Page 14 of Waiting for Love (The Taverstons of Iversley #3)

T he months between harvest and planting were said to be quiet times in the countryside, but not so far as Benjamin could see.

As the old year passed into the new, he had to balance the books for 1813, pay overdue bills to clean the slate, and begin planning purchases for the spring.

In addition, the rector of the parishes of Fremont and Bellwether passed on, and the livings, Jasper’s to dispose of, had been promised to the curate over in Ipswich. On a blustery January day, Benjamin was tasked with delivering the mixed-blessing tidings. To his surprise, the curate, Mr. Tibury, was no older than Reg. More surprising still, he bore an unsettling resemblance to…well, to Jasper. He had the Taverston bright-blue eyes and strong chin. That would explain why so plum a living, two livings, would be given to so young a clergyman. But Benjamin could not, for his life, figure out where to place him on the family tree. Which meant it was none of his business.

He spent a good deal of time at the steward’s cottage. His cottage. Out beyond the folly, it was located a good mile and a half from the house. Constructed solidly of old yellow stone, it had a boxy, compact appearance, having been built upward rather than outward. Three stories and a cellar. The windows had all been shattered. Too tempting a target for any local boys, Benjamin suspected. The woodwork had rotted, but the stonework was as sturdy as a castle keep. With Jasper’s permission, he hired several of the tenants to work on the place, who appreciated the opportunity to earn a few pence over the winter. Cleaning out the cobwebs and vermin nests made a world of difference. He was bringing in a glazier from Barring Downs to replace the windows. Willy Pyle would handle the carpentry. Benjamin thought he might hire Everet to paint the interior when it was time. And maybe ask Jack Fowler to start a garden near the well.

Very likely, he and Hannah and Miss Jamison could move to the cottage come spring. Then he would have to hire a cook and a housemaid or two. That expense would be his responsibility. He would no longer be able to hoard the greater portion of his salary to build a nest egg for Hannah, which worried him. He didn’t know what life held for her. Marriage, he hoped. A dowry would help. Possibly she would have to learn a trade. He understood this. Yet he wished he could give her the moon and the stars.

Tomorrow, he would bring her to see the cottage. They could stop at the folly on the way, and she could play among the ruins. But now, he should return to the house. Jasper had received a packet of reports from his man-of-business, and he wanted Benjamin to look them over.

He rode Goose, who was quickly becoming his favorite mount. She was spirited and sometimes had a mind of her own, but she was not difficult. With Hannah though, he would only ride the more placid Bluebell.

His mind skittered from thought to thought as he rode. He knew Hannah enjoyed spending time with “Olly.” They met down at the Dower house—Benjamin was not such an unreasonable grouch that he would forbid Miss Jamison from occasionally taking tea with the dowager and her daughter. Moreover, whatever games Olivia played with her tired her out and she slept more soundly at night on those days. There was no more mention of gold or pirates, so he had no reason to complain.

Since Christmas, he’d seen very little of Olivia. He supposed she was keeping Georgiana company, spending time with the other ladies, paying her calls on the tenants. Mostly she seemed to be locked away for hours on end with Mrs. Byrd and Miss Jilly Byrd. What a ridiculous name: Jilly Byrd. And a sillier girl he’d never met. All the girl talked about was ribbons and buttons.

Of course, Olivia was preparing for her London debut. And everyone else was preparing to welcome Reg and Georgiana’s little one into the world. The Duchess of Hovington had arrived a week ago to be with her daughter. With all the activity, it was easy for a steward to fade from sight.

Upon reaching the stables, he left Goose with one of the hands, then walked up the soggy path to the house. From a distance, he noticed a figure huddled on the steps in the cold. Olivia.

Forgoing the path, he made fast straight across the lawn. Olivia was wrapped in a blanket. Not her pelisse. And she was weeping.

“Olivia, what is it?” He ran up the steps.

“Oh, Benjamin.” She choked a great gulping sob. “She lost the baby.”

His legs went soft, and he collapsed beside her.

“How?” he asked. “There was no indication…how?” Why? “My God. Poor Georgiana.”

“Not Georgiana.” Olivia shook her head rapidly. “Vanessa.”

“Vanessa? But—”

Olivia was crying too hard to make any sense. Benjamin put an arm around her and drew her against his shoulder. She was shivering, too, without seeming to realize it, so he pulled the blanket tighter and Olivia closer. For several minutes, she continued to cry. Eventually her tears subsided into hiccupping bursts as she caught her breath.

