The perfect debutante, p.23
The Perfect Debutante, page 23
She’d discussed her concern only briefly with him shortly after they’d returned to Ashton Acres. She’d not wanted to pile more cares upon him. But seeing the children, hearing the prospect of their futures…
“Nobody is claiming them.” Louella placed one hand atop the baby’s head. It felt warm, and soft, evoking ethereal memories of William as an infant. “I can’t let them be torn apart, Cameron. I simply cannot.” She dug into her position, preparing for a fight.
Cameron reached up and tugged at his chin. “Very well.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Adjusting
Oddly enough, Louella’s announcement following the burial service had not surprised Cameron. What did surprise him was the strange sense of relief he felt knowing he could do something worthwhile.
He’d known about the boys’ situation. He’d sent out multiple notices himself in search of any family who might step forward, and he’d felt increasingly ill at ease each time the vicar hinted that his sister was running out of patience.
And now, upon hearing Louella’s determined little voice declare she was bringing them home with her, a part of him was able to breathe.
“I imagine we can advertise for a governess.” He wasn’t completely certain how his sisters would react, nor the dowager duchess, but with such limitless accommodations, he imagined they could keep the children well out of their way if necessary.
“I want to raise them as family. I don’t want them delegated to servants’ quarters.” Her chin lifted again, her small hand rubbing the infant’s head protectively.
His wife had asked for very little since returning from London. She’d not asked anything of him since she’d requested the trip to Vauxhall. In fact, she’d only given.
She’d opened her heart when his sisters or the duchess had need. But more than that, she’d given of herself freely to him. He’d been stoic, morose… something of a bastard, he knew, and yet she’d welcomed him each night in their bed.
He could do nothing to squash her innate ability to put others first. He could not resist her quiet giving. It revealed more character than he’d credited her with. Her heart rivaled the beauty of her face.
He remembered wondering if someday he would be on the receiving end of her loyalty, her dedication. Astonishingly enough, he wondered no more. Her strength lessened the significance of the scars decorating the various battlegrounds of her body.
How could he deny her anything?
“There’s an entire nursery upstairs that hasn’t been used since the girls have grown. Won’t take much to have it aired out and stocked for four boys.”
He could tell by the look on her face that she’d been expecting an argument. She’d been expecting him to be difficult.
Christ, but he’d been a bastard these past few weeks. The worst of it was, he didn’t like himself. Perhaps he could make some amends today. Their driver was just coming around with the carriage to collect them. “Let’s get you and the baby situated, and then I’ll round up the other boys.” They’d ridden in a closed black coach.
At his easy acquiescence, Louella nodded. “Of course.” But her eyes were shining. From what Lillian had told him, his wife had been worrying over these children for weeks. Perhaps she felt the same relief he did.
As she moved to climb in, Cameron stepped forward to assist her from behind. She sent him a grateful smile, and like an ambush, his heart nearly burst. She was so precious to him, and they’d yet to have resolved all of their differences.
Physically, yes. He’d found solace in her body every night. And he believed she found comfort with him as well. But it hadn’t been the same as it had been in London.
They’d not shared one another’s thoughts in the daylight hours. He’d hardly dined with her except for a few occasions. The only outings he’d included her in had been the funerals. He’d not shared himself with her, and he’d encroached upon her trust that first night, when he’d taken her from behind.
He’d done it in frustration. Without thought of her.
God, but he reminded himself of Crawford. This scared him more than anything. He’d hated Crawford, hadn’t he? And yet, now he understood some of the weight his father had carried upon his shoulders. The dukedom contained a vast collection of properties, ventures, and tenant families. Hundreds depended upon it and were anxious for their futures.
Still, he’d not put it before his wife and children.
For now, he placed his hands around her waist and supported her as she climbed into the carriage. She bent over slightly, holding the babe, and scuttled to the end of the bench.
Now to collect the other boys.
Surprise flitted across their faces as he addressed them by name.
He had no trouble with Marcus. This urchin was happy to take a ride on a tall gentleman’s shoulders, but Michael held back, holding tight to Miss Cross. Luke, the oldest boy, watched them suspiciously as they piled in with Louella.
Taking casual steps toward the child who already considered himself a man, Cameron kicked at the dirt near where young Luke shuffled about. Perhaps he ought to have discussed his wife’s plan with the boy beforehand. “It’s been one hell of a week, hasn’t it, Luke?” He’d not pretend the boy’s life hadn’t just been turned upside down.
The boy looked at him sideways, not answering.
“I’m Crawford. I knew your father. He was a good man. A hard worker.” Cameron extended one hand toward the boy.
“I know who you are. Yer the duke now.” The boy didn’t take his hand but nodded. “My pa got killed in yer mine. The other duke didn’t care if they all died.”
The child had not pulled his punches. Cameron couldn’t address any of this now. After all, the child was not wrong. “The thing is, Luke, we haven’t been able to locate any family to take you and your brothers in.”
