Chapter Fourteen
Gwendolyn shivered and wondered why Mariana had left the window open. Her pillow felt unusually hard. A sharp cry brought back the memories of the night before. Her little daughter was lying in her arms, her face screwed up and red as she demanded attention.
Gwendolyn adjusted herself on the hay bed. With a shock, she realized she was half-sprawled across Roland’s chest and his arm was beneath her head.
She turned her face to see Roland’s eyes open and watching her. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Roland smiled. “Good morning. How are you?”
She settled the baby at her breast before answering Roland. “I’m well, thank you.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You have been through an ordeal. I’m not asking for politeness but because I really want to know.”
Gwendolyn shifted a little, disturbing the baby who gave a loud yell before she found the nipple again and hungrily drank. “I feel exhausted but peaceful. And it’s still sore. I’m a little hungry and thirsty.”
Roland nodded. “That’s more like it. The storm has passed for now and we can make our way back to the farm. In the meantime, here’s an apple.”
Gwendolyn took the apple and bit into it, savoring the sweet juiciness that sated her hunger and thirst. While she ate her meager breakfast, she examined the baby’s little mouth that was sucking hard, the tiny nose and the fingers so perfectly formed and yet so minute, thinking she had never seen anything more exquisite in her life.
She began to hum Lavender’s Blue softly.
She couldn’t remember where she had learned the tune of the lullaby but it rose naturally to her lips as she rocked the baby gently in her arms. The baby’s mouth went slack as she fell asleep again.
Gwendolyn’s singing trailed off. How could she give this tiny child who depended on her for everything to someone else to raise?
Roland had been gathering their things. When he was ready, he came to her, offering his hand to help her to her feet. She stood carefully, swaying slightly. She hadn’t lost much blood but as Roland had said, giving birth was an ordeal that had taken a toll on her body.
Roland held out her dress. “Arms up!” he slid it over her shoulders, tugged it down over her hips and fastened the buttons.
He was tempted to place a kiss in the hollow of her neck but resisted the temptation.
He had no right to do so, in spite of what they had shared the night before.
She belonged to Robert. He finished fastening her dress and left her to pull on her stockings and shoes, although he did help her tie the laces.
Finally, he stamped out the fire while Gwendolyn wrapped her cloak around herself. Then he pulled on his coat and slung his saddle bag over the shoulder.
She leaned on a strong stick Roland had found and he also held her arm to guide her through the thick layer of snow which had fortunately frozen sufficiently to make it easier not to sink.
The baby was tied in a little sling made from his scarf and she slumbered peacefully against Roland’s chest as they began the walk home.
There was little sign of the ferocious storm of the night before.
Some clouds hung low and a few snowflakes drifted down in lazy circles as if they had exhausted their fury.
*
“Gwen! Oh, Gwen, I’ve been so worried.” Mariana ran out into the front garden as Roland pushed open the garden gate. She flung herself at Gwendolyn, sobbing. “I shouldn’t have been so selfish and stayed at home when you went out.”
“Now, now, lass, none of that.” Farmer Ewbanks came forward. “Let’s all get inside.”
Mariana stepped back and only then noticed the bundle underneath Roland’s coat. “Oh my goodness. The baby is here.”
Gwendolyn laughed tiredly. “Yes, she is. Up in a shepherd’s hut on the fells.” She looked over her shoulder at Roland. “Neither of us would have made it without Lord Montgomery’s help.”
They were in the house by now and the children wanted to crowd around to see the new baby, but Mrs. Ewbanks was having none of it.
She shooed them away like a brood of chickens.
“Come, lass, let’s get you and the bairn upstairs and into bed where you belong.
Gracie, heat some milk so I can make a posset and Jim, fetch some water from the pump and get it hot so they can have a wash. ”
She had taken the child from Roland and was halfway up the stairs, Gwendolyn following more slowly. Mariana hovered on the lowest step, uncertain whether she was allowed to offer her help to Gwendolyn or whether, like the children, she would be shooed away.
Gwendolyn solved the dilemma for her. She held out her hand. “Do come, Mary. Let me introduce you to your niece and I can tell you all about her ignominious entry into this world, with sheep for witnesses.”
*
Ten days later, Gwendolyn was sitting up in bed, a heap of pillows behind her and a blue woolen shawl around her shoulders.
