Page 39 of Lady of Milkweed Manor

Mrs. Taylor began spending hours in the sitting room alone, reclining on the settee, staring off into nothingness.

Often she would neglect to raise the shades in the morning, or to light a lamp when darkness fell.

With only one servant about the place, there was often no one to do it for her.

Charlotte helped as much and as quietly as she could. She prayed as well.

“I am worried about Lizette,” Daniel’s father said quietly as the two men sat in the dining room over lukewarm tea. Gone were the days of after-dinner port for this household.

“As am I,” Daniel confided. “I have been wondering if a change of scenery might do her good. I’ve been offered a seaside cottage for a few months.”

“Where?”

“The south coast. In France she lived by the sea.”

“But ... the Manor Home—what of your work there?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I can find someone to take my place for a time. I know how important the Manor is to you, but I can only do so much.”

“It is important, Daniel. It is my life’s work.”

“It was your life’s work, Father.”

Daniel saw the light dim in his father’s eyes and immediately regretted his words. “Again, I ask your forgiveness, Father. I have no right to take my exhaustion out on you.”

“You are distraught, son. I understand. I know I have disappointed you. Truth is, I have disappointed myself. I have been weak—not the brother I should have been, not the father I should have been, and not the surgeon I should have been... .”

“Father ...”

“But I have done some good. I have. Mothers who would have died, lived. Children too. That is why the Manor Home is so important. Promise me—keep the place going if you can. If not for me, for your poor aunt Audrey—God rest her soul.”

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, the guilt pouring over him as it always did when his father mentioned Aunt Audrey—a woman Daniel had never known.

His father’s sister had died as a young woman in a disreputable lying-in hospital.

Until recent years the standards of care and cleanliness at such facilities meant fatalities were all too common.

It was in his sister’s honor that John Taylor had joined forces with other surgeons, physicians, and charity groups to establish the Manor Home for Unwed Mothers in the first place.

Of course that was before he fell into disrepute.

“The Manor is not going to close if I take a leave.”

“We cannot be sure. Did you not mention donations were down?”

“Yes, and expenses rising.” Daniel ran a weary hand over his face. “I shall see what I can do. Perhaps I can carry on at the Manor during the week and travel to the coast at the weekend.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” John Taylor’s hand trembled as he brought his teacup to his lips, then returned it to its saucer, untasted. “When my time comes, I can go thinking of the Manor Home and the lives saved there. May the good Lord forgive the rest. And you, Daniel. I pray you forgive me as well.”

A few days later, Daniel was disconcerted to find his father and Miss Lamb waiting for him in his study. “What is it?” he asked.

His father glanced at Charlotte. “Miss Lamb has some news she wishes to share.”

Daniel took in her anxious expression. She’s not leaving, I hope .

“I fear you will mind,” Charlotte began. “But I took the liberty of writing to my uncle—who is a solicitor—about the situation with Miss Marsden.”

“What?” Daniel’s relief that she wasn’t announcing her resignation was quickly replaced by anger.

“Forgive me, I know it was presumptuous.”

“Father, you were not to divulge—”

“Please,” Charlotte interrupted. “Allow me to explain.”

His father studied his hands, folded together in his lap as he sat. Daniel lifted his own hand, gesturing in irritated compliance for her to continue.

“Your father did not offer the information, Dr. Taylor. I asked for the man’s name, this Phillip Elton.”

Daniel groaned and shook his head.

“I thought the name was familiar but not for the reasons I guessed. In any case this man’s father, Lord Elton himself, has long been a friend to my aunt and uncle.

It was his name I had heard spoken with fondness over the years.

I have even dined with him at my uncle’s home on one or two occasions.

However, this Phillip Elton is Lord Elton’s son, and my uncle has had to wrest him from trouble more than once.

“I wrote to my uncle to inquire—do not fret, I did not mention your names nor the details of the situation but only asked whether this Miss Marsden was known to him. My uncle has written back.” She lifted a letter she held in her hand.

