Page 21 of A Wager at Midnight (Betting Against the Duke #2)

Chapter 21

S TEPHEN —A UNTIES OF C HEAPSIDE

M y aunt’s home, framed with arches and limestone cornerstones, is the pride of the neighborhood. It takes a couple knocks on the door before her maid, Mrs. Ellis, welcomes me. “You are looking handsome but tired, Stephen Carew. Are you eating? Are you working too hard?”

“I’m doing my best, ma’am.”

“Well, you will eat before you go.” The old woman has a good spirit, she leans in close with her bronze apple cheeks glowing. “So proud of you.”

She says this every time she sees me, like I will forget. But the sentiment makes me smile. Mrs. Ellis knew me when I was still fresh off the boat. She, like the aunties, watched my practice grow.

I feel a little sick, seeing that others can notice the maturity in me, while I haven’t afforded the same to Scarlett. I wonder what she’s doing. Is she still mad at me for wanting to marry her?

“You are frowning, dear.” Mrs. Ellis takes my hat and coat. “Make sure you eat something. You know your aunt is fretting about everything. Eat something, that will make her happy.”

“I’ll see what I can do. How is my cousin, the mother-to-be?”

“Mrs. Halland is moving a little slow.” The maid sets my hat on the table in the pink-painted hall. Then she rolls her hands up, tucking them inside a white starched apron. “She’s not eating as much as she should. The poor girl is in some pain.”

Discomfort is to be expected at the end of confinement. “Don’t fret, Mrs. Ellis. I’ll see what I can do to bring everyone cheer.”

“Very good.” Her warm smile returns, and she leads me the short distance to the parlor.

I come inside and my aunt puts down her needlepoint and rushes to me. “Dear boy,” she says. Her expression of surprise makes it sound as if she hasn’t seen me for some time, rather than two days ago. “So good of you to come, nephew.”

“Of course, Tantie Telma.”

She grabs me in a hug a bear would offer with pride. For a minute, I am swaddled in the burgundy-dyed silk of her gown and perfume that smells of rose water.

My nose wrinkles.

It’s a common smell. I hope it will stop reminding me of brothels and Scarlett.

“Dear heart,” my aunt says, catching my hand. “Your face is scrunched up like you’re in pain. Do you have a headache? Or are you hungry?”

“No. I’m fine, I just—”

She mashes me against her bosom. More roses, more thoughts of Scarlett, the brothel, the carriage and how wrong all of this is.

I free myself from my aunt. “Tantie Telma, I am fine. And I ate before I . . .”

That look on her face is as if I told her I quit practicing medicine. “A small plate won’t hurt.”

Her lovely face explodes in a grin. “Come with me, dear boy. You look thin. You need a wife to cook and look after you.” She leads me to the dining room, a room with papered red walls. “When is the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

“Yesterday. At my home.”

“It’s late in the day. Poor dear is starved.” She pushes me into a chair at the end of the oak table. “Now relax. Tantie Telma will take care of everything.”

When she rings a tiny brass bell, Mrs. Ellis comes to the entrance of the room.

“Yes, ma’am,” the maid says. “What would you like? A little ham? A little black cake?”

“Can you please bring a full plate for my Stephen?”

Before I can say anything, Mrs. Ellis has fled to fulfill this request. She soon returns with a white dish filled with cuts of pheasant, roasted ham, a big spoonful of thick callaloo, and spicy blood pudding. In her other hand is a bread plate with two types of rolls, cheese, and cold meats. “I’m glad you are eating,” she says. “You look a little thin.”

I don’t consider myself thin or thick, but if I eat everything the aunties try to serve me, that will no longer be my situation. My uncle is a large, happy man, but suffers from gout aggravated by such rich foods.

“Too many sinful treats, ladies.” I pull my hands together and pray for strength and room in my stomach. Dumping a few delicious forkfuls down my gullet, I tell myself to slow down. But I’m so sick about a certain miss I can’t eat much more. “Gluttony is wrong.”

Tantie Telma gives me the evil eye as if I’ve suggested to burn down her house.

