Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“No, Your Grace,” the young maid, Bessie, explained, “the swaddling cloth should be wrapped this way.”
Victoria’s hands fumbled with the piece of fine, white linen. Handling Melody made her nervous.
She was so tiny. So fragile. She also needed them to survive.
She could see the nervous way Bessie was looking at the single bundle on the changing table, a feature just recently added to the nursery. The room smelled sweet, of infant and powder and fresh linen. It was strange how quickly she accepted that fact.
The young duchess leaned over the table, frowning in concentration. Dread descended upon her. What if she could not make this right? She was used to learning things quickly. Literature. Fencing. Arithmetic. History.
Anything was easier than knowing how to take care of a human being, especially the tiny one in front of her. Melody had become her conqueror.
“Are you quite certain, Bessie? Because it feels like I am preparing her for a mummy’s tomb,” she protested, her voice beginning to sound whiny to her ears.
Her throat felt raw at the sight of Melody’s little legs kicking against the fabric. Would the baby be fine with this? Why was it so difficult to care for one little child? Exasperation washed over her.
“Yes, I am certain, Your Grace,” Bessie replied. “We could also try warmer linens because of the cooler weather.”
Her maid’s voice was tentative, but it was slowly gathering strength. Both of them looked eager to provide Melody as much comfort as possible.
“She feels warm enough. I don’t know if confining her in a swaddle is what she likes,” Victoria said. “I wish I knew what she truly wants.”
“I understand, Your Grace,” Bessie said softly. “You only want to ensure she is well.
Victoria tried again, but her movements had become more panicked whenever she thought she had made a mistake. The baby, sensing the lack of confidence in her current caregiver, let out a wail.
“How can a small thing make such a sound?” Victoria asked in wonder, as she gently held the baby in place while she wiped the sweat on her forehead with one forearm.
Victoria was almost ready to throw her hands in defeat. She was reminded of Richard’s words, of how he called Melody a burden that he would try to take from her.
The infant cried even more. She was probably the wisest in the room, sensing that she was not with her mother. She was not with someone who knew how to make her hush.
Victoria took Melody in her arms and tried to soothe the babe by making hushing sounds and bouncing movements. Nothing seemed to work.
She was unfamiliar with this feeling, and she was terrified of it. Even as a young girl under the rule of a tyrannical father, she did not feel powerless. Or perhaps the power she displayed was merely for show.
Probably hearing the baby’s cries, Mrs. Davies arrived. She gave the scene one look and marched forward to assist.
“If you please, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said gently but firmly, reaching out to take Melody from Victoria.
The duchess did not argue. She felt both loss and relief at having to pass the baby to more practiced hands. She appreciated that the housekeeper did not look at her with judgment. Instead, she merely swooped in to take the babe.
Mrs. Davies tucked Melody against her shoulder, giving the little one’s back gentle and rhythmic pats. Then, she began humming a soothing folk song that Victoria might have heard once or twice from the servants when she was growing up as a child.
A miracle happened, at least from the duchess’s point of view. Melody’s cries subsided, fading to mere sniffles to tiny complaints, and finally to contented gurgles.
“There, there, little one,” Mrs. Davies murmured. “Finally, you found some comfort, did you not?”
Victoria’s jaw dropped. She stepped toward the housekeeper and the baby, but felt a wave of nausea come over her. She must have been really exhausted, but frustration was at its fore just a while ago that she did not really notice.
“H-how did you do that? And so quickly?” she asked, thoroughly in awe.
She thought that Melody was crying for her mother, but Mrs. Davies, in her fifties, was certainly not hers.
“It’s from experience, Your Grace. I have had four children of my own,” Mrs. Davies replied, giving the duchess a knowing smile. “It’s the mother’s touch. Children recognize it.”
“Oh.”
Victoria knew that the housekeeper did not mean to imply that she didn’t have a mother’s instinct, but it still hung over her like a dark cloud.
She had never truly thought that she would be a mother, but now, with Melody, she didn’t think that she would be able to perform as well as she always did in different arenas.
