Page 43 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta

“How did she die, Anna?”

“Who, my Lady?” the girl asked.

“His Lordship’s wife.”

“Oh, the Lady Patricia?” Anna dropped her voice to a hushed tone. “My apologies for the informality—that was how she asked us to address her. It has been a hard habit to break. Although, we do not speak of her, my Lady.”

“I understand, Anna, but you may speak freely with me. I will break no confidences.”

Anna looked only half convinced, her young face drawn into lines of concern. “Childbirth, my Lady. She was taken from us in childbirth.”

Henrietta sighed heavily. Childbirth was very dangerous, indeed. Both for mother and baby. There had been many advancements in the field of medicine, but in the end, it seemed to be all in the hands of God. The mystery and the miracle were all the work of the Divine.

“It is indeed a great irony that in the giving of life comes death.”

“Yes, my Lady, but no life was given. They both died. The baby would not turn.”

“Breech.”

Anna nodded again. “The midwives tried and tried but nothing worked to turn him, so they sent for the doctor. By the time he arrived, it was too late.”

“I see. Was there much blood?”

Anna’s eyes grew large with surprise. “Yes, my Lady. So much blood. Have you attended many births, my Lady?” Anna asked.

“No,” Henrietta said with a smile. “I’ve just a curious nature, gleaning knowledge when and where I can.”

“You look a bit like her, you know.”

Surprise seized her. “Anna?”

“I, I’m sorry, my Lady,” the girl stammered. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Henrietta wanted immediate clarification, because if what she said was true, that explained a few things.

“Anna, please tell me what you mean. I look like the Marquess’ wife?”

“Some, my Lady.”

“You mean to say my appearance? My appearance resembles that of his first wife?”

Anna nodded slowly as Henrietta, equally slowly, tried to grasp the meaning of her words. She was at a loss.

“You share some features, my Lady.”

Now Henrietta’s mind raced, making her head spin. She sat down on the edge of the settee as she remembered their wedding day, the heavy veil that hid her face from him until the very last moment, his horrified reaction. He must have thought he’d seen a ghost.

Insult to injury.

Anna moved quickly to pour a glass of water for her mistress. “My Lady, you look unwell. Forgive me for speaking about these things. It was wrong for me and not my place.”

“You are forgiven, Anna,” Henrietta whispered, “but please do tell me, what features do we share?”

The girl hesitated. Henrietta tried to make her expression as reassuring as possible.

“You share her coloring, my Lady. She was fair like you, same blue eyes. Your hair is the same in shade, though hers was straight and thin. She had not your,” Anna paused as she looked over her mistress’s unruly curls in question, “mass.”

“I see. Anything else?”