Not Quite a Wife by Mary Jo Putney
Laurel winced. “I’m so glad I was passing by! Since you’re a lady’s maid, it shouldn’t be hard for you to find a position. One that’s away from Bristol, where you won’t risk being seen by Hardwick.”
Violet nodded vigorously. “Please! Any place where I can work and be safe.”
Guessing the girl would feel very disoriented after the exhilaration of being free wore off, Laurel said, “It won’t be easy to leave your old life behind.”
The girl sighed. “My mother died not long ago, my other friends are back in Jamaica. Mrs. Bertram was a good mistress, but I can’t go back to her or to Jamaica or I’ll be a slave again. I will build a new life here.”
“You’ll do well, Violet. I know it.” As they neared Herbert House, Laurel thought of how swiftly the dock workers had offered help when needed. Would they look at her the same way if they knew she was a countess? If they knew, would they be awed, or resentful? Neither reaction appealed to her.
She smiled wryly as she led Violet to Zion House and introduced her to Anne Wilson, the matron. Not only was it a blessing that Laurel had been in the right place to help the girl, but the incident had pushed her own problems away for a time.
Chapter 7
With a sigh of relief, Laurel let herself into the quiet of Herbert House. Daniel was leading a service this evening and Betsy Rivers usually took her meals across the garden in Zion House. All the Herbert servants lived there, and they came to the house daily for training in household skills so they could earn a living elsewhere.
As a result, service in the house was erratic, based on the level of training of the current servants, but in the evenings, Laurel did have privacy. Tonight supper awaited her in the kitchen, and the current cook in training was quite decent. Walking had made Laurel hungry, so after consuming a substantial meal, she took tea up to the music room. Playing the piano was as soothing as praying in the New Room chapel.
She chose the most powerful, emotional music she knew: Bach and Handel and Beethoven, interspersed with hymns and folk ballads about tragic love affairs.
She’d just finished a crashing rendition of Martin Luther’s hymn “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” when her brother’s amused voice said, “Judging by what you’re playing tonight, you’ve had a difficult day.”
She wasn’t ready to discuss her likely pregnancy, but the story of Violet Smith was enough to justify the music. “I was walking by the port when I ran into a horrible man called Hardwick. He and a servant were trying to force a slave girl he’d just bought out to his ship. I told him he couldn’t, the good stevedores of Bristol backed me up, and she’s now safe at Zion House.”
Her brother stared, appalled. “Good God, Laurel, were you out of your mind? You could have been killed!”
“Someone had to do something,” Laurel pointed out. “In another minute or two, Violet would have been on a dinghy heading out to the ship and a life of slavery.”
“You have guardian angels lined up at your back,” Daniel said, shaking his head.
“Stevedores were more useful in this case,” she said lightly.
Her brother was not amused. “Interfering with a slave owner would be dangerous in any circumstances. The fact that it was Captain Hardwick is even worse. He’s a notorious brute, and is probably trading in slaves even though it’s illegal.”
Laurel frowned. “No wonder he seemed dreadful. I shall pray that the Royal Navy catches him in the act and ends his wickedness.”
“The ocean is large and the ungodly own fast sailing ships,” her brother said, his voice grim. “The illegal trade will not be ended soon, I fear.”
“We can’t end all the world’s troubles,” she said softly. “But today, one young woman was saved from slavery. Violet is an experienced lady’s maid, so she’ll do well.”
Daniel looked thoughtful. “Perhaps she can train some of the girls at Zion House who would like to pursue that kind of work. Would Miss Smith be willing?”
“Very likely. She’s grateful for being freed.”
“And so she should be!” Daniel smiled at her fondly. “I know you’re a certified saint, but please don’t interfere with slavers unless you have stevedores at your back.”
The warmth of his expression disintegrated her resolution to conceal her condition for a few more days. “Daniel,” she blurted out. “I—I’m pregnant.”
Her brother stared, as shocked as if she’d struck him with a club. “You’re what?”
She could see him struggling to understand how his virtuous sister might be increasing, so she said swiftly, “I’m sorry, I should have started at the beginning. One evening when you were in Wales, Mr. Potter and Mr. Larkin from the chapel brought in a man who had been beaten and robbed and left unconscious in an alley. It was Kirkland.”
Her brother’s expression flattened to granite. “Kirkland! Why the devil did they bring him here?”
“He was found nearby and there was nothing to identify him, so naturally they thought of the infirmary.”
A doctor to the bone, Daniel asked, “How badly was he injured?”
“No bones broken, but a number of lacerations and bruises. He was also having a fever attack, which was probably why he looked vulnerable to his attackers.”
“So he was brought in here, you treated his injuries, and he ravished you,” Daniel said grimly. “Or was it as much seduction as force?”
“Neither!” She paused to marshal her thoughts, unsure whether Daniel would understand. He’d loved Rose Hiller, but she didn’t think he’d ever experienced the mad, consuming passion that she and James had shared. “He was out of his head from the fever. I managed to get quite a bit of Jesuit’s bark tea down him and that stopped the fever before the attack was full blown. But while he was feverish . . .”
