Lady of Milkweed Manor (32 page)

Holding Anne, while he carried her heavier bag, she followed him up the stairs. Up on the first floor, he stepped into an adjoining room, the sitting room most likely. Charlotte hesitated on the landing.

She heard the happy, accented voice of Mrs. Taylor call out, “Daniel! Mon amour. Tu m’as manque!”

Charlotte stepped forward tentatively. From where she stood in the doorway, she could see Dr. Taylor’s back, his arms wide, and a brief view of Mrs. Taylor’s dark hair and bright smile before she disappeared into her husband’s embrace. Charlotte averted her gaze and stepped back into the corridor.

“I’ve missed you too. More than you know.”

“Have you brought her? Notrefille?”

“Of course, my love.”

Charlotte stepped forward just as Daniel reached the doorway. She handed Anne to him carefully but swiftly and again stepped back.

She heard Lizette Taylor’s gasp, followed by a moan that was at once joyful and mournful.

“Annette! Ma petite. Ma fille. Chair de ma chair.” The words were a warm litany of love and loss. “Tu es tres grand.” Charlotte heard laughter mixed with unseen tears. “Quel bebe dodu!”

“Yes, she has been well fed,” Daniel said.

“La nourrice?”

“Yes, my dear, I should like you to meet her.”

Again, Charlotte stepped forward, hands clammy, stomach churning. Her eyes were downcast as she entered the sitting room.

“May I introduce Miss Charlotte Lamb. Miss Lamb, my wife, Lizette.”

Charlotte glanced up quickly at Daniel’s wife. His beautiful wife.

“Madame Taylor,” the woman corrected pleasantly, slanting a look at her husband.

Charlotte looked back at the floor and bobbed a quick curtsy.

“Enchantee,” Charlotte mumbled, unsure whether her use of French would please her new employer or not.

When Charlotte darted another look, Mrs. Taylor smiled graciously at her. And with her smile she was even more beautiful. Charlotte could hardly reconcile this poised, exquisite woman with the howling, pitiful creature she had seen at the Manor Home.

Lizette Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “Have we met?” she asked.

Charlotte swallowed, instantly knowing the correct answer. “No, madame. We have not been introduced.”

Mrs. Taylor scrutinized her a moment longer, then turned her head.

“Marie!” she called out.

A maid with red-chapped cheeks entered, greying hair fringing out from her mobcap, “Oui, madame?”

“Please show Nurse to her chamber, would you?”

“Bien sur, madame.”

“Welcome, Miss Lamb,” Mrs. Taylor said. “I hope you will be happy with us.”

As do I, Charlotte thought.

Charlotte did not see Mr. John Taylor, Daniel’s father, that first evening. But the next morning, while she breakfasted alone, he joined her in the dining room and greeted her with a warm smile.

“Miss Smith! How good to see you again. Oh, forgive me it’s Miss Lamb now, if I understand correctly.”

“That’s right. And a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Taylor.”

He poured himself a cup of tea from the sideboard and sat across from her at the table.

“I was so sorry to hear of your loss.”

“I thank you, sir.”

Keeping his gaze on his teacup, he asked timidly, “It wasn’t anything I did, or failed to do, was it … ?”

“Oh no, of course not, Mr. Taylor. I could not have asked for a kinder, more skilled surgeon.”

“Thank you, Miss Lamb. You are most kind to say so. What a blessing for Anne to have been in your care. Where is the little mite this morning?”

“Still asleep. Tired from the journey, I suppose.”

“Yes, and what a boon to have you here with us. With three beautiful ladies under our roof, well, I don’t see how Daniel or I could be happier.”

She smiled at him. “And you, sir, how do you fare?”

“I miss the work, I must say. I take great pleasure in feeling useful, helping people, you know. I miss it.”

“Of course you do. Is there no hope of returning?”

“Daniel says not.” He looked about the room, as if to reassure himself they were alone. “That Miss Marsden has quite a hold on me, I’m afraid. Says if I ever practice again, she’ll bring me up on charges.”

“But certainly your word, sir, against such a woman’s …”

“That’s right, Daniel mentioned you met her.” He sighed. “It’s not her alone who holds power over me. It’s her patron, the father of her child, or so she says. Some rich and revengeful lord, to hear her tell it.”

“May I ask who the man is?”

“A Lord Phillip Elton.”

“Lord Elton …”

“You know him?”

“The name is familiar. I think he might be known to my uncle.”

John Taylor shook his head sadly. “Well-known and wellconnected, I’m afraid. There’s naught I can do. For myself I might risk it, but I would not endanger Daniel’s career any more than I have done already.”

“Would you mind, sir, if I made a few inquiries on your behalf?”

“I would not mind, but do not trouble yourself, my dear. I shall be happy again now that I have my granddaughter here at home.”

Charlotte and Anne were to share the nursery on the third floor. It wasn’t a large room, but it would do nicely. John Taylor hauled up an old screen from one of the exam rooms in the office downstairs. With her permission, he set it up between the door and Charlotte’s bed, to give her some semblance of privacy should one of the family wish to come in and pick up Anne, whose cradle was on the other side of the room.

