Page 41 of A Foolish Endeavor

Miles raised his damp eyes and sniffed. “No, you always have sensible advice. I would wish to explain myself to you, if you have no objection.”

“How did it begin?”

“I had walked into the village one hot day and was thirsty, so I decided to have a glass of ale. Daisy—that is the girl—came over and began joking with me and flirting. It was so pleasant to have someone pretty pay attention to me. I returned once or twice more, enjoying our banter until one thing led to another. When she made it clear she would not object, well, we ended up in bed. I swore I would never do it again. Then, Lavinia and I had a bad argument. I insisted she come down and join Father and me for dinners again, but she refused. I was so angry at her that I stormed out of the house and went directly to Daisy’s bed. And so it might have continued except for Father’s learning of it. When he discovered us together—well, Charlotte, I fear I shall never erase it from my memory.”

“I have no need to hear those details, if you do not mind,” Charlotte said. “So, you are resolved to never again see this girl?”

“I am.”

“And will you confess all to Lavinia?”

Miles violently shook his head. “Absolutely not. It would do no good and would likely make things between us even worse.”

“Or… perhaps it might help. This discord between you and Lavinia must come to a head—in the same way a fever must reach its peak before the body can begin to heal.”

Miles sipped his tea a moment, considering. “No, I do not think so,” he finally said. “I shall just hope that Dickie continues to get better, and that she will return to our marriage. She has, at least, hired a new nursery maid, which also gives me hope.” He gave a shrug. “That is all there is to say on my wretched behavior. I am sorry you have learned of it. I know you must think ill of me now.”

Charlotte set her cup down and hauled herself to her feet. She crossed over to Miles and bent down to embrace him. “Miles. You are my dear, dear brother and I shall always love you. We none of us are perfect, as you well know. I hope that you can try kindness instead of anger when speaking to Lavinia and—oh!” Charlotte broke off with a gasp and stood erect, a queer expression on her face.

“Charlotte, what is it? Is it the baby?”

Charlotte clutched her stomach and took a deep breath, then smiled. “Yes, I think it is my time. Call for Sally to fetch the midwife and help me upstairs. Oh, why does it have to be now? My poor Frederick is away.”

Nine hours later, Charlotte gave birth to a hefty and healthy son. Miles and Evan had gathered at the parsonage to await the birth, but Lavinia had refused to come, despite Miles’s pleadings. She merely had said she would pray that all went well. Miles had nearly thrown harsh words at her for such a lack of support, but, mindful of what Charlotte had just advised him, he had bent to kiss his wife’s forehead saying, “Very well, my dear, as you see fit.” To his surprise, she spoke as he was leaving, “Do send word as soon as there is news, darling?” He had smiled and nodded, then hurried back to the parsonage with his father to wait.

Now, he and Evan were at Charlotte’s bedside, admiring the red-faced, mewling baby, swaddled and held securely in her arms.

“He is the image of when you came into this world, Charlotte,” Evan said. “Same dark hair and, no doubt, the eyes will follow. He will be a handsome lad, just like his grandfather.” He laughed. “I am most happy for you and Frederick.”

“It is well that the baby should have dark looks like Frederick and me, Father,” Charlotte said, smiling. “If he were light in his features like Dorothea and Gilbert, people might think we are not his true parents.”

“What will you name him?” Miles asked.

“Frederick wishes to call him William and I have no objection. I did ask if his second name might be Frederick, but he wants to honor you, Father, since you were instrumental in bringing about our marriage. So, he is to be William Evan, and I am most content with that.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Evan bent to kiss Charlotte on the top of her head. “Now, I think it best that we leave you and your young charge to rest. I am quite grateful all went well.”

When Evan and Miles returned to Clayton House, Miles immediately went to the nursery to tell Lavinia the happy news. To his great surprise, he saw only his son, sleeping peacefully, and Susan, the new nursery maid sitting beside the tiny bed, doing some needlework.

“Where is Mrs. Kendall?” Miles asked.

“I believe she went to look for something in her bedchamber, sir.”

Lavinia had left the nursery? Could it truly be? Carrying a kernel of doubt with him, Miles hurried to their room. He found Lavinia going through a cupboard, pulling out items, examining them and setting them aside. He caught his breath.

Oh, Lord, she has learned of my indiscretion and is leaving me.

“Lavinia, dearest—what are you doing?”

She looked up, her countenance quite serious. “Oh, Miles, Sally from the parsonage came to the house with the news of Charlotte’s successful birth. A boy—isn’t that grand? Frederick will be so happy.” She went back to pulling items out of drawers, studying them and shoving them back.

“But, what are you doing just now, Lavinia?”

She gave a small laugh, “I am so addled, I declare, I completely forgot to answer your question. I am looking for something appropriate that I might give as a gift for Charlotte and the new baby, but I cannot find a thing. What are they to name the boy, do you know?”

“William Evan. It is so kind of you to want to have a gift for her, but you need not do it this very moment.”

Lavinia shook her head firmly. “No, I must. I have been most remiss in my attentions to Charlotte. I ought to have been knitting baby blankets, or socks, or something these past few months. I have nothing—nothing at all to gift them with. There is only one thing for it. I must go into Doddington tomorrow and purchase something, or at least buy some fabric for the baby.”