Her hair was held back with a blue ribbon and the baby, looking far less like a red sausage, was snuggled in her arms. Mariana was sitting on the bed next to her and Gracie and Peggy had just left a tea tray on a side table and spent some minutes admiring the new arrival.
Mrs. Ewbanks knocked lightly on the bedroom door and opened it before Gwendolyn could answer. A rare smile softened her face as she looked at the baby. “Miss Burroughs, would you accept a visit from Lord Montgomery?”
Gwendolyn’s face lit with eagerness. She nodded. “I need to thank him for all he did to help Baby and me.”
Roland came in as she spoke, looking debonair in a dark green coat and light beige breeches, his hair neatly brushed. His formidable appearance reminded Gwendolyn of the man she had met in London, not the approachable, affable man she had come to know in the last few months.
She tugged the shawl more closely around her shoulders, disturbing the baby as she did so. The tiny girl woke up and cried but Gwendolyn hushed her with a few soft words and a kiss on her forehead and within seconds she was sleeping again.
Roland walked softly into the room. “Good afternoon, Miss Burroughs, Miss Winterton. You are looking remarkably well. How is the little one?”
Gwendolyn shyly lifted the corner of the blanket and revealed the cherubic face of her baby. “She is very well. I can’t believe how quickly she has grown.”
“She still looks tiny to me.”
Mariana had slipped off the bed when Roland had entered and poured the tea. “Would you take a seat, Lord Montgomery? It will make it easier to drink a cup of tea.”
He hesitated.
Gwendolyn noticed the uncertainty on his face and how a shutter seemed to cover the light in his eyes.
The least she could do was spare him the trouble of spending time with her.
“It was very kind of you to call on us, my lord. I have been wanting to thank you properly for your care. You can see that we are doing well and that your effort was not wasted. I trust that you suffered no difficult consequences from the event.” Her heart felt heavy, but she knew she had to do what was best for her baby.
“Has Mr. Walker returned to London?” Her voice was leaden.
“No, no. He is still at High Fell Manor.” Roland was cursing himself. He should not have come here. Of course Gwendolyn would want to see the father of her baby, to show him his child and then make plans for their future. This was the last time he would make a fool of himself over Miss Burroughs.
Gwendolyn bit her lip and nodded. “Oh. I thought, perhaps…” she couldn’t finish her thought.
Roland was furious with his cousin and couldn’t find the words to express his sympathy for Gwendolyn. It was Mariana who voiced what they were all thinking. “He should be visiting Gwendolyn and the baby if he has any serious intentions of making a home for them.”
Roland straightened his shoulders. “Yes, he should.” He bowed stiffly.
“Good day, Miss Burroughs, Miss Winterton. I wish you continued health and happiness.” He leaned over the infant again, the stiffness in his expression dissolving as he touched the little cheek with the side of his finger. “What is her name?”
Mariana shook her head with a laugh. “Gwen hasn’t decided yet. She calls her Beauty, Princess, Sweetheart, Darling but none of those will do for everyday use.”
Gwendolyn tossed her head as imperiously as was possible considering she was leaning against the pillows her hair loosely bound in a tail that fell over her shoulder and the baby in her arms. “She needs a perfect name. Besides,” her voice trembled, “I am not sure if she will be staying here with the Ewbanks or, well, if she will be with me.” Her last words were so soft Roland would not have heard them if he had not still been leaning over the baby.
He looked into her eyes and saw there the vulnerability of her position, the uncertainty of her future and the love she felt for her child. He cursed his cousin in his mind.
Roland straightened. “Mr. and Mrs. Ewbanks are excellent parents and if your daughter should stay here, she will be well-looked after.”
Gwendolyn blinked to stop the tears that were gathering in her eyes. “The children here are very happy, I know, far happier than I was as a child, but…” She stopped, unsure how to articulate her thoughts without sounding petulant and ungracious.
Roland laid his hand on top of hers and waited until she looked at him. “Lamb, you are the child’s mother and it is natural that you want her to be with you.” He had to pause as a lump tightened his throat. “Once you and Robert have made arrangements, your daughter can be with you.”
Gwendolyn dropped her head. It was foolish to wish that her future could be right here with Roland, that he would marry her and she and her baby would be safe and perhaps even loved.
She would have to settle for marriage to Robert if she wished to raise her baby and be reintegrated into society.
She swallowed hard but could not keep the tears from slipping down her cheeks.