Page 38 of Lady of Milkweed Manor

WANTED A NURSE with a good Breast of Milk, of a healthy Constitution and good Character, that is willing to go into a Gentleman’s Family.

C harles Harris attempted to read while his wife paced the length of Fawnwell’s newly restored sitting room.

“Really, Charles. A journey of that length to pay a house call? On a widow who cannot have more than a hundred pounds a year?”

“What did the woman say?”

“Something about her son and Dr. Taylor having been at school together.”

“Well, then.” Charles flipped over his newspaper.

“I do not believe it. I cannot imagine the Dunweedys affording Oxford or Cambridge. Which did Taylor attend, do you know?”

“I do not.”

“I think I shall find out.”

“To what purpose?”

“Clearly something is amiss with the entire situation.”

Charles looked at her over his paper. “Of course there is. Did you not find your unmarried cousin with a child?”

“Yes, yes. I do not mean that. I mean with Taylor showing up there.”

“Did you not ask him to get the money to her?”

“Yes, but I had the distinct impression he was there as a course of habit.”

Charles shrugged, resuming his reading. “Even if he was there to check on Charlotte, a former patient, I don’t see that as so unusual.”

“Do you not?”

Keeping his tone casual and his eyes on his paper, Charles said, “You said Charlotte has a girl ... a daughter?”

“Yes. Calls her Anne. Little thing. Not at all as robust as our Edmund.”

“And what did Charlotte have to say about Edmund?”

“The usual niceties, I suppose. Though without the enthusiasm I might have expected. She did agree he looks like you.”

Charles nodded but said no more.

“I also admit, I studied her child quite closely, thinking to see a resemblance to someone we both know quite well.”

He looked up at her, feeling suddenly anxious. Had Katherine suspected the child would resemble him ? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Of course she admitted nothing about William. Still I wondered. But then this Taylor showed up, all the way from London. You don’t suppose ...?”

“Taylor is a married man.”

“We both know that is no guarantee of anything. He traveled alone.”

“Common enough. Besides, I heard his own wife was expecting a child. Taylor is likely a father already.”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed.”

Katherine shrugged, her pretty lips screwed up in thought. She seemed satisfied. For the time being.

The Taylors’ London townhouse was a tall narrow building sandwiched between a dozen others just like it.

The medical offices were housed on street level, above the kitchen and beneath three floors of living quarters above.

When they arrived, Daniel preceded Charlotte into his offices, where he dropped his medical case and picked up a few pieces of correspondence.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “This way.”

Holding Anne, while he carried her heavier bag, she followed him up the stairs. Up on the first floor, he stepped into an adjoining room, the sitting room most likely. Charlotte hesitated on the landing.

She heard the happy, accented voice of Mrs. Taylor call out, “Daniel! Mon amour. Tu m’as manqué! ”

Charlotte stepped forward tentatively. From where she stood in the doorway, she could see Dr. Taylor’s back, his arms wide, and a brief view of Mrs. Taylor’s dark hair and bright smile before she disappeared into her husband’s embrace. Charlotte averted her gaze and stepped back into the corridor.

“I’ve missed you too. More than you know.”

“Have you brought her? Notre fille? ”

“Of course, my love.”

Charlotte stepped forward just as Daniel reached the doorway.

She handed Anne to him carefully but swiftly and again stepped back.

She heard Lizette Taylor’s gasp, followed by a moan that was at once joyful and mournful.

“Annette! Ma petite. Ma fille. Chair de ma chair .” The words were a warm litany of love and loss. “Tu es très grand.’’ Charlotte heard laughter mixed with unseen tears. “Quel bébé dodu!”

“Yes, she has been well fed,” Daniel said.

“ La nourrice ?”

“Yes, my dear, I should like you to meet her.”

Again, Charlotte stepped forward, hands clammy, stomach churning. Her eyes were downcast as she entered the sitting room.

“May I introduce Miss Charlotte Lamb. Miss Lamb, my wife, Lizette.”

Charlotte glanced up quickly at Daniel’s wife. His beautiful wife.

“ Madame Taylor ,” the woman corrected pleasantly, slanting a look at her husband.

Charlotte looked back at the floor and bobbed a quick curtsy.

“ Enchantée ,” Charlotte mumbled, unsure whether her use of French would please her new employer or not.

When Charlotte darted another look, Mrs. Taylor smiled graciously at her. And with her smile she was even more beautiful. Charlotte could hardly reconcile this poised, exquisite woman with the howling, pitiful creature she had seen at the Manor Home.

