John Taylor shook his head sadly. “Well-known and well-connected, I’m afraid. There’s naught I can do. For myself I might risk it, but I would not endanger Daniel’s career any more than I have done already.”
“Would you mind, sir, if I made a few inquiries on your behalf?”
“I would notmind, but do not trouble yourself, my dear. I shall be happy again now that I have my granddaughter here at home.”
Charlotte and Anne were to share the nursery on the third floor. It wasn’t a large room, but it would do nicely. John Taylor hauled up an old screen from one of the exam rooms in the office downstairs. With her permission, he set it up between the door and Charlotte’s bed, to give her some semblance of privacy should one of the family wish to come in and pick up Anne, whose cradle was on the other side of the room.
During those first days they were all in London, Lizette Taylor seemed happy indeed. Happy, especially, to have her daughter back in her life. She held Anne for hours on end, bouncing her on her lap, speaking to her in French, singing French ditties and lullabies. Anne, for all her unfamiliarity with her own mother, was delighted with this enthusiastic attention and went happily from Charlotte’s arms to Lizette’s with little fuss. Charlotte was relieved for Mrs. Taylor’s sake.
Anne was slower to take to her grandfather, unaccustomed as she was to male attention beyond the occasional visits her father had made over their months in Crawley. But still, after the first few days, her lower lip no longer quivered when he spoke to her—though she watched him carefully whenever he came near.
Sensitive to how Daniel’s wife must be feeling, having missed those first precious months of her daughter’s life, Charlotte was careful to stay in the background as much as possible, only offering to take Anne when she began to fuss or it was clearly time for another feeding.
So she was not sure of the cause of Lizette Taylor’s growing moodiness.
“You take her, Miss Lamb, I feel a headache coming on,” she began to say nearly once a day. Or, “There you are, back to Nurse.Ta mèremust lie down and rest.”
The spring that year was gloomier than usual, and during the last half of April it rained five out of every seven days.Such weather could make the cheeriest person morose,Charlotte thought.
Mrs. Taylor began spending hours in the sitting room alone, reclining on the settee, staring off into nothingness. Often she would neglect to raise the shades in the morning, or to light a lamp when darkness fell. With only one servant about the place, there was often no one to do it for her. Charlotte helped as much and as quietly as she could. She prayed as well.
“I am worried about Lizette,” Daniel’s father said quietly as the two men sat in the dining room over lukewarm tea. Gone were the days of after-dinner port for this household.
“As am I,” Daniel confided. “I have been wondering if a change of scenery might do her good. I’ve been offered a seaside cottage for a few months.”
“Where?”
“The south coast. In France she lived by the sea.”
“But ... the Manor Home—what of your work there?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps I can find someone to take my place for a time. I know how important the Manor is to you, but I can only do so much.”
“It is important, Daniel. It is my life’s work.”
“Itwasyour life’s work, Father.”
Daniel saw the light dim in his father’s eyes and immediately regretted his words. “Again, I ask your forgiveness, Father. I have no right to take my exhaustion out on you.”
“You are distraught, son. I understand. I know I have disappointed you. Truth is, I have disappointed myself. I have been weak—not the brother I should have been, not the father I should have been, and not the surgeon I should have been... .”
“Father ...”
“But I have done some good. I have. Mothers who would have died, lived. Children too. That is why the Manor Home is so important. Promise me—keep the place going if you can. If not for me, for your poor aunt Audrey—God rest her soul.”
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, the guilt pouring over him as it always did when his father mentioned Aunt Audrey—a woman Daniel had never known. His father’s sister had died as a young woman in a disreputable lying-in hospital. Until recent years the standards of care and cleanliness at such facilities meant fatalities were all too common. It was in his sister’s honor that John Taylor had joined forces with other surgeons, physicians, and charity groups to establish the Manor Home for Unwed Mothers in the first place. Of course that was before he fell into disrepute.
“The Manor is not going to close if I take a leave.”
“We cannot be sure. Did you not mention donations were down?”
“Yes, and expenses rising.” Daniel ran a weary hand over his face. “I shall see what I can do. Perhaps I can carry on at the Manor during the week and travel to the coast at the weekend.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” John Taylor’s hand trembled as he brought his teacup to his lips, then returned it to its saucer, untasted. “When my time comes, I can go thinking of the Manor Home and the lives saved there. May the good Lord forgive the rest. And you, Daniel. I pray you forgive me as well.”
A few days later, Daniel was disconcerted to find his father and Miss Lamb waiting for him in his study. “What is it?” he asked.
His father glanced at Charlotte. “Miss Lamb has some news she wishes to share.”
