* * *
I lost my child—a daughter, Dr. Irving informed me, although I had not asked and had not wanted to know.
It took hours from those first pains in the children’s garden to when Young John found me crouched on the ground, my arms clutched around my stomach and my skirt soaked with blood. I’d tried to stop him, but he ran straight to Mrs. Creasley. She helped me to the cottage, Mr. Hillock supporting my other side. She sent for Dr. Irving.
And then she went straight to the Melcourts and told them everything.
Mercifully, I saw no one but the doctor from the moment I was laid in bed. By midnight, it was done.
Dr. Irving spent an eternity tidying his instruments and washing his hands. When finally he was finished, he cleared his throat. “Miss Smith, I’m very sorry—”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t want his sympathy or his pity.
“It is possible that you may have other children in the future.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I had lost my daughter, and my grief shocked me. Until that moment, I had convinced myself I could be dispassionate. Now I could see that all of my hours planning and worrying had been for her as much as for myself. I had wanted to give her the best life that I could.
But she was Matthew’s daughter as well, and it would only be a matter of time before everyone else knew it. And so I mourned not only for her but for my life as it had once been. For my ruined professional and social reputations. For the loss of my income and my independence. And for Matthew. There was no reason for us to marry now. I would be forced to leave, and Matthew’s life would resume as before.
“Thank you for your assistance, Doctor,” I said, trying my best to keep the shake from my voice.
Dr. Irving hesitated, but then nodded. Before he opened the door, he gave me a little bow. “Try to rest. It is the best thing.”
As soon as I was alone, I turned my face away, knowing sleep was not for me tonight. Instead, I thought of Adam and the little house I owned and loved. I thought of my own beautiful garden that I poured love into when I was not living away. How simple things had seemed then when there was little to worry me other than my next project and whether the seeds ordered from this catalog or that one could be counted on to germinate. So much had changed since I’d come to Highbury House. I’d changed.
From somewhere outside the cottage, I heard distant shouts. I pushed myself up on my elbows, wincing at the deep soreness in my body.
“Be reasonable!” I heard Mrs. Melcourt shout.
A great pounding came at the door, and then it crashed open. “Venetia! Venetia!”
“Matthew,” I murmured, shrinking down and pulling the coverlet up around my chest.
A second later, Matthew burst through my bedroom door and dropped on his knees to the floor.
“Dearest, what happened? What is the matter?” he asked, clasping at my hands.
His sister and her husband rushed through the door after him, both gasping for breath. They had chased him all the way through the house, desperate to keep him from me.
“Matthew Goddard, what are you thinking busting into Miss Smith’s cottage like this? It’s most unseemly.”
“Venetia, what’s wrong?” he asked, ignoring his sister.
I glared at his sister and her husband. “You haven’t told him?”
“Told me what?” Matthew asked.
“It’s none of your concern, Matthew,” said Mrs. Melcourt primly.
“Venetia, what is the matter? Mrs. Creasley sent word to me that you had taken ill and the doctor was sent for,” he said.
A strange lump of hatred and gratitude for the interfering housekeeper lodged in my throat. He had a right to know. He had been the father.
He squeezed my hands tighter. “Is the baby all right?”
I heard his sister gasp and Mr. Melcourt utter “I say,” but they didn’t matter.
“No.”
His hands slipped from mine. His face was pale, his expression blank. I’d lost him.
“Matthew, this is highly inappropriate. I must insist you leave,” said Mrs. Melcourt, her voice high. She knew, I could tell she did from the way she looked at me, but she was trying valiantly to unknow.
“It is none of your business, Helen,” he said.
“Now, Matthew—”
“None of yours, either, Arthur,” he snapped at Mr. Melcourt.
“If Miss Smith has engaged in indiscretions under our roof, then I don’t see how it will be possible for her employment to continue. I will have to ask you to leave the property immediately, Miss Smith.”