“In all truth, I wondered if he would, what with my father asking my aunt to cut off communications with me. But since I wrote with a ‘professional’ question, he thought it within his rights to reply. In any case, he assures me that not only is this woman no longer connected in any way to Phillip Elton nor Lord Elton himself, but that the Elton family has disowned the child she claims is his. They have severed all relationship with her. Beyond that, Phillip himself has had his privileges reduced and hasn’t the money to pay his club tab, let alone take anyone to court.

So you see, the woman has no hold on either of you any longer. ”

She smiled triumphantly—first at his father, who, Daniel noticed, did not meet her gaze, and then at him. Clearly, theirs was not the reaction she had expected.

“Perhaps my father forgot to mention that the woman’s allegations were not unfounded. He was guilty of negligence during the delivery of her child.”

Charlotte’s smile faded, but she did not answer.

“Yes. Father is very skilled in garnering sympathy but less so in staying sober. Had I not happened along when I did, the child might have died.”

“Daniel, I told you. I have not taken a drink since. It has been over a year. Will you never trust me again?”

Hands on hips, Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know, Father. I want to, but I just don’t know.”

Dr. Taylor arranged to take Lloyd Lodge for the months of May, June, and July. His wife and the servant Marie, a maid-of-all-work, journeyed to Shoreham a week earlier than the rest of the family to set up housekeeping.

Charlotte enjoyed those days, alone in the house much of the time with Anne and John Taylor.

Aunt Tilney would not have approved had she known, but Charlotte felt not a moment’s unease in the kind man’s company.

He treated her more like a daughter than a servant.

And his gentle fondness was a warm salve that filled in the injured places, the jagged cracks in her heart, left there by her own father’s cold indifference.

And to his delight—and Charlotte’s—Anne grew quite attached to her grandfather during that time. His son, however, remained cool.

“I am sorry, Mr. Taylor,” she said to Daniel’s father one afternoon as they sat together in the sitting room during Anne’s nap. “It seems I have succeeded only in making things worse between you and your son.”

“Do not fret, my dear. I was touched by your efforts to help me. I know you acted with the best intentions. Daniel knows it, too, but is struggling to admit it. You see, he takes my failure quite personally. He resents that my disgrace has cast a pall on his reputation. I fear my son has always been overly sensitive to the criticism of others—real or perceived. I am sure he believes more censure has befallen him due to my failings than actually has. He has not the confidence some men do. I do not know why. Perhaps it has to do with his mother dying so young. Finding out his sole-remaining parent was fallible was a blow to him. I suppose it is always difficult for a child to realize his father’s flaws do not reflect on him.

That he—or she—must make the best of the life God gave him. ”

Charlotte felt tears sting her eyes but smiled at John Taylor nonetheless, knowing he could have little idea why his words affected her so.

“You will join us at the coast, will you not?” she asked.

“I do not believe I will. Daniel needs some time alone with his wife without his father hanging about. And I think I shall see what needs doing about the foundling ward. Mrs. Krebs will put me to work washing nappies if nothing else. Daniel cannot object to that.” He smiled warmly at her.

“Especially not now, after what you have found out for us.”

When the week passed, they all stood in the entry hall, Charlotte holding Anne on her hip.

“I cannot change your mind, Father?” Daniel asked, picking up the last of the baggage to carry down to the waiting hansom.

“And who would water your gardens if I leave?” John Taylor bent his head to Anne’s eye level and rubbed her cheek. “ Someone has to work around here.” He winked at Charlotte.

“Very well. I shall see you Monday week. Write or send a messenger if you need anything before. You have the directions?”

“Yes, I have everything I need. Do not worry about me, my boy. Just go and have a grand holiday—rest and rejuvenation for everyone, that’s what I prescribe. And I shall be praying for you all as well.”

“Thank you, Father.” Daniel walked out the door.

Charlotte stepped forward and offered the dear man her hand.

“We shall miss you, Anne and I.”

He took her hand in both of his. “And I shall miss you. But the summer will fly quickly, as it always does in soggy ol’ England, and we shall all be together again soon.”

If only his words could be true.