Chapter Twenty-Four
Sunday and Monday morning went faster than anyone could imagine.
Fannie had created a game for herself at meals, asking Rebecca factual questions she was undoubtedly researching beforehand in the library, attempting to stump her—with, based on the sly set of his lip, not a small amount of encouragement from her father.
Though, to give the man credit, it certainly wasn’t a bad way to learn.
And it was almost certainly an appealing way to a child such as his daughter.
Despite being more occupied with learning, Fannie still found time to sneak down into the kitchens to pose various queries to Rebecca regarding the science behind birth and death, often slightly gruesome and macabre.
While Rebecca had been worried Roger would disapprove of her frank answers, when she informed him of it, he’d merely shrugged, saying, She’s likely attempting to make sense of what occurred with Lucy and my mother-in-law.
Provided you’re comfortable and she’s not a nuisance, I won’t take issue with it.
A response Rebecca would not have imagined in her wildest flights of fancy merely a few weeks ago.
Michael still spoke very little, but he would occasionally visit her bedchamber when she suspected he was supposed to be napping, lugging Rose, the cat, who was surprisingly patient with the youngest Berab.
What he wanted, she could not be quite sure, but he seemed amenable to listening to her read out loud from whatever book was lying around while sucking on his thumb.
One day, he’d even crawled into her lap to glance over the pages, seriously studying them until she’d accidentally read “first,” instead of “fourth,” and, in a very soft voice, he’d corrected her before popping his appendage back in his mouth.
She relayed this to Roger when they were in bed together later that night, making the man puff with pride.
What Miss Pardo couldn’t be paid to do in over a year, I could accomplish in a few days.
I thought you weren’t a governess, she teased him.
I’m not, he insisted. I just had some extra time and wanted to make myself useful.
Naturally, she replied with a smile. Then I won’t point out that you’ve had the advantage of the movement of time on your side, so you might not want to boast so much.
I never boast, he insisted with a wink. Not about that, but I’ll tell you, in addition to teaching my children, who now both know how to recognize the entire Hebrew alphabet, I’ve studied up on my theoretical duty to my brother’s widow.
Though I’m not sure Nina would approve. But I’ve never been one to shy away from a mental challenge so I shall persevere. While I still have the time.
A lump formed in her throat at the acknowledgment that their current situation was temporary and coming to a close. This was not her home. She had a home. One she liked. To which she’d return. Soon.
After all, Dr. Maduro had declared her ready to work again, and Lopez had immediately sent messengers to all her patients letting them know she was once again available for any and all deliveries.
Thus, here she was, preparing for a call. Rebecca inhaled and tied her new cloak. Bending down, she wrapped her palm around the handle of the case of new tools Roger had purchased.
The bag itself was a soft, embossed leather with patterns of flowers running down the front.
It was far too fancy for her taste and far too fine for her purposes, especially given how hard she used her things.
She turned it over in her hands before spying the man himself behind her reflection in the mirror, leaning against the doorframe, which could barely fit his tall, lanky form.
“This is ridiculous,” she told him, dangling the bag in his direction.
Accepting the object from her, he inspected the piece.
“It’s something you presumably use almost every day, so it should be well made,” he told her, handing it back to her.
“Well made, not pretty.” She clutched it against her chest.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he pointed out. “Pleasant to view isn’t a crime. Take me, for example.” He waved a hand over his person as if to demonstrate, his face completely serious.
She rolled her eyes.
“Though you do make me want to do illegal things,” he told her, his voice turning lascivious.
“Truly?” she asked with a laugh. “Like what?”
“Like bending you over and taking you at the dinner table instead of reviewing the accounts for the house or the memorizing Debrett’s for my next dinner party,” he told her.
“You’re ridiculous,” she returned, even if she could not stop laughing. “I’m not sure that’s illegal, just inappropriate and bad form in anyone’s home when you’re a guest, no matter the background. And I have to work.”
“I know,” he said. “Perhaps when you return?” His voice was hopeful.
“It might be a while.” She glanced out the window to see if the Berab family carriage had been brought around.
“I can wait,” he told her. He took an audible breath. “I’m happy for you,” he said softly.
“You are?” she asked, cocking her head in surprise. Not that he would be unhappy, but the idea that he cared… was… odd… not that one didn’t suppose friends felt that sort of thing for each other.
But they weren’t truly friends.
Not that they were enemies.
Nor strangers any longer.
“I know how important this is to you,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, his voice sincere. “How skilled you are at it. How lucky we are as a community to have someone like you who is so dedicated.”
Suddenly the room was too hot. She tugged at the buttons near her collar.
“That’s too many compliments,” she told him, glancing toward the window once more. “And far too generous ones at that.”
“Think of them as truths.” His lips tipped in a vague hint of a smile. “I’m in awe of you,” he added, reaching out and tucking a wavy lock that had become loose from its holdings behind her ear.
“Lopez told me to tell you the coach is ready,” Fannie said, skipping into the room and glancing between them.
“Thank you.” Rebecca stepped backward, smoothing the cloak over her gown.
“Is there going to be a lot of blood?” Fannie asked, moving between the two, holding Rose in her arms.
“Usually not. Especially as this is not a first baby, and it’s less likely for the mother to tear,” she explained. “Though there are other ways bleeding can happen. None of them are particularly good and some quite dangerous, which is why I must work with care.”
“Is anyone going to die?” the girl asked, swishing a little from side to side as the cat glared.
Rebecca swallowed as several unpleasant memories rose in her mind. No, she could do this. This was who she was. She’d been away too long, and she was ready to retake her role. People needed her, and she needed this. No matter what.
She turned back to the girl. “I hope not. But I’ll tell you when I return.”
“Good,” Fannie said with rather resolute satisfaction. “Tell me everything,” she demanded. “Especially if the baby dies. Or takes a piss on you.”
“Fannie,” Roger admonished with such a look of horror and disgust on his face that Rebecca had to laugh again.
“I’ll most certainly tell you if the latter occurs, as it wouldn’t be the first time.” She gave Fannie a nod and turned back to Roger. “Risk of the trade,” she told him with a small wink.
“Good that brave people like you can do it, instead of those with sensitive stomachs like me,” he said, smiling at her. Her breath caught in her throat as he reached out and lifted her hood over her hair.