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Despite the lurking worries about David, their morning by the lake stood out as one of the happiest times of her life. Having James and the dream of their future family felt like a fairytale realized.
“One day, let’s escape to a cottage without servants,” James said with utter seriousness as they made their way back to Anterleigh Hall.
She laughed breathlessly, nodding. A gardener was in sight now as they approached the hall. “James, tarry in the rose garden for a few minutes. I’ll go in first.” Clara laughed harder at his perturbed look. “I’ll make it up to you upstairs, I promise.”
Before they parted ways near the stone bench among her mother’s roses, James took her hand. “Thank you for this morning. I love you, Clara.”
He looked so solemn, but she couldn’t help but beam. “I loveyou.It was worth every grass stain! And I shall see you soon—without your trousers.”
He laughed now. “Only for your sake are they still on—owing to how you feel about shocking the servants.”
Clara floated up the stairs to the terrace. She passed Mrs. Watts in the house, who asked after her outing.
“Lovely, thank you,” Clara replied without stopping.
She was halfway up the grand staircase when she felt a rush of hot liquid down her leg. How could she have lost control of her faculties without any warning?
Perplexed, then embarrassed, she checked to make sure no one observed before investigating. Without understanding, her eyes registered that the small pool of fluid at her feet. It matched the crimson of the runner on the stairs.
A trick of the dark carpet,she told herself. She gasped at the sensation of more warmth gushing down her thighs.
She raised the skirts of her walking gown.A coppery odor registered at the same time as she saw the blood streaking down her calves and over her ivory walking shoes.
My visitor? How can that happen when I’m—
Clara panicked. Without looking around to verify her privacy, she flailed at her skirts to raise them higher.“No!” she whispered desperately at the blossoming red stain soaking through her silk drawers. “No, go back in! The childneedsthis!”
To no avail, she tried to staunch the flow using her hands. Soon they were sticky. She shrieked repeatedly with a torment that sent chills down the spines of those who heard it.
Molly froze at the top of the stairs.
Clara looked up with desperate eyes, her skirts raised, hands still pressed between her legs. “Help me!”
Molly took the stairs quickly, reaching her at the same time as Mrs. Watts reached her from the bottom.
“We have to staunch the bleeding,” Clara told them. “Please! What can we do?”
Molly and Mrs. Watts made eye contact, Mrs. Watts’ eyes wide.
“Do something,” Clara begged when they seemed to hesitate. She raised her bloody hands to grab at the women like a beggar. “Do something, please! Please help me! Please help me!” Her voice rose to a high-pitched scream.
“My lady, calm yourself. We’re here,” Molly soothed, taking her by one arm while Mrs. Watts moved to her other side. “We must get you up—”
“Clara?” Worry was clear in James’s voice, and once he climbed the stairs and took in the scene, his face fell.
As if from a distance,Clara heard the women discussing what to do.
“Shall we call for the midwife?” Molly asked.
“Can the midwife help? Can she?” Clara latched on to the idea.
“There now, Lady Clara, let’s settle you into bed and we shall see,” Molly prevaricated.
“I can’t get into a bed! There’s too much blood!” Her body shook uncontrollably.
“The tub, let’s put her in the bathtub,” Mrs. Watts said to Molly.
It was James who helped her upstairs to her dressing room. “I’m not leaving,” he replied brusquely when Mrs. Watts urged him to wait outside.
