A Secret Elixir (My Lady’s Potions #4)

Prologue

The first baby Janelle Caddick helped birth was a calf in the field next to the witch woman’s cottage.

The woman’s name was Mrs. Sundy, though no one knew of a Mr. Sundy, and Janelle was only there because she had a toothache.

Janelle’s father and brother might go to a doctor from London for such a thing, but Janelle was only ten and a girl, so Nanny took her to Mrs. Sundy.

The tooth was pulled with the help of a string and a kitten, the feline being the distraction.

But what really caught Janelle’s attention was the mournful call of the cow that was Mrs. Sundy’s only companion and source of income.

“Why does he sound so sad?” the young Janelle asked.

“She sounds sad,” Mrs. Sundy said, “because she’s bringing a baby into the world.”

“But that’s a happy thing,” Janelle said.

“Yes,” Mrs. Sundy agreed in a somber tone. “That’s exactly what men say.”

That was the first time she’d heard that what men say and what women say might be different. Even more, Mrs. Sundy’s tone implied there was a vast difference between what men considered happy and what women did.

“Would you like to help?” Mrs. Sundy asked.

Nanny objected immediately. “She’s the baron’s daughter. She’ll be a fine lady one day—”

“Then she’ll need to know how things come into this world. It’s a happy thing, after all.”

At ten years old, she hadn’t understood the undercurrents in the words between Nanny and Mrs. Sundy. She couldn’t possibly comprehend that for many men, babies—be they human or cattle—were born in a different place. Out of sight, out of mind until someone informed them of the happy event.

“I want to see!” she declared, and at ten years old, she was stubborn enough to make it happen, at least with her nanny. No amount of stubbornness with her father made the least bit of difference.

Mrs. Sundy took her out back where the cow labored.

There was no one else to help except herself and Nanny, and so Janelle brought linens, a bucket of water, and a sponge while Mrs. Sundy soothed her aging cow Hygieia.

What followed took hours. It was backbreaking, sweaty work.

Not for herself, of course, but for poor Hygieia because the baby did not want to come out.

Worse, it was messy, smelled strange, and required physical strength from all three humans.

Mrs. Sundy needed to move the calf around inside Hygieia’s body. Nanny had to hold down the cow while Mrs. Sundy worked. And Janelle ran back and forth, doing what she was told, when she was told, as if the world depended upon it.

And indeed, during that hour, three worlds did depend upon it. It was Hygieia and her calf’s life. It was also Mrs. Sundy’s livelihood. Three souls, three worlds, and one not yet born.

The calf took its time and Nanny wanted to leave, but Janelle refused to go.

She would not abandon the task half done.

And though she was the child and Nanny the adult, some things remained undeniable.

She was the mistress, Nanny was the servant, and so they stayed while Janelle imagined her body compressed with every contraction in Hygieia’s body.

And then it happened.

Forefeet first and head while Hygieia moaned a low cry of distress.

In truth, once the calf was in the correct position, this was a relatively easy birth.

Later, Janelle would learn about chains and handles and any of a dozen different ways to help a calf come into this world.

But at that moment, all she knew was how it felt to measure time by contractions and the moan of a cow.

Once the calf’s head appeared, Janelle wanted to rush to pull the calf out, but Mrs. Sundy stopped her.

“Everything in God’s time,” the woman said.

God’s time took even longer. Hygieia was an old mother who tired easily.

She needed rest before facing a newborn.

It took another hour before all was said and done.

When the calf finally greeted the afternoon sun, Janelle was ready with a sponge and bucket to wash the newborn off, but again she was held back.

She watched in shock while Hygieia struggled to her feet and tended to her child with her large, rough tongue.

“It’s important for mother and baby to do this,” Mrs. Sundy said. “We are here to help only if needed.”

Fifteen minutes later, the calf was up on all four feet and nursing.

Then it was Janelle’s turn to work. She cleaned the afterbirth and the straw.

