Always the Widow by Emily E.K. Murdoch
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth watched her son nuzzle toward her.
She smiled. She was doing a lot of smiling at the moment. It seemed impossible to have any other expression when she looked at this tiny little miracle. Little Beau. Her tiny marvel she had never expected.
“I know what you want,” she murmured to the baby in his little cot, all lace and trinkets. “Come here, Beau.”
Her son wiggled in her arms as she lifted him and walked over to the sofa. He was so alive, so vibrant. Now he was here safely, she could reflect on the panic that had filled her during those horrendous birthing days.
What if he was born sleeping? What if something had happened that she could not comprehend, and he…
Elizabeth felt the weight of Beau in her arms and knew he was safe, but it did nothing to erase the panic of the last few months.
“Here you go, little one,” she murmured, unbuttoning her gown and helping him to latch on. “There you are.”
Beau suckled happily, and Elizabeth leaned back, utterly overwhelmed with joy.
She had never realized in all her two and thirty years that this was possible. How could she? Considered barren, her little son completed her in a new way. Some part of her had been broken, and she had not even known it.
The pain of Beau’s birth had been the settling of her soul.
Her son. Her little baby. Every time she looked at him, her heart ached. There he was, with a scattering of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Jacob and Elmore were such different gentlemen, and if her babe had taken after his father in looks…
No, Beau was all his mother. Hers, all hers.
She had longed for a child, given up on ever being blessed with one, and now she was holding him in her arms—but he was Elmore Howard’s boy, not Jacob Beauvale’s, as he should be.
Slipping in Beauvale as a middle name had been…scandalous. Not seemly for a widow, certainly, and she would not be surprised if it gained her a little notoriety until something more dramatic occurred in polite society.
Her mother-in-law, certainly, would have a few things to say about that.
No matter what was on his birth registry in the church book, he would always be Beau in her heart.
They would keep it a secret for the rest of their lives: herself and Jacob, and little Beau.
How much time passed as she nursed Beau, she could not tell. Did it matter?The world continued to turn, and yet here, in this little corner of Lenskeyn House, her whole world was Beau.
It was only when there was a knock on the door that she remembered that they were not the only two living things in this world.
The door opened, and Linscott came in with red cheeks and averted eyes.
Elizabeth smiled encouragingly. “’Tis just my son feeding, Linscott. You do not have to be embarrassed or concerned. ’Tis perfectly natural.”
The butler nodded but still kept his face averted. His response was not uncommon, Elizabeth knew. She had heard the mutterings of some of the maids from downstairs and knew they thought her strange. No wet nurse? All the ladies of nobility in England and Ireland had a wet nurse…
Well, it was odd, that was all. Common.
Elizabeth did not care. Beau was the only child she would ever have, widow as she was, and she wanted to experience everything. Every moment was precious.
“Your guests have arrived.”
Forced from her reverie, Elizabeth shook her head as she adjusted Beau on her breast. “No, that is not possible. It is only…”
Her voice trailed away as she turned to look at the carriage clock over the mantelpiece and saw with shock that it was indeed past three o’clock in the afternoon.
She groaned. “And there is no way to stall her, Linscott?”
For the first time since entering the room, the man smiled. “I am afraid to say the dowager countess is most eager to be here. Her carriage has just pulled up, and I am sorry to report it appears she has bought friends.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily. Of course. Why had she expected anything else?
She had only agreed to the visit so soon after Beau’s birth—Elmore’s birth, she must remember to call him Elmore—because she would never have a minute’s peace until her mother-in-law met her grandson.
Her gaze flickered down to the babe in her arms. Well. Not precisely her grandson. But the elderly Lady Howard never needed to know that.
“Well then, I must prepare myself for visitors,” she said aloud. “When the dowager and her companions have disembarked and are ready, please send them in—along with tea, some cake, and a bottle of champagne—I know, but they will expect it. I will put B-baby Elmore into his crib so that they can see him.”
Was that a curious glance from Linscott as he nodded and departed?Elizabeth sighed. She was going to have to get much better at calling her baby Elmore in public. Or was it safer to just call him Elmore all the time?
Her heart hardened as she looked down at the child in her arms. Was this how her mother-in-law had felt all those years ago, looking at her own Elmore? Had she seen the bitterness, the anger, the gambling, the debts in that innocent brow? Was it possible that her own Elmore, with her husband’s name, could become such a monster?
It was mere moments after she had placed Beau into his crib—she had ordered Mrs. Shaw to place one in every room, which had raised some eyebrows but had made it easier to just pop her child down for a nap wherever they were—before the dowager countess swept into the room.
