Finally, I gave one last push, and the baby was born.
I cried out in both pain and relief and fell back against the pillows.
Dr. Aiken held the baby, and I opened my eyes to get a first glimpse of her.
“It’s a boy,” he said with a broad smile. “A large, healthy baby boy.”
“A boy?” My mouth slipped open at the announcement. In all my dreaming and anticipating, I had not once contemplated my child being a boy.
“A fine heir for Cumberland Hall,” Dr. Aiken said as he rubbed the baby with a clean towel. My son started to cry, and his strong voice filled the room and my heart.
“A boy,” I whispered, my joy just as complete as it would have been had the baby been born a girl.
“And a fine, handsome boy he is.” Edith wiped a tear from her eye as she smiled down at me. “Well done, milady.”
“Thank you, Edith. For everything.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
It took a bit of time for Dr. Aiken and Edith to care for all our needs. Edith gave the baby a sponge bath and then wrapped him in a warm blanket before she finally brought him to me. I was overwhelmed as I took him into my arms for the first time and looked down into his darling face. I knew, even before I looked, that he would not be a time-crosser. There had been no male time-crossers in my family. But I checked, just to make sure.
His chest was unmarked, free and unblemished. Just to be sure, I checked the back of his head as well, with the same result. And he was mine, all mine.
Tears of relief gathered in my eyes, and I pressed him to my shoulder in a hug unlike any other I’d ever given in my life. This baby was a part of me. My own flesh and blood. He was my new family, and I would love and cherish him until the day I died.
“What will he be named?” Edith asked.
“Henry Theodore Reginald Fairhaven,” I whispered, almost more to my son than to my maid. “But I shall call him Teddy.”
“Future Marquess of Cumberland,” Dr. Aiken said as he came up beside Edith to look down at my son. “His future is laid out for him, is it not?”
“Nay,” I whispered. “No future is certain.”
WHITBY, NORTH YORKSHIRE, ENGLAND
OCTOBER 10, 1915
I could hardly take my eyes off Teddy. Every day he was a little different, growing quickly and eating well. He had just turned three weeks old and did little more than sleep and eat, but he was still fascinating. I spent hours just looking at him. Edith often teased me for my attentiveness, claiming that most women in my position would have already sent him off to the nursery and only seen him for an hour each day between tea and supper.
But not me. I had not hired a governess and wasn’t certain I would. I had little to occupy my time as it was, and Teddy filled me with joy and purpose. Taking care of his needs was the greatest job I had ever been given, and I wasn’t about to hand it off to a stranger.
We were in one of the drawing rooms on a dreary, blustery day, and I was pacing the floor with Teddy, who had been fussy that afternoon. I’d tried to feed him, but he hadn’t wanted to eat. I’d changed his nappy, but he still fussed. The only thing that soothed him was bouncing as I walked back and forth across the carpeted floor. This was one of my favorite parlors, near the front of Cumberland Hall. It faced the sea, which was the reason I loved it, and it gave me a good view of the rocky cliffs down the shoreline.
An automobile appeared on the front drive, surprising mea little. The wind and rain had kept everyone at Cumberland Hall inside today, and it seemed strange that someone would purposely come out in this weather.
Teddy was finally asleep, so I laid him in the pram I kept on the main level for when he napped. Rarely was he away from my side. I knew the staff talked about this, probably writing it off as my strange American ways. I had long since stopped caring what they thought of me.
A fire crackled in the fireplace as I sat on the sofa with a book Edith had retrieved for me from the library. It was still difficult for me to enter that room, though it had become a little easier as time passed and my love for Teddy grew. Had that terrible night not occurred, he wouldn’t be here. It didn’t erase my pain, but it smoothed the rough edges.
Several minutes later, the door to the drawing room opened, and Mr. Wentworth appeared. His body was stiff, and his long, narrow face was devoid of emotion as he addressed me. “A telegram has just arrived for you, Lady Cumberland.”
Everything became still as I met his gaze. I had never received a telegram at Cumberland Hall before. There had been many letters from my parents and friends in America, and even a few messages from people who had stayed here after the raid, but never a telegram.
He crossed the room and lowered a silver tray with the telegram lying upon it. I didn’t want to take it, but I could not avoid its news forever.
I slowly set aside my book and reached for the missive, taking the letter opener Mr. Wentworth had placed on the tray beside it. My eyes scanned the envelope, and my heart beat erratically. It was from the Post Office Telegraph and had the wordTelegramin big bold letters across the front. My hands shook as I slipped the letter opener through the seam and tore it. Paper fibers floated on the air as I slowly set the opener on the tray.
Mr. Wentworth straightened and started to turn away, but Iheld out my hand. “No,” I said just above a whisper. “Please, don’t leave me.”
