Ashamed at last, his arousal subsided, and Joseph sank back into his chair.
How could he face Tessa again empty-handed? How could he see the desperation and hope in her eyes and crush her with a platitude? She was a pious woman as well as an intelligent one. She would take what she needed from this letter and discard the rest.
His lamp was sputtering. Instead of extinguishing it, Joseph replenished the oil and read his father’s manual a second time before he sealed the envelope.
When he slipped Tessa the letterafter Mass, she clutched it to her breast and thanked him as if it were the pardon from a death sentence.
Two weeks later, Joseph called on her at home. Her husband was at his law office. Tessa showed Joseph around the garden they had planned together, and he recommended a few more plants to fill the gaps.
Before he left her, Joseph managed to ask: “Was my father’s letter a help to you?”
Tessa blushed and averted her eyes. At last she nodded and whispered: “’Tis not so painful now.” The words were grim, not joyous, as if she meant:“’Tis still painful, but less so.”
Joseph frowned. As Tessa walked beside him, he allowed himself to read in her posture and her countenance what he’d been trying to deny. Very little had changed since the day he’d found Tessa slumped in the pews beneath the weight of her marriage.
“You must give yourself permission to experience this pleasure,”his father had written.Joseph had feared Tessa would embrace too much of his father’s advice. Now he feared she had embraced too little.
CHAPTER 26
From time immemorial, women have regarded the barren womb as a great calamity. All their hopes of happiness are centered around the hope of giving birth to children.
— William B. Mills,Inaugural Dissertation on the Signs of Pregnancy, University of Nashville (1857)
On the Feast of Saint John Chrysostom, when the worst of the summer heat had passed, Joseph and his sister called on Tessa together. Now that she herself was provided for, the young Irishwoman eagerly joined Hélène in her charity work, and Joseph often combined his visits with theirs. Today they would bring baskets of food to the tenements near the wharves. Tessa had not forgotten her former neighbors.
As they approached the Stratfords’ house on Friend Street, Hélène squeezed his arm. “Joseph, look!”
The door leading onto the piazza was open; and within its frame, Mr. Stratford was kissing his wife good-bye. Far more importantly, Tessa smiled after her husband. Whistling, he sauntered down the street.
Hélène grinned up at Joseph. She too had been worried aboutTessa. But clearly, something had changed. Perhaps the new wife had employed some of their father’s advice after all.
Joseph and Hélène set down their baskets on the piazza. Tessa said her cook was still finishing her contributions. While they waited, Tessa offered them tea in her garden.
Though it would not enter its full glory till spring, Joseph thought it was coming along very well, this joint project of theirs. They sat in the shade of the magnolia tree, its red seeds beginning to burst from the pods on their tiny cords. But Tessa herself was the brightest thing in her garden. Joseph had not seen her so ebullient since the day they’d met.
Hélène was equally happy. “Have you seen Liam in his new uniform? Doesn’t he lookhandsome?” Like many other Irishmen, Liam had joined the Phoenix Fire Brigade (partially, he admitted to Joseph, to impress his future mother- and grandmother-in-law, who remained ignorant of the betrothal). Every few months brought an opportunity for heroism when a blaze threatened some part of the city. Hélène leaned toward her friend and confided in a loud whisper: “Liam let me feel his arms through his shirt. They’re hard as coconuts!” As a matter of pride, and to distinguish themselves from the slave companies, volunteer firemen eschewed mules and pulled the engines themselves.
Tessa’s cook brought out her baskets. “Would you mind very much if I carried only the bread?” Tessa inquired.
“Are you still feeling unwell?” Hélène worried.
Tessa smiled into her teacup. “Afternoons are easier.”
His sister selected another little cake from the table. “Joseph can carry the heavy things. He may not be as strong as Liam, but he’s stronger than he looks.”
“Thank you,” Joseph responded. “I think.”
“He swims a lot. That must be it.”
Tessa sat back in her chair and drew their attention again with a sigh at once resigned and contented. “I expect I shall be ill again tomorrow morning.”
Hélène frowned and said around the cake, “You should really talk to Papa.”
“I did.” Tessa lowered her eyes to the front of her pink bodice, where she placed a spread hand. When she looked up at Joseph, a blush suffused her cheeks, so that they nearly matched the silk. “Father, is there a special blessing for…a woman ‘in a delicate condition’?”
Joseph’s cup clattered in the saucer, when he’d only meant to set it down.Of course.
“You’re going to have a baby?!” Hélène squealed.
