Page 61 of Lady of Milkweed Manor

Right after emergence from its chrysalis, the Monarch is extremely vulnerable to predators because it is not yet able to fly.

— J OURNEY N ORTH

A t the breakfast table one morning in November, Charlotte announced to Dr. Taylor and his father, “Anne and I are planning quite the celebration tonight, and you are both invited.”

“What is the occasion?” Dr. Taylor asked.

“Your birthday, silly!” Anne laughed.

“Today is your birthday, is it not?” Charlotte asked tentatively.

“Well, I guess it is. I had quite forgotten.”

“I hope neither of you will have to work late tonight.”

“I’m going to help make a cake!” Anne announced proudly. “Just like the one Missy made for my birthday!”

“How nice. I shall look forward to it.”

“As will I,” John Taylor said. “Though I’m afraid I haven’t a gift for you, my boy. Unless you’d like a new ear horn or scalpel?” He winked.

“Do not trouble yourself, Father. You and I have gotten out of the habit of celebrating birthdays.”

John Taylor folded his napkin and stood. “Well, I’m off. I promised Mrs. Krebs I’d be in early this morning.”

His son turned his head to watch him leave. “If I did not know better, I would think he was taken with her.” He looked at Charlotte and smiled self-consciously. “And I would recognize the symptoms.”

Charlotte bit back a smile. “Do finish your breakfast, Anne, so we can begin our preparations.”

Porridge dripped off Anne’s chin as she said eagerly, “We are to wear our new gowns, and you must wear your green coat, Papa.”

“Try not to speak with your mouth full, dear,” Charlotte admonished.

Daniel bowed his head toward his daughter. “As my lady wishes.”

“Do you not think Papa most handsome when he wears his green coat?”

Charlotte smiled, clearly embarrassed. “I ... yes, quite handsome.”

“Well, then”—he held her gaze—“your wish is my command.”

How differently it all might have gone had he not stopped by the club on his way home.

He had left the Manor sufficiently early, leaving Thomas and his father on duty, and only dropped by in hopes of finding Preston, who had not shown up to relieve them as scheduled.

His father had insisted Daniel go home and not miss his own birthday celebration.

He would stay until Preston arrived. Not seeing his colleague in the club, Daniel turned to leave.

That’s when he saw Lester Dawes. He might not have stopped at all, had his old acquaintance not looked so miserable, hands holding up his head, several empty tumblers before him.

“Dawes?”

The man looked up, bleary-eyed and desolate. “Hello, Taylor.”

“What’s wrong, man? You look dreadful.”

“You haven’t heard?”

Daniel shook his head.

“Lost a patient.”

“I am sorry. I know how that feels.”

“It’s a double blow. I hate to be mercenary, but this will be death to my practice as well. It is always a gamble, having prominent patients.”

“May I ask who?”

His answer hit Daniel like a fist. The sensation a sickening combination of true grief and pity along with several self-centered emotions far less noble.

“I am sorry,” Daniel mumbled again, and ducked out of the room before the man could respond.

When he arrived home, Charlotte was there to greet him. “Happy birthday,” she said shyly, adding tentatively, “Daniel.”

She was dressed in a lovely rose-colored gown with a flattering, feminine neckline.

Her hair was arranged in a pretty crown of curls, several framing her face, now flushed and expectant.

He did not miss the intentional use of his Christian name, her attention to her appearance, nor the blush in her cheeks.

No, he had not misread the situation. Her feelings had changed and she wanted him to know it.

He should be relieved and pleased, but he felt a nauseating ball of dread in his stomach instead.

Why did such a thing have to happen now?

When she was finally ready to receive his affection?

It seemed to Daniel a cruel and ironic twist of fate.

“You look beautiful,” he said, an empty sadness stealing over him.

She smiled at his words, but her smile quickly faltered. “Is something wrong?”

He opened his mouth to answer. Must he tell her? Now? Could he not wait until ... until there was an understanding between them?

“Happy birthday, Papa!” Anne shouted, running out to meet him, throwing her arms around his legs. “Doesn’t Missy look like a princess?”

“Yes. She does. As do you.” He smiled at his daughter, touching her fancy, curled hair and taking in her bright blue frock. “Your new gown is almost as lovely as you are.”

Anne giggled and pulled his hand, urging him to follow her into the dining room. “I helped make the cake, but I fear the icing is rather a mess.”

