“This is our Edmund. Is he not the image of Mr. Harris?”
Bea stared. For a fleeting moment, she saw Charlotte in the child’s features, his upturned nose and fine brows above large brown eyes. Was she really feeling so guilty about her? Or missing her so keenly? The little boy smiled a toothless grin in Bea’s direction. She did not return the gesture.
“He looks like Charlotte,” her father said dully, staring too. He’d said her name, as he’d vowed not to.
“You mean Charles, Father, surely,” Bea rushed to correct.
“Oh, yes, yes. Charles. The names are so very similar. I meant to name my son Charles if I’d had one.”
Katherine’s brows were furrowed as she looked from one to the other.
From the corner of her eye, Bea noticed the ungainly nurse staring at her from across the room, where she stood in wait behind her mistress.Why had Katherine even brought the sorry creature?
“Speaking of Charlotte ...” Katherine began.
“We were not,” Bea said. “In fact we prefer other subjects.”
“Yes, do tell us about Fawnwell,” Father added. “Is all as it once was? Before the fire, I mean.”
Katherine stilled, only her eyes moving between them, scrutinizing. She opened her mouth, closed it, and changed tack.
“Beatrice, Charles and I are thinking of hosting a house party this summer to celebrate the restoration of Fawnwell, and of course, to introduce Edmund. We are considering inviting many of our London friends down, many eligible ... persons you might enjoy meeting. Has that any appeal for you?”
Beatrice shrugged. “Perhaps.”Why is that nurse still staring at me?
“And you, Uncle, certainly you would not mind a little variety in society? A chance to debate theology with like-minded men of rank?”
Bea did not miss the patronizing choice of words, but Father did, and beamed.
“I should not mind at all. Sounds grand. When is it to be?”
“Why, just as soon as you tell me what I wish to know.”
Wet nurses are unfortunately a necessary evil. Without them the children
of the better classes ... would suffer very materially.
—T. C. HADEN,ON THEMANAGEMENT ANDDISEASES
OFCHILDREN,1827
CHAPTER20
She had no warning.
Charlotte was pacing Mrs. Dunweedy’s small parlor with Anne in her arms, hoping to lull the child to sleep, when she heard the familiar sound of a carriage on the street outside. It was pulled by a team of at least four horses, she judged, by the thunderous beating of hooves. Being this close to the High Street, that sound did not alarm her—in fact it barely registered. It was the sound of the hooves slowing, the coachman shouting “Whoa” to his horses that caused Charlotte to walk to the window. She shifted Anne to her left arm and parted the curtains with her right hand. Her heart began pounding, faster and faster even as the pounding hooves slowed, then ceased. A fine carriage indeed. Tall and enclosed. A carriage made for traveling some distance in speed and comfort. Lady Katherine’s carriage.
Oh, God, help me.... The breathed prayer was automatic. What else could she do? She couldn’t flee. How had her cousin found out where she was? Had Aunt Tilney told her? No, she would never do such a thing, loathe as she was for anyone in the family, or in their general acquaintance, to discover Charlotte’s position as a wet nurse. Then who? And how was she to honor her aunt’s fervent plea and keep that fact hidden?
The coachman helped her cousin alight. There she was in fine, full-length cape and plumed hat. Had she—Oh, dear Lord—had Katherine brought her son?HerEdmund? How would she hide her feelings?
Behind Katherine, a second woman alighted on the coachman’s hand. This one far taller and more simply attired. Sally! Sally—here, now? Charlotte was elated and dread-filled all at once.
Sally will know Anne is not mine.
That thought pushed Charlotte into action. Hurrying, she gently laid Anne in her little cradle in the guest room, wincing in anticipation but breathing deeply when the child did not cry. She then quickly opened the front door and stepped out onto the path, not waiting for her visitors to knock.
“Lady Katherine! What a lovely surprise!”
