Chapter 7
Gertie sat on the wall beside the lane a little way past her father’s cottage and waited. And worried.
Was she making a mistake? If someone saw her picnicking with Archie, would word spread? Would women stop coming to the bakery for their bread? More importantly, if she continued to allow Archie to court her…would the truth come out?
That seemed far more likely, and far worse than a few women choosing the other bakery in town. She groaned softly. This was going to be a disaster. She should leave now before Archie arrived.
Standing, Gertie had walked a few steps back toward Rivenhall when Archie appeared. Bloody hell!
She started toward him, determined to make her excuses—but spotted the large basket and blanket he carried. Her stomach dropped. He’d gone to so much trouble already. How could she abandon him? It would be so rude of her. No, she’d stay, have a polite lunch, then make her excuses.
And would avoid any mention of her son.
Gertie halted her steps to wait for Archie to meet her. “Good afternoon, Archie.”
“Good afternoon, Gertie. I’m very glad to see you came.” His smile was nearly as bright as the unusual sunshine beaming down on them.
She flashed him a quick smile, hoping it didn’t look as guilt-ridden as it felt. “Of course I came.”
“Shall we? I think I remember our perfect spot not far from here.” He held out his arm for her to take.
She didn’t want to encourage him—far too late for that thought!—so she turned and walked at his side as she clasped her hands behind her back. “You didn’t see my father about the cottage when you walked by, did you?”
“No, but I honestly wasn’t looking for him. I was running a bit late, what with getting the basket together.” He glanced at her apologetically.
“Not to worry. I was just curious.” Gertie shrugged a shoulder and continued walking as they both fell silent.
She tried to think of something to say multiple times, but every conversational sally she could summon led straight back to her son.
Archie seemed equally at a loss for topics as he remained quiet as they walked.
Fortunately it was a lovely day, if terribly warm for December, and the view was lovely.
As they neared a copse of trees, Archie cleared his throat. “Here we are.” He led her through the clump of trees to the secluded little meadow they had often cavorted in.
It had been twenty years since Gertie had been here. Memories of their time together came rushing back as Archie laid out the blanket and settled the basket. Him chasing and catching her before they rolled in the grass laughing like children. She chuckled and smiled.
“What brought that smile to your lips?” He paused from unpacking the basket as he looked up at her.
“I was remembering the times we spent here. I’d forgotten about this place.” Her heart squeezed ever so slightly, though she ignored the sensation.
“We did have quite a lot of fun here.” He held out his hand to help her sit down.
With a nod, she accepted his assistance and sank to the ground with only a slightly awkward lurch. Graceful was not an adjective commonly used to describe her.
“Have you not been here in a while?” Archie asked as he handed her a plate followed by a package of cold meats he’d acquired from the boardinghouse’s kitchen.
She selected a few slices and set them on her plate before handing the package back to him. Next, he handed her a small hunk of cheese and a slice of her own crusty bread from the day before. “No, not…not since Sam was born.”
Gertie’s smile faded and her stomach knotted. Blast it all! She wasn’t supposed to mention her son, and what was the first thing out of her witless mouth? Perhaps she would be lucky. Perhaps he wouldn’t ask about Sam—
“He seems a bright young man. I take it he is quite helpful to you in running the bakery?” Archie asked her.
The question seemed harmless enough, but her stomach tightened, nonetheless. “He is. I couldn’t have kept the bakery running without him after his father died.”
There, she thought. That should settle any question about her son’s parentage. Not that people ever questioned whether Thomas was his father.
“How old is Sam now? He seems quite mature.” Archie reached up and pushed his spectacles up his nose before placing a few slices of meat on his own plate and adding bread and cheese as well.
Gertie’s stomach dropped painfully. She would have dropped to her knees had she been standing. “Sam? He’s twenty.” She couldn’t look at him when she said it and for a moment, she thought she’d said it so softly he might not have heard her.
“Yes, as I recall you were married not long after I left for school. What was the rush? At the time I thought your father was considering the Powell boy?” Archie’s question sounded casual enough as he poured them each a drink and then took a sip from his own cup.
But Gertie’s stomach cramped. Ah, there it was. Right back where it belonged. Of course, he wanted to understand what had happened.