“I heard. I know that. We ain’t got no family. That’s why. Not nobody that wants us.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.” Cameron crouched down and then pointed toward the carriage awaiting them. “I’m sure you couldn’t help but notice that pretty lady over there. That’s my wife, the Duchess of Crawford, and she’d like nothing more than to take care of you and your brothers. If some family shows up, some family you’d rather go with, then you’ll be welcome to go with them. But for now, we’ve got a home, and a room, and lots of food and toys and books for you and your brothers.”
Young Luke seemed relieved for just a moment but then crossed his arms in front of him. “What if we don’t like it there? I can take care of my brothers. We don’t need nobody.”
This one could prove to be more difficult than his wife had bargained for. “How about you give it a chance first? Do you like chocolate?”
This did the trick. “If I come, you’ll give me some chocolate?”
Cameron needed to maintain some semblance of control. “After the evening meal. Now is it a deal?” He held his hand out again.
This time, young Luke shook it. “My name’s a lot like yours,” he said as they began walking toward the coach.
Cameron had no idea what the child was talking about.
“You know,” Luke explained as though it was obvious. “Luke, Duke…practically the same.”
Cameron laughed and nodded. “Right you are, lad, right you are.”
Watching Cameron negotiate with little Luke cracked something inside of Louella’s heart. This was the man she had fallen in love with. Yes, at last, she could admit to herself that she loved him. She loved the man who now wielded his charm on a sullen little boy. He had crouched down to the boy’s size and was gesturing toward her.
The eight-year-old looked so lost—and angry—but as Cameron spoke, something splintered a little. He perked up, took her husband’s hand, and approached the carriage.
Marcus chattered away, as though he was the spokesperson for both himself and his brother. And Michael nodded and agreed with everything his twin said.
When Luke climbed into the carriage, he ordered Marcus to sit still. He then, with narrowed eyes, warned Louella that the baby cried almost all the time. “He doesn’t like to eat.”
Louella wondered at how a child would not like to eat. Surely, the boy was mistaken.
Cameron climbed in last and signaled for the driver to move out. The boys rode on the back-facing bench, while Louella held the baby, facing front beside Cameron.
Her husband sent her a questioning look, as though to ascertain that she was sure she knew the responsibility she took on. She could change her mind, she knew. Nobody would blame her. But it felt right. Even when a damp warmth permeated the front of her gown just before arriving home.
They were only four small children. How difficult could it be?
Following the last of the funerals, Cameron’s focus at the mine turned from recovery to feasibility once again. It seemed to require all of his attention as he’d leave the manor before sunrise on some days, not returning until well after the evening meal had been served many nights.
During the day, Louella spent all of her time with Baby Harvey, the twins, and young Luke. She had help from one of the housemaids, and Martha, Cora, and even Lillian entered the nursery on occasion.
Cameron had advertised for a wet nurse to no avail, and the nanny being sent by the agency would not arrive until the end of the week.
At first, Louella had assumed the housemaid could manage the baby easily enough, but halfway through the first night, she realized that was not the case.
Not with this child, anyhow.
She’d been unable to lay abed with the sounds of the baby screaming drifting from the floor above and so she’d donned her dressing gown and joined the maid in the nursery. Even with both of them caring for little Harvey, the task was more than she’d ever expected.
Luke had shown her how to use the glass bottle filled with goat’s milk. A piece of leather was jammed into the opening and baby Harvey occasionally, when he really wanted to, would suck the milk out through it.
But the leather was old and musty. Louella tried other methods to control the amount of liquid flowing into the baby’s mouth, but nothing seemed to function very efficiently.
What the baby needed was a wet nurse, of course.
“Drink up, little Harvey,” Louella coaxed while the maid folded the freshly laundered clouts on the bureau. This was the third time she’d tried feeding him that night. How could the child live if he did not eat? She dabbed the cloth at the end of the bottle along his lips, but he merely pinched them together and then, when he did open them up, let out a blood-curdling cry.
He stopped breathing for a moment. He’d done this before, and so Louella didn’t panic this time. Because eventually, he gulped in some air and let out another wail. It was almost as though he was in pain.
She forced back the tears that threatened. “Hush, darling, hush.” He couldn’t cry forever. Surely, he would tire soon.
Louella hopped out of the rocker and began pacing the floor again. Sometimes, if she bounced and patted him just right, he’d go silent for a few moments. On a few rare occasions, he’d fall asleep when she did this.
On the morning following the fourth night, exhausted and confused, Louella sent for her sister. Olivia had spent some time with the children before their father passed. Perhaps she knew something that might appease the baby. Besides, Louella missed her.
Olivia’s fresh and lovely appearance reminded Louella of the world she’d seemingly left behind by marrying and now taking on this responsibility that was perhaps more than she’d bargained for.
Olivia, her loving and compassionate sister, took one look at Louella and broke into laughter. Louella knew most of her hair had escaped the chignon Jane had tied earlier and dark circles had taken permanent residence beneath her eyes.
