“Do you have a talent for frightening children?” Reese asked.
“I had not thought so,” he said dryly, “but I am not often in their company.”
Lily appeared at the door again, her color heightened. “Beg pardon, my lord.” She went into a deep curtsy and stumbled when she tried to straighten. The Earl took her arm to steady her, and the child gasped. He dropped his hand. “This way, please,” she said with a shaky voice and bobbed another quick curtsy.
They followed her into the dark hovel. It was much cleaner than it had been the first day because Reese had put in some real elbow grease into it. The father must be working his field as usual. Lily had been the first child and the only one who had survived. A little pallet lay near her parent’s bed where the girl slept. The mother, Sarah, smiled when she saw Reese.
“How is he today?” She approached the bed, and the mother held up the little bundle. Reese took the squirming baby and brought him over to the single window.
“Why must she keep it so dark in here?” the Earl whispered.
“Because candles cost money, and if you have the choice between light and food, food wins out.”
He grunted.
“I need more light.” Reese stepped out the door. She pulled back the blanket and held a tiny arm in the sunlight. Pressing a thumb against the skin, she wished there was more fat under the flesh. The yellow tinge was even more pronounced today than it had been yesterday. Frowning, she held the baby’s face to the light. He squirmed and shut his eyes.
“Here, hold him for me.” She handed the baby to the Earl.
“What?” He held up his hands to ward her away, but she put the baby boy in them instead.
“Shift him into the light.” Reese pulled on the Earl’s jacket. She gently opened one of the baby’s eyelids. He cried, and she wanted to join him. The whites of his eyes were definitely yellow.
“What is it?” the Earl asked, his voice low.
“The jaundice is still getting worse.” Lily had sat outside with the baby in filtered sunlight the day before to help with the bilirubin, but it hadn’t been enough. Back home, parents could rent a light to put in the crib, but sometimes babies had to be hospitalized for more severe cases. Nothing in this time could help.
“It sounds like you are speaking a foreign language,” he said, frustrated.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She chuckled at his expression. “Next time you’re tempted to say that to Ellen, remember how it made you feel.” Reese wrapped the baby again and turned to Lily. “Do you remember what to do?”
“Yes, miss.” The girl took her brother and went over to a tree which filtered the light.
Reese went back inside and to where Sarah lay. “I know your breasts—” Behind her, the Earl gave a strangled cough. Well, he had asked to come with her, and if he couldn’t handle hearing about womanly issues, he was welcome to leave. “You’re probably still really tender, but the baby needs to feed more frequently. Having him out in the sunlight will help, but it’s not enough. Is there anything I can get for you?”
“No, miss,” Sarah said with a weak smile. “After six babies, this is the first one I feel pampered with.”
“Are your older children with your husband?” the Earl asked.
“No, my lord.” The mother’s eyes glistened, and her lips trembled. “All but Lily died a few days after they were born.”
Reese sucked in her breath, feeling like she had been struck. His lordship said nothing but put his arm on her shoulder, sensing that something troubled her.
“I’ll send over more food so your body can make more milk.”
“Thank you, miss. You’re too kind.” Sarah bowed her head at the Earl. “My lord.”
Reese put her hand on the one he still had on her shoulder and practically dragged him from the house.
“What is it?” he asked when they were outside.
“Not where Lily can hear.” Still with her hand in his, they approached the wagon.
The Earl placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and she realized what it might have looked like to the workers and the cottiers. He remained silent until they were on the road back to Kellworth.
“Now tell me what troubled you back there,” he said, his voice low, though from the young groom’s snores they had privacy.
“It might be nothing,” she said.