She hesitated again. “He seemed to be hallucinating about me. When I tried to calm him . . . one thing led to another.”
Looking pained, Daniel said, “I don’t need to know the details. So after this brief reconciliation of bodies if not souls, did he turn around and walk away? Or did you throw him out as soon as he could walk?”
“Neither,” she said again. “When the fever broke and he recovered his wits, he didn’t remember what had happened.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “When he woke, I was at my primmest and most virtuous, so if he did remember anything, he probably thought it was a hallucination. He told me the name of his inn, I sent word to his people to collect him, and we said polite good-byes.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d been here?”
“It didn’t seem important.” She paused. “And I didn’t want to upset you. I know how you feel about him.”
Not commenting on that, her brother asked, “Are you sure now that you’re increasing? It’s very early.”
“Yes, but I’m as sure as I can be. I feel . . . different.” She sighed. “While we were married, I kept hoping to conceive. I was beginning to think perhaps I couldn’t. It never occurred to me that one brief encounter could produce a child.”
“Once is all it takes,” he said acerbically. “What do you want to do? You can’t deny your husband knowledge of his heir, but if you wish to keep Kirkland out of your life, you can retire to some distant place before you begin to show, have the baby quietly, and put it into Kirkland’s care with a good wet nurse.”
She stared at him. “Do you think I will give up my own child?”
“No, but it’s the one sure way to preserve your independence and the life you live here. If it’s a boy, Kirkland will have his heir and you’ll never have to see him again.” Daniel shook his head. “You face a difficult choice, Laurel. I can’t imagine you giving up your child completely, but keeping the baby means you will be unable to avoid him.”
Her brother was right, damn him. Her jaw tightened. “I am not giving my child away to simplify my own life. I plan to tell people I have an estranged husband and we attempted reconciliation. If it’s a girl, he’ll have no need to see me. E
“You might find that Kirkland is more interested in his offspring than you hope,” Daniel warned. “But there is no need to inform him right away. The first three months can be precarious. Perhaps the pregnancy will not hold.”
Laurel pressed a hand to her belly, wishing her brother wasn’t a doctor and notoriously honest. She knew from her work in the infirmary that many pregnancies failed in the early stages, but she didn’t want to think about that. “I’ll write Kirkland to let him know and tell him to stay away. I’ll keep him informed of anything he needs to know.” She swallowed. “That will not be an easy letter to write.”
Daniel frowned. “Do you want me to go to London and tell him in person?”
She blinked. “You would do that? You hate Kirkland!”
“But I love you,” he said calmly. “Not only do I want to make this easier for you, but I want to see what kind of man he’s become.”
“So you can protect me? That shouldn’t be necessary. He’s always been a perfect gentleman. I’ve often wondered if he regretted marrying an inexperienced country girl.” Her smile was brittle. “He never attempted to change my mind when I left.”
Daniel’s frown returned. “Laurel, why did you leave Kirkland? You were so distraught that I never wanted to probe, but it’s time you explained. Since you’re going to have his child, you’ll have to have some correspondence with him. Our parents thought he’d been unfaithful, but Kirkland is a stiff-necked moralist. It’s hard to imagine him committing adultery under any circumstances, especially not so soon after marrying. But . . .” His voice trailed off.
She looked down and saw that her hands were locked in her lap, the knuckles white. “But what? I presume you have a theory.”
“Your horrified silence suggested there might be some issue in the bedchamber.” He hesitated, choosing his words. “Perhaps after six months of. . . normal marital relations, he revealed some vile perversion that sent you screaming into the night.”
Once she wouldn’t have understood what he was implying, but after years of working in the infirmary and Zion House, she’d become almost as unshockable as her brother. “Nothing like that,” she said, her voice wooden. There had never been problems in their bed. Barely able to get the words out, she whispered, “I left because . . . because I saw him murder a man.”‘
Daniel caught his breath. “Under what circumstances? I presume he didn’t kill someone at random.”
“We’d just returned from our honeymoon and were settling into his London house,” she said haltingly. “He was working late on his correspondence. It was almost midnight, so I went downstairs to see when he might retire.”
She stared at her knotted hands, remembering her impish desire to coax her husband to their bed. It was the first time since their marriage that they hadn’t retired at the same time, and she’d missed him. “I opened the door to his study and saw a man stealthily crossing the room behind him. The man was a big, muscular fellow who was roughly dressed, and he looked threatening. I’d never seen him before, so I said something like, ‘James, look out!’ ”
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could obliterate what happened next from her brain. “James rose and spun around and without a word, he grabbed hold of the man and . . . and broke his neck. I could hear the bones snapping.” She shuddered as she remembered the limp deadness of the body that crumpled down onto the Oriental carpet. “It was all over in seconds.”
Daniel’s face echoed her shock. “Was his life in danger?”
“It didn’t seem to be. The man didn’t speak and I didn’t see a weapon.” She swallowed convulsively. “But horrible as it was to see murder done, worse was seeing James’s expression. He looked up at me, and he was . . . a stranger. A monster. I saw no remorse or shock. He looked . . . evil. I’d been sharing my bed with a soulless murderer.” Her bed, and her body. The vile thought had made her ill. “My husband was a man I didn’t know or want to know.”
