Lady of Milkweed Manor (36 page)

“Nothing, m’lady,” Sally said, panicked. Had she broken her promise so quickly? What would become of her little charge … of herself?

“I heard you. Repeat what you said,” Lady Katherine demanded imperiously.

“I … I only meant …” Sally stammered.

“You said he looked like his mother,” Lady Katherine supplied.

Sally lowered her head, waiting for the hot words to rain down.

Instead the mistress took a step closer. “Between you and me, I quite agree.”

Sally looked up at her, trying to discern the meaning, the mood behind Lady Katherine’s pensive expression.

“Do you?” she asked weakly.

“Yes. I always make a point to say how much he resembles his father-I think it wise to offer such comments to build a man’s esteem, his bond with his offspring.”

“Oh …” Sally whispered, still not at all sure what the woman was saying.

“Still, I do see hints of myself in his features. The arch of his brows, the coloring of his fair skin …”

`Aye …” Sally murmured, slipping back to a word Charlotte had advised her not to use. Still, she thought Charlotte would not mind, considering her secret, it appeared, was still safe.

Sally looked with wide eyes around Chequers, Doddington’s crowded, noisy inn. Through the haze of smoke from many pipes and the inn’s fireplace, she took in the tables ringed by men drinking ale and laughing. She felt out of place, sitting there with her new friend, the two of them the only women in the place, save for the innkeeper’s wife.

She’d met Mary Poole when she’d been out walking with Edmund. Mary worked as a nurse for the Whiteman family down the road, in a house that lay between her master’s estate and the village itself.

“Your first night out?” Mary said, aghast. “Sally girl, you must make your conditions known.”

“Conditions?”

“Conditions of employment. ‘Tisn’t right they shouldn’t give you a night out each week.”

“But I need to be on hand to nurse the child. ‘Tisn’t anyone else to do it.”

“Aw, he’s not going to starve in a few hours, now, is he?”

“I suppose not.”

From over her cup, Mary slanted a look across the room. “My, my two gents are looking this way.”

Sally followed her gaze and saw two men near their own ages standing at the bar.

“Sit up straight,” Mary whispered sternly, “and do close your mouth.”

Sally only then realized she was staring at the men, mouth drooping open. She hurried to close it and sat up straighter on the bench.

“The fair one’s mine,” Mary whispered through smiling lips.

But it soon became obvious that the fair one had set his sights on Sally.

The slight, wiry man with light hair and dark eyes was handsome indeed. He smiled boldly at Sally as he walked over, and she felt her face, already warm from the ale, burn red.

“Name’s Davey. And my mate here is George. Mind if we sit with you lovelies?”

Mary giggled coyly and scooted over on her bench. Sally still stared dumbly at the man named Davey.

“I’m Mary and this is Sally,” Mary said and kicked her under the table. Sally again closed her mouth and followed Mary’s lead in making room on her bench. Davey sat down right next to her.

“Evenin’, Miss Sally. Yer a sight for these weary eyes, I can tell ye.”

Sally looked away from his admiring stare, biting on her lip to keep from smiling too broadly.

As the evening wore on, Sally’s cheeks glowed warmly from Davey’s many compliments and the second glass of ale he bought for her. Not since Dickie’s father had a man given her such admiring attention. And Sally drank it in.

Sighing, Mary gave up and turned her focus to the bearded, dark-haired man named George.

A week later, Sally and Mary met out in the lane as planned, each with their respective charges.

“You’re coming out again tonight, I trust,” Mary said, bouncing little Colin Whiteman in her arms.

“I cannot. They only gave me the night out last week because it was my birthday.”

“I’m surprised the new missus gave you that much.”

“Well, it was the master who did it. I let the day slip in his hearing.”

“Very clever.”

“I suppose I was desperate for some time away.”

“‘Course you were. And the way Georgie tells it, Davey is very desperate indeed to see you again.”

Sally tried to close her lips around her teeth, but she could not help the smile that overtook her.

“Is he?”

“Yes. Says you are the handsomest girl he’s ever seen.”

“He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“Must have had too much ale that night, then.”

“Don’t be foolish, Sally. You have very pretty … hair. Just well, try to keep your mouth closed. And don’t stand up quite so … tall.”

Sally bit her lip. “I shall try.”

“Well, then, meet me here tonight at nine o’clock and we’ll walk into the village together.”

“I don’t know. The master and missus are going out for the evening. I don’t know who could look in on Edmund for me.”

“One of the other servants?”

“Perhaps.”

“Listen, love. You’re not the first nurse to find herself in this fix. But if your charge sleeps till you get back, who’s to be the wiser?”

“Oh, but Edmund will want his eleven o’clock feeding. If he wakes the whole house, I shall have the devil to pay by morning.”

“Well, what if you could make sure he sleeps quiet as a mouse right through the night?”

Sally laughed dryly. “By what magic?”

Her new friend’s eye lit up with a mischievous gleam. “By this.” She pulled from her skirt pocket a small corked bottle.

