It was after the doctor had examined the young woman and declared the birth to have gone as well as one could hope, given the conditions, that things spun out of Erasmus’s control.
He’d summoned the village vicar along with the physician in a fit of caution. Should either mother or child die, he’d want to offer them the comfort of prayers. His own were a little rusty and tinged with the pagan.
That was all fine and good, especially once the doctor determined that neither patient was in immediate danger.
Whatdidpose danger was the addition of the vicar’s wife to their merry party. She was a handsome woman of middle age, with her hair precisely arranged and her spine as straight as her morals. As the spouse of the community’s churchman, she took her role as his helpmate seriously.
Thus, she delivered a batch of teacakes and an ultimatum to Erasmus on the heels of her husband’s arrival.
“You’ve an unwed mother on your property, Mr. Mangevileyn.”
Erasmus found himself without words. He’d suspected as much, but had not confirmed it.
“I have not heard that from her,” he said carefully.
“Mr. Quartermaine was told so by the unfortunate lady.”
Erasmus swung his head around, trying to understand how she could know that without having spoken to the vicar since her arrival.
“How did you know—?”
“A husband and wife can communicate without words, Mr. Mangevileyn.”
Erasmus was speechless. He’d never experienced that with Eleanor, and they’d been a matched pair!
“It is one of the many benefits of marriage. A benefit I hope you will enjoy soon indeed.”
“Marriage…soon?” asked Erasmus, the floor shifting below his feet.
“I see you’ve talked,” said the vicar, joining them at the foot of the bed. Erasmus’s bed. Where a new mother was currently in repose after being delivered of an apparently out-of-wedlock baby.
If the glances Mr. and Mrs. Quartermaine traded were any indication, a timely sleight of hand would erase that baby’s illegitimate status.
“I should speak with the mother,” said Erasmus, dread rising in his throat as he struggled to speak. He was enjoying quiet days with his fields, herds, and books. He’d sought a reclusive existence for this phase of his life, and one woman stumbling into his barn was enough to upend it?
And what if she had a sweetheart she planned to marry or otherwise did not consent to the union? It was a farcical idea, to unite a man and woman simply because of proximity! He felt hot and itchy as panic set in.
“The lady has agreed,” said Mr. Quartermaine smoothly. “It just so happens that the bishop’s surrogate stopped at the vicarage on his rounds for Lady Day and will issue a common license immediately. Once you explain the situation, he will act without delay, since you live in the parish. Therefore, you will marry today, and then you can record the child’s birth. It isn’t customary to perform a marriage on a quarter day, but needs must.”
“You see the wisdom of the course of action now, do you not?” asked Mrs. Quartermaine, gazing upon the newborn, currently asleep in a wooden box for produce, now lined with blankets. “Needs must.” Her gaze then softened. “We’ve made mistakes before with unfortunate girls. She requires help. As does the babe.”
Erasmus looked at the child, who would suffer enormously if he declined to take part in this scheme.
He never meant to remarry. Losing Eleanor four years ago had left him barely able to draw breath without a pain in his ribs. The only comfort had been the demands of the farm, the contents of his scholarly library, and the need to raise his daughter, Theodosia.
Beside him, there was a place that would never be filled, a place reserved for Eleanor. He imagined her reply if he tried to explain why he declined to help a woman in need because of undying loyalty to her. She was practical and even, and would likely counter his objections with historical examples of marriages for noble reasons — were she here today.
But she was not. Erasmus was a widower, and Eleanor would hardly look upon his refusal to aid this unfortunate young woman with favor. In allowing the Quartermaines’ plan to run its course, he’d be helping this poor girl and her child and silencing any hopes of his remarriage among the villagers. Why, he might even move about the village untroubled should he have a wife in name!
The wheels of his destiny were in motion the moment he’d thrown open those cart doors to the threshing barn and heard the baby’s first cries.
Erasmus Mangevileyn was going to be married today. And made a father again to boot.
“Needs must,” he agreed.
Chapter 2
Amy Abel woke inan unfamiliar bed, one with a rich canopy over the top and blankets tucked all around her. An oil lamp burned on the bedside table, and there was a roaring fire in the grate.
