Legacy Redeemed (Redeemed, Restored, Reclaimed Book 1)

by Aubrey Grayson

  Letitia’s rooms were upstairs, and it took only a few moments before Susannah was pushing open the door. Mrs. Bartlett, the housekeeper was in the room, folding linens and looking grimly at Letitia lying on top of the bed.

  It was as bad as Mr. Robinson had suggested. Not only were Letitia’s feet and legs puffy, her hands and face were nearly unrecognizable. Susannah said a little prayer that she could help—God hadn’t seen fit to intervene in Susannah’s life, but maybe He would do so for Letitia—and then stepped into the room.

  “Good morning, Letitia!” she said, perhaps a little over brightly.

  Letitia looked over at her from the bed. “Well, I’m glad to hear you say so. Myself, I’m having trouble seeing what’s so good about it. I look awful, and Bartlett has me stuck in bed—not that I want to go about looking like this!” There was none of her father’s fear in Letitia’s voice, only frustration. Susannah wondered if Letitia understood the severity of her condition or whether perhaps she simply found it easier to focus on the impracticality of lying abed.

  Susannah smiled sympathetically. “It’s not so bad. And more importantly, it’s only temporary.”

  Letitia bit her bottom lip. “I hope so. Father and Bartlett seem very worried.” Her brows lowered. “I wonder if I should send word to Mr. Powell.”

  “I was just speaking to your father, and it just so happens that I have some knowledge about your situation. You see, my mother took a great interest in midwifery and shared much with her daughters. I know what she would do in such cases, and her patients often had happy endings. Would you like me to help?”

  A great whoosh of air left Letitia’s mouth. Something that looked like cautious hope lit in her eyes. She swallowed carefully. “You think it will help?”

  Susannah nodded.

  “Bartlett, please fetch some foolscap and a pen so that we can write down Mrs. Stanhope’s instructions.” Letitia caught the housekeeper’s eye. “She may be our only hope.”

  Mrs. Bartlett completed her duty and handed pen and paper to Letitia, then sat on a stool near the window, ready to listen. Susannah sat in the chair beside the bed.

  “The two most important things are meat and water,” Susannah began.

  “Aye, that’s what I told her, mum. No meat at all, and only a little water at suppertime,” Mrs. Bartlett announced proudly from the window.

  Susannah grimaced. She’d heard the same advice given to pregnant women before. Most of the time there were no obvious ill effects, but she suspected that it was generally bad advice. In the case of swelling, it could be fatal. She had to correct it, but she did her best to be gentle. “Ah, yes, that is the typical advice, I suppose. Unfortunately, when swelling is present, it can do more harm than good. For the time being, we’ll need to see that she has both meat and water at every meal, with extra water in between.”

  Bartlett’s eyes bulged. “That much meat, ma’am? For a lady who is increasing?”

  Susannah smiled, sympathetic to the housekeeper’s confusion. “It is unusual advice. But I beg you to trust me and see what results it brings. My mother’s methods were unusual, but she had very good results with her patients. And she took copious notes and drilled into our heads the importance of meat and water to a woman who has started to swell.” She nodded to Letitia, who seemed nonplussed but a little pleased at the change in her diet. “I actually have my mother’s journals back at the cottage. I’ll go home and review them to see if she mentions any herbs that might help. In the meantime, please start drinking extra water, and Mrs. Bartlett, please cook her up some nice bacon or herrings for breakfast, if you please.”

  Mrs. Bartlett gaped, but Letitia nodded. Susannah wondered if she thought the change would make a difference or if she was just pleased about a heartier breakfast. No matter. Susannah was right about this, or rather, her mother was. If they followed her advice, it would only be a matter of time before they believed her.

  Mrs. Bartlett left the room, only grumbling a bit, and Susannah turned to Letitia. “Is there anything I can get you to make you more comfortable in the meantime?”

  Letitia sighed. “No, I don’t suppose so. Maybe you could keep me company until my breakfast arrives? And then go see about those journals after that?”