“She only does this because she cares, cousin.” My cousin, Maryanne, otherwise known as Mrs. Halland, waddles into the room. Dressed in bright blue, she comes to the table. Her caramel skin glows. The yellow-and-blue-striped head wrap anoints her brow like a crown.

I help her and her very large stomach sit into a chair. “I came to see you, cousin. Heard you had some pain.”

“A little.” She grabs my hand when I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Good to see you, too, Stephen.” Maryanne offers me a saucy look as she takes my fork and devours a few bites of my barely eaten plate. “My mother-in-law says I’m having a girl. My mama says you have a new girl.”

I’m reaching for the La?nnec stethoscope, a birthday present last year from Torrance that will help me hear the babe’s heartbeat. “Well, I don’t want to brag.”

Honestly, I can’t. If Scarlett is unwilling to come, I’ll know nothing of the woman Torrance will have ready for me Friday. “Let’s have a little listen.”

I take out my stethoscope and put the round tube made of hollowed mahogany to her chest and then to her stomach. The tube amplifies the echoes of heartbeats, two strong hearts beating. “Everything sounds good. Nice and strong.”

“So the baby is well?” Tantie Telma comes closer. “I see a wiggle.”

My cousin winces. “She’s active, Mama.”

She? Well, the bump that carries the uterus is large, not wide, indicating a boy according to Scarlett. And Maryanne’s carrying low; another indication of a boy, if I am to believe the woman who researches and observes everything. Well, she’s probably right. “The babe sounds good. Will be here soon.”

My cousin takes a nice long breath. “Whew. My husband will be so excited to come back and meet his daughter. Daughters are nice, but a firstborn son is special for a man.”

“A healthy child is special. And a happy mother is especially important. Cousin, I need you to keep eating and finding ways to be calm.”

“That’s exactly what the accoucheur said.” She looks down, as if she wasn’t supposed to mention him to me.

“His advice is correct.” I say this with no jealousy implied. My cousin’s health is all that matters, no matter how things come in and out of vogue.

“But so many things can go wrong.” Tantie Telma frowns. She turns and begins opening curtains, letting in the evening light. “I just want to know that everything has been looked at.” She glares at me. “Where’s your friend? He knew about babies.”

“Looking to hire more help?” I offer a weak laugh. “He’s gone away. We may not be seeing him again soon.”

To keep everyone from dwelling on Scotland Carew, I call to Mrs. Ellis, who I know is listening. “Ma’am, can you bring more gravy? I think my cousin may need more.”

“More gravy coming up. And your favorite should be fresh from the hearth. Cassava pone.”

What? Buttery, moist, cakey, chewy delight. It’s my favorite thing. I want to clap, maybe dance a jig. It’s the dessert that is first to go at any gathering. “An edge piece, please.”

When Mrs. Ellis brings the whole cake on a platter, steam wafts. The caramel and nutmeg smell takes me to Mama and Port of Spain.

I cut a slice, right on the browned edge. No raisins in this, or pumpkin. But it smells dense and delicious. Before it’s on my plate, Maryanne says, “Tell us more about your girl, Stephen.”

If I had a mouthful of pone, I wouldn’t have to answer questions. But my cousin is too quick.

“You’ll meet her Friday. I don’t want to bias you with a wrong word.”

“How would knowing her name bias me?” My aunt gives me her offended stare. “I think you’re stalling. You know a certain woman is now free. You don’t have to make up someone if you don’t want us to know you are lonely.”

Holding her stomach, Maryanne starts to laugh. “Oh, Stephen has a girl, Mama. Look at him. I mean, he didn’t buckle when Eveline flew away.” She winks and leans forward. “With a name, he knows you and your friends will work up a complete report on her and her people before the sun goes down. Stephen wants you surprised.”

I stuff a big forkful of the pone into my mouth, then I nod. It’s true. The aunties’ connections are wide and deep, just like those baby bumps. I clear my mouth and say, “I want you to meet her first, then investigate.”

“Will Eveline Gray, the Baroness or former Baroness Derand, be there, Mama?” my cousin asks. “Mama thinks she is good for you, I don’t.”

My aunt stops pacing. “She shouldn’t have married outside of our community. If she’d waited for you, she’d be happy.”