She washed Hygieia who didn’t notice anything except her child.

And she stood aside, flush with a new kind of happiness, one that mixed hard work with God’s miracle.

“A job well done,” Nanny said.

“Aye,” agreed Mrs. Sundy.

It took a moment for Janelle to realize they didn’t mean what they’d done, but referred to Hygieia and God.

After all, it was the cow who had expelled the calf, and God who had created it in the first place.

But it was they who stood by in joy, who helped where needed, and who felt the world settle into a new order once the full task—especially the clean-up—was complete.

“Would you like to name the calf?” Mrs. Sundy asked.

Janelle nodded, pleased with the honor. Lots of words floated through her mind. Indeed, she recognized the name Hygieia as the Greek goddess of health, and the calf should have something equally exalted. But the word that came out was nothing so elevated.

“Happy,” she blurted. “The calf should be named Happy.”

It was a simplistic word for what she meant.

She now knew that what men called “happy” was nothing like the complicated, difficult work of what women knew.

Even in an easy birth, there had been sweat and labor.

And so this calf was named Happy because she now understood that something so lighthearted still required effort.

“A good name,” Mrs. Sundy said.

Nanny, however, didn’t comment. Her attention was on the time, which was now well past tea, and on Janelle’s dirty hands and face, not to mention the stains on her dress.

“What will the master say?” she moaned as she pulled Janelle to the cart they’d used to travel here.

They both knew that her father prized teatime with his children.

“It doesn’t matter,” Janelle said. “He’ll spend most of the time quizzing Alex anyway.” Alexander was Janelle’s younger brother and her father’s only heir. He carried the weight of her father’s expectations which included mastery of several subjects of which the boy had absolutely no interest.

“It does matter,” Nanny said as she whipped the old horse into motion.

They jolted along the road at a bruising clip.

Once home, they rushed inside to quickly change clothes, wipe off what dirt remained, and tie a ribbon around Janelle errant locks before dashing as fast as possible to the parlor.

Just before entering, Nanny stopped her, they both took a breath to compose themselves, then they slipped into the room as if her father were too blind to see their entrance.

As expected, father was quizzing her brother on Latin declensions.

At this point, Janelle knew them better than Alex did.

But she didn’t know the advanced mathematics that he’d been learning while she was helping Hygieia.

She tried to slink into place beside her brother, but of course that wasn’t possible.

Eventually, her father turned his hard glare to her.

“Why were you tardy?” he asked, his tone heavy.

Unable to contain her excitement, she blurted out her answer.

“I helped birth a baby calf! It was the most amazing thing. It took hours and hours, and Mrs. Sundy had to help. The calf was in the wrong position. Well, not exactly. The head was tilted back like this, but the rest was in the right place.”

She was about to say more, but when she twisted her head to demonstrate, the butler’s face came into view.

He was a London butler brought down to Devon because of his advancing years.

He was fond of saying that he was too old to manage an active London establishment, but here in the country, he brought much needed polish to the slower pace.

His name was Sambell, and he clearly didn’t approve of what she was saying. Indeed, he seemed downright shocked by it. Her words slowed to a stop as she twisted back around to judge her father’s expression.

Papa’s brows were drawn down and his lower lip pursed. It was how he appeared when Alex failed the most basic Latin declensions.

Trying to recover, she stammered out something that wasn’t at all important. “I…um…I was there because my tooth hurt.” She pressed her hand to her cheek. “It’s better now.”

Her father’s gaze leaped to Nanny’s. “The birth of a cow?” he asked, his voice icy. “Is that an appropriate experience for the daughter of a baron?”

Oh dear. Her father only took that tone when he was very angry. It was another year before she understood exactly how much her education—or lack thereof—depended upon what he thought was appropriate knowledge for a baron’s daughter.

“No, sir,” Nanny replied, dropping into a quick curtsy. “It was simple happenstance—”

“It was my fault,” Janelle rushed to explain.