During those first days they were all in London, Lizette Taylor seemed happy indeed. Happy, especially, to have her daughter back in her life. She held Anne for hours on end, bouncing her on her lap, speaking to her in French, singing French ditties and lullabies. Anne, for all her unfamiliarity with her own mother, was delighted with this enthusiastic attention and went happily from Charlotte’s arms to Lizette’s with little fuss. Charlotte was relieved for Mrs. Taylor’s sake.

Anne was slower to take to her grandfather, unaccustomed as she was to male attention beyond the occasional visits her father had made over their months in Crawley. But still, after the first few days, her lower lip no longer quivered when he spoke to her-though she watched him carefully whenever he came near.

Sensitive to how Daniel’s wife must be feeling, having missed those first precious months of her daughter’s life, Charlotte was careful to stay in the background as much as possible, only offer ing to take Anne when she began to fuss or it was clearly time for another feeding.

So she was not sure of the cause of Lizette Taylor’s growing moodiness.

“You take her, Miss Lamb, I feel a headache coming on,” she began to say nearly once a day. Or, “There you are, back to Nurse. Ta mere must lie down and rest.”

The spring that year was gloomier than usual, and during the last half of April it rained five out of every seven days. Such weather could make the cheeriest person morose, Charlotte thought.

Mrs. Taylor began spending hours in the sitting room alone, reclining on the settee, staring off into nothingness. Often she would neglect to raise the shades in the morning, or to light a lamp when darkness fell. With only one servant about the place, there was often no one to do it for her. Charlotte helped as much and as quietly as she could. She prayed as well.

“I am worried about Lizette,” Daniel’s father said quietly as the two men sat in the dining room over lukewarm tea. Gone were the days of after-dinner port for this household.

“As am I,” Daniel confided. “I have been wondering if a change of scenery might do her good. I’ve been offered a seaside cottage for a few months.”

“Where?”

“The south coast. In France she lived by the sea.”

“But … the Manor Home-what of your work there?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I can find someone to take my place for a time. I know how important the Manor is to you, but I can only do so much.”

“It is important, Daniel. It is my life’s work.”

“It was your life’s work, Father.”

Daniel saw the light dim in his father’s eyes and immediately regretted his words. “Again, I ask your forgiveness, Father. I have no right to take my exhaustion out on you.”

“You are distraught, son. I understand. I know I have disappointed you. Truth is, I have disappointed myself. I have been weak not the brother I should have been, not the father I should have been, and not the surgeon I should have been….”

“Father …”

“But I have done some good. I have. Mothers who would have died, lived. Children too. That is why the Manor Home is so important. Promise me-keep the place going if you can. If not for me, for your poor aunt Audrey-God rest her soul.”

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, the guilt pouring over him as it always did when his father mentioned Aunt Audrey-a woman Daniel had never known. His father’s sister had died as a young woman in a disreputable lying-in hospital. Until recent years the standards of care and cleanliness at such facilities meant fatalities were all too common. It was in his sister’s honor that John Taylor had joined forces with other surgeons, physicians, and charity groups to establish the Manor Home for Unwed Mothers in the first place. Of course that was before he fell into disrepute.

“The Manor is not going to close if I take a leave.”

“We cannot be sure. Did you not mention donations were down?”

“Yes, and expenses rising.” Daniel ran a weary hand over his face. “I shall see what I can do. Perhaps I can carry on at the Manor during the week and travel to the coast at the weekend.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” John Taylor’s hand trembled as he brought his teacup to his lips, then returned it to its saucer, untasted. “When my time comes, I can go thinking of the Manor Home and the lives saved there. May the good Lord forgive the rest. And you, Daniel. I pray you forgive me as well.”

A few days later, Daniel was disconcerted to find his father and Miss Lamb waiting for him in his study. “What is it?” he asked.

His father glanced at Charlotte. “Miss Lamb has some news she wishes to share.”

Daniel took in her anxious expression. She’s not leaving, I hope.

“I fear you will mind,” Charlotte began. “But I took the liberty of writing to my uncle-who is a solicitor-about the situation with Miss Marsden.”

“What?” Daniel’s relief that she wasn’t announcing her resignation was quickly replaced by anger.

“Forgive me, I know it was presumptuous.”

“Father, you were not to divulge-“

“Please,” Charlotte interrupted. “Allow me to explain.”

His father studied his hands, folded together in his lap as he sat. Daniel lifted his own hand, gesturing in irritated compliance for her to continue.

“Your father did not offer the information, Dr. Taylor. I asked for the man’s name, this Phillip Elton.”

Daniel groaned and shook his head.

“I thought the name was familiar but not for the reasons I guessed. In any case this man’s father, Lord Elton himself, has long been a friend to my aunt and uncle. It was his name I had heard spoken with fondness over the years. I have even dined with him at my uncle’s home on one or two occasions. However, this Phillip Elton is Lord Elton’s son, and my uncle has had to wrest him from trouble more than once.