“Would she?” I glanced at Tantie Telma. “Tell me why.”

“Of course she would. You are respected, Stephen. Your practice is flourishing. She wouldn’t be wretched.”

I don’t respond. I honestly don’t know if the former Miss Gray would be happy or less wretched. The baroness had a secret life that didn’t involve me.

“Tell him the rest, Mama. That the auntie network has determined that you should forgive her and redeem her.”

“Tantie Telma, I’m not a priestly Hosea. And she’s not the prostitute Gomer. Miss Gray loved someone. It didn’t work. There’s nothing wrong with trying to find happiness.”

“Well, Stephen, before I knew you had a girl, I invited her to my picnic on Friday. She will be at the church service. If I knew you had someone new in your life to love, I would let her be. How does one send someone away from attending church?” My aunt loses her train of thought and puts her hand onto her face like Scarlett. “It’s likely she will come to both.”

This is terrible; the aunties still wish for me to marry Eveline. If Scarlett does come, how will she take the attention people will give to Eveline?

“Tantie Telma, gossip about a newly annulled woman can’t be good. Perhaps you should advise the baroness to stay away. Let the ink dry a little more on her Scottish paperwork.”

“I hate how people can be.” My aunt turns away. “I’ve already told her that I’d try to get you to walk in with her. That would make her comfortable.”

What? I’m to be made a sacrifice to make Eveline comfortable? What about me? “I will be with my friend.” My tone’s heated and I add, “You should truly try to dissuade her mother. Mrs. Gray is sensible. Let her know the aunties’ matchmaking has failed.”

My cousin chuckles, then winces in pain.

I go to her side. “This little one has a good kick.”

My aunt turns pale. “You slow down on your eating.”

“Eat. Slow down. Don’t eat.” My cousin shakes her head. “All the advice is contradictory.”

“Maryanne,” I say. “You take it easy. If you want to eat, then do so. But I think your baby will be early.”

My cousin smiles. She pushes the dinner plate away for a spoonful of cassava pone. She’s an edge piece girl, too. “The accoucheur tells me not to have worries. He says we have plenty of time because the baby hasn’t turned. He’s a colleague of Princess Charlotte’s accoucheur.”

“Wow, Princess Charlotte.” My tone is sarcastic and causes Tantie Telma to spin around.

Her eyebrow is arched. “It’s fashionable to have one, but Stephen knows things.”

It is good to hear her faith in me. Though I’m busy, I’ll always have time for them.

“And we know a thing or two, Stephen,” Tantie continues. “If this new woman isn’t up to our standards, at least we know Eveline.”

“Even though she is virtually a divorced woman? Annulled. Pretend it didn’t happen.” Maryanne says this aloud. I thought it, but I wasn’t going to say anything. The aunties, all of them, love to gossip about people’s mistakes.

“Maryanne, our girls with education and dowries are targets for peers and other men looking for good women with money.”

“Money does trump race.” My cousin smirks. Being married with her own household has emboldened her tongue. Must be more of that growing and changing.

My aunt gawks at her for a moment, then says, “Eveline’s mother has been ambitious, but I don’t think they talk much anymore. She’s probably against the anullment. We’ll see on Friday if attitudes change.”

I don’t recall Mrs. Gray being such, but all things can be true. Ambitious mamas trying to make good starts for their daughters will overlook the potential problems that can happen between families coming from Cheapside and Mayfair.

I’ve seen the results of marriages not built on love and a set of common beliefs. I think of Scarlett’s sister. Lady Hampton seemed to have misjudged the peer she married. Maybe that’s why she’s hesitant to entertain the duke’s offer. But what of their past? They were in love or lust once to conceive life, lost life.

“All is still well. Right, Stephen?”

“Yes, Maryanne, except you cannot have my pone. Mrs. Ellis, I know you are lurking. May I have a container to take some cake with me?”

“I’ll bring you something.” Mrs. Ellis’s voice is filled with humor. She’ll come back with something, even Wedgwood if I promise to return it.

I sit down again, eating this delicious treat with the intention of taking more. But I make a mental note to add forceps of various sizes to my cabinet at the bottom of my carriage. They come in handy in helping pull a new life into this topsy-turvy world.