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O ne of the only positives of his marriage to a woman he disdained more each day was that the new Duchess of Hertfordshire had fallen with child after not too many months of marriage.

It had been some months before his father had been called home, so his sire had departed the mortal plane with the knowledge that a possible heir would be born.

Although his wife had demanded they take up residence at Hertfordshire House with all speed, in the months since his father had gone to join his mother, the new Duke was still not comfortable in his newly inherited home. He saw his parents’ presence wherever he looked.

Another advantage of his wife’s being enceinte was it had delayed her desire to turn the house into a mausoleum for ostentatious and gaudy décor of poor taste, as she had begun to do at Hertford House.

Money was not the object, just her taste.

Unfortunately, the lady had her father add a clause to the marriage contract stating that she was allowed to decorate the houses of which she was mistress whenever she chose to do so.

It was a blessing she had never been to Falconwood and that she had only been to Hertford Heights briefly.

She had demanded all sorts of changes, but as they departed a fortnight later, the then Marquess had told his housekeeper to wait before implementing any of the new mistress’s desired new décor.

No sooner had they moved into Hertfordshire House than Lady Felicia wanted to begin redecorating and changing everything. It had been her desire to wipe away any trace of her predecessor.

Due to her having a rather hard time with her increasing, Hertfordshire had convinced his wife to wait until after she was churched to make her changes.

He had reminded her that the redecorating she had begun at Hertford House was not half done.

She had dismissed his worry, saying it would be the concern of the next marchioness.

She had agreed to wait, but not graciously.

The more she suffered being with child, the more she demanded.

She was tired all the time, and her feet and legs were swollen.

The nausea which normally went away by the third or fourth month had not; rather it had increased at certain periods.

According to Sir Fredrick Gillingham, the accoucheur who was attending the Duchess, this was a rare occurrence, but not an unknown happenstance.

Other than the midwife, the housekeeper, the accoucheur, and a few maids, no one else would attend her lying in.

Her mother had been gone for more than five years, and the new Countess of Gryffinwood, her sister-in-law—the old earl had passed away just before the late duke—disliked her intensely due to the new Duchess’s behaviour.

After she had become the new Duchess of Hertfordshire, Lady Felicia had used any opportunity she could to lord her elevated rank over her sister-in-law, who was a mere countess.

If it bothered Lady Hertfordshire that the only ones who would be with her were paid to be there, she never gave any indication that it did. As she put it, she only wanted to ‘finally get the foreign object out of her body’.

Shortly after the wedding, Hertfordshire had tried to introduce her to some of his friends and their wives so she would have some acquaintances.

She had been so abrasive that none had wanted to know her further.

That included two ladies with the patience of saints: Lady Anne Darcy and Lady Morag MacIntyre.

Based on his wife’s actions, the new Duke had not faulted any of his friends and their wives for not wanting to be in his wife’s company.

There was almost nothing husband and wife had in common, but they did share one ardent desire.

They both hoped and prayed a son would be born so they would not have to lie together again.

Hertfordshire remembered her desire to live separate lives once she delivered an heir and a spare.

For his part, their lives apart could begin as soon as he had a son.

That way she would never be able to put her stamp on this house.

He intended to give her Chamberlain House on St James Square, which was a considerably larger house than the one on Grosvenor Square, with enough ready money to redecorate to her heart’s content.

What he had not shared was that the new Hertfordshire House would be twice the size

In the last few days, the Duchess had been much sicker than before and looked rather pallid. As much as he disliked the woman his father had forced on him, Hertfordshire did not wish her any harm.

He would soon know if his prayers had been answered.

On this, the first Sunday in February, Sir Frederick and the midwife had been summoned early that morning, as Her Grace was in tremendous pain, which he assumed was her labouring to bring their child into the world.

There would be no going to St George’s church for services today.

Everyone in the house not involved with the birthing was praying for mother and child to be hale and healthy.

Sir Frederick and the midwife had been in the birthing room tending to the Duchess for some two hours. There was a knock on the study door.

