A Deception at Thornecrest
Page 27
It was true that Winnelda had five younger sisters. It occurred to me that she had probably participated in childbirths before. It was a comforting thought. Especially since I was not at all sure the baby would wait until the doctor arrived.
The memories are a bit fuzzy after that point. It was all a haze of pain mingled with hope and despair. Though I would later learn that it had not been more than half an hour, the time seemed interminable. Winnelda, however, was an angel through it all. She was calm, patient, and very sure of herself. I don’t know what I would have done without her, for it was so very frightening to stand on that threshold between life and death.
A thousand thoughts churned in my brain as the intensity of labor magnified. What if there was something wrong? What if the doctor didn’t arrive in time? What if something happened to the baby? To me? To both of us? What would happen to Milo? I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone.
But Winnelda soothed and coached me as she bustled about and shouted orders to two of the upstairs maids who ran about doing her bidding, and, in the blissful but increasingly short lulls between bouts of agony, I found confidence that we would all survive this.
“You’re almost there, madam,” she said at last. “Just a bit more, and the baby will be here.”
Everything went hazy again, my vision dimming at the corners, and then suddenly there was relief as a shrill little cry split the air.
Winnelda looked up at me, her face glowing. “Oh, madam! It’s a girl.”
* * *
IT FELT AS though I had slipped from a nightmare into the most blissful of dreams as I looked down at my daughter. My daughter. How strange the words were. I had known that I would soon be a mother, but it was so much different to hold this tiny person in my arms, to realize that she belonged to me, was my responsibility.
Winnelda had cleaned the baby and wrapped her tightly in a blanket before handing her to me, and now I felt as though I never wanted to let her go.
Her thick hair was the same jet black as Milo’s. But her little rosebud mouth was mine, and her nose was mine, too. I felt a surge of love for her as I looked down at the tiny features. She was absolutely perfect, and I loved her more than words.
There was nothing for Dr. Jordan to do when he arrived. He examined me and the baby and gave a nod of approval.
“It looks like your maid has handled everything admirably,” he said.
“She was a wonder,” I replied, and Winnelda beamed.
“There was no difficulty?” he asked Winnelda.
“No, sir. It was all very natural.”
I was surprised at the confidence in her tone, the quiet steadiness in her gaze as she looked from the doctor to me and back again.
I had a new appreciation for her strength. She could be counted on in a crisis, and that was most comforting to realize.
“Well, I suppose there’s nothing much else for me to do. Fine thing for these young ladies to be taking jobs right from under the doctors’ noses,” he said with a wink at Winnelda.
“Mr. Ames?” I asked. “Is he here?”
“I sent Geoffrey to the Priory, madam, but he hasn’t returned yet.”
I wished someone might go now that the baby was here. I knew Milo would be worried when he heard I was in labor. Whatever reassurances he had given me, I knew there was a part of him that worried he would lose me as he had lost his mother.
“Will you send him up to me when he gets here?”
“Yes, madam.”
“I’ll be back to check on the both of you in the morning,” Dr. Jordan said, “though I don’t foresee there being much need of me then either. Congratulations, Mrs. Ames. She’s a beauty.”
“Thank you, doctor,” I said, looking down at the bundle in my arms.
“I’ll make you some tea, madam,” Winnelda said. “You could do with a bit of sugar, I’m sure.”
She followed the doctor out, and I was left alone with my precious daughter. I lost track of time looking at her angelic face as I fed her and then she fell into a contented sleep.
A short while later the door flew open and Milo came striding into the room. His eyes met mine, and for a moment we just looked at each other. There was some emotion in his gaze that I couldn’t name, something I had never seen there before.
“Are you all right?” he asked at last.
“Yes. The doctor says everything is just fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. There were no difficulties.”
He nodded. Though his expression changed little, I could sense the immense relief in him.
“It’s a girl,” I said softly.
And then there was another expression on his face that I had never seen there before. It took me a moment to realize that it was something akin to uncertainty. He was always so very sure of everything that he did, but this moment was entirely foreign to him.
“Do you want to come and see her?” I asked softly.
“Yes, of course.” He came to the bedside and leaned over to look at her.
For a moment, he said nothing. I watched as his eyes took in every inch of her pretty little face, and I felt tears in my own eyes at the expression in them.
At last, he looked up at me. “She’s beautiful. She looks just like you.”
“I think she looks very much like both of us.”
He sat down gently on the side of the bed, leaning in closer. “I knew it was going to be a girl.”
We looked at each other, knowing that our lives had changed irrevocably for the better.
“My two beautiful darlings.” He reached out to touch my face and dropped a kiss on my lips.
“What shall we call her?” I asked, fingering a lock of her hair.
He looked down at her again. “I don’t suppose Delilah would do?”
