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The woman leaned closer. Her eyes darted to the door at the sound of footsteps in the corridor. She clapped her hand over the baby’s mouth and called out, “Kitty, run next door fer...fer more linen. Quick! An’ find a box, too, in case the poor babe don’t survive.”
She rose, stepping in front of Araminta and the baby as Kitty appeared in the doorway. Araminta gave a wail of grief— and it was grief for this was not how her life was supposed to be— which smothered the mewling of the child. She closed her eyes as she heard the woman repeat her command. “’Urry, Kitty! The baby is too early. We need ter stop it comin’ an’ we need more linen! Go!”
Araminta caught a glimpse of the confusion that crossed the face of the girl in the doorway but then, thankfully, Miss La Bijou obeyed, retreating into the passage; running to the front door and letting herself outside, and Araminta was left with the only confessor, the only assistant, she could in her present circumstances, rely upon.
“It’s come too early. Two months too early. Or six weeks, at any rate. The babe is enormous. I can’t...I can’t take it home and claim it’s his. I have to get rid of it. Please, you must help me.” The unfairness of her situation pressed down upon her like a thousand hands, kneading and pummeling. She began to sob. Her life was in tatters. She might as well throw herself into the river and be done with it.
A grubby, meaty hand cupped her cheek. “‘Ush now, an’ answer me, quick. Yer’ve jest given birth to a fine, lusty son, but yer tellin’ me yer cannot claim ‘tis yer ‘usband’s?”
Araminta rolled away, partly to deflect the woman’s smelly, dirty hand. She saw the gleam in Mrs. Mobbs’s eyes, and thought she didn’t look nearly sympathetic enough. But then terror washed all but the truth away. Mrs. Mobbs could help her. Mrs. Mobbs was capable of tidying up her life. She’d organized everything else so far.
It was a relief, rather than a blight, and Araminta surrendered to her emotion. “I can’t present him with...this!” she sobbed. “Why...his hair! My husband doesn’t have hair like this run in the family, but he knows who does.”
The woman stood above her, sucking on her gums as she pondered Araminta’s situation. Then she gave a lusty sigh. “Ah, love, ‘tis easy enough ter mend such inconveniences. We’ll jes’ find a comfy, cozy, lovin’ ‘ome fer the child.” Mrs. Mobbs sounded remarkably equable, and Araminta searched her face, hopefully.
“Find another home for it?” she repeated. “One where it will receive the care it deserves, for it wouldn’t if I delivered it to mine. Could you really do that?”
“Course, m’lady! Why, wot a coincidence yer should come ter me. That’s a big part o’ me bizness, don’t yer know? Findin’ ‘omes fer babes wot need uvver parents ter love ‘em. I’ve done it fer many a fine lady, jest like yer.” She patted Araminta on the shoulder, then picked up the child. “See, ‘e’s sleepin’ already afta a bit o’ a feed. We’ll jes’ put it ‘bout the babe’s died, and I’ll send it next door ter be wet-nursed. I’ll find it a ‘ome in a good family, and yer can return ‘ome an’ do the job ‘Is Lordship married yer fer, an all. Yer can produce ‘im a fine, lusty ‘eir that e’ can call ‘is own. All’s well, m’lady. Nuthin that Mrs. Mobbs
can’t fix.”
But Araminta’s hopeful attention had faded by the end. Have another child? Go through all this again? Dear God, no! “I don’t want another. I don’t want another. Ever!” she cried, prostrating herself on the bed and beating her fists. “Oh, Lord, what can I do? Give him an heir? I’m doomed.”
Then she felt Mrs. Mobbs’s hand on her shoulder, and the woman’s insinuating voice in her ear. The hope and promise in her words overrode the rottenness of her breath. “Mrs. Mobbs can ‘elp yer there, too, m’lady, if that’s yer wish. With the ‘elp of’ ‘em pretty earrings wot yer’re wearin’, I think I ‘ave jest the solution to all yer problems.”
Chapter Thirteen
Kitty was unprepared for the warmth of her welcome from Lord Silverton.
“I thought you’d abandoned me,” he said, jumping up when she was let into his library. His smile was broad and unfeigned, but immediately it disappeared when he saw her creased brow.
“What is it? Nash? Has he distressed you?”
Kitty shook her head and obediently sat down where he settled her so he could apparently look into her face. She gazed up at him, still in half a daze. “What an extraordinary evening. I rendered aid to Lady...well, a lady who was...in danger of having a child. Too early, I gather. I took her to Mrs. Mobbs for we were just around the corner, and she...” Kitty shrugged. She was so confused for she was sure she’d heard that baby cry. And she realized she could not speak of her half-sister’s plight to anyone, much as she despised her, though she had in fact felt sympathy when Silverton had taken her to Lord Debenham’s townhouse. “Well, apparently the panic was averted, and the child was prevented from making its appearance too early after all and...”
“And what?”
“The lady went home. So it all ended well.”
“So you saved a life this evening, my precious one.”
Kitty looked up at him suspiciously, and he laughed. “You think my motives are suspect in keeping you by my side, and so they are. I shall miss you very much when you return to the undeserving Nash.”
Kitty sighed. “I went to fetch something from the theater this evening and there were three bouquets of flowers for me. He delivers flowers and notes to me every day.” She extended her arm to study the ruby-studded bracelet he’d gifted her to try and atone for his deplorable behavior. Strangely, she did not feel the leap of want and need she’d previously felt for him. Obviously, the trauma of his infidelity ran deeper than she thought. Or perhaps she was too caught up in what had happened tonight. She still found it hard to believe that her half-sister had passed by in a carriage, in the throes of labor, and Kitty, of all people, had rendered her assistance.
No, she couldn’t tell Silverton—or anyone—that part. About what Lady Debenham really was to her. But it was certainly pleasant chatting to him while he sat on the arm of her chair stroking her hair. He wasn’t shy about making it clear he liked her, and wouldn’t be averse to setting her up as Nash had set her up.
And although Kitty liked Silverton very much, that could never happen. Aside from the fact that Nash was her destiny, and that the dangerous, desirous glint in his eye communicated itself all the way to her lower belly in the most wickedly wanton way, Silverton was her friend. He’d been very good to her. And friendship was rare and precious, and something not to be risked for the transient pleasures of the flesh.
And, sadly, he was not all he appeared.
She sighed, and immediately he queried if there were some deeper reason for her reflective mood tonight. She opened her mouth to broach the rumors she’d heard about Silverton being involved in Debenham’s misdemeanors but then thought better of it. The rumors were too vague to even articulate. Besides, if wicked Debenham remained safe, unsullied and in full possession of his goods and chattels despite the myriad rumors that swirled about him, Silverton would be much safer even than that.
So she just smiled. No, she wouldn’t hint that she knew Silverton was not all he presented to society; she’d just enjoy what he offered her. And that was safety and friendship in an increasingly turbulent world. “I was thinking about how I’ll need a maid when I’m living in the little house Nash has leased for me, and that I wish I’d found Dorcas.”
“You plan to leave me so soon?”
She was surprised at the flash of genuine disappointment she thought she heard and hugged it close. She was not used to anyone evincing any form of real pleasure in her company.