“Come,” Hertfordshire called out.

The accoucheur, looking rather grim, entered. “Your Grace, I have bad news for you,” Sir Frederick reported. “Your wife is no longer living.”

“And my child?” Hertfordshire enquired concernedly. His wife was beyond help; all he could hope for was that the child was well. “Do I have a son or a daughter, and is he or she well?”

“When did you hear your late wife last talk about the babe’s moving within her?” Sir Frederick asked, seemingly incongruently.

“Ahem, it is not something we discussed,” Hertfordshire admitted, not adding they never spoke unless there was no choice.

“We would need to summon my late wife’s lady’s maid.

The woman has been with my wife since she was a girl, so if anyone will know the answers you seek, it would be Langley.

” The doctor nodded, and the duke rang for the butler.

Instructions to bring the maid were issued.

Teresa Langley had been in the birthing chamber with her mistress; hence, when she entered the Duke’s study, she was attempting to dry her eyes. “Your Grace.” She curtsied.

“Sir Frederick has some questions, I believe you, Langley, will be able to answer. Please tell him whatever he needs to know.” The maid nodded.

The accoucheur repeated the question he had asked the Duke. “It is important; your answer may shed much light on what caused Her Grace to pass away,” he emphasised.

The lady’s maid cogitated as she went over her interactions with Her Grace.

“Now that you mention it, Her Grace told me how pleasant it was that the babe had ceased bothering her some ten days ago. Before that, there had been a few times my mistress had difficulty sleeping and she took…” The maid’s voice trailed off.

“Please continue, as this may solve the mystery,” Sir Frederick encouraged the maid.

“Langley, I swear you will not be in any trouble,” the Duke promised.

“Even though the midwife and accoucheur told her not to, Her Grace took laudanum a few times when she could not sleep as she desired. At first I did not want to get the bottle Mrs Jackson keeps on a high shelf in the pantry. Her Grace demanded I not tell anyone, so I climbed on a chair to retrieve the medicine for her,” the maid admitted.

“You will not be punished, but I will no longer need your services. I will pay you a full year’s wages and ask my housekeeper to give you a good character. You may go for now,” Hertfordshire said in dismissal.

“That tells me much,” the accoucheur stated as he nodded his head. “Based on the discharge we saw; it was apparent that the babe was already dead. With what the maid told us, it has been almost a fortnight. It is obviously what made the late Duchess so ill and eventually killed her.”

“So her selfishness killed not only her but our child as well,” Hertfordshire said almost to himself. “You know not what it was, do you?”

“No, Your Grace, I do not. Will there be anything else?” Sir Frederick queried.

The Duke waved him away. He had much to do and notifications to send out.

The new Earl of Gryffinwood disliked his sister, but he would want to know.

Hertfordshire cogitated about mourning. He would mourn for the expected twelvemonth.

Half in deep mourning. He did not like his late wife, but he had married her with his eyes open.

There had been no respect between them in life, but he would honour her per society’s dictates.

He still had black-edged paper from when his father had been taken. He pulled the first sheet from the pile and began to write.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

In the year that Lizzy and Mary had resided with the Gardiners in London, the warmth, love, and care they received in their aunt and uncle’s home had had very positive effects on them.

Thanks to the fact Mary had been a little more than seven months old when she and Lizzy came to live in 23 Gracechurch Street, all she had known was that she was loved and cared for.

It had taken a little longer for Lizzy. She was extremely intelligent, and in the last months with the Inneses, she had begun to see the difference between herself and the Innes children in the way they were treated.

She was not mistreated in any way, but it was not the same.

It had taken a full six months before Lizzy had accepted she was loved and wanted.

After they had arrived back in London, Mrs Innes had remained a further two months and a half before Mary was weaned. Then, with more money than her husband earned on his rented farm in a year, she was conveyed back to her cottage in a carriage with the deep gratitude of the Gardiners.

A month past her first birthday, Mary had begun to speak, and two months after that, she was walking.