“Where is he?” she said by way of greeting. “Where is my favorite grandchild?”
Elizabeth smiled as two others entered behind her—Albemarle Howard, the Earl of Lenskeyn, and Theodosia, his wife.
Her smile widened as Theodosia replied tartly, “Not for long, I would hope.”
The Countess of Lenskeyn placed a hand on her swollen belly. She looked only a few weeks away from giving birth—a woman who should be in confinement. A cousin for her little B-Elmore.
“How good of you all to visit me,” she said. “Theodosia especially, I had thought you were confined?”
Theodosia did not reply but raised a sardonic eyebrow as she slowly lowered herself onto a sofa.
“She is confined,” said the dowager countess smartly.
“And yet, to the untrained eye,” Albemarle said with a grin, “it looks as though she has been dragged out of the comfort of her own home, forced to put on a bonnet, and into a carriage to take her out of Bath to see her nephew!”
It was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh. There was something rather wonderful about the way the eldest Howard son was able to speak about his mother with clearly no concern of retribution.
Would Beau be like that? Would he tease her as a man?
If only the Earl of Lenskeyn had been around more during her marriage to his younger brother. He was clearly a solid, dependable sort of gentleman. Perhaps if he had not been living on the Continent for over a decade, he could have put Elmore straight.
Would she then have been happy with him? Would she have never conceived little Beau?
The dowager countess sniffed. “Of course I encouraged the countess to come. We are all here, save your sisters, and they would not deign to come all the way to Bath for this Season. So we are here. Family, together.”
She gave a rare smile to her daughter-in-law—though, to Elizabeth’s mind, the smile was for her grandchild only. Her smile broadened as she looked at her eldest son, her pride and joy, and then disappeared as she turned to look back at Elizabeth.
“Well? Where is he then? Where is Elmore’s boy?”
Elizabeth was loath to wake up her sleeping babe, but then he had taken so much milk, he was likely to stay in that delightful stupor after a good feed. Picking him up carefully from the crib as his grandmother settled in the largest armchair in the room, Elizabeth placed him carefully in her arms.
She should not have been concerned. It was clear her mother-in-law knew what she was doing with a newborn child.
Elizabeth’s heart soared as she took a seat opposite. “He is.”
“But…” The older woman hesitated, and her smile became sad. “He does not look anything like him, does he?”
A lump rose into Elizabeth’s throat. Surely, they could not have guessed. They would not be here, in full force, if they guessed…
“What do you mean?” she managed.
Theodosia snorted. “Come on, Elizabeth, birth could not have exhausted your mind entirely! Look at him, he is the spit of you!”
“All I can see is you,” Albemarle agreed. “What was your maiden name again?”
“Sandringham,” she said, the lump descending into her stomach.
The Earl of Lenskeyn nodded. “Yes, he is Sandringham all over. Not a whit of Howard in him, sorry Mama!”
The dowager smiled wanly. “At least he is here. You have given the house of Howard a son, Elizabeth, and I will be forever grateful.”
A wrench of guilt forced its way through Elizabeth’s heart as she watched the grandmother dote on her grandson. Yes, he was the spitting image of herself. Thank goodness. If he had looked like his father…
She felt as though she had stolen something from her marital family, something precious. She had given them a son. An heir!
And yet…
“What is happening in town,” she said as brightly as she could. “The Season continues, of course. I have not heard any news.”
She looked at her mother-in-law, but the dowager was far too busy cooing over the baby to reply.
Theodosia smiled wearily. “Do not ask me. I have been stuck at home for the last few weeks, waiting for this one to arrive. How on earth did you stand it, Elizabeth? I can hear the laughter and giggles of people passing, and all I wish is to be out there!”
Her husband chuckled. “My dear Teddy, you can barely walk!”
A cushion was thrown in his direction.
Elizabeth could not help but smile. This was what she had missed, what she had hoped for when she had wed Elmore Howard all those years ago. Not just a husband but a family.
“I promise, the baby will be worth the wait,” she said quietly. “You think they will never arrive, and then suddenly, there they are.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Theodosia with a mischievous smile. “The father certainly took his time to arrive, too.”
Elizabeth looked between the pair of them. There was such love there, such understanding; it radiated from them, obvious to all. What she would not give to have that with—but no. She must not think of Jacob. She had Beau, and he was the one she should focus on.
“Well, the whole of society is aflutter for weddings, of course,” the earl said with a grin. “Half of them, my wife’s fault.”
