been able to get close to Reese. He’d been so sure if she saw the lengths he’d taken to see her, help her, that she’d soften toward him. But no. Once again that Earl had wormed his way in. Could it get any worse?
Jem had stared in disbelief at
the sight of the Earl holding that baby while Reese had examined it. And she had been holding his hand when they’d left the cottage. Jem had to get over there to see her. A night rendezvous was in order.
Chapter 19
REESE TRIED TO NAP AFTER her return, but even the hot water of her bath did nothing to relax her muscles. She kept telling herself that the little boy was long dead in her time. But the only thing she remembered was the feel of the child’s soft skin under her fingers, and the confidence in his mother’s eyes.
With a somber mood, Reese joined the others for dinner. Ellen glanced at her in concern but didn’t say anything in front of the others. From the conversation of the Earl’s guests, he must have taken them and Ellen for a drive that afternoon.
Reese didn’t really care and gave simple answers to any questions they directed at her. Eventually they ignored her. She spent the meal racking her brain for something more she might do for the baby. If there was anything else, it eluded her. Where was the internet when she needed it?
When the ladies withdrew, the Earl walked her to the drawing room.
“You must not wear yourself out over that baby,” he whispered.
“Is that the attitude that lets you sleep at night?” she snapped and immediately regretted it. The Earl had been a good sport and, from the comments made by the servants, had done some digging alongside them. She wondered if he realized how much he had gone up in their esteem. “I’m sorry. You were very good today and didn’t deserve that.”
“Miss Clarisse,” he said, his voice soft, almost tender, “I may have done good today, but you have shown me rather forcefully that I have much to atone for in regards to my tenants. It is not right that you should make yourself ill in your efforts to mend my negligence.”
Reese met his gaze, confused by the intensity of his concern. “I’m a strong woman, my lord, both physically and emotionally. One troubled night won’t . . .” She searched her memory for the antiquated phrase. “. . . cause me to go into a decline.”
“Yes, I think you would defy even that feminine state.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. At her surprised expression, he dropped his hand. “I did not mean to overstep my bounds.” He bowed and strode back to the dining room.
Against the Magic Page 18