  Susannah smiled. “Of course.” She settled back into her chair, smoothing her skirts.

  “It must have been very interesting working with your mother.”

  “Actually, as a young girl, I hated it. It was only just before my mother’s death that I began to have any interest at all, and then once she died, I let my interest drop.” Her life had changed so dramatically, there hadn’t been time to think about anything much at all.

  “I see.”

  Poor Letitia had put on a brave face and had even feigned interest in Susannah. But she could only keep it up for so long, and now her lip trembled.

  “I’m so…scared for my baby.” The words hung in the air for a moment, as though Letitia were surprised she had said them aloud. But then she blinked. “You see, Mr. Powell and I have been married for five years, and I have produced no issue. This is the farthest I’ve ever managed to get. I’m so scared it will be for naught.”

  Susannah reached to cover her friend’s hand with her own and knit her brows together in sympathy. “Five years! And you’ve had others? How painful!”

  Letitia nodded, her expression troubled. “Yes. Do you remember last night when Father and Nick were discussing my overworking at the fair? It was to take my mind off of one of the losses. There have been five in all, in only four years. Not counting this one, of course. It takes the better part of a year to grow a blessing, but losses can happen quite quickly.”

  Susannah swallowed hard at that bald statement and attempted to change the course of the conversation. “Letitia, I can’t even imagine the pain you’ve gone through. But there’s no sense in worrying now. We must take action instead. I’ve seen such cases turn out admirably, with a healthy mother and child, and we must pray that will be the case for you as well.” Time for some truth of her own: “I confess I have not much been used to relying on prayer, but I believe I have heard it very highly spoken of at your dining table.” She gave a mischievous smile.

  Letitia smiled back, though the pain in her expression was not completely gone. “You are right, of course. And as Mr. Powell told me once, the worst that can happen involves my babies going to heaven, which isn’t such a bad fate.” Her face turned wistful. “But I would so love to hold one.”

  Susannah had often longed for the day when she would have a child of her own. And in her current circumstances, it seemed highly unlikely she would ever do so. But her troubles were not Letitia’s. She stepped closer and clasped Letitia’s hand in her own. “You will be a wonderful mother.” She looked pointedly at her friend, and didn’t continue until Letitia’s eyes met her own. “Most likely sometime this summer.” This boldness got a grin from Letitia, and it warmed her to see that she had been of at least some small comfort.

  Mrs. Bartlett returned, carrying a tray of water and some meaty snacks. “Here you go, mum, as requested.” She fairly vibrated with concern. She obviously didn’t trust this course of action, but it was clear the woman would do anything for Mrs. Powell.

  Susannah smiled and nodded to Letitia. “I will leave you in Mrs. Bartlett’s capable hands. I’ll fill your father in on our discussion, then head back to the cottage to review my mother’s notes.”

  Letitia was already assembling a small sandwich, but she looked up as Susannah reached the door. “Susannah?” And when their eyes caught, “Thank you.”

  Susannah only hoped she could help.

  Chapter 12

  Nick would be lying if he said his first night back at Poppledown Park was restful. Between sleeping in the bed he used to share with his wife and wrestling with the first clue his grandfather had given him, he’d barely gotten a few hours in. Not to mention that chit from the masquerade ball. Susannah. The name sounded wholesome enough. Not
like a woman of low repute, associated with the likes of Hector Dunmore, willing to prey on the affections of good people.

  He’d tried his best to be kind last night, but the fact that she occupied the cottage was just another log on the fire of his anger. He knew he was being irrational. The girl hadn’t actually done anything to incite his wrath. Yes, she associated with Hector Dunmore. And she was probably even his lover, given the sort of women that cad was known to spend time with. But she was a human being, and human beings sinned. Normally, he was rational enough to keep from holding someone’s past sins against her.

  But this wasn’t normally. Normally, his grandfather wouldn’t have made him play a child’s game for such high stakes. Normally, he wouldn’t be sitting here surrounded by the memories of his dead wife. And normally, the fallen woman in question wouldn’t be associated with a man Nick suspected of murdering his best friend.

