Chương 10
“That does not require the rest of the household to suffer.”
“I have been quiet.”
“Your shoes objected to the floor twice.”
He looked down at them. “I apologize on their behalf.”
Clara unlocked the nursery door.
Oliver was still asleep. They stood beside the cradle while his small chest rose and fell beneath the ivory romper.
Edmund counted three breaths before speaking.
“What happens after today?”
“That depends on what you choose.”
“If I cancel Richmond and he stops eating?”
“We call Dr. Mercer. We adjust. We do not pretend there is no risk.”
“My mother says uncertainty is negligence.”
“Your mother dislikes anything she cannot order into submission.”
He looked at Clara.
“She told me so herself,” Clara added.
“I doubt that.”
“Not in those words.”
Edmund touched the silver ring with his thumb. “If he stays, will you?”
“For now.”
His gaze lifted quickly.
“I will stay through the transition,” Clara said. “If your mother permits it.”
“She will.”
“You sounded decisive that time.”
“I have written to the