“I see now why you left, and why you didn’t want to tell anyone.” Daniel stood, expression grim. “I’ll leave for London in the morning. I need to see his expression when he learns that you’re increasing. And if there is any doubt in my mind about him, I won’t let the devil come near you.”
Chapter 8
Someday the wars with France would end, but not yet. Kirkland worked through the latest reports from his agents, trying to find the source for a certain uneasiness he felt concerning the Royal Navy. His concentration was broken when his butler, Soames, entered, probably to remind him to eat. But when he glanced up, he saw that the servant was being followed by the glowering figure of Daniel Herbert.
Soames said apologetically, “The gentleman was most insistent about seeing you, my lord.”
Kirkland’s first reaction was pleasure. His friends had been his family when he was growing up, and he and Daniel had been very close. Losing him at the same time he lost Laurel had made the blow even more wrenching.
But Daniel looked ready to do murder, so pleasure was immediately swamped by fear. He rose, feeling ice in his veins. “That’s all right, Soames. Mr. Herbert and I are old schoolmates.”
The butler nodded and withdrew. As soon as the door closed, Kirkland asked harshly, “Has something happened to Laurel?”
Daniel’s brows rose. “Do you care?”
“Of course I care,” Kirkland snapped, thinking that for a man of God, Daniel could be damned supercilious. “Is she ill or injured?” Dear God, don’t let her be dead!
“In a manner of speaking.” The other man’s eyes narrowed. “She tells me that you were brought to the infirmary injured and feverish, and now she’s with child.”
The blow was even greater than the sight of Daniel. Kirkland felt as if a carriage had slammed him against a wall.
“If you ask whose it is, I will personally start breaking your bones,” Daniel added caustically. “She claimed you didn’t force her, but perhaps she was trying to prevent me from damaging you.”
“Don’t be a bloody fool,” Kirkland retorted, jolted from his numbness. “While I was at the infirmary, I had a vivid fever dream which . . . must not have been a dream.” He closed his eyes as the idea began to sink in. Laurel was with child. They’d made a child together. This changed—everything.
Warmth and wonder began to flow through him. “When I regained awareness, your sister did a magnificent job of pretending that she’d done nothing more than apply bandages and pour Jesuit’s bark tea down my throat. It never occurred to me that there had been anything more between us.”
“Obviously there was. She said to tell you that she’s in good health and she’ll inform you when the child is born. She wishes to raise it herself, but understands that if it’s a boy, you’ll eventually want to send him to school to be educated with other boys of his station.”
“Generous of her.” Mind buzzing, Kirkland headed toward the door. “I’ll tell Soames to send in a supper and make up a room for you. Feel free to stay for a few days and enjoy London.”
Daniel grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”
Kirkland jerked loose. “Where the devil do you think I’m going? To my wife.”
“Laurel does not want to see you,” Daniel snapped. “She was quite clear about that. There is no need for you to travel down to Bristol.”
Kirkland clamped down on his temper. “Do you think you can stop me? More than that, do you have the right to try?”
Daniel glared. “I’m her brother, and I will not see her hurt.”
Kirkland glared back. “I’m her husband, and I’ve never raised a hand to Laurel.”
Daniel’s voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Perhaps not, but when you separated, it tore Laurel’s heart out.”
Kirkland’s mouth twisted bleakly. “She left me, if you recall. Do you think her heart was the only one damaged?”
“Then stay out of my way.” Kirkland strode from the study, slamming the door behind him. Laurel was his wife, and it was time and past time they talked.
After a busy day at Zion House and the infirmary, Laurel found doing accounts rather soothing. Concentration was required to make columns of figures add up—why did the British have such an absurd system of money? Surely it would be easier if there were ten pennies to a shilling and ten shillings to a pound— and the task pulled her thoughts away from wondering how Kirkland had reacted to her brother’s news. She didn’t think the two would have a knock-down fight, but men could be very strange.
She’d calculated how long it would take Daniel to reach London, meet with Kirkland, and return home. Tomorrow seemed the earliest possible time.
She heard male footsteps approaching her office. Hoping her brother had made exceptionally good time, she set her pen aside and turned to greet him.
Kirkland! She froze, shocked to the marrow. Dark and broad-shouldered and vividly present, he had recovered from his injuries and fever and was as compelling as when she’d first met him.
No, more so. Though she’d thought of him as a man grown when they’d met, he’d only been twenty-one. Worldly enough to sweep her off her feet, but still desperately young, just as she had been.
Now that he was neither twenty-one nor ill, she could see how the intervening years had toughened and matured him. He’d always had an air of contained force, and now he was truly formidable. Her brother had had doubts about the marriage because Kirkland was a complicated man, and he’d become more complicated with the years.
He was also vastly more sophisticated than she was. That had been true when they’d married, and was even more true now. She couldn’t even guess at the things he’d seen and thought and done.