  He wouldn’t manage to remain kind. And so in the wee hours of the night, he’d decided to keep his distance. It should be easy enough. After all, there was no reason for them to engage with one another. He would wait to visit the vicarage until after Mr. Robinson finished his correspondence. The old man had attended to his this task at the same time every morning as long as Nick could remember, so it should be easy to determine the right time for a visit. And he’d avoid accepting a dinner invitation unless he was sure she wouldn’t be there. And that was one of his problems, solved. Would that the others were as easy to make disappear.

  The first clue on his grandfather’s treasure hunt stumped him. It shouldn’t. He was an educated man with a more than passable knowledge of this house. This should be simple. But every time he looked at the clue—”It is time to seek the Lord”—his panic increased. Last night when he’d returned from the vicarage, he’d gone up to the nursery to look in on Gabriel, and afterward, he’d checked the chapel next door to it. What better place to seek the Lord, after all? When that had proven unfruitful, he’d checked the study. Nick had fond memories of playing on the floor of the study as a child, waiting for his grandfather to finish his daily reading of the Bible. The man had taken copious notes, and Nick had always thought it rather odd. His own father barely attended to the Bible reading at church on Sunday, let alone cracked open the tome at any time during the week.

  But the study held no clue either. And last night, he’d wondered if the next clue was even at Poppledown Park at all. There was no reason all of Seaton couldn’t be included in the game. When he judged that Mrs. Stanhope—it didn’t seem wise to think of her as Susannah—had finished her duties at the vicarage, he would go there to enlist Letitia’s help searching St. Gregory’s church. With its soaring wooden ceiling, it had inspired countless hearts to seek God. And no one else knew St. Gregory’s better than Letitia, except her father. Mr. Robinson wouldn’t be able to join them of course, but perhaps he could suggest a few places to check.

  When the appointed time came, he saw Gabriel to his nurse and began the walk. He supposed he could have ridden, but the day was lovely, and he expected the exertion would do him good. When he neared the cottage, he braced himself for an accidental encounter with Mrs. Stanhope. Though he prayed she was safely tucked inside its doors, it was entirely possible that she would still be walking home from the vicarage and they would meet. Despite his resolution of the night before, he would endeavor to be civil.

  What he was not prepared for, however, was to see the woman herself scurrying out the cottage door, carrying a book of some sort tucked under her arm. Her cheeks were flushed, and she moved with determination toward the very path he walked on. For a moment, he thought to hang back. Perhaps she wouldn’t see him and he could avoid any unpleasantness.

  But alas, she saw him. She stopped short, and the color drained from her face. Rather dramatic of her. He sighed and took the few steps forward. “Good morning, Mrs. Stanhope. And where are you off to?”

  She mumbled a distracted greeting. “Have you been to the vicarage yet this morning?”

  Odd question. Wouldn’t she have seen him there if he had been? “No. Haven’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. I just came home to…” She stopped, as though realizing her words were coming too fast. She gave a little determined nod and said, “Well, I suppose that’s where you’re heading now. Let’s walk.”

  It seemed a strange phrase. Not “Let’s walk together” or “I’ll walk with you.” Just “Let’s walk.” Nick considered that he had little choice but to agree to her odd demand. Besides, it was clearly his turn to visit the vicarage. She’d just admitted she’d already been there. Nevertheless, Mrs. Stanhope set a quick pace.

  He cleared his throat before saying, “If you’ve already been, why is it that you are now returning?” He hoped it didn’t sound too obvious he was trying to rid himself of her.

  Her eyes cut sideways toward him, and she slowed for a moment. “Mr. Daventry, it seems Mrs. Powell has taken ill with the swelling sickness that sometimes afflicts women in her condition.”

  His eyes went wide. “But she was fine last night. How could she be so ill so suddenly?”

  Sympathy flooded Mrs. Stanhope’s features. “I don’t know how much you know of this illness. Sometimes it grows slowly over time. But sometimes it presents with no warning, as in Letitia’s case.”

