Liam hesitated, then asked for the rest of them: “And Tessa?”
Joseph’s father raised his eyes again, but they settled nowhere. “She’s still in the third stage of labor,” he said as if it were an apology. “Her condition is precarious. I cannottearthe placenta away without risking another hemorrhage and syncope; but—” He glanced at his grandson and stopped. “I have done everything within my power. She has regained consciousness, at least.” He noticed the pyx around Joseph’s neck. “Do you have what you need to administer the Last Rites?”
Joseph remained kneeling, as if rising were capitulation—an acknowledgement that the end had truly come. He struggled to swallow his dread. “I brought the Blessed Sacrament and the holy oil; but we need Father Baker…” Joseph looked toward the window behind the staircase. Sleet was still rattling the shutters. The seminary was seven streets away, and it must be nearly midnight.
“There isn’t time, son.”
David made a muffled sound of distress. His face crumpled, and Joseph knew his nephew was trying not to cry. Liam put his arm around the boy’s shoulders as silent tears descended his own cheeks. Edward disappeared into the parlor, but his sob carried out to them.
With effort, Joseph rose. He promised his brother-in-law and nephew: “After Tessa makes her Confession, I’ll summon you and Mr. Stratford for the rest of the Rites.” Numbly Joseph gathered his portmanteau and followed his father up the stairs. He paused partway to whisper: “Is she still in pain?”
His father nodded. “More than you or I will ever know. I’ve given her as much laudanum as I dare, but she insisted I keep her awake.”
Hannah was helping Hélène stagger into the spare bedroom. His sister’s eyes were already bloodshot, and her nose was leaking. She gripped Joseph’s hand. “If there are prayers you were saving for me, Joseph—please, say them for her.”
Tessa’s gardenia perfume reached him before he entered her bedchamber. He suspected Hélène had sprayed it to disguise the room’s less pleasant smells. The tangs of blood and something even more elemental saturated the warm air. Other odors met him too:vinegar, the pine logs in the fireplace, and rose water. The maid he’d seen earlier was gathering sheets from the floor—sheets more red than white.
Bolstered by pillows, Tessa lay on her left side, her back near the edge of the four-poster bed with its gathered green curtains. Her plait was tidy; someone must have rebraided it. Tessa’s long legs seemed to be drawn up beneath the fresh sheet, which barely reached her waist. Her left arm was stretched out across the mattress, her head tilted downwards. She wore only a chemise, and as Joseph rounded the bed, he realized its buttons were undone—Tessa’s newborn daughter lay not in her cradle but curled against her mother’s bare breast.
Joseph looked away, but not quickly enough. They might havewarnedhim. He set down his portmanteau and busied himself with clearing the small table he used for an altar.
His father followed him into the bedchamber. “Can I help you with anything, Joseph?”
He nodded at the table. “We’ll need to bring this into Tessa’s sight line.” Estimating this required Joseph to glance back at her.
Tessa’s right arm cradled her daughter, her fingers caressing the small bald head. “She fussed and fussed, until they returned her to me,” Tessa explained. Her voice was hoarse, breathless with wonder, and weighted with grief. “She wasn’t satisfied while a scrap of linen separated us; but the moment she touched my skin, she calmed.”
Joseph’s father smiled, but worry pinched the corners of his eyes. “She knows her mother.” He helped Joseph move the table. “Do you need anything else?”
“No; thank you.” Joseph opened the little wall cabinet that contained Tessa’s altar furniture, the pieces he used when he said Mass here.
Tessa tried to say something else, but it became a cough instead. Her daughter whimpered at the disturbance. “I am sorry,a chuisle mo chroí,” Tessa soothed. “I will try very hard not to cough or scream anymore.”
Joseph’s father reached for the water pitcher at the bedside, but Joseph said: “Wait.” Quickly he retrieved the bottle of holy waterfrom his portmanteau and poured some into the gilded spoon-cup from Tessa’s cabinet.
His father squinted at the holy water with suspicion. “How fresh is that?”
“We blessed it last night at the Vigil.” Which his father would know, if he ever came to anything but morning Mass. Joseph leaned over the bed to give Tessa the holy water, holding the gilded cup in one hand and supporting her head with the other.
She drank every drop. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, before Joseph lowered her head back to the pillow. Her skin was nearly as pale as the linen.
Still frowning, Joseph’s father crossed around the bed, crouched, and peered beneath the sheet with Joseph right there. As if this were not disconcerting enough, he spoke to them while in this position. “You must call me the moment you see or sense any change.”
Joseph turned back to the cabinet and began preparing the altar. He spread a white cloth on the table, set the pyx atop it, and genuflected to the Body of Christ.
When he glanced toward the bed again, his father had replaced the sheet and was bending to kiss Tessa’s temple. “Please,ma belle, try not to move.” When had his father started addressing Tessa with terms of endearment? His tone was exactly the one he used with Hélène.
Tessa disobeyed him almost immediately. Her daughter was stirring and making small unhappy noises. Tessa turned her head toward Joseph’s father to ask: “Is she hungry, do you think?”
“Let’s see.” Without either permission or warning, Joseph’s father leaned over Tessa and grabbed her breast.
At least, this seemed to be what he was doing. Joseph saw it only out of the corner of his eye while he lit the altar candles.
“Therewe are,” his father declared. “That didn’t take her long at all.” He leaned back. “This may even help you with the final contraction.” Pitching his voice a little louder, he returned his attention to Joseph. “You’ll need to watch Clare—make sure she doesn’t become smothered or tangled.”
“Of course,” Joseph stammered. He didn’t think he couldrefuse, even though watching the baby also meant watching Tessa’s breast.
“I’ll be just outside.” His father closed the door behind him.