Lizette Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “Have we met?” she asked.

Charlotte swallowed, instantly knowing the correct answer. “No, madame. We have not been introduced.”

Mrs. Taylor scrutinized her a moment longer, then turned her head.

“Marie!” she called out.

A maid with red-chapped cheeks entered, greying hair fringing out from her mobcap, “ Oui, madame ?”

“Please show Nurse to her chamber, would you?”

“ Bien s?r, madame .”

“Welcome, Miss Lamb,” Mrs. Taylor said. “I hope you will be happy with us.”

As do I , Charlotte thought.

Charlotte did not see Mr. John Taylor, Daniel’s father, that first evening. But the next morning, while she breakfasted alone, he joined her in the dining room and greeted her with a warm smile.

“Miss Smith! How good to see you again. Oh, forgive me—it’s Miss Lamb now, if I understand correctly.”

“That’s right. And a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Taylor.”

He poured himself a cup of tea from the sideboard and sat across from her at the table.

“I was so sorry to hear of your loss.”

“I thank you, sir.”

Keeping his gaze on his teacup, he asked timidly, “It wasn’t anything I did, or failed to do, was it ...?”

“Oh no, of course not, Mr. Taylor. I could not have asked for a kinder, more skilled surgeon.”

“Thank you, Miss Lamb. You are most kind to say so. What a blessing for Anne to have been in your care. Where is the little mite this morning?”

“Still asleep. Tired from the journey, I suppose.”

“Yes, and what a boon to have you here with us. With three beautiful ladies under our roof, well, I don’t see how Daniel or I could be happier.”

She smiled at him. “And you, sir, how do you fare?”

“I miss the work, I must say. I take great pleasure in feeling useful, helping people, you know. I miss it.”

“Of course you do. Is there no hope of returning?”

“Daniel says not.” He looked about the room, as if to reassure himself they were alone. “That Miss Marsden has quite a hold on me, I’m afraid. Says if I ever practice again, she’ll bring me up on charges.”

“But certainly your word, sir, against such a woman’s ...”

“That’s right, Daniel mentioned you met her.” He sighed. “It’s not her alone who holds power over me. It’s her patron, the father of her child, or so she says. Some rich and revengeful lord, to hear her tell it.”

“May I ask who the man is?”

“A Lord Phillip Elton.”

“Lord Elton ...”

“You know him?”

“The name is familiar. I think he might be known to my uncle.”

John Taylor shook his head sadly. “Well-known and well-connected, I’m afraid. There’s naught I can do. For myself I might risk it, but I would not endanger Daniel’s career any more than I have done already.”

“Would you mind, sir, if I made a few inquiries on your behalf?”

“I would not mind , but do not trouble yourself, my dear. I shall be happy again now that I have my granddaughter here at home.”

Charlotte and Anne were to share the nursery on the third floor.

It wasn’t a large room, but it would do nicely.

John Taylor hauled up an old screen from one of the exam rooms in the office downstairs.

With her permission, he set it up between the door and Charlotte’s bed, to give her some semblance of privacy should one of the family wish to come in and pick up Anne, whose cradle was on the other side of the room.

During those first days they were all in London, Lizette Taylor seemed happy indeed.

Happy, especially, to have her daughter back in her life.

She held Anne for hours on end, bouncing her on her lap, speaking to her in French, singing French ditties and lullabies.

Anne, for all her unfamiliarity with her own mother, was delighted with this enthusiastic attention and went happily from Charlotte’s arms to Lizette’s with little fuss.

Charlotte was relieved for Mrs. Taylor’s sake.

Anne was slower to take to her grandfather, unaccustomed as she was to male attention beyond the occasional visits her father had made over their months in Crawley.

But still, after the first few days, her lower lip no longer quivered when he spoke to her—though she watched him carefully whenever he came near.

Sensitive to how Daniel’s wife must be feeling, having missed those first precious months of her daughter’s life, Charlotte was careful to stay in the background as much as possible, only offering to take Anne when she began to fuss or it was clearly time for another feeding.

So she was not sure of the cause of Lizette Taylor’s growing moodiness.

“You take her, Miss Lamb, I feel a headache coming on,” she began to say nearly once a day. Or, “There you are, back to Nurse. Ta mère must lie down and rest.”

The spring that year was gloomier than usual, and during the last half of April it rained five out of every seven days. Such weather could make the cheeriest person morose, Charlotte thought.