  Before he could recover enough to form words, she continued. “That’s why I am returning to the vicarage. My mother was a bit of an amateur midwife.” She lifted the book in her hand to show him. “I have her notes on what to do in this situation.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. Notes from an amateur midwife seemed like a terrible thing to trust his friend’s life to. Besides, it was probably more likely that she was a lady of gentility who was more busybody than midwife. “I see. And what sort of results did your mother have with her methods?”

  “They aren’t exactly her methods. Well, she did use them. But she had a great respect for the midwife in our town. But I am given to believe that more women survive using these methods than the typical ones. And their babes with them.” She gave a decisive nod with this last.

  “And has Letitia agreed to accept your treatment? Has her father agreed? Treatment from a young woman with presumably neither a child of her own nor any true midwifery treatment?”

  She had the grace to look embarrassed. “They have.”

  He shook his head in disgust. This was exactly what he had feared. This woman coming in to his friends’ lives and preying on their fears to put herself in their good graces. Apparently she had no regard even for Letitia’s life. “Mrs. Stanhope, why are you doing this? The vicar and his daughter have already permitted you to be here. Why are you giving them false hope?”

  They were almost to the vicarage, but Mrs. Stanhope stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes shone with tears unshed, but he couldn’t tell whether they were from anger or fear. Maybe both.

  “Mr. Daventry, you do not understand the situation. I am not giving false hope. My mother dedicated her life to finding hope. I honor my mother by using her methods. It is her legacy to me. But besides that, you have not seen Letitia. She went from healthy to dire straits overnight. Mrs. Bartlett had her on no meat or water, which is the worst possible treatment for the condition. If I don’t step in, your friend will be dead within a week.”

  Any lingering fear seemed to disappear as she went on, as though her convictions strengthened with each word. Now she stood staring defiantly at him, daring him to contradict her. Her little speech hadn’t changed his mind about her. This disease had existed for centuries, sometimes killing women and sometimes letting them escape. Nothing man did or did not do seemed to help. She was giving his friends false hope just to ingratiate herself with them.

  But her confidence gave him pause. And besides, if Letitia and Mr. Robinson had agreed to listen to her, there was little he could do to countermand them. He pressed his lips together. He would have to accept her presence and “treatment” until she made such a fool of herself that they
could see it too. And he would need to watch her closely to ensure that she did nothing truly dangerous to Letitia.

  He tipped his head toward the vicarage, unable to keep the ironic tone from his voice. “Then by all means, Mrs. Stanhope. Get on about your business. I wouldn’t dream of holding you up.”

  Her lips pursed, as though she had just swallowed a mouthful of soured milk. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead shook her head and stalked off toward the vicarage. Along with her went his plan of keeping his distance. Now that she presented a danger to his friends, he would have to keep a close watch on her.

  ***

  That man had made her so angry she was nearly shaking, and the short walk that remained wasn’t enough to calm her down. So before she entered Letitia’s room, Susannah stopped and took several deep, calming breaths. She couldn’t very well go in and explain why she was angry. Well, you see, it’s just that your very good friend is a bacon-brained twit who has managed to work me into a state of near apoplexy with his false accusations. That conversation would go well indeed.

  So she managed to put on a nearly believable smile before pushing open the door. But she soon found she needn’t have worked quite so hard. Letitia’s welcoming smile was enough to brighten anyone’s mood, and Susannah’s own smile became truthful in the face of it.

  “You are back! I’m so glad. Mrs. Bartlett had to leave to attend to her duties, and Papa hasn’t been by this morning. I confess I was just giving in to boredom!”

  Susannah grinned. “Ah, well, we mustn’t let that happen! I know it’s only been an hour, but how are you feeling?”

  Letitia shrugged. “I suppose about the same.” She poked one of her wrists. “Perhaps not quite so fluffy as I was earlier.” A sheepish grin spread over her face. “I have been making good friends with the chamber pot since I started drinking all that water, so perhaps that is where it has gone!”