“Your Graces, please sit. I apologize for my humble abode. I know it’s not what you two are used to,” she said, gesturing to her patched sofa. “I truly never thought I’d see the day you’d find and visit me. We had been quiet about everything, and I believed the trail had gone cold.”
Richard quickly acquiesced, even though he made the sofa look even smaller with his height and frame. Victoria sat beside him, with Melody settling on her lap, just as curious as the duke and duchess. Martha’s eyes were on the baby as she hovered over them hesitantly.
“May I?” she whispered, extending her arms.
Victoria shifted, letting Melody sit closer to her knees so that Martha could see her clearly. Martha reached out and strokedher soft, little cheek. Melody cooed in response, thoroughly pleased.
The seamstress sobbed. Richard could feel how broken she felt, how much Melody and her mother must have meant to her.
“The baby has her eyes. And she—she looks so clean and healthy,” she said, straightening herself up, her expression turning into what seemed like reverence. “One can tell that she has been raised in devotion. Her well-being is a credit to the way you’ve raised her. Sophie made the perfect choice. She must have known your character well.”
“Sophie?” Richard echoed. His voice might be low, but it was the same tone he used whenever he wanted the truth. Now. He rested his elbows on his knees to listen more closely. “Was that Melody’s mother’s name?”
“Yes, it was, Your Grace,” Martha confirmed, nodding. “Sophie Bramer. She was the one who wrote the note you found with Melody. I saw her practice her script so that you wouldn’t think it was from a common girl. She wanted you to think of her baby as special. She loved her baby so much, even though they didn’t get a chance to spend much time together.”
“W-wait,” Victoria interrupted. She turned to Richard with stricken eyes, as if something terrible had dawned on her.
Melody was completely oblivious, but possibly getting hungry as she chewed on the loose ribbon from her bonnet.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Why are you using the past tense, Miss Ewing?” the duchess asked. “Is Sophie?—?”
Her question made goosebumps rise on Richard’s arms. Why, indeed? Victoria could not even complete the second question.
Martha pulled a stool from under her dining table and sank on it as if she weighed more than she had earlier.
“Yes, Sophie had passed. The young woman was already with her baby when she came to me one rainy night. At that time, she didn’t want to tell me how she had fallen pregnant. All she said was that she no longer had a family and that she was willing to work for her lodging. She lived here,” the seamstress narrated. “Yes, I know it’s a small place, but she just seemed relieved. I suspected then that she was running away from something worse. Of course, I thought of the scandal that would follow her and the baby.”
“And yet you kept her?” Victoria asked, in wonder. Her eyes shone, and Richard could see the admiration there clearly.
“Yes, I did. She had nowhere else to go. I don’t have a family that will be judged for taking in an unmarried pregnant girl. However, she insisted on helping me sew from here in the house so that people wouldn’t ostracize my shop.”
“I understand,” Victoria murmured. “But what happened to her?”
“She was brilliant at her work. People flocked to my shop, wanting the intricate, patterned lace she made for the ladies. We were happy for a time. However, when her labor began, I had this dreadful feeling that would not go away. She suffered for more than a day, and she had to stay with the midwife during her birth. We were fortunate to find someone who was willing to keep everything quiet.”
“Mrs. Tallow,” the duchess said.
“Yes. It was Mrs. Tallow. She was very discreet.”
“Oh, yes. She was,” Richard mused.
Both pairs of eyes were on Miss Ewing, who cleared her throat before continuing her story.
“Sophie had a bout of consumption after giving birth. She never recovered, but she mustered the strength to at least write the note and give me instructions to bring the baby to your door.”
“Consumption?” Richard echoed, frowning.
“Yes. She was coughing a lot. She knew she was dying. So, she made certain that she could at least pass on the baby to someone she knew would take care of her.”
Victoria’s lips were parted. By the way she was breathing, Richard could tell she was trying not to cry. She rubbed Melody’s back as if comforting herself and the baby at the same time.
“Why me, then?” Richard asked, his voice hoarse. “Why did she send Melody to my door? Why didn’t she ask you to leave the baby at her father’s, whoever he was? He is the culprit in this story. If he had married her, Sophie wouldn’t have to suffer.”
“She only said that she knew you were a good man. She’d heard good things about you.”
Richard froze. He thought of all the times villagers’ eyes were on him. How did people really think of him? He knew he was not the warmest, but he did try to be as fair as possible.
