Authors: Becky Riker
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I nearly forgot,” George pulled something from his chest pocket, “I was commissioned to give this to you.”
Finn recognized the handwriting, “Were you at Selby before you came here?”
“I visited Tess yesterday morning,” he rose and went to the door. “Your wife was also there, so she sent this along.”
George left Finn to read the letter in peace.
My Dear Finn,
I find it difficult to believe that, though we are often apart, I can still miss you at every hour of the day. I hope you can someday find a peace that will allow you to remain longer with me.
Please do not feel I am criticizing you. I mean only to tell you that I do love you and desire to spend my life with you
.
Your mother is doing better. Per your request, I have not gone into her rooms. She has, however, come out into the house two times. The first time she made it all the way to the door of the conservatory, but the second, she only got as far as the stairs before she became frightened and turned back to her suites. I believe she will settle in eventually.
Mrs. Smythe told me last week that I was lucky to not feel any illness with the child. I believe I told her too soon that I felt well. I am now sick every morning. I am praising God, however, because Tessa told me she was sick in the afternoons and evenings as well the mornings until her time was nearly half over.
Love,
Naomi Haydn
Finn was overwhelmed. He did not deserve such a treasure, and he desired nothing more than to be with her at the moment.
“Mrs. Bloom,” he opened the door and called out loudly.
She scurried around the corner, “Is something the matter, sir?”
“I need to leave now.”
George came from the study, “Has something happened? She did not mention any emergency when I saw her.”
“No emergency,” he beamed. “I just want to see my wife.”
The housekeeper chuckled and left to call for a carriage.
“Be reasonable, Finn,” George shook his head, “what do you want to arrive there in the middle of the night for?”
“The middle of the night, George? It is only seven o’clock now. I shall be home in two hours.”
“Do as you like,” George shrugged.
Finn laughed at that, “Don’t I always?”
George did not argue that point but set his hat on his head, “I am off to see my own wife. She has been shopping all day.”
Finn was organizing his papers to determine which ones needed to come home with him when Mrs. Bloom knocked on the open door.
Finn glanced up at her, “Yes?”
“Sir,” she began, her face slightly pale, “there’s a gentleman at the door. He says he must see you.”
Finn rose and stepped near the lady, “Are you unwell, Mrs. Bloom?”
She shook her head, but he could see she was quite distraught.
“Perhaps some wine,” he led her to a chair and poured her a glass.
She pushed it away, “Your guest, sir.”
“I will see to my guest. You stay here.”
Finn went out to the passage way, “You wished to speak to me?”
The man turned around and Finn staggered backward.
“I can see I have surprised you,” the man carried a bundle in his arms. “You must not have gotten my letter.”
Finn took a deep breath, “I did not. Please,” he pointed toward the parlor, “come in.”
Finn did not leave until the following morning. Even then, he felt unprepared for what was to come. He had made a decision that he truly believed to be the right one, but he was not sure Naomi would agree. She had been exceedingly patient with him up until that point, but this was likely to be too much for even her to handle.
The trip was long with frequent stops. By the time they arrived, the sun was nearing its peak.
The carriage pulled up in front of the house. Finn had hoped to get into the house and explain the situation to his wife before she had to deal with the entirety of it, but it was not to be. As the carriage turned the last corner to the house, he saw her standing by some bushes with the head gardener. She recognized his livery immediately and began walking toward him.
He stepped out and embraced her very briefly.
“Naomi,” he began to speak, hoping he would at least have a moment to explain himself before they were interrupted. “I must speak with you.”
“Of course,” she beamed up at him, “shall we go inside for dinner, or would you care for a walk first?”
He shook his head, “I am afraid we must speak now.”
A weak cry from inside the carriage stopped what he was going to say.
Naomi frowned in question.
He struggled for an explanation. All the words he had been practicing the past few hours deserted him.
Naomi stepped around him and opened the door. He watched her expression change from confusion to surprise to delight.
“Finn,” she looked up at him, tears in her eyes, “you brought her home.”
He would admit to not knowing his wife as well as he should, but it appeared Naomi was actually happy about that. He could not have predicted that.
“Hello,” she spoke to the little person just waking, “how are you, dear? Will you come to me?”
