“I am so terribly sorry to disturb you,” he said, as if collecting alms for the poor rather than troubling her with the care of her own child. “It’s just that young Phin — the baby — seems to be upset. I fear he might be hungry.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, her body frozen despite the incredible warmth of the room.
“If you don’t mind,” he said, taking a seat on the bed beside her. The motion tugged the blankets over her lap, causing a pressure that made her want to sink into the mattress and sleep for days. Her eyelids drooped.
“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” he asked in the same gentle tone he’d used with her baby and the little girl.
She nodded, fearing that if she needed to say words aloud, her voice might break, and emotions would carry her away.
“The vicar’s wife helped you into a nightgown,” he said, gazing down at her. “Before our marriage, such as it was. My name is Erasmus Mangevileyn. This is Osney Abbey.”
“I am Amy…” she faltered.
“Abel, was it? Well, now, Amy Mangevileyn. I won’t trouble you with questions about your home or people. I think today’s ceremony answered enough questions for now.”
He flashed her a genuine smile, and she noticed how sad his eyes looked even as he seemed to experience joy at cradling the baby.
“The only thing that remains to be sorted today is the small matter of this young man’s dinner,” he said.
“Phineas,” she blurted. “His name is Phineas.”
“A fine name for a fine boy,” said Erasmus, smoothing the baby’s hair. The sight of him tenderly holding the babe washed over Amy, making her feel as though she were the one being held and admired. Was it possible to be jealous of an infant, her own son? That wasn’t quite it. She simply longed suddenly for something she hadn’t known she wanted before.
“Is he your first?” asked the man, rocking the fussy baby.
“My first…oh! Yes, my first.”
“If you’re tired, you can lie back and I’ll see to everything.”
Amy paused, unsure of what he meant. And then she realized that in order for Phineas to eat, he’d need to nurse at her own breast. How mortifying!
And then she recalled the ceremony that had taken place in this very room, with her still abed; they were married. And rather than a proper wedding night, this man was caring for her miraculously legitimate child.
She fumbled with the pearl buttons on the fine nightgown, her fingers slipping clumsily as she struggled to undo them. Amy was nearing tears when one large hand came over hers.
“Allow me,” he said, taking up the work of painstakingly opening each button and exposing the skin running between her breasts.
He was efficient. Experienced. Soon, she was breathing faster and watching as he opened one side to reveal the inner curve of her swollen breast. With a businesslike flick, he exposed her hardened nipple.
Wordlessly, Erasmus arranged the baby on her chest and belly, leaving Phineas to find her teat.
For a few moments, she watched the child make rudimentary, experimental bobs. Why, he might become a prodigy of crawling! And then he let out a wail.
“Let’s help him along,” said Erasmus, adjusting both her breast and the baby so they connected.
The first sucks were alarming. They felt out of control and animalistic, and she hated that a man she didn’t know witnessed her vulnerability. But he kept his hand on the baby’s back and moved him from one breast to the other when she struggled to keep her eyes open because of exhaustion.
Propriety dictated she shouldn’t be doing this before a man she didn’t know. But did those rules apply when the man in question was her husband?
***
Amy woke when the sky was still dark. Someone had turned the oil lamp down to a flicker.
She rotated gingerly in the bed, her body still aching from the delivery of baby Phineas. What a name, Phineas. Her father, plain old George, and her mother, even plainer Mary, would have scoffed at such a name for their grandchild. Sadly, they’d died several years ago and would never know the tumble their daughter would take before finding herself in an Oxfordshire barn, pregnant, alone, and unwed.
Beside her on the bed was a basket. Her hand caught on the unexpected woven reeds. Inside, tucked in a blanket, was her child.
“I thought it might be easiest to keep him near.”