Realizing her mirth wasn’t appreciated, her sister sobered sympathetically. “When Miss Cline told me you’d taken them in, I wondered how you were faring. Which one got to you? The baby? Or was it the twins? You goose. You’ve always been so much more sensitive than me.” She took hold of little Harvey and bounced him in her arms. “This one is still being difficult, I take it? He was a fussy eater when I sat with him last month. I imagine he misses his papa. Why didn’t you send for me sooner?”
“Honestly, I haven’t had a single silent moment to think about anything other than locating a wet-nurse.” Olivia was cooing at the infant, so Louella continued, “And it was all of them. I couldn’t walk away from them, Livvy. But now… I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t get little Harvey to eat, the twins seem to speak their own language, and Luke Jr. hates me.” She burst into tears.
Tiredness overwhelmed her to the point that she could hardly think straight. Tiredness and frustration and fear. But she needed to do this. There was no question of her doing this.
Memories of the children she’d seen lining the road to London came to mind, mixed in with that last day with William. “They are alone in the world, Livvy. But for now, I simply need this one to eat. Will you try? You’ve always been so good with children, and I’m at my wits’ end.” She explained how much the baby cried and the lack of success they’d had with their efforts.
Before she could finish her explanation of what they’d tried, her sister was examining the device they’d been trying to feed him with. “I think the puncture is too small. Let me open it up more. Do you have a needle on you?”
Her last question sent a wave of shame rolling through Louella.
Yes, Louella had a needle. She always had a needle. Not that she’d found a moment to put it to use since taking the children in, but she’d wanted to. Dear God, she’d wanted to.
Without saying a word, she slipped the shining tool out of her ribbon and handed it over.
Olivia stared at her knowingly before taking it in exchange for Harvey.
He’d quieted and rested his head on her shoulder. Relishing in such a peaceful moment from him, Louella patted the baby’s head and watched as Olivia poked at the leather device.
“I wondered if you would keep doing it after you married. What does your husband say? Surely, he has seen the scars by now.”
Ah, yes, he had. Baby Harvey buried his face into Louella’s neck and amazingly fell asleep on her shoulder.
Louella chewed at the flesh inside her lip. “He has.” Before Olivia could comment, Louella pressed on. “And he has no intention of sending me to Bedlam, as Mama predicted. He’s been… mostly understanding. But…”
“It’s not an easy thing to understand. You know I hate that you do it.”
Olivia had known about this habit since the first week Louella had made cuts. After demanding Louella cease doing it, unsuccessfully of course, and then meeting only with frustrations when trying to understand why, Olivia had eventually given up. Aside from the occasional disapproving glance, she hadn’t brought the subject up again.
But Louella wished Olivia, of all people, could understand somehow. “I hate how Mama and Papa treat you,” she blurted, surprising herself. She wasn’t sure why she would come out with this now.
The cutting had begun shortly after her mother insisted Olivia move out of the manor. They’d insisted it would be better for Louella. Prospective suitors, they’d said, might be put off if they discovered she had such a flawed sister.
Olivia glanced at her sharply. “Please tell me that is not why you do it.”
It wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t. She shook her head in denial. “It’s about me.” Again, her own words surprised her.
Perhaps she made the admission out of exhaustion. She hadn’t slept much more than a few hours per day since taking the children in. In addition to fearing her inadequacy where they were concerned, she hated the gulf that seemed to be widening between her and Cameron.
“And what does His Grace think of all of this? Is he happy to have all these urchins underfoot?” Olivia gestured to where the twins sat on the floor playing.
He’d supported her decision to take them in. He’d even seemed to approve. But with their nights interrupted now, she barely saw him at all.
“Happy? I don’t think any of us are happy right now,” she admitted. “But he seems to feel the same as I do. We simply need a nursemaid so that…” Frustration washed through her. “A few women have applied but they looked… well, I couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t transfer some deadly disease in her milk. None of these ladies looked to be in good health. It’s all just so terrifying, to be responsible for other little human beings.”
“I’m certain a suitable wet nurse will present herself soon enough, and then perhaps you can resume your wedding trip…” Olivia’s words trailed off doubtfully. “You can change your mind, you know.”
Louella would not.
Little Harvey’s vulnerable cries had wrapped themselves around her heart. He was not her own child. Neither was Michael nor Marcus. And she knew that Luke would likely have found his way had he been sent to a workhouse. He was a fighter, that one. So very different than William had been.
She couldn’t help comparing the two boys. The oldest brother was the same age William had been when he’d passed. Nonetheless, Luke Smith needed them.
He’d taken a liking to her husband. Often sullen and contrary with Louella and the maids, he perked up as soon as Cameron appeared in the nursery.
He never smiled though.
So many wounds. So much need.
And not just the children.
She glanced at the scars peeking out from beneath the ribbon she’d tied around her wrist that morning and remembered the first time she’d drawn her own blood.
She’d used her fingernails. The deeper she dug them into her skin, the greater relief she experienced.
She remembered how empty the manor had felt in Olivia’s absence. Nothing could fill the empty bedchamber. Not the new dresses Mama had ordered made up for Louella, nor the planning for her debut.
