Chapter Fifteen #2
Victoria was surprised when Rafe answered the last query himself. Had he spent the night helping care for the child? That would explain why she hadn’t heard a sound from his bedchamber all evening, why she hadn’t seen him all morning, why he looked so weary and worn.
“Is there aught that consoles her?”
“Only when His Lordship carries her,” Nan supplied.
McCullom nodded once and began closing up his bag. The child’s wails faded to whimpers when Rafe moved forward to place a gentle hand on her abdomen. She was so tiny and his hand so large that it looked as if he could scoop her up as if she were a kitten.
“I fear this may be difficult to hear…” the physician began in a low, gentle tone that immediately alerted Victoria to the dire nature of the news—it was the same tone the physicians had used when they told her family her mother would not recover from her illness.
She gripped Rafe’s hand even more tightly.
“All the medicine in the world cannot help someone who does not possess the will to live—no matter their age.” Victoria’s breath froze in her lungs, turning into a block of ice in her chest. “There is nothing medically wrong with the child—nothing that I nor any of the other physicians you have hired have been able to find—that would explain her failure to thrive, or why she goes through fits of listlessness and colic. Her unwillingness to explore like every other child of a similar age, or even to take sustenance.”
“There must be something that can be done.” Rafe’s voice was brittle, as if the words were as painful as passing shards of glass through his throat.
“I am sorry.” McCullom shook his head with earnest regret. “I wish there were something more that could be done—”
“That is unacceptable,” Rafe hissed. He attempted to take a step toward McCullom, but Victoria placed a staying hand in the middle of his chest. It proved instantaneously effective.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she interjected. “We appreciate your arrival on such short notice. Please, allow me to show you to the door.” She moved to escort him out of the nursery, but it took Rafe several seconds to compose himself enough to finally release her hand.
“I will return as soon as I can,” she whispered to her husband.
The only acknowledgement of her words was a slight tightening around Rafe’s mouth.
He stared down at his niece as if the intensity of his gaze might transfer to her some of his own will to live.
Throat tight, Victoria turned to join the physician in the dim hallway.
“I know this is not the news you desired, Lady Blackwood; for that, you have my sincerest regrets.”
Victoria could only nod in response to his words.
“I would have suggested this to Lord Blackwood, but he is understandably distraught.” McCullom stopped walking, forcing Victoria to do the same.
His green eyes, brimming with regret and empathy, met hers.
“Hold the baby, let her know love. If it is something that brings her comfort, then all the better. It is the best and only thing to do anymore. We have tried every other known medical intervention, but the child has never recovered from the loss of her mother. She is grieving in the only way a child that young knows how.”
Burning tears rose to Victoria’s eyes, and she nodded.
She was so consumed by sorrow over the baby’s condition and worry for how Rafe would manage it all that she hardly registered that they’d descended to the foyer.
Silently, respectfully, McCullom took his leave.
She was in a haze of grief and worry when she returned to the nursery and found Rafe standing above the bassinet, staring down into it as if it held his entire world.
Rafe’s mind spun furiously. He wanted to rail and roar in response to McCullom’s pronouncement that his niece was—
No.
He did not want to think the words.
However, that did not stop him from feeling as if he’d failed at yet another thing in his life. Alice had trusted him with her most prized possessions and he’d let her down.
He stared as the inconsolable infant and felt a part of him shatter—a part that had never fully healed after his sister’s tragic death.
And now, he’d have to lose this baby, too.
His grip tightened on the edge of the bassinet.
He was so bloody angry at the unfairness of it all. How could this child be made to suffer so much in the wake of losing both her parents? In what sense was that right?
Rafe didn’t know how much time had passed, but he looked up at the sound of his wife saying his name. She stood with her hands crossed before her, her knuckles twitching as if she was clenching and unclenching her fingers.
“I am so sorry…” she whispered, and it nearly broke him.
He unleashed a great, whooshing breath he hadn’t realized was wedged inside his chest; it ended on a broken sob. His eyes screwed shut, and he desperately strove to regain control.
Bracing himself, he stood a bit straighter even though his body screamed to be allowed to crumple.
Witnessing his struggle, Victoria moved as if to wrap him in her arms, but he held her off with a single croaked word: “Don’t.” He did not wish to collapse.
She retreated a step and closed her eyes as if she were recovering from a verbal blow. Later, he would appreciate her desire to comfort him and be there for him, but, in the moment, he could not handle having her touch him. He wasn’t ready to break. Not yet.
“Would you like me to sit with you?” she offered gently.
Rafe shook his head. “I cannot ask that of you.” He could not request that she sit by his side as this innocent life wasted away before their eyes.
“You are not asking; I am offering. And I would like to.”
“No, Victoria,” he rasped, almost desperate in his determination to remain as strong as he could be given the circumstances.
Several tense minutes of silence passed before his wife finally respected his wishes and she retreated.
Suddenly weak and boneless, Rafe fell into the nearby chair and dropped his head in his hands.
He’d never felt so helpless in all his life.