As the carriage pulled into traffic, I put my arm around Delia, and she relaxed against me. I let out a sigh of relief and could feel Mr. Dorian’s gaze upon me. He hadn’t said a word since telling the coachman to drive to Portman Square. But I couldn’t look at him just now. I was certain he would see far too much.
Then, just when I thought Delia had fallen asleep, she suddenly straightened. “Something is wrong.”
“What?” I asked.
She looked at me as her eyes flashed with fear. “I think … I think I’m bleeding.”
I had expected Mr. Dorian to leave as soon as he deposited us at our parents’ house, but he didn’t. Instead, he insisted on carrying Delia inside through the back entrance and, under the direction of the housekeeper, up the servants’ staircase and into her bedroom. Mother was out, thank God, and Mrs. Reynolds quickly took charge and sent Mr. Dorian out of the room. But Delia stubbornly refused to let me send for the doctor. “There is nothing he can do anyway,” she said tearfully once she was tucked up in bed. Her suspicions hadbeen correct. Her courses had begun once again. “And he’ll only tell Mother.”
Though she had a point, I was prepared to argue. But Mrs. Reynolds cut in: “My mother was a midwife when I was growing up in our little village. And I have nursed my share of young ladies through this in my time, Mrs. Harper. And given how early it is, I believe there is little risk of infection.”
I raised my eyebrow. “How do you know that?”
Delia looked away guiltily, but Mrs. Reynolds remained undaunted. “I know everything that goes on in this house. Including when a young lady has missed her courses.”
I stared at her in shock. “Does anyone else know?” If so, that could ruin everything.
But Mrs. Reynolds shook her head. “Absolutely not. Once I had my suspicions, I asked Miss Delia, and together we enacted a plan to put any speculation to rest.”
I furrowed my brow. “You mean … youfakedthem?”
“Just enough to fool the maids,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “It is done in houses like these when one cannot guarantee complete discretion from the staff. Do not be cross with her,” she continued. “It was entirely my idea.”
“I’m not angry,” I insisted. Then I turned to Delia. “I only wish you had told me.”
Delia bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
I let out a sigh and sat down on the bed beside her. “I just want to make sure you’re well,” I relented. Then I looked back at Mrs. Reynolds. “You’re certain she doesn’t need a doctor?”
“I will keep a close eye on her,” she said with a firm nod. “You don’t need to worry.”
Mrs. Reynolds was terrifyingly competent. I could understand why Delia had confided in her. “Thank you,” I said.
“Now, you rest up. I’ll come back a bit later with somethingto eat,” Mrs. Reynolds said to Delia, then left the room.
Once we were alone, Delia began to trace her finger on the coverlet’s flowered pattern. “I know how difficult it all would have been,” she began softly. “But I still feel terribly sad.” Then she looked up at me with watery blue eyes. “Is that stupid?”
“Of course, it isn’t,” I said fiercely as I pulled her into my arms. “You have every right to be upset. Society’s arbitrary rules for what counts as acceptable behavior doesn’t change what you lost.”
I felt her huff a surprised laugh against my shoulder, and she pulled back. “Goodness, Minnie. I had no idea you were such a radical.”
I forced a smile. “I think it’s called just being a woman.”
As she watched me, her gaze filled with understanding. “You’ve experienced this too, haven’t you.”
I looked away and nodded, just once. “After Cleo. But I was a bit further along.”
After a moment, I felt her hand cover mine, and the warmth of her palm cut through the numbness. “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”
“It was,” I murmured. In truth, I rarely allowed myself to think about that dark stretch of time anymore. Oliver and I dealt with the loss in different ways: I allowed myself to be swallowed up by grief, while he did his best to outrun it at every turn. He began to spend more and more time away on vague work assignments he didn’t like to talk about—though I barely noticed and cared even less. Needless to say, this put a terrible strain on my marriage for the better part of a year until I could finally move beyond the fog of grief. Slowly, we began to repair things between us, but they were never quite the same as they had been because I wasn’t the same. How could I have been?
And then, after Oliver’s death, it had been easier to forget the first great tragedy of my life. But the pain was still there, buried underneath all the rest. I turned to Delia. “Having Tommy helped,” I said simply.
“I’m glad,” she replied, her eyes full of sympathy.
But it felt wrong that she would be giving me comfort right now. I cleared my throat. “I’ll leave you to get some rest.”
As Delia held my gaze, I could tell she saw right through my little performance but did not call me on it. “All right.”