She sighed. She had been a fool to think she could avoid this. “Didn’t the Reverend tell you? I…I was with child. I had to marry.”
At her words Archie coughed and spluttered, choking on the wine he’d poured them. Or at least, she assumed it was wine. Reaching over, she patted him on the back to help him clear the obstruction.
As he finally caught his breath, Archie looked at her in horror. “What do you mean? Reverend Goodman knew? That bastard baker got you pregnant?”
Her jaw flopped open like a gasping fish.
The Reverend had been a meddling coward.
“No, Thomas did no such thing! He was the kindest, gentlest man I have ever known.” She glared, annoyed by his nefarious suggestion.
“I wrote to you that I was with child and asked you to return home to marry me. You never responded.”
Archie’s brows snapped together, causing a deep, unrelenting crease to form. “But I’ve already told you I never received a letter from you. Not one.”
She should have known better than to trust Reverend Goodman.
She should have bloody well known better.
“I know you didn’t, based on our conversation the other day.
But I wrote and believed I had sent you a letter explaining that I was pregnant, and needed you to come home.
The Reverend assured me he would send it along to you.
” She shook her head. “I knew he’d read it himself when Papa, the Reverend, and Thomas appeared in the cottage a few weeks later proposing a marriage between Thomas and myself.
But I never imagined at the time that he hadn’t sent the letter to you. ”
“The only letter I received was from the Reverend explaining that you’d married the new baker in town.
No mention of a child.” Archie looked as flabbergasted as she had felt.
“Oh, my goodness. I was aware he disapproved of you, but I assumed he felt we were too young to be so committed to each other—not that he was actively trying to separate us.”
Gertie’s heart lurched in her chest. So many lost years because, once again, a man thought he knew better than her.
It would be infuriating if it weren’t so heartbreaking.
A child denied his biological father, not that Sam was aware.
Thomas Sutton had been a good man who’d loved Sam as his own, even when there had been no children of his own for her to bear.
“I wish I could say I was surprised. I only regret I was not more determined to contact you at the time. But I was so scared and alone with it all. I was terrified my father would find out before I had sorted out what to do. In the end, he did.”
Archie sucked in a sharp breath as though the truth had only just dawned on him. “Wait—you mean…that means Samuel…is my son?”
Gertie sighed. The truth was out now. “He is. But, Archie, he does not know Thomas was not his father, and it must stay that way.”
A breath whooshed out of him as he sat there for a long moment. “I-I…I see. My God, I have a son!”
Gertie couldn’t help but smile at how pleased he sounded.
His excitement warmed her heart. “You do.” Heavens she hated asking this of him, hated to see his joy dimmed by her request. “But again, for the sake of my reputation, for the sake of my livelihood, I must ask you to keep this knowledge to yourself.”
Archie looked at her balefully, true pain in his eyes. “How can you ask that of me? He’s my son. I should like to know him.”
Guilt stabbed her through the heart. But this was the right decision.
“I’m sorry, Archie, but I must insist—for Sam’s sake as much as mine.
If it were to come out that he was a bastard, his marriage prospects would evaporate, and that’s assuming customer’s wouldn’t stop buying our baked goods.
I wish I could tell him he still has a father, but it might cost him—it might cost me—everything. ”
Archie looked absolutely agonized as the lenses of his glasses seemed to magnify the pain in his eyes.
Eventually he said, “For now I shall remain silent. But I shall not promise to remain so forever, Gertie. I want to know my son and I want to spend time with you as well. If I were to get to know him by virtue of courting you, then your reputation would remain safe.”
A strangled sound escaped her throat. Please let him agree to this. “Archie, when you stand too long next to Sam it becomes glaringly obvious you are his father. Regardless of what we may want, it simply isn’t safe to call attention to who his father might or might not be.”
Archie looked unconvinced. “I’ll relent for now. But as I said, this is not how I intend to leave things.”
Gertie couldn’t force a bite of food past the lump in her throat as they finished their picnic, all the while Archie asking questions about his son and she offering stilted answers. By the time she returned to Rivenhall, she was a nervous wreck. She knew Archie wouldn’t leave this alone.
The question was, when would he demand a formal introduction to his son?