She liked this nanny. She was young and could keep up with her.

She also had a kind heart that could be manipulated, as had happened this afternoon.

Janelle hated the thought that Papa might sack the woman because of what she’d done.

“My tooth hurt, Papa, but I wouldn’t let Mrs. Sundy pull it.

I was too afraid. And then Hygieia was in distress, and Mrs. Sundy needed to help. It took a long while—”

“Why didn’t you return home?” her father asked, his hard gaze cutting back to her.

“B-because my tooth hurt. It needed to be pulled.” Tears welled up. “Don’t be angry, Papa. I was afraid, and I wouldn’t let Mrs. Sundy help. But I knew I had to, so I screwed up my courage. I was brave and let her do it.” She looked down at her hands. “But by then we were late for tea.”

The lies rolled out as easy as the tears. It was bad acting, every bit of it, and yet it worked on her father. He didn’t like it when she made a fuss, but he liked even less any perceived insult to his status.

“Janelle, listen to me and listen well. There are things a lady can and cannot do.” He waited a moment, then snapped out her name. “Janelle! Look at me.”

Her head jerked up.

“Are you a lady?”

“I will be,” she said automatically.

“Yes, you will,” he affirmed. “Which means you cannot attend animals. You must be brave immediately when having a tooth drawn and not belabor it with nonsense. And you must never be late for tea. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He glared at Nanny. “If you cannot see to the proper training of a young lady, then I will look elsewhere for her education.”

“Yes, sir,” Nanny said with a curtsey.

“Pour the tea, Janelle. Mine has gone cold.”

Janelle rushed to do as she was ordered. Indeed, she served him a fresh cup perfectly, and Alex managed a perfect declension of the verb consequantur (which meant to attain or acquire). And then Alexander came up with a sentence about how his sister must attain the perfect countenance of a lady.

Annoying brother. Especially when he grinned at her as if he knew that her burden was just as difficult as his. Whereas he was forced to learn useless things, she was forced to do useless things.

It was a significant lesson for her, but one she took to heart. Never again was she late to tea. She rarely appeared with a hair out of place, and she never, ever spoke about helping cattle again.

That was because she was fascinated about the birthing of all creatures, especially children.

After that day, she devoted herself to learning everything she could from Mrs. Sundy and anyone else who knew how the young entered this world.

Her nanny had to either join her in her secret activities or be fired because Janelle would not stop.

And because Mrs. Sundy was a passionate teacher, Janelle learned how men made a mess of all things female.

They had command of everything including what a woman could say or think.

A husband had dominion over his wife’s body and her children.

She could not have her own money, nor could she refuse to lie with him no matter his character.

Whores got paid, but a wife was powerless against her husband.

And so good women learned how to hide their business from all men. It was safer that way.

And very soon, Mrs. Sundy’s passion became Janelle’s as well.

It wasn’t a large leap, after all. After her brother’s birth, her own mother had died of childbed fever, and that loss left her with an indifferent father and a younger brother who looked to her for the love neither of them could get from their remaining parent.

If she could find a way to save women from the dangers of childbirth, then no child would ever lose a mother before knowing the shape of her face or the curve of her smile.

Which meant, she did everything to learn the business of women—specifically childbirth—while hiding it from every meddling, idiot man.

By the time Janelle was an adult, she was so well-versed in keeping her father ignorant that she was living two entirely different lives.

She was debutante Janelle Caddick, daughter of a wealthy baron, formerly from Devon but now residing in London. She danced at balls and slept in until tea, refusing callers because her constitution was so delicate.

Then while Janelle slept, Betty Gill appeared.

She served as midwife to women who could not afford the lying in hospital (which was almost everyone).

She studied where she could, learning medicine in the way Mrs. Sundy had—by reading medical books, asking questions, and experimenting where possible.

Indeed, her dual life was perfect so long as she never married anyone who would look into how she spent her time.