Page 80 of Tremaine's True Love
“The only one I know for sure is Mary’s father, and he’s gone. His family won’t help, and Mary’s growing too pretty.”
Nicholas might allow Mary to join the kitchen staff at Belle Maison, but then what of the younger children?
“Mr. St. Michael asked me to give this to you,” Nita said, drawing the ten pounds from her cloak. “It won’t solve any greater problems, but it will give you time to heal from Annie’s birth, to write to your cousin, and consider your options.”
Addy used one finger to break the suction between the infant and the nipple, and switched the child to the second breast.
“That’s from Mr. St. Michael?” Addy asked, looking anywhere but at the money.
“He will not expect anything in return. He and I are to be married, and he once lived as a poor lad would, Addy. This is for the children.”
Nita tucked the money under the single thin pillow at the head of the bed. The pillowcase still had a border of fine white work, suggesting it was a relic of Addy’s trousseau.
“We’ll miss you here, Lady Nita, but he’s a good sort, your Mr. St. Michael.”
Beyond the curtain, Evan quietly asked for more bread and jam. His siblings remained silent in the face of that bold request, but Kirsten must have obliged, for soon a chorus of, “Please, Lady Kirsten, me too!” followed.
“You needn’t miss me,” Nita said. “Mr. St. Michael has said he’ll find us a property in the neighborhood.”
The idea was satisfying, like fresh bread, butter, and jam for a lady’s soul. In that single magnanimous gesture, Tremaine had assured Nita that she could still contribute to her community, still uphold the tradition passed down to her by her own mother.
“I don’t attend services, my lady. Vicar made it clear I was not welcome.”
“I didn’t mean you’d see me only at—”
The baby made a noise suggesting her nappies were in immediate need of attention.
“One end fed, the other end clean,” Addy said with good-humored patience. She passed Nita the baby, did up her bodice, and took Annie back. “I didn’t kill my baby, Lady Nita.”
The stink one infant could create was prodigious. “I would never accuse you of that.”
“Because you’re too kind. When I know I’m carrying, I try to stay away from the gin and have only the small pints most women drink from time to time. Spirits are dear, and my children need to eat. I drink so I can earn money.”
So Addy could tolerate the attentions of her customers in other words. Nita rose from the bed.
“You needn’t explain this to me, Addy. Many other women would have put their children on the parish and gone to London by now.” Though the parish might not accept these children, notwithstanding that they’d lived their entire lives in Haddondale.
“Nothing but disease awaits me in London, I know that,” Addy said, laying the child in the middle of the bed. “I also know many would rather I leave, but I can’t do that to my children. I try not to drink, and when the babies come, as long as I can, I stay with them.”
“But they must eat, so you resume your activities in the village.”
Addy drew the curtain back, revealing the four older children gathered around the hearth, all eagerly demonstrating their letters for Kirsten.
“And to do that, I drink. I also drank when the last baby died, though God knows, heaven must be an improvement over what I can offer here.”
That sentiment was so miserable, so honest, Nita could not accept it. “Look at your children,” she said. “They’re warm enough, they have food in their bellies. You have more means to care for them now than you’ve had for years, Addy Chalmers. You will write to your cousin; I will speak to Nicholas. Surely Belle Maison can use a scullery maid or a shepherd boy.”
On the bed behind them, the baby fussed, waving small fists in the air.
“You should burp her,” Nita said, “when her nappy has been tended to.”
“I smell a stinky,” Evan chirped from the hearth.
“I’ll change her,” Mary said, springing up and snatching a clean cloth from a stack on the table.
“They’re good children,” Nita said, “and you’re right to want something better for them. I will be back, Addy, with pencil and paper, at least.”
Jacob, Esau, and Evan were apparently smitten with Lady Kirsten. When she stood, their little faces fell.
