Page 14 of Trusting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #3)

That night, we threw an impromptu engagement party for Lucinda and Harry. Alongside a joint of ham, Max opened a bottle of his finest wine from the cellar. He said he had been saving it for our ten-year anniversary, but as that was a while away, we might as well drink it now.

Lucinda could not really drink as she was breastfeeding and had to excuse herself a few times to go to the nursery. So Jane and I drank her share and went to bed giggly and tipsy. I woke up with quite a sore head.

After a late breakfast the next morning, we all gathered out front to bid farewell to Lucinda and Harry.

‘I will see you again, little one,’ she whispered to Freddie, whom I was holding in my arms. ‘Be good for your mama and papa.’ She kissed him on the cheek, and he clutched at her hair, entangling it in his fist and holding on tightly until Max sorted it out. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried not to see it as a sign.

But as Harry’s carriage moved off down the drive, Freddie let out a shocking bellow and started wiggling around in my arms. He knows, I thought tearfully. He knows his real mama has left him.

‘Quick, Fliss. Take him inside before Lucinda hears, and they turn the carriage around,’ said Max, and we hurried inside with our thrashing child.

Freddie settled down eventually and went to sleep in his cradle.

A short while later, the wet nurse arrived, and Max and I greeted her in the parlour. Rebecca—or Becky, as she asked us to call her—had come from an appointment in a nearby village. She said she was looking forward to a less demanding experience than feeding twin boys.

With her neat cap and dress, she seemed young, but knowledgeable. She asked me quite a lot of questions about my breastfeeding experience as I was showing her to the nursery, which I had to dodge. I simply said that it had been ‘painful’ and ‘not pleasant’ and that I was glad she was here.

‘Oh, ain’t he adorable?’ she said, peering into the cradle at the sleeping Freddie.

I hoped she would still think so once he woke up and found out that the bosom presented to him wasn’t Lucinda’s. Like Dorian, Freddie seemed to have particular tastes in women; and if the wet nurse wasn’t to his liking, I had a feeling he was going to let us know about it.

‘Do you ... do you have much trouble with babies rejecting your milk? After they’ve been feeding from the mother, that is,’ I asked her.

She glanced at me curiously. ‘Not usually. They’re too small to know the difference, ain’t they? A tit is a tit to them.’

‘Ah,’ I said, wincing at her coarse language. ‘Very true. Well, I will show you to your room and leave you to get settled in before Freddie wakes.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ she said, bobbing a curtsy.

I tried to imagine Max’s expression if Becky had proclaimed that ‘a tit is a tit’ to him and could not!

Crossing my fingers that Freddie would not know the difference, I told Jane that I wanted to stay near the nursery (as she had suggested going for a walk). She agreed that it was wise, and we retired to the parlour after luncheon.

I was half-heartedly reading a novel and Jane was writing something at her desk when there was a faint squeal from upstairs, which made my shoulders tense.

‘Did you hear that?’ I asked Jane.

‘Hmm? No?’

‘It sounded like a woman squealing,’ I said worriedly.

‘Relax, Flissy, it was nothing.’

A few minutes later, I heard it again, and my heart beat faster in my chest. There was definitely something occurring in the nursery. Should I go up and interfere or leave Becky to deal with it? She had a lot more experience than I in matters such as this .

Twenty minutes later, during which I heard several more squeals, each making my fingers tighten on my book, there came a knock at the door.

Please please please, God, don’t let Becky leave, I prayed.

Opening the door, she was standing there, her face inscrutable. ‘May I have a word, ma’am? It’s about Freddie.’

My heart sank. ‘Of course, please come in. This is my friend Miss Austen. Do you mind if she stays?’

Becky shook her head. ‘If you both don’t mind me speaking plainly.’

Oh no, I thought. More tit talk.

‘I have given Freddie his first feed, ma’am,’ she said.

‘And I am sure it went well,’ I replied brightly, hoping to dispel any forthcoming doom and gloom.

Becky’s lips pursed. ‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘He bit my tit—and not just once.’

My mouth hung open. ‘Bit you? But how is that possible? He doesn’t have any teeth!’

‘He ground his gums together. It was quite painful.’

‘I ... I am very sorry,’ I stammered. ‘That is naughty of him. But perhaps this is quite normal behaviour, and he will settle down once he gets used to you?’

