Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(19)

Emma's voice brought Tasia back to the present. “It serves Nan right if she's unhappy. She's not a nice girl.”

“We have no right to judge others,” Tasia said gently. “Only God can see inside our hearts.”

“But don't you dislike Nan?”

“No, I feel sorry for her. It is terrible to be so unhappy that you try to make others feel the same way.”

“I guess so. But I don't feel sorry for her. She brings all her unhappiness on herself.”

That night after supper, Tasia discovered more about Nan's predicament. There was a special room off the kitchen where the head servants gathered each evening at Mrs. Knaggs's invitation. Seymour, Mrs. Plunkett, and Mr. Biddle were there, as well as the wine butler, the under butler, the groom of chambers, and the head housemaid. Idly they pared slices from a small round of cheese, and one of the kitchen maids brought coffee and sweets. Tasia took a sugared biscuit and nibbled on it, quiet as usual while the others talked.

“Any word on Nan?” the head housemaid asked Mrs. Knaggs. “I heard what she did this afternoon.”

Mrs. Knaggs made a face and took a sip of black coffee. “It's quite a mess. The doctor prescribed a purgative and said she'd be all right. His Lordship was very displeased when I told him about Nan. He said I'm to dismiss her in the morning and have her sent back to her village.”

“Is anyone with her now?” Mrs. Plunkett asked.

“No, there's nothing to be done except let her stomach empty itself. She doesn't need help for that. Besides, none of the girls like her well enough to stay with her.”

“And the young man?” Seymour asked, his long forehead creasing.

The housekeeper shook her head ruefully. “He disclaims any responsibility.”

Tasia looked around the table in confusion. What did they all know that she didn't? “What is the matter with Nan?” she asked.

It was so rare for her to break in on a conversation that the others looked at her in surprise. Finally Mrs. Knaggs answered. “Didn't you hear? No, of course not, you've been with Emma all day. It's very distasteful. Nan has a follower.”

“A follower?” Tasia was puzzled by the unfamiliar term. “Do you mean a lover?”

“Precisely.” Mrs. Knaggs rolled her eyes and added uncomfortably, “And now there are…consequences.”

“She's pregnant?” Tasia asked. A few eyebrows raised at her bluntness.

“Yes, and she's been hiding it from everyone. In an effort to solve the problem, she took a handful of special pills and drank a bottle of oil to get rid of the baby. She only succeeded in making herself ill, the poor little wretch. Thank God the baby wasn't harmed. Now Nan's going to be dismissed, and it's likely she'll end up in the streets.” Mrs. Knaggs frowned and shook her head, as if it were too distasteful to discuss any further.

“At least she won't be troubling you no more, Miss Billings,” the head housemaid said.

Tasia was filled with horror and sympathy. “No one is with her?”

“There's no need,” Mrs. Knaggs said. “The doctor's seen her. I made certain Nan took the medicine he prescribed. Don't be concerned, my dear. Maybe Nan will learn a lesson. It's her own foolishness that brought her to this.”

Tasia bent her head over a cup of tea, while the others continued the conversation. A few minutes later, she pretended to stifle a yawn. “Excuse me,” she murmured. “It has been a busy day. I think I'll retire now.”

It wasn't difficult to find Nan's room. The sounds of gasping and retching drifted into the hall from behind a closed door. Gingerly Tasia knocked and entered the room. It was even smaller than hers, with a single-paned window and walls covered with drab paper. She recoiled at the stench in the air. A crumpled figure writhed on the bed. “Get out of here,” Nan's weak voice said, just before she bent over the metal basin and gagged.

“I came to see if I could help,” Tasia said, striding to the window. She opened it a few inches, letting some fresh air blow inside. Turning back to the bed, she frowned as she saw that Nan was a ghastly shade of green.

“Go away,” Nan moaned. “I'm going to die.”

“No, you're not.” Tasia went to the washstand. There was a pile of rags, all of them wet and dirty. Fumbling in her sleeve, she located one of her own handkerchiefs and dampened it with water from the pitcher.

“I hate you,” Nan whimpered. “Go away.”

“Let me wash your face, and then I'll go.”

“So you can tell the others…that you're such a bloody angel,” Nan accused. She hung her head over the basin once more. Another violent spasm, and she spit into the bowl. She settled back into the bed, tears streaking her face. “I think my guts are going to come out.”

Carefully Tasia sat on the edge of the bed. “Be still. Your face is dirty.”

Nan laughed shakily. “I wonder why. I've puked for four hours without stopping—” She fell silent as the cool handkerchief wiped over her crusted cheeks and chin.

Tasia had never seen someone so ill. Gently she smoothed the mass of sticky blond hair from Nan's face. “Do you have something I could tie it back with?” she asked. The maid pointed to a paper box by the bed. Searching in the box, Tasia found a comb and some frayed ribbons. She brought them to the bed and began to work on Nan's hair. It was too tangled to comb out properly, so she settled for smoothing it as best she could and tying it at the nape of her neck. “There,” she murmured. “Now it won't get in the way.”