“We didn’t know. No one knew,” Olivia managed. “Until Jasper came running down the stairs, white as a ghost, yelling for a doctor.”

Benjamin didn’t know what to say. What to ask. “The doctor came?”

“Yes, but it was too late.” Olivia rubbed a hand across her swollen eyes. “Jasper is with her. Mama went to talk with her, but not for long. She doesn’t want to see anyone.” She sniffled and pressed a corner of the blanket against her nose.

“Here.” Benjamin drew back to pull a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and put it in her hand. For a moment, she just stared at it. Then the awful memory of the last time he’d given her his handkerchief flashed into his brain, and it was as though they were reliving the moment.

Olivia made a sound. Not quite an “oh.” He thought she would cry again, but instead, she snorted, then wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve.

“It is all just so awful. I know having babies can be risky but…” She trailed off.

Benjamin was thunderstruck. “Is Vanessa all right?” he demanded. “Physically, I mean?” Jasper couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. It would destroy him.

“The doctor says she will be. She didn’t…” Olivia drew a breath. “She didn’t lose too much blood, and the baby was very small. Mama said…” Her face reddened. “Other things. I don’t know.”

Female things. Benjamin didn’t want to know.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” he asked, because it seemed the thing people always asked.

Olivia frowned. “They didn’t say. Which must mean it was a girl.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Her voice broke. “Girls are useless, except for having boys.”

“ What? ”

“Jasper wants a child, but he needs an heir. People will try to console them with ‘at least it wasn’t a son.’ People always say the stupidest things.”

Benjamin chewed on this. And found himself even more worried he’d say a stupid thing. Still… “Girls are not useless. How can you say that?”

“Not all girls. I don’t mean Hannah. But for an earl, a daughter is useless.”

“Your father doted on you!”

She sighed raggedly. “Papa could afford to dote on me. His line was well secured.” Her lips pressed tight. Then she murmured, “Peers’ lines must be secured.”

He regarded her steadily for a long moment. She wasn’t looking for pity. She was stating a fact. If she had been the firstborn, the earl would have been…disappointed.

Oh, Olivia. His heart pulsed as he heard what else she was saying. She would have to give some peer a son. Or die trying. What possible reassurances could he give in the face of that ?

Finally, he asked, “Has this frightened…Georgiana?”

“I don’t think frightened. Reg says she’s sad. I haven’t talked to her. Alice and the duchess are with her. But I—I didn’t feel right barging in too.”

Ah, poor Olivia. He knew how that felt, being the odd man out, unsure of one’s welcome. He gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze and felt her shivering.

“You should go back inside. It’s cold out here.” He helped her to stand and fussily tucked the blanket more tightly under her chin. “Is there anything I can do?”

She tossed her head. “I wish I knew.”

“I mean, for you.”

There was a long silence before she murmured, “You have.”

*

Only back in the south wing did Benjamin realize how familiar he’d been, calling her Olivia, calling everyone by their given names. It had been unthinking. But doing otherwise would have been unfeeling, which was worse.

Benjamin explained to Miss Jamison what had happened and asked her to keep Hannah confined to their apartments for the next day or two. She had been exploring the music room and the conservatory, but Benjamin didn’t know if the sight of a rambunctious toddler was what any of the Taverstons needed.

Not that it seemed likely they would stumble across her. As Benjamin made his way to Jasper’s study to read over the reports he’d been asked to look at, he found the whole of Chaumbers to be tomblike. Only servants were stirring, and they tiptoed and spoke in whispers. As best he could tell, no tea or dinner had been served. Everyone must be eating in their chambers. He hoped Olivia wasn’t still alone.

The reports were lengthier than he expected. Jasper’s man-of-business, Mr. Tate, recommended selling his interest in a few things and investing in others. Benjamin yawned, flipping the pages. There was something surreal about so much money floating about in such nebulous piles. Benjamin preferred working with tangible things. Estates. Property. Things he could see and touch. Fortunately for Jasper, Tate seemed to have a handle on investments. There was nothing wrong with the figures and the strategies seemed sound. He didn’t know what kind of advice Jasper wanted from him.

He tidied the sheaf of paper and slipped it all back into its case. Then heard the door swing open behind him. As he turned to look, Jasper walked in.

“I’m so sorry,” Benjamin said, rising. “So very sorry.”

