The Last Garden in England(93)

“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.”

Matthew shot to his feet. “She has just lost a child, Arthur. Have you no sympathy?”

“Matthew, please…” his sister started.

“It is the middle of the night,” Matthew argued.

“Then in the morning,” said Mr. Melcourt, as though this was a great concession.

Mrs. Melcourt placed a hand on his arm. “Arthur, I think we can show Miss Smith a little more courtesy than that. Miss Smith, you may stay through the duration of your recovery. You will not see anyone. You will not leave this cottage, although I doubt that would be possible given your condition. Do you understand?”

I nodded wearily, for what else could I do?

“Now, we should leave Miss Smith to rest. You, too, Matthew,” said Mrs. Melcourt.

Matthew cast a pained look at me. “Venetia, if you wish me to stay… ?”

I shrunk back. “I want to be alone.”

I could not lean on this man for comfort when I knew that so soon he would be gone from my life. Once again I would be alone in the world, unsure if even my brother would want anything to do with me once he found out why I had been dismissed from Highbury House.

“I will come back tomorrow,” Matthew promised.

“No, please don’t.”

“Matthew,” his sister said sharply from where she held the bedroom door wide for both men.

My lover cast a last look at me from over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

I expected Mrs. Melcourt to follow, but instead she closed the door softly behind them. She drew up a little needlepointed chair and sat on the edge of it.

“I find myself in an extraordinary position, Miss Smith,” she said, her tone losing all of the coaxing sweetness she’d deployed with her husband. “Even though the Lord has blessed us with three healthy children, we should have had more. Arthur may not dwell on it, but I will never forget all the children we lost.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured.

“I do not seek your sympathy,” Mrs. Melcourt snapped. “I merely want you to understand why I stopped my husband from casting you out of this cottage at dawn. You lost a child. You also betrayed my trust when you seduced my brother.”

“I didn’t seduce your brother.”

She carried on as though she hadn’t heard me. “Matthew is a good man, but he can be naive. He skates over some of the more difficult realities in life because he does not want to engage with them.”