She was bold and defiant. She valued her independence.
Yet, she failed at something that was considered fundamentally female.
Her mother, Lady Grisham, if she knew, would cackle with glee.
“You will learn how to do it, Your Grace. This one came without warning. When you have your own baby, you will have enough time preparing yourself and loving it, even when it’s still in your belly,” Mrs. Davies said gently.
She supposed the housekeeper thought that the distance between her and Richard was temporary, and that there was a chance she would have a child of her own.
She sat on the edge of her bed, a new thought coming to light. For Richard, this was a burden. The whole thing. She wasn’t entirely convinced that Melody was not his child. After all, the baby’s mother probably brought the child here to call his attention.
Where was she? Was she highborn or lowborn, and did people realize that she had a child out of wedlock? A child born into a married union would not be left behind like this.
Scandal.
Melody’s mother might have been worried about the scandal the infant would bring. Now, the concern had been passed on to her. She must do something to stop rumors from starting.
But to make this happen, she needed help. It was easy for her to realize who would be able to come through at a sensitive time like this.
“Bessie,” Victoria said, her voice firm and cold, but still hopeful. “We need to send messages to the Oakmere, Redmoor, Talleystone, and Wolfcrest houses. My sisters should know about this.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Bessie replied with a nod.
“I will get the notes ready. Tell the coachman it is a matter of urgency and discretion.”
“Your Grace,” Bessie said, seemingly remembering something. “What if inviting all your sisters will make people talk?”
“They were just here for a performance. That should not be too strange,” Victoria explained reasonably.
“It may be true, Your Grace, but you did send an invitation to your mother for the first one. Lady Grisham will wonder about this particular gathering.”
The young maid had a point, but Victoria could not imagine going through this particular problem on her own. She had already made a decision.
“I am less worried about my mother than the scandal that may rock the ton,” the duchess replied, only partly telling the truth. “We must show a united front. It must be clear to society that my family has always been aware of Melody because there is nothing to hide.”
“Pardon me, Your Grace, if I have offended you,” Bessie said with a blush.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Bessie. You were simply expressing your concern, and at this point, all ideas are welcome if it means we are striving toward either keeping Melody a secret or providing a non-scandalous reason for her presence.”
The maid nodded, pressing her lips into a tight smile.
Victoria never thought she would be affected by any kind of scandal, but this was different, and Bessie understood the gravity of the situation. It could wreck the quiet, independent life she had always dreamed of.
Richard was just as intent on handling the situation. All his life, he dealt with strategies in managing his estate. Even when it was not his own to command, his father had ensured he and his brothers knew what to do during various situations.
But he had not been taught how to deal with a scandal. Not like this. He avoided tainting anyone’s reputation by having liaisons with widows and women who did not belong to the ton or did not care much for it. As a man, he could survive the embarrassment.
However, it would be different for Victoria.
The ton could see her in two ways. One, they might think of her as the scorned wife, too inadequate to keep her husband faithful. She would be an object of ridicule. Two, they might think it was her baby, no matter how ridiculous that sounded. This second hypothesis would ruin her completely.
No. He would not let that happen.
The duke had quickly turned to action, sending for his solicitor, Mr. Graves, and sending a letter to his friend, Jonathan.
He sought help discreetly, investigating whether there were any scandals near Hawksford Hall.
Staff misconduct. Unusual female visitors.
He listed things that he wanted to probe.
What if it were part of Penwike’s plot? Perhaps they wanted to strike them in a different way.
Or, they weren’t behind it, but would exploit knowledge of it.
He would not let either destroy Victoria.
She did not ask for it. He had married her to protect himself through her family, but he realized he was just as willing to protect her as much as possible.
Richard had been careful. He had abstained the whole time he and Victoria were separated. He had not even consummated their marriage. He respected her and their union.
The child is not mine.
The thought persisted in his mind. He knew the truth, but he also knew that his wife did not believe him. Her accusing eyes stung worse than any of the Penwikes’ threats. Of course, she would not believe him. Their marriage was not built on intimacy or trust, but merely on a bargain.