Jasper nodded. His hair was oddly matted, and his eyes were puffy. He was in shirtsleeves and wrinkled trousers with no waistcoat or jacket. Benjamin had never seen him looking so bad. He took plodding steps forward, then slumped into his chair.

Benjamin cleared his throat. “How is Vanessa?”

Jasper mumbled, “Sleeping. The doctor gave her something.”

“And how are you?”

Jasper took a long time considering. Then he said, “Awful.”

“I know this is a stupid question, but can I do anything?”

Again, Jasper was quiet for several moments before saying, “Did you read Tate’s reports?”

“Yes. It all seems sound.”

Jasper nodded. He stared straight ahead. Then, abruptly, he threw his elbows onto the desk and lowered his head into his hands. His shoulders trembled. Benjamin felt he should not be there. Not watching Jasper weep. But he couldn’t get up and leave. So he just sat dumbly, wishing he could think what to say.

The door opened again. Reg walked in. He tossed a nod at Benjamin but made straight for Jasper, who had raised his head at the sound. Reg sank to his haunches and wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders, murmuring. Jasper responded only with nods or short shakes of his head.

After a minute or so, Reg let go and stood. He went to the liquor cabinet to fetch a bottle—a near-full bottle of brandy. He poured three hefty drinks. He waited for Jasper to throw his back, then Reg downed his. Benjamin followed suit. Reg poured three more and picked up his glass.

And Jasper laughed. He actually laughed.

“Reg, I appreciate it, but you can’t. You really can’t. I’ll have to carry you down the hall.” He rubbed his face. “God, I need a handkerchief. I left mine in my jacket.

Reg pulled one from his pocket. Jasper wiped his face. Then sipped from his brandy. Then ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ve only known for a fortnight. I suspected, but she wasn’t sure until two weeks ago.”

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse,” Reg said. “You barely had time to be joyful.”

“She’s been so frightened.”

“Frightened?”

“She lost one before. Henry’s. At Corunna.”

She’d been a war widow, Benjamin recalled. Henry must have been the husband.

Reg gasped. “Oh, God, Jasp. God. I’m so sorry. She must be devastated.”

“I don’t know how to tell her it’s all right. She feels so much pressure.” Jasper slammed his hand on the desk. “I hate this!”

Reg looked sick. And clearly, he didn’t know what to say to that either.

Vanessa was not only mourning the loss of a babe, but worried she could not give Jasper the heir he needed. And how was Jasper to give vent to his own sorrow without making Vanessa feel worse?

Stil, Benjamin couldn’t stop his thoughts from returning to Olivia. For all Jasper “needed” an heir, he had two perfectly capable brothers. The Taverston line was well secured. And even if it weren’t, Jasper would always love and cherish Vanessa, son or no son. Not every lady was so fortunate.

They sat in a very brooding silence. Then Jasper asked, “How is Georgiana?”

“She feels terrible. I mean, she’s fine, but she feels terrible.”

“Vanessa says she doesn’t want to…she doesn’t want Georgiana, or you, to feel you have to…to hide your joy. She’s happy for you. She is.”

Reg nodded. Then Benjamin asked, because the question kept gnawing at him after having seen her so lost and alone, “Where is Olivia? Is anyone with her?”

Jasper looked startled. “I don’t know.”

“She’s with Georgiana,” Reg said. He threw up his hands. “They are all in there with Georgiana. It’s a veritable clucking henhouse. And they all want to descend upon Vanessa.”

“Tomorrow.”

“All right. I’ll let them know. Not yet.”

Jasper nodded, then turned to Benjamin. “I do have a request for you. Would you ride into the village and find Mr. Leighton? Reverend Brindle is away, but Vanessa likes the curate better anyway. We’ll need a burial. Private. Tell him very private. Here. Not tomorrow, I don’t think. The next day.”

“I’ll go right away.”

“Tomorrow morning is soon enough.”

Reg put a hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “I’d best go back to Georgiana if you are all right.”

“Yes. Go. And please tell Georgiana…you know.”

“I will.” He looked to Benjamin. “Good night. I suppose I will see you in the morning.”

Benjamin started to rise, but Jasper said, “Wait a moment, Benjamin. I had some questions about the reports, if you will.”

He sat back down. Jasper waited with one eye on the door until it closed behind Reg.

Benjamin said, “Mr. Tate’s recommendations are reasonable. I—”

“The hell with Tate. I intend to drink that bottle dry. Will you stay?”

Benjamin nodded. “I’ll help.” Here at last was one thing he could do.