“Fault? ’Tis hardly my fault if I am such a good matchmaker!”
“The most exciting one,” continued Albemarle, ignoring his wife’s protestations as two footmen entered the room with tea things, “is Miss Worsley’s wedding, goodness knows why.”
Theodosia sniffed. “That is because you do not pay attention to anything going on around you, you fool. Miss Sophia Worsley was left at the altar—a year ago, maybe two? I cannot recall exactly. This baby of yours is giving me too much grief.”
Her husband laughed. “Why is it always my baby when he grieves you and your baby when you plan their future nuptials?”
The two giggled, and Elizabeth’s heart twisted. This could have been her life if Elmore had not been such a brute. It was strange, bittersweet even, to watch them.
“Yes, well, Miss Worsley’s wedding is highly anticipated, though it’s not until the spring,” said Theodosia, helping herself to three biscuits.
“And I suppose you will know all about it,” came a sharp comment from the armchair. “You know the groom so intimately, after all.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. There it was, then. The gossip of her and Jacob had evidently increased to such a fever pitch that it had finally reached her mother-in-law, and now she was to be questioned.
If only she had not made herself such a spectacle of gossip. What could she say?
“I think most people know of Lord Westray,” Albemarle said into the silence.
Elizabeth looked at him with gratitude, and he gave her a small nod before he continued.
“I cannot think of anyone in good society who is not acquainted with Lord Westray,” he said airily. “He is very good at offering his carriage to those who do not keep one, and I know that.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said gratefully. “Yes, Lord Westray has been kind—as have you all, allowing me to stay here in Lenskeyn—”
“Yes, yes, that is all very well,” interrupted the dowager countess with a sniff. “But Elmore Lenskeyn Beauvale Howard…”
She allowed her voice to trail away without taking her hawk-like stare from her daughter-in-law.
Elizabeth swallowed. She had known this moment would come, but she had not been prepared for it. How was she to explain her son’s name?
A terrible thought struck her. Could—no, surely a servant would not have betrayed her and told the family that Jacob had been here for the actual birth? They would not be so disloyal.
But remember, a voice reminded her, they are Howard servants, not yours. They belong to the house. They belong to the family.
“I like the name Beauvale.”
Elizabeth’s gaze snapped to Theodosia, who had just spoken.
Smiling, the heavily pregnant woman reached out for another biscuit. “Naming a child is such a fuss, do you not think, Elizabeth? I have to say, there are not sufficient family names to go around, and so I, too, have been looking into my broad acquaintance for names I like. I suppose that is how you chose Beauvale?”
Elizabeth grasped at the suggestion like a drowning woman. “Yes, yes, that is exactly right. Inspiration comes from the most unlikely of places.”
She did not dare look at her mother-in-law.
“Do not get yourself into a flap, Mother,” said Albemarle easily, helping himself to a cup of tea. “She gave you that boy, did she not?”
Sudden panic overwhelmed her as the wild thought the dowager may rise and walk away with her son entered her mind. Elizabeth stood and moved toward him.
“No, leave him,” protested the older Lady Howard. “I am enjoying time with my grandson.”
Unable to protest, Elizabeth sat down uncomfortably. Her presence in Lenskeyn House was dependent on the good graces of the family she had married into, and there was nowhere else to go. If she had a brother, he could have protected her or invited her to live with him.
It was little Beau and her against the world.
“And that is all?” The dowager’s words cut through her like a knife. “That is all you have been getting up to with that Lord Westray?”
Elizabeth swallowed, and her voice sounded weak as she said, “Getting…getting up to?”
Wild thoughts whipped through her mind: of running away, of grabbing her son and taking the carriage they had come in and escaping to…where?
“He is a very polite and respectable gentleman,” Theodosia said curtly. “I had attempted to match him several times, but he was too honorable at the time. Not interested in matrimony then, did not wish to lead on the young ladies. I like him.”
Her glare toward her mother-in-law gave Elizabeth the strength to calm her own breathing. This was not a Mrs. Radcliffe novel. Her son was not about to be abducted by his grandmother. All she had to do was suffer through another twenty minutes, maybe more, and then they would all leave.
“When I was with child, I would not be caught gallivanting with another gentleman,” the dowager said darkly.
And it was at that moment Elizabeth lost her temper. Speaking tartly, she said, “So losing my husband before I give birth to his son is not enough for me—I must be ostracized from all gentlemen in society, too?”
Silence echoed around the room. The dowager was looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes, but this time Elizabeth did not panic or look away. She met her mother-in-law’s gaze firmly.