The tiny child inched from her place on the seat and cautiously stepped forward into Naomi’s arms. Naomi lifted her up brought her into the sunlight to better look at her.
“Naomi,” Finn found his voice though it still sounded strange to his ears, “this is my . . .”
He could not finish the sentence.
Naomi did not appear to expect any more, “I think we will take dinner first. This one is probably hungry.”
Considering he may be in a dream, he followed his wife into the house.
“Mrs. Smythe,” Naomi spoke as soon as they entered, “I think we will have our dinner in the breakfast room. Ten minutes?”
The housekeeper nodded and left without question though she must have been mightily confused.
Naomi started toward the nearest powder room, but stopped suddenly, looking at her husband, “My dear, what is her name?”
He was sure he looked like an escapee from a madhouse, his mouth open and his brow furrowed in bewilderment.
Naomi chuckled and looked at the girl, “Can you tell me your name?”
The tiny pixie stuck a finger in her mouth and shook her head.
Naomi did not seem to be bothered by it. She simply stroked the golden curls and looked back to Finn, “It will have to be you, my love, though it seems you have lost your tongue.”
“It, it’s Eloise,” he stuttered out the name. “Her name is Eloise.”
Naomi brushed her hand across her husband’s face before returning her attention to the little person, “Shall we go cleanup for supper, Eloise?”
The finger did not leave her mouth, but she nodded.
Dinner was eaten with little conversation between the adults. Mostly, Naomi was focused on getting a response from the child next to her. By the end of the meal, she had coaxed a handful of words from the little girl.
Finn needed to speak to his wife. He thought it was probably best to have that conversation without the child, but he was willing to go that route if necessary. He was not, however, willing to converse with Naomi on the subject of the little girl while there were servants about. He planned to go to the parlor immediately after the meal was finished.
“Regina,” Naomi turned to a maid Finn did not know, “do you know where Missy is?”
“Yes, ma’am. She is taking her meal in the kitchen right now.”
“Please tell her I would like to see her in the garden when she is finished.”
The maid curtseyed and left.
Frustration nipped at Finn. He was not going to be able to speak with his wife with maids and under gardeners about.
She set down her napkin and Finn hurried to assist her from her seat. Instead of picking the baby up, Naomi held out her hand and led the tot from the room.
“Naomi,” he spoke softly as he followed, “I would speak with you.”
She took his hand with her free one, “I should hope so, my love. There is much which we need to discuss.”
They passed through the doors and onto the paved walkway, “I’ll not have such a conversation out here.”
“Of course not,” she agreed. “Oh, there is Missy already.”
She pulled free of him and led the child to the maid, “Eloise, this is Missy. She is my personal maid and is a very nice girl.”
Finn wondered how Naomi would explain the child’s presence to the maid now.
“Missy, I would like you to watch Eloise for a time.”
Missy smiled at the task and crouched to the little girl’s level, “It is so nice to meet you, Eloise.”
Finn breathed a sigh of relief when no questions were forthcoming. Naomi turned to her husband as if awaiting direction.
He offered her his arm, “Shall we take a turn about the pond?”
She nodded.
“I suppose you know who that child is,” he began as soon as they were far enough away that there was no danger of being overheard.
“Yes, but how have you come to have her?”
“Her grandparents were killed in a carriage accident as they travelled to Ireland.”
Naomi gasped, “Was she not with them at the time?”
“She had already gone up with the uncle.”
“And the aunt and uncle?”
“No longer want her,” he knew his voice conveyed his disgust in the matter. “They were apparently taking her because they assumed they would increase their chance of a greater inheritance from the child’s grandfather.”
Naomi scowled.
“They sent her back to the woman’s husband, and he brought her to me.”
Naomi squeezed his arm.
“I am sorry,” he brought her to a stop and looked down at her. “I am so sorry, but I could not leave her.”
He felt tears threatening; he could taste them in the back of his throat.
“Naomi,” he needed to make her understand, “h
e was going to bring her to the children’s home if I would not take her. I am sorry.”
She put her hands on his cheeks and brushed at a tear with her thumb, “Sorry for what?”
“I couldn’t let him take her there,” he was not making himself clear, apparently.
“Certainly not,” she looked annoyed at the thought.
“Naomi, my love,” he had to make her understand, “we have to keep her. There is no other place for her to go.”
“I know that, Finn.”