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“You will find your way. Of that I have no doubt. No doubt whatsoever. You will be a mother one day. I remember your mother’s low spirits, my lady. It was not right away that she conceived your brother after the first babe.” She shook her head, as if remembering dark days.
Clara’s brow furrowed. “Mother had troubles. And Aunt Violet! She only birthed one child, and he didn’t survive. We never spoke of it. I don’t think she could. Mrs. Watts, I’m afraid that I’ll be like my aunt. I think she desperately wanted children.”
“She had a daughter in you, did she not? You were her niece, I know, but it was you who cared for her as a daughter. Now, dismiss those dark thoughts.” She raised a finger, the joints gnarled. “I’m as good as a witch. I cannot see everything in the future, but I do see a babe in your arms, Lady Clara.”
After Mrs. Watts left, Clara felt more in despair than before, even though the woman had tried to uplift her. She stared at the gloves protecting her hands from the sun, sinking into the world of the unfeeling again.
“There’s my lass,” said James.
Clara looked up. She felt her own detachment, just as she was aware of James’s forced cheer. God love him, but she couldn’t match it.
“I’m glad to see you out,” he said quietly, sitting next to her.
Clara cleared her throat. “I’d like to go in now. Could you ask for Molly, please?”
“I’ll help you.”
“No, I…I’ve sat here so long that I can feel the linens. They’re soiled and loose.”
“I see. Yes, of course. I’ll have her here in a trice.”
Clara uttered a thank-you. She spent rest of the day in a daze, waiting for its end. She ate just enough at meals to avoid James’s and Molly’s concern, and after dinner she even embroidered, just enough to appear occupied.
She retired early, before it was completely dark outside.
“I’ll join you later,” James whispered, and kissed her forehead.
She opened her mouth to object, but couldn’t find any polite words, so she simply nodded, and went upstairs.
When her parents died, then Violet, she felt lonely, but she knew she had some sort of future, even if its details weren’t known to her yet. This time, she mourned one child,andthe idea of a family altogether.
Finally alone, she pressed her face into her pillow and cried, remembering all of her and James’s imaginings this past week as they talked of this child and of future children. She could scarcely believe how sentimental he’d been, how they shared in the dream together.
Would he still want her if he knew that she may never be able to bear children?
Not long after dark, James quietly slipped into bed next to her. She lay still on her side, facing away, as if she was sleeping, but when his arms wrapped around her from behind, she melted into him.
He groaned, pulling her closer. “There you are,” he whispered.
His palms felt rough where he soothed her arms. “What happened to your hands?”
He was silent for a long time. “Should have worn gloves when I was out riding. They caught on some tree bark.” She frowned, but he continued. “Have you not been sleeping?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “James, this has changed everything. First, knowing of the babe—instantly, it made everything so clear. Whatever happened with David, we needed to marry. Not only to avoid shame. I wanted us to be a family. I was so happy.”
James’s arms tightened around her. “As was I, lass. As was I.”
“I know. But now losing the babe has changed everything,” she said brokenly.
“Whatever do you mean? I’m hurting right along with you, Clara. You and I arestilla family.”
She shook her head, hating the revelations to come. “I have to tell you something.” She felt his rigidity behind her, like he was bracing himself. “I’m afraid I can’t have children.”
James pulled her closer into him and nuzzled into the back of her neck. “We can’t be certain of that.”
