Chapter Nine
Benjamin did notknow how long he had watched over her, but he could not convince himself to leave. “She is a stubborn one,” his mind announced, “but stubbornness can be equally as good as it is bad for us. She is a survivor, exactly what this great nation and I will require to survive the future. Yet, her stubbornness is exactly the same emotion that will make it difficult for her to accept that God put us in each other’s paths on a rainy London day. When she admits that, we may find a way forward.”
A footman brought him some bread, cold meat, and cheese, and, after another hour of watching her sleep, his housekeeper made an appearance. Benjamin stepped into the hallway to speak to the lady and not disturb Miss Whitchurch.
“What should I know, my lord?” Mrs. Gabriel asked.
“In truth, I am not confident,” he admitted. “I met the lady several months back. If I am not mistaken, the child is not hers, but rather her sister’s. Whether said sister is still alive, I do not know.” He glanced back to where Miss Whitchurch rested. “Might we hire a wet nurse? I do not know how Miss Whitchurch has been tending the baby, but…”
“Assuredly, I can find a wet nurse in a matter of hours, my lord, but you cannot think to permit the lady to remain in this bachelor household for longer than a few hours. It would ruin her reputation.”
Benjamin scrubbed his face with his dry hands to clear his thinking. “She is near exhaustion, Mrs. Gabriel,” he pleaded.
“Does she not have a home? She must have been living somewhere,” his housekeeper asked.
“I do not know where she resides. Only where she is employed,” he explained.
Mrs. Gabriel frowned. “Then we will start with the child’s needs. Does the lady have a fever?”
“Not that I noticed,” he admitted.
“Let me send someone to fetch a wet nurse. We will begin at the beginning.”
Benjamin returned to his vigil, periodically reaching a hand to calm the child when it fussed, but, with little success until, miraculously, Miss Whitchurch would also place her hand on the babe, and it would calm down again. Benjamin imagined lying next to the woman would be heavenly.
Eventually though, the child stirred again, and this time the lady’s touch was not what it wanted.
“Shush,” he instructed as he reached for the babe, but he could not free the child until he had claimed a pair of scissors to cut the strap that held it to her chest.
She reached out a hand to prevent him from removing the baby, but Benjamin leaned close to speak softly in her ear. “Rest. I will tend the child. I sent for a wet nurse.” He studied her face in repose, but he knew she was not fully asleep. “What have you been feeding him?”
“Pap,” she murmured.
“Should I also send word to Mr. Sustar that you will not be in this evening?” he asked.
She thought to rise, but he shoved her back down.
“Not until Thursday,” she murmured as she closed her eyes again.
“We will talk more later. I have a house full of servants to tend to the child’s needs. Rest. We will all be here when you have recoveredproperly. I promise.”
He thought she had attempted to nod her agreement, but she barely moved even an eyelash, which were dark, though not as dark as his. Carefully, he rearranged the end of the blanket over her shoulder.
“Did she appear thinner?” he wondered as he looked upon her more carefully. “Was she not eating properly?”
There was no more time to consider the lady’s wellness, for the babe had screwed up its face to emit a wail. Benjamin swung the child through the air as he moved quickly to leave the room, closing the door behind him. He caught a maid in the hallway. “Jane, I want you to sit in the room with Miss Whitchurch. Send someone to fetch me if the lady wakes.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He carried the now crying baby away from the room, taking the servant stairs to reach the kitchen quicker.
“What have you there, me lord?” his cook asked when the baby’s cries filled the kitchen, causing all within to still.
“The young one requires something to silence his alarm, Mrs. Lowe, until Mrs. Gabriel can find us a wet nurse.”
With the sound of his voice, the child silenced somewhat, its wails having been reduced to whimpers.
“Cannot its mother feed it?” Mrs. Lowe asked with a lift of her brows in obvious disapproval.
