Hannah glanced through the doorway and saw Becky looking down, clearly embarrassed.
“Let me rephrase that. Where did Lady Mayfield find you?”
“Find me?”
“Through an agency, or...?”
She nodded vaguely. “Mrs. Beech’s.”
“And your own child...?”
Silence, then a small whisper. “Died.”
“I’m sorry. And had you been a nurse before, for another family?”
“No, sir. No other family. But I did nurse several—”
“Mr. Lowden,” Hannah interrupted, stepping across the threshold. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Meaning? I am only speaking with Miss Brown.”
“Interrogating her, by the sound of it.”
Becky shook her head. “I didn’t tell him nothing, honest I didn’t.”
“Of course you didn’t, Becky. There is nothing to tell. Nothing that need concern Mr. Lowden. Becky, why do you not takeDanny into the garden for a bit of fresh air while I speak with Mr. Lowden?”
“Yes, miss—er ... my lady.” The girl took the child from her and all but ran from the room.
James Lowden looked at his client’s wife. Lady Mayfield’s thin mouth cinched tight, her eyes flashed, her prominent cheekbones shone in high color. She clenched her hands and waited until they could no longer hear the girl’s retreating footfalls.
“Mr. Lowden. If you have anything to ask, you may ask me directly. You need not go behind my back and question the servants. Do you not realize how painful such questions can be to a girl in Becky’s situation? She lost her own child—a daughter—shortly after she was born. How do you think wet nurses become wet nurses? Their newborns either die, or they give up their own children to nurse other women’s infants. Either way, these are not happy stories women are proud and eager to speak of. How unfeeling you are. How cruel.”
Her words pricked his conscience. “I take your point, and I apologize. I did not think it through. I will apologize to Miss Brown as well.”
“I shall convey your apologies to her myself, Mr. Lowden. You make her nervous, and no wonder.”
“The girl’s emotional state seems questionable. So why, may I ask, would you engage her to nurse your own child?”
Lady Mayfield seemed to hesitate. “Because she ... needed a place, and we needed her.”
“Could you not nurse your child yourself?”
She gaped. Her face mottled red and white beneath her freckles. “How dare you?”
“Forgive me; that was rude. I of course realize many ladies prefer not to—”
“It had nothing to do withpreference,” she snapped. “If I could have nursed Danny myself, I would have. I did so regularlyfor the first month of his life, but then circumstances changed and I was no longer able to do so, to my great regret.”
Her anger, her deep distress and guilt stunned him. He had obviously struck a nerve. “Again, I apologize for my insolence,” he said. “I should not have asked such a thing. I have no right to judge you or anyone.”
“Yet you do so at every turn, it seems to me. You who have had every advantage in life, everything handed to you—your career, your livelihood.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “What are you talking about? You know nothing about me. Yes, I was educated, but I had to work hard to earn my degree. Then my father thought I needed worldly experience, and released me from the firm. I took a post with the East India Company and lived abroad—China, India. And for the last several years, I worked at the London headquarters. I’d be there yet, had my father not died. And even now I am not handed my father’s practice, for his clients do not know me nor trust a younger man. Many have opted to engage more established solicitors. Sir John is in the minority in retaining my services. Why do you think I was able to leave the practice in my clerk’s hands and come here?”
“I did not realize.”
“Of course not. How could you. It is not something I trumpet about. Not something a lady like you, a pampered only child from a wealthy family, would understand.”