I smiled. “Not if we ever want peace with my mother. Millicent?”
Milo shook his head. “It doesn’t suit her.”
A sudden thought occurred to me. “Your mother was called Dora. Was that short for Theodora?”
He looked up at me. “Yes, I believe it was.”
“Let’s call her after your mother.”
He smiled. “Yes. I like Theodora very much. Theodora Rosamund.”
I nodded. It seemed to fit her perfectly.
She stirred in my arms and opened her eyes then. They were a stormy blue, a mix of his bright blue and my gray. She moved her little mouth, and a dimple appeared in one cheek, like Darien’s. Milo’s father had passed something good along after all.
“Would you like to hold her?” I asked Milo.
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.
He took her easily into his arms and looked down at her. “Hello, Teddy. I’m your papa.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes locking on his, and tears sprang to my eyes. I felt a joy so immense that I thought my heart might burst with it.
* * *
“WOULD IT BE all right with you if Darien were to live with us for a while?” Milo asked me one afternoon a week or so after Theodora’s birth. We were in the nursery, the bright spring sunlight shining through the windows. Below us, the gardens of Thornecrest were in bloom, the fragrance of primrose and wisteria floating on the warm breeze through an open window.
I was surprised at his request. Though they had begun to be on much better terms, I had assumed it would be preferable to both of them to set Darien up somewhere else, perhaps with a flat in London.
Milo seemed to guess what I was thinking. “I told him I’d help him if he was inclined to go elsewhere, but he says he wants to make up for lost time.”
Looking at Milo, I suddenly had the impression that Darien wasn’t the only one who wanted to do so.
“I think it would be lovely if he stayed with us,” I said sincerely. Though Darien could be very trying at times, I was already growing fond of him.
“You’re sure?” Milo asked.
“Yes, of course.” After all, it wasn’t as though
Thornecrest was a small place. We wouldn’t be bumping into each other at all hours.
Besides, it would be good for Milo and Darien to spend some more time together. Neither of them had grown up with a sibling, and they both had a lot to learn. It was a relief that it seemed that both of them were willing to do it.
I suspected things would not always be smooth between them. I knew the future likely held more escapades for Darien, as young men of that sort rarely learn their lesson the first time. But it would be better for him to have family to steer him than to send him out rudderless.
I was happy that they had found each other, happy that Anthony Ames had left each of his sons something they hadn’t known they needed: a brother.
We had gained more family than we had expected this month, but I didn’t regret it at all.
Although, as I looked down at my beautiful Theodora, I couldn’t help but reflect on how glad I was that Milo had been right, that she was a girl; three Ames men might have been more than even I could handle.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I count myself extremely fortunate to have had so many wonderful people accompany me along this book’s journey. I am indebted:
To my excellent editor, Catherine Richards, for her insight and expertise.
To the fantastic Nettie Finn and to the team at Minotaur, for all their hard work on behalf of this book.
To Ann Collette, agent and friend, for always being just a phone call away.
To my marvelous mom, DeAnn Weaver, for everything she does.
To my entire family, for being fun, funny, and all-around amazing.
To Becky Farmer, for being my companion in travel adventures, brainstorming sessions, and celebrity spirals.
To Chalanda Wilson, for keeping me both sane and crazy every day as we work.
To my fellow Sleuths in Time authors, for their support and friendship.
And to the Book Wormz, for helping me maintain a nimble mind with Tuesday night trivia.
I am so deeply grateful for all of you!
ALSO BY ASHLEY WEAVER
Murder at the Brightwell
Death Wears a Mask
A Most Novel Revenge
Intrigue in Capri (ebook short)
The Essence of Malice
An Act of Villainy
A Dangerous Engagement
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ASHLEY WEAVER is the technical services coordinator at the Allen Parish Libraries in Oberlin, Louisiana. Weaver has worked in libraries since she was fourteen; she was a page and then a clerk before obtaining her MLIS from Louisiana State University. The Amory Ames series includes Murder at the Brightwell, which was shortlisted for the Edgar Award, as well as Death Wears a Mask, A Most Novel Revenge, The Essence of Malice, An Act of Villainy, and A Dangerous Engagement. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Acknowledgments
Also by Ashley Weaver
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
A DECEPTION AT THORNECREST. Copyright © 2020 by Ashley Weaver. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by Rowen Davis
Cover illustration by John Mattos
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Weaver, Ashley, author.
Title: A deception at Thornecrest / Ashley Weaver.
Description: First edition. | New York: Minotaur Books, 2020. | Series: An Amory Ames mystery; 7
Identifiers: LCCN 2020016410 | ISBN 9781250159793 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250159809 (ebook)
Subjects: GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3623.E3828 D45 2020 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020016410
eISBN 9781250159809
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: 2020