“Well, I think that is more than enough excitement for one day,” said Theodosia smartly. “Help me up, Albie.”
“Right you are,” her husband said with a grin. “Do we need to call a few footmen?”
They teased each other as Theodosia was pulled upright. Theodosia understood. She was a matchmaker, a mistress of all society, and knew exactly when it was time for a gathering to break up.
“Are you truly tired, Theodosia?” said the dowager wretchedly. She looked down at baby Elmore. “I thought we would stay much longer. There is so much I wish to—”
“Come on, Mother, we have worn out dear Elizabeth, and I am sure we would not want to make her ill,” said Albemarle bracingly. “Give the little chap to me.”
Elizabeth had not realized how much tension was in her shoulders until Beau was out of his grandmother’s arms.
“What a handsome grandson for you,” the earl said as he carefully popped the sleeping child into his crib.
The dowager beamed, all sadness forgotten. “He gets that from his father. Elmore was such a handsome baby, he—”
“Your next grandchild needs a rest,” her son said forcefully. “Come on, Mother.”
The older woman rose in a rush of skirts. “Yes, you are correct. My other grandson, Elizabeth, as yet unborn—”
“Or granddaughter,” interrupted the Earl of Lenskeyn, and Elizabeth smiled to see him roll his eyes.
It took another ten minutes or so of gentle conversation and chivvying to get the Howards out into the hall, and when Linscott finally closed the front door, Elizabeth felt as though she had run a marathon.
“Please send Molly to me,” she said to the servant, who nodded. “I will be in the garden room.”
It felt strangely empty and quiet as she entered without the noise of the Howards, and mere minutes later, Molly, the nursemaid, arrived with a curtsey.
“M’lady?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Please take the baby upstairs for a nap, and then back downstairs in an hour or so for a feeding.”
The nursemaid bobbed another curtsey and had disappeared quietly with Beau in her arms before Elizabeth had settled herself on a sofa.
An hour until Beau’s next feed. That would give her almost sixty whole minutes of sleep…
But it was dark when Elizabeth finally opened her eyes. Evening had fallen, and evidently, the nursemaid had given her more time to sleep.
It was not Molly, however, who was seated opposite her with her son in their arms. It was a gentleman.
Jacob.
Elizabeth smiled as she propped herself more upright. “Hello.”
Jacob grinned. “I could not stay away. I hope you do not mind—your nursemaid said I could take the baby down, and I thought, as his father…”
His smile only seemed to broaden. Elizabeth, still drowsy from her nap, remembered the words of her mother-in-law.
“He does not look anything like him, does he?”
“Three weeks old, who could credit it?” Jacob looked down at his son. “And he’s all you, Lizzy, thank goodness.”
Joy rushed through her to see them together. It would be rare, she knew. As Beau grew older, he would have to be called Elmore, would see more of the world, and become a gentleman of society. And she would have to say goodbye to the child she knew and accept he was a man.
But not yet. In this moment, he was but one and twenty days old, and the world was still a far-off prospect.
“I was going to wake you up in a minute,” Jacob said. “I…well, I cannot stay long. I have to be back in town for dinner. Sophia will be there.”
Elizabeth did not know what prompted her to say it. Was it the rush of affection for her two boys? Was it the words of Theodosia?
“I had attempted to match him several times, but he was too honorable at the time. Not interested in matrimony then, did not wish to lead on the young ladies.”
Or was it the casual mention of Sophia Worsley?
“I wish you would not marry her.”
The words echoed between them, words previously unsaid but felt by them both.
Jacob swallowed. “I beg your pardon?”
Elizabeth knew there was no going back. Not now she had spoken. “I wish…I wish you would break your engagement with Miss Worsley. I know she has been left at the altar before, and that is terrible…but it should not force you into a marriage we both know you do not want.”
It was a difficult speech to make, and her mouth had gone dry. Jacob had not looked away, but he said nothing.
Eventually, his gaze dropped down to his son. “’Tis incredible, how connected one can feel to a babe in arms. He hasn’t said a word, and yet I know he understands how I feel about him. He doesn’t even need to ask. He knows he will never be left alone.”
Elizabeth tried to keep back the tears threatening to fall. She had made herself more vulnerable than she could imagine, and that was his response? She knew what Jacob was trying to say—it was hardly subtle—but it wasn’t enough. How could it be?
“I feel alone,” she whispered.
Jacob hesitated, then rose to place Beau in her arms as he kissed her forehead. “I must go. I will find a way, Lizzy. You need to trust me.”
He was gone before she could reply.
Trust him.She could do that, but for how long?