Becky lifted her chin. ‘I ain’t never had a baby bite my tit before. I ain’t sure I want to expose my tits to him again. I now see why you wanted to employ my services so your own tits remained unbitten.’

Oh no, this is not good! She sounds like she is ready to pack her bags. I looked over at Jane, who seemed to be struggling not to laugh.

‘Help!’ I mouthed.

Jane straightened her face and said seriously, ‘Could he be teething perhaps? My mother said my youngest brother did that to her when he was feeding, but they gave him a wooden teething ring to chew on beforehand, and it seemed to help.’

Becky considered it. ‘He is very young for teeth to be coming through, but it is possible.’

‘I will talk to Max, and we will procure a teething ring immediately,’ I offered .

‘And perhaps, in the meantime, before the next feed, he could gnaw on a clean damp piece of cloth to ease his gums?’ Jane suggested.

Becky nodded. ‘All right, yes, we could try that.’

‘Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to prevent my son from’—I took a deep breath—‘mauling your tits.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Becky solemnly. ‘You and your friend have been most kind and considerate. I will go and acquaint myself with your housekeeper and ask her for a clean cloth.’

Becky took her leave, and when she had gone, Jane looked at me and smirked. She opened her mouth to say something, but I growled, ‘Don’t you dare!’ She snapped it shut and returned to her writing, a grin spreading across her face.

***

To my astonishment, Max produced a teething ring that very day, a fancy silver one.

‘It was my own when I was a baby,’ he said.

‘Gracious, why on earth do you still have it? Do you gnaw on it when you are feeling anxious?’

‘Of course not. Don’t be silly, dearest,’ he replied. ‘I have a small trunk full of my baby things in the attic. Mother gave them to me when I moved in.’

‘This is the first I’ve heard you mention it. What else is in there?’

‘Oh, nothing too much,’ he said dismissively.

But I insisted on him bringing the trunk down as there were probably other things that we could be using.

Max seemed a bit embarrassed but dutifully did as I requested. When I retired to our chamber that night, there was a sizeable wooden trunk resting on the bed, and he was nowhere in sight. ‘Small trunk? I think not!’ I muttered.

Assuming he had left it there for me to go through the things, I lifted the latch. My eyes widened when I saw what was inside. Wrapped in tissue paper and packed neatly in layers was a veritable treasure trove of clothing. It was like a baby shop in a box!

Carefully, I unwrapped the top item and discovered a tiny blue jacket embroidered with yellow ducks. It came with matching woollen breeches and little leather shoes. I could scarcely believe that tall, strapping Max had once worn this. He must have looked utterly adorable. I couldn’t wait to dress Freddie in it when he was older.

With some enthusiastic unwrapping, I soon had all the clothing in a neat pile on the bed. At the bottom of the trunk, I discovered some wooden toys, another silver teething ring (slightly bitten), and a rattle .

‘Will any of it do?’ said a voice behind me, and I turned to find Max standing in the doorway, looking sheepish. ‘The clothing is mostly hand-me-downs from my brothers, but it should still be suitable for when Freddie’s breeched.’

‘Yes, all of it will do,’ I replied firmly. ‘Why did you not tell me you had this hiding in the attic?’

He shrugged. ‘I knew you didn’t want children when we married, and I told you I didn’t either, which was the truth at the time. But if you knew I had a trunk full of baby things in the attic, it may have made you doubt what I had said. I didn’t want it to come between us.’

‘Oh, Max.’

He came over and picked up one of the shoes and placed it over his thumb. ‘This actually fitted me,’ he said wonderingly.

‘Did one of your brothers like ducks?’ I asked. ‘Most of the clothes have yellow ducklings embroidered on them.’

‘Tobias apparently did. His first word was “quack”.’

I giggled. ‘A little ironic that now he shoots them and eats them for his supper,’ I said wryly.

As Max helped me repack the items in the trunk to transfer to the nursery, I wondered how Lucinda was faring with her fiancé in York and whether Tobias had given his blessing for the match. He was quite fond of shooting, so I hoped Harry was staying on his good side!

A few days later, I found out as Lucinda sent me a letter (a long one!) updating us on her situation.

