Chapter Sixteen
“Ow!”
A drop of blood welled at the tip of Jasmine’s finger, and she pressed it to her lips. The taste of iron filled her mouth as she stemmed the bleeding from the needle prick.
“Don’t do that. Use a cloth,” Mother said from the other side of the room. “And a thimble.”
Jasmine removed her finger from her mouth. Using a thimble was worse.
On this Tuesday, Cassandra, Caroline, and Lady Worthing—who asked Jasmine to call her Honora—arrived promptly at eleven. They brought with them their children, and—to Jasmine’s horror—a velvet workbag filled with threads, needles, and a heap of baby gowns and handkerchiefs.
All ready to be embroidered.
Perched on the settee in her second-floor sitting room, she pushed a needle and thread through linen. She tried to concentrate on her task, but her attention kept traveling to the corner of the room, where Caroline played the pianoforte.
A chorus of giggles accompanied her music.
In front of her, Rose and George played with wooden blocks in the shape of farm animals. Jasmine had never expected to see Mother on the floor—pretending to be a horse. She entertained the children like a puppeteer, and the sweetness of the scene broke Jasmine’s heart.
Did she play like that with me too?
“What are you embroidering, Jasmine?” Cassandra asked.
Jasmine flushed and held the fabric close to her chest. “A handkerchief.”
After seeing Matthew so defeated the day before, she wanted to do something nice for him. She meant to monogram his initials on a handkerchief, but the children could have done a better job. So far, she had only managed a red-threaded, chicken-scratched M in one corner.
“I’m nearly done with mine.” Cassandra lifted a white silk infant day gown. Whimsical daisies decorated the hem and half of the neckline.
Jasmine peeked at Honora’s work. With efficient movements, Honora threaded a white vine into the hem of a simple infant gown.
“Are you doing that for Cassandra, Honora?” Jasmine asked.
“No, for my hospital.” Not bothering to hide her pride, Honora raised her chin. “Last year, I founded a lying-in hospital for the less fortunate mothers and children in Worthing. They come to us with nothing. It lifts their spirits to have something”—she cringed at her next word—“pretty.”
“That’s noble of you,” Jasmine marveled.
“Women often find themselves in desperate situations. I can help, and so I do. We’ve made considerable progress with the birthrate in Worthing. What cause will you devote your time to once you’re Lady Lincolnshire?”
“I haven’t thought of it,” Jasmine answered. After trapping Matthew in the wine cellar, her focus had been surviving minute-to-minute. Not expecting to get this far, she hadn’t considered the future. But in a few weeks, she would have the responsibilities of a viscountess.
“What would you recommend?” Jasmine asked Honora.
“There are several good causes. Tomorrow, at Almack’s, I’ll introduce you to the Society of Benevolent Ladies. Perhaps you’ll gain some inspiration.”
“Thank you, that’s kind of you.” Jasmine turned to Cassandra. “What charities are you involved with?”
“My focus is primarily on home. I’ll help you as much as I can with Lincolnshire’s needs,” she said. “Seth and I sponsor an orphanage, but it’s under Lord Bolderwood’s name. Not everyone is so accepting of how we acquire our wealth.”
Even an orphanage won’t take blood money.
Would a charity turn down a donation with her name on it because of Matthew’s profession? Or would she need to use her mother’s name?
“Oh.” Cassandra winced. Then, her eyes widened. “Oh!” She put a hand to her belly and called across the room. “Aunt Valentine! Come here, make haste!”
“What is it, what’s wrong?” Mother stumbled over her dress in her haste to reach Cassandra’s side. “Shall I call for a physician—”
Cassandra reached for Mother’s hand and pressed it to her stomach with such force the Marchioness almost toppled over. Cassandra furrowed her brows, then readjusted Mother’s hand and pressed in.
“What is—oh!” Mother’s eyes misted over. “Oh.”
Cassandra shot a playful wink at Jasmine before returning her smile to Mother. “Aunt Valentine, meet Rebecca.”
“Rebecca?” Jasmine asked.
“After Seth’s mother,” Cassandra explained. “We want to honor her memory. If we have a third, we’ll name her Catherine, after mine.”
Mother kissed Cassandra on her cheek.
“You’re a warrior, my dear. Your mother would be proud.
I always wanted more children, but…” Her eyes shifted to the children on the floor.
She gave a sad sigh, shook her head, and smiled softly at Jasmine.
“Even so. Jasmine had enough energy for five children. I might not have survived two of her.”
Jasmine sat dumbfounded at the knowledge presented to her. Before she could respond, a knock on the door interrupted her and silenced Caroline’s playing.
