Bethie stroked Corinne’s arms in an effort to comfort the poor child. Off to one side, tears streamed down Rowena Hollerfield’s pale face. Her fine black hair was completely out of sorts, her hands trembling violently. A wave of compassion swept through Lorelei. The woman dearly loved her sister. It was written in every crease of her face.
Corinne’s tormented screams rattled the windows, competing with the fierceness of the storm beyond. “I need to check ye,” Bethie said gently.
“Don’t. Don’t hurt her.” The panic in Rowena’s pitch pierced Lorelei deeply.
Lorelei rushed over, desperate to help. “Miss Hollerfield, please. Why don’t you take yourself downstairs, have some tea? It’s freshly made up.”
Rowena glared at her. But Lorelei didn’t see anger, she saw fear. Rowena shook her head in a barely discernible move. A niggling suspicion took hold of Lorelei that refused to dispel. “She’s not your sister, is she?” Lorelei asked softly.
Alarm infused with panic flashed over Miss Hollerfield’s fine features. She froze.
Lorelei touched her hand. Miss Hollerfield flinched at the gesture. “I suspect she is—is she your… daughter?”
Miss Hollerfield blinked and seemed to grasp at something within. “Yes, yes,” she said in a rushed, hushed whisper. “My daughter. She’s my—my daughter. Ican’tlose her.”
Something akin to relief fell from Miss Hollerfield’s shoulders with the admission. Her reprieve was swift, Lorelei noted. Too hasty? With an inward shake of her head, Lorelei met Bethie’s worried frown. She looked back at Miss Hollerfield. “If God sees fit to grant your daughter her life, Bethie is the one person to see her through,” Lorelei spoke softly.
A surprised pause filled the chamber. Miss Hollerfield nodded then. “She is all I have. I cannot lose her.”
“Please, Miss Hollerfield, I’ll stay with her. No harm shall come to her.” The words were a silent prayer to herself. The Hollerfields’ maid stood at the door, stark terror written on her face. Lorelei beckoned to her. “Come in, Agnes. See Miss Hollerfield to the parlor.” She turned to the maid. “And please, send up fresh water.”
“No, I—” Rowena started.
“Please, Miss Hollerfield,” Lorelei said firmly. “You’ll do your daughter no good if you have no sustenance or rest. She shall be fine with me and Bethie for an hour.”
Corinne writhed on the bed, moaning.
She turned from Rowena and moved to the bedside. “What can I do to help, Bethie?” To Lorelei’s relief and surprise, the door clicked closed behind Rowena Hollerfield.
“Bathe her face, my lady,” Bethie said. “I don’t hold out much hope, I’m afraid.”
“At least we can make her comfortable.” Fear threatened to paralyze her, but Lorelei breathed in deeply. “Miss Hollerfield?”
“Rowena,” Corinne panted, delirious.
Bethie handed her the dampened cloth. “I need to check her progress, my lady. Are ye sure you should be ’ere? This ain’t for the likes of ye.”
“Do what you need to, Bethie. I’m not leaving.”
Lorelei dabbed perspiration from her patient’s face. Corinne gazed up at her through pain-fogged eyes.
“You will make my baby a fine aunt,” Corinne whispered. Another pain ripped through her.
Lorelei swallowed back tears, but inevitably some spilled over. The doubts gained root. Was Thorne the child’s father?No. There was something…She couldn’t think clearly, and met Bethie’s eyes.
Bethie murmured quietly to their charge, pressing her palms against Corinne’s protruding stomach. “We gots to take this child, if there’s hope for either of ’em,” Bethie spoke softly.
Lorelei nodded, despite the bile that pinched the inside of her jaw. She breathed small, quick, shallow breaths.
“The babe is turned all which-a-ways,” Bethie said harshly. “We has to turn it.”
Thirteen
S
ix hours. He hadn’t spent six hours in a carriage since his honeymoon, and that was by choice. Naturally, when he’d tried handing little Cecilia over to her nurse, she wailed as if she’d lost her best friend. Nine-year-old Irene only covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide and filled with mirth.
“Lady Irene, you find my predicament amusing?”