Dear Aunty Fliss,

We have arrived in York! Our journey was uneventful, so I won’t bore you with the details about the roads or the coaching inns. I confess I was a little upset at leaving Freddie and had some difficulty with leaking milk. I was worried about arriving with a wet chest as Papa would instantly know that something was amiss. Fortunately, Harry was able to procure some linen bandages, and I bound my chest. With my corset tightly laced, it worked well enough.

But then I missed Freddie so dreadfully that I could not stop crying. Harry did not admonish me in the slightest. He simply held me and told me it was natural to feel that way and let me cry. It made me love him doublefold! He said that he was not unaffected himself as Freddie is essentially his nephew. That was all quite confusing to think about. But now that I am at home, I am determined not to dwell on it. And I trust that the little mite is settling in with his mama, papa, and wet nurse. I look forward to hearing your news!

There is more to say about Harry and our engagement, but I am somewhat drained after writing this. So I will go for a walk and collect my thoughts.

Gracious! That was all quite emotional and difficult to read. Her letter started again further down the page.

I am back again after a refreshing walk with Harry to the meadow. You may be worried about me after reading the above, but rest assured, I am well. I just needed to write it down.

Now as for our engagement, I have good news and bad news. As expected, Papa was very suspicious when Harry arrived and demanded to know ‘what the devil’ he was doing here. Mama and I bustled Papa into his study as he was scaring the children and left Harry playing marbles with them on the floor in the drawing room.

Mama, bless her, calmed Papa down and said there was nothing untoward happening. That Mr Hart had been writing to me, and I to him, since we had met in Bath last year. And that he had called upon me in Godmersham, where our courtship had progressed under the watchful eye of the Austens.

I chuckled at that since the Austens had kindly turned a blind eye when Harry and Lucinda had been holed up in the cottage together very much alone! Propriety had flown out the window because of the unusual circumstances.

Papa huffed and puffed but could not exactly argue with that. But then he happened to see the ring because I had removed my gloves without thinking.

‘What is that on your finger, Lucy?’ he roared.

‘Harry proposed to me, Papa, when I was in Derbyshire with Uncle Max and Aunty Fliss. And I have accepted him.’ I said it as confidently as possible, but it was like facing a snorting bull. Papa has such a temper!

‘What? Engaged! Without even asking me for your hand?’ cried Papa. ‘This is outrageous! I will not allow it! Why did Max and Felicity not put a stop to it?’

‘Because Max and Felicity are sensible people, dear. And if they approve of Mr Hart, then we should too,’ said Mama.

Papa huffed and puffed some more. ‘Who is this man? Is he suitable?’

‘Mr Hart is very suitable, dear,’ said Mama. ‘He is a respectable London accountant, hailing from excellent stock. He is even set to inherit a castle in Somerset. For now, he earns a decent income, has a house in Holborn, and possesses a carriage, along with servants.’

‘And we love each other,’ I added, hoping that would soften the blow.

Papa’s eyes went dark. ‘Ask Mr Hart to come into the parlour. I wish to speak to him alone.’

With some trepidation, I left to convey the request to Harry, and Mama did a check to ensure that the study did not contain any knives or other sharp objects ...

Goodness, this was turning into a horror story !

Mama and I hovered outside the door, listening carefully for disturbing noises, and ready to burst in and save Harry in case Papa decided to strangle him. But there was only steady murmuring, which went on forever . Eventually, Harry emerged from the room, his face flushed and looking tired. But he smiled and whispered to me, ‘I have won him over. He has agreed.’

I could hardly believe it, and I still do not know how he did it as he said their conversation was confidential. But the upshot is: Harry has triumphed, and Papa has given us his blessing!

The only fly in the ointment is that he wishes us to have a long engagement. Why that is, he did not say. I think he is being stubborn. But it is perfectly fine as it will give us time to become better acquainted with each other and to prepare for our wedding. After some discussion, Harry and I have decided upon next January, Twelfth Night. I also suggested having a masquerade ball in the evening.

There is not enough room for everyone to stay here. So do you think you can persuade Uncle Max to host it? Of course, you can ask your family, the Austens, and anyone else you like !

I let out a loud whoop, and Jane looked over, startled.

‘Whatever is it, Flissy?’ There was too much to convey without letting her read it herself. But I managed, even in my excitement, to condense Lucinda’s letter down to four brief sentences.

‘Tobias has given his blessing! Lucy and Harry are getting married on Twelfth Night! She wants us to host the wedding! Everyone’s invited!’