Percival, a middle-aged, brown-haired footman dressed in maroon livery, stood in the doorway.
“Pardon me, Your Ladyship. His Excellency, Don Alejandro Navarro, is in the hall requesting an audience. Shall I show him in?”
Mother stood and adopted a regal stance. “Yes, you may.”
The footman left the room, and the Spanish ambassador entered. Dressed in a navy-blue tailcoat, he held himself with the confident air of a lifelong diplomat. With a gentle-natured smile, he addressed her mother. “Good morning, Your Ladyship. Pardon my intrusion, but might I have a word?”
“To what do we owe the honor of your presence today, Your Excellency?”
“I heard the Miss playing the pianoforte, and I found myself drawn in.” His gaze respectfully traveled to Caroline. “I had the pleasure of dancing with her at your soirée. If it pleases the lady, with your permission, we could walk through the gardens…?”
She gave Caroline an inquisitive look. “What do you say, Caroline?”
“That sounds lovely. The gardens are beautiful this time of year.” Caroline smiled at him, then addressed the women in the room. “I’ll need a chaperone, of course.”
Honora put her needlework to the side. “If you’ll give me one moment—”
Caroline put her hands in the air.
“Oh no, you stay where you are, Lady Worthing. Your cause is far greater than playing nursemaid to me. And Cassandra shouldn’t be on her feet.” Caroline turned to Mother. “Would you accompany us, Aunt Valentine?”
“Me?” Taken aback by the request, Mother took a second to recover, then gave an eager nod. “It would be my pleasure.”
She excelled at matchmaking, politics, and social contracts.
She liked to plan weddings and hold babies.
And she only had Jasmine, who had given her nothing but stress.
It must have devastated her to have rebellion-incarnate as a daughter.
Jasmine frowned when Caroline, the ambassador, and Mother left the room.
Adjusting her gaze to the children playing on the floor, she studied Cassandra’s daughter.
Rose was a blend of both her parents, with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes.
What will my children look like?
They would be strong-willed tyrants if they were anything like their parents.
Visions filled her mind of a curly-haired child with Matthew’s eyes, and a knot formed in her throat.
If she had married him upon her debut, they would have had a child or two already.
An absence she felt deeper with each passing day.
At Jasmine’s silence, Cassandra prodded, “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
Jasmine blurted out, “What if I’m not a good mother?”
Cassandra put her embroidery aside and gave Jasmine her undivided attention. “You’ll be a wonderful mother.”
“I’m worried I’m going to turn into my mother,” Jasmine admitted.
Cassandra laughed. “You have a good mother.”
“As respectfully as I can say this,” Honora said with the tone of someone not worried at all about respect, “Neither of you had good mothers. Cassandra’s mother encouraged love. Lady Dorchester is too lenient—and I’ll say that to her face. She should have married you off years ago.”
Jasmine tried not to bristle. “What about your mother?”
“I have the best mother.” Honora gave an appreciative sigh. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”
“She married you to an eighty-year-old man!”
“Precisely. And I cursed her name hourly during my early days of marriage. I endured hardship, mistreatment, survived a harrowing birth… but now my son is an earl.” She smirked. “And I have become the most powerful widow in England—because of my mother.”
“I think most mothers and daughters have problems with each other,” Cassandra said. “I’m sure Rose will have plenty of complaints about me. Rebecca too, once she’s born. Well.” Cassandra gave her a lopsided smile. “Hopefully not right away.”
Jasmine’s eyes drifted to Cassandra’s belly, with a baby moving inside that would one day need to come out.
Not only painful, but life-threatening. Jasmine missed Rose’s birth, and guilt tore her apart for not being there for Cassandra during her time of need.
This time, she would be by her side—as her sister-in-law.
And one day, it would be Jasmine’s turn.
“Aren’t you terrified?” Jasmine asked.
“All the time,” Cassandra said earnestly. “But I love Rose beyond description, and I’ll love Rebecca just as much. It will be worth it when I hold her.”
Jasmine looked between Honora and Cassandra. She didn’t want to ask either of them questions about the bedchamber, but this might be her only opportunity to ask a married lady—who wasn’t her mother—what to expect.
“Was it strange for you to share a bed with Seth?” she asked Cassandra. “You had known him for most of your life as well. Was it uncomfortable?”
“At first, it was very strange,” Cassandra admitted. “But Seth was patient.”
Jasmine redirected her gaze to her lap. Matthew would be patient as well. He would know what to do. She tried not to think of how he acquired his knowledge, but how could a rake possibly find pleasure with someone who had difficulty being held?