Thirty-Two
EARNSHAW FARM, LINCOLNSHIRE – SEPTEMBER 30, 1814
KATE
Lizzie’s house was crowded,stifling. How was it that the bustle and noise I longed for was now irritating, confining?
It was no smaller than it had been a year ago, and the baby, now born, took up little more room than he did in his mother’s belly. But my adorable nieces and nephews found a way to be underfoot at absolutely every moment of the day. Sydney, though far too large to be underfoot, was quite skilled at ensuring his possessions more than compensated for the absence.
Fortunately, the birth was an easy one, and Lizzie was well on her way to recovery after little more than a fortnight. My mother and the parishioners had Lizzie and baby Elliot’s care well in hand. I was completely superfluous, and they were taking no pains to hide it.
Worse still, my hands were unused to chores that were once as easy as breathing. They were chapped from washing powder, sore from darning, and burned from the ovens. Lizzie once again tutted at the sight when I placed Elliot back in her arms. Settling him to her breast, she fixed me with the disapproving older sister stare, years in the making. “Kate, what are you still doing here?”
“Helping you with the babe, of course.”
“Mother is helping with the babe while you’re making a mess of yourself.” I could not hide my stricken look at that comment. She rushed to explain, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you have your own household to run. Should you not be working on making little lords and ladies of your own?”
“You think I’m superfluous?”
“Oh, Kate, no. I think you are married. Marriage changes people. I am not the girl I was when Sydney and I met. I would not slot any better back into Mother’s household than you are here.”
“But…”
“Kate, why are you really here? Do not say for the birth, for you know Mother is well capable of providing far more assistance than I know what to do with.”
“I missed you. Is that so difficult to believe?”
“No, it’s not difficult to believe. But it’s not the entire story either.”
She burped Elliot, and he made a sleepy smacking sound with his lips as he settled comfortably in her arms for a nap. I traced a gentle finger over the wrinkles on his forehead, softly not to wake him. He looked like an old man, bald on top with tufts of hair over his ears and around the back. Even in sleep, his face was scrunched in something that looked adorably like irritation. But he was a quiet boy, none of the incessant screams I remembered from his eldest sister. Every time I looked at him, really looked instead of just changing or bathing him briskly, there was a pang of longing. It was one I was not interested in examining too closely.
“I know he’s the handsomest of grumpy old men, but you’re evading the question,” she said.
“Did you always love Sydney?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her tilt her head in question, searching for an explanation on my face. She must have found whatever she was looking for because she sighed before answering. “I didn’t know what love was, Katie. Not then. If you had asked me, of course, I would have said yes. But I didn’t love him then as I do now. Marriage isn’t easy if that’s what you’re asking. Even now, there are days when he leaves his muddy boots in the middle of the floor, and I swear he won’t make it through the night.
“So no, I didn’t love him when I married him. I liked him very much. I thought he was unbearably handsome. But, it wasn’t love, that took time. All that to say, you may yet come to love your Hugh.”
“How did you—?” She cut me off with a withering look. Right, Lizzie knew all.
“Do you know, I think I was married for about six, maybe seven months. Sydney and I had a huge row. I cannot even remember what it was about now. But, do you remember when I left to attend to cousin Daphne during her confinement?”
“You ran away too?”
“Oh, yes. Stayed away a full two months before she finally sent me back. A word of advice, it won’t be easier to return for staying away longer. And whatever the problem, it won’t get any smaller for time and distance.”
“When did you become so smart?”
“I’ve always been smarter than you. You were just too dense to see it. Now, tell me, how is Juliet? You said you received a letter?”
“Oh, Lizzie! You will never believe it. Her father was arrested for gaming debts. And she is to be married but not to the Duke of Rosehill. She will marry Michael, Mr. Wayland.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“That is what I thought too, but it’s all right here.” I said, pulling the letter from my apron pocket.
* * *