Daniel breathed a silent sigh. A mess indeed .

While Anne knelt on a chair at the dining room table, happily poking little sugar petals onto the icing of the cake, Charlotte joined Daniel in the sitting room. “Daniel, are you sure nothing is amiss?

I hope I have not offended you.”

“Offended me, how?”

“Well, by my presumption, my familiarity in arranging this birthday celebration. If I have overstepped—”

“I am the opposite of offended, Charlotte. I am pleased by your ... familiarity, as you say. In my mind, you are part of this family already.”

Even with her head bowed, he could see the pleasure in her pink cheeks and concealed smile.

“Charlotte,” he said, suddenly intense, “my feelings for you, my intentions, remain unchanged.”

Her head rose and she looked at him shyly, expectantly. How lovely she was, how fondly was she regarding him. Would it be so wrong to postpone the news that would wipe that look from her face forever?

“If your feelings,” he added more gently, “were no longer hindered ...”

“They are no longer hindered, Daniel,” she whispered.

“Then I would ask you ... what I have longed to ask you ...”

She smiled warmly, her body leaning toward him ever so slightly.

What agony this was. To be so close to her, to realize she was ready to accept him. But only because she remained in sweet ignorance.

He winced, then said, “But I cannot.”

Her smile fell. “What has happened? Have I done something to ...?”

“You have done nothing. Nothing but make us all completely devoted to you. You have not only become beloved mother to my daughter, but beloved daughter to my father as well.”

“But you do not share their ... affliction?”

“Oh, I am indeed afflicted, Charlotte. But...”

“But?”

“I am afraid I have dreadful news. I thought to wait until after ...” He waved his hand in direction of the dining room but guessed they both knew he included much more than the festivities in his statement. “But I find in good conscience that I cannot keep it from you a moment longer.”

“What is it?”

“Your cousin Katherine is dead.”

Charlotte gasped.

“She died in childbirth, her infant with her.”

Charlotte sat, stunned, her hand covering her mouth.

After a few silent moments, Daniel rose. Charlotte still sat there, unmoving. She did not ask him to stay, nor assure him the news had no bearing. He knew too well that it had changed everything.

Although society did not expect women to attend funerals, Charlotte knew Katherine would expect her to be there.

So, dressed in black, her face concealed behind a veiled hat and umbrella, Charlotte walked slowly past ranks of rain-speckled headstones, toward her cousin’s gravesite.

She watched from a distance as four black horses with black feathers on their heads brought the hearse into the churchyard, followed by a long procession of mourners.

Six strapping men, William Bentley among them, carried the lacquered coffin to its final resting place.

Charlotte slowly joined the rear of the congregation.

In front of her, the mourners wore black—the few other women in black gowns and mantles and swarms of men bearing black armbands and gloves.

There were so many people in attendance that she barely caught a glimpse of Charles through the crowd and didn’t see Edmund at all.

The church bells tolled their sharp death knell, and with each clang, Charlotte felt her heart bang against her ribs.

Poor lamb , she thought, the epitaph seeming to fit not only Edmund but Charles, and even Katherine as well.

Her cousin wouldn’t be there to nurture the little boy she loved, nor see him grow to manhood.

And being so young, how much would Edmund even remember of the woman he’d called mother—a year from now?

Five years hence? Charlotte’s mother-heart grieved for Katherine’s loss as well as that of Charles and Edmund.

The same priest who’d conducted Katherine’s churching only a few years ago now officiated over her funeral.

From her place in the back, Charlotte could not make out much of anything he said.

A talented soprano sang a hymn so beautiful and haunting that the mourners wept more under its power than the cleric’s words preceding it.

Why do we mourn departing friends? Or shake at death’s alarms? ’Tis but the voice that Jesus sends, To call them to His arms... .

Charlotte wept as well.

She had not planned to go to Katherine’s home in Manchester Square with the honored gentry, close friends, and family members who were traditionally invited to do so after the ceremony, to partake of a cold supper and a “cheerful glass.” But she felt oddly compelled to do so.

She was family, after all, a close cousin to Katherine.

Tradition would expect her to wear black mourning clothes for six weeks for a first cousin; would it not expect her to pay her respects in person as well?

Frankly, she was surprised she had the courage to ring the bell.