Sally felt her eyes widen. “What is it?”

“Just a bit of laudanum.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Never you mind.”

“Does it make babes sleep?”

“Aye. Surgeons use it all the time-it’s quite safe.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, I’ve used it several times myself.”

“Really?” Sally’s eyes seemed fixed on the small vial.

Mary held it out to her. “Go on, then.”

“But-how do I … ?

“Just put a bit into his mouth before you nurse him.”

“How do I know how much to give him?”

“Oh, I’d say half a teaspoon ought to do it.”

“You sure it shan’t harm him?”

“‘Course I’m sure. When did sleep ever harm anybody?”

Sally looked at her friend’s earnest face and back to the bottle.

“Here, take it.” Mary pressed the vial into her hand.

Sally gingerly took hold of it.

“Go on, then, and meet me back here at nine. Wear that pretty blue frock of yours.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, your eyes look so blue when you wear it. I am quite sure Davey shan’t be able to look away from you.”

Sally had not been asking about the dress but did not correct her. “I did so like Davey.”

“‘Course you did. Any girl would be a fool not to. Quite a looker, he is.”

“Aye …,,

“Well, then, see you back here tonight.”

“All right.”

Sally turned to go, then turned back. “Wait. Won’t you be needing some o’ this yourself?” She held the vial aloft.

“I have another in my room.” She grinned archly. “My last employer was a surgeon.”

For some reason, the face of Dr. Taylor appeared in her mind. Unsmiling, soft-spoken Dr. Taylor. He was a physician. She had often assisted him in the ward. Had he ever used the stuff? Yes, she believed he had on one or two occasions, when an infant had been inconsolable in pain or had arrived in the turn injured.

Would it be all right, even though Edmund was quite healthy?

Mrs. Taylor requested a morning alone with her daughter, and Charlotte gladly obliged, offering to go into the village to do a bit of shopping and pick up a spool of wicking Mrs. Beebe wanted from the chandler’s. Daniel said he was going in, as well, and would give her a lift in the carriage.

“Thank you, but actually, I long for a walk,” Charlotte said.

“As you like.”

But instead of harnessing the horse, Mr. Taylor caught up with Charlotte on the road, medical bag in hand. “I’ve decided to walk in as well. Exercise is good medicine, and I have taken too little of late. Do you mind?”

She shook her head, supposing it was appropriate to share a public road with her employer but still hoping neither Marie nor Mrs. Taylor was looking out a rear window.

They walked more than the proper distance apart, she with her hands behind her back and he switching his bag from hand to hand as his arm tired.

After walking in silence for several minutes, he asked, “And how do you like the coast?”

“Very well indeed.”

“Glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat. “I hope things are not too … strained … between you and Mrs. Taylor?”

She faltered, “Umm, no. Not really.”

“She is still not quite herself. I wish you could know her as I do, happy and loving and full of life-“

“But how improved she is!” Charlotte interrupted. “That is something to be thankful for.”

“I am. Still, I had hoped the two of you might become friends.”

“Dr. Taylor, you and she are my employers. I do not expect friendship.” Charlotte hurried to change the subject. “Are you leaving for London again this week?”

“Yes. I shall put in a few days at the Manor and visit my father.”

“Do greet him for me.”

“I shall.”

They had just crossed the wooden bridge over the river and were on the path leading into Old Shoreham when a well-dressed man approached from the opposite direction. His head was tilted down as he walked, evidently preoccupied. Blond curls shown from beneath his hat. Charlotte fell behind Dr. Taylor to make way for the other man to pass.

Ahead of her on the path, Dr. Taylor stopped short.

“Kendall? Richard Kendall?”

The man with the golden hair looked up. His heart-shaped boyish face broke into a wide smile.

“Taylor! Is it really you?” The two men strode toward one another, shook hands vigorously and slapped one another’s shoulders. Charlotte stood to the side, off the path, where she could observe without intruding.

She had rarely seen Daniel Taylor smile so warmly, with such genuine delight. She felt unexpected tears prick her eyes at the happy sight of good friends reunited. And perhaps the slightest twinge of envy.

Two workmen were walking toward the bridge now, crates of fish on their shoulders. One looked at her boldly. Unconsciously, she took a step closer to Dr. Taylor.

“I thought you were practicing in London,” Dr. Kendall said.

“I am.”

“What brings you to our fair village, then?”

“My wife and I let a seaside cottage not far from here.”

“Well, do introduce me.”

Following his friend’s gaze, Dr. Taylor looked over his shoulder in her direction. “Oh, no this isn’t my … That is, Mrs. Taylor is at the cottage with our daughter. This is Miss Charlotte Lamb. Our … friend of the family.”

“Miss Lamb.” The man’s smile was guileless, which Charlotte found both relieving and charming. He bowed, then looked up at Daniel, brows raised.

“Oh!” Daniel started. “Forgive me. Miss Lamb, may I present Dr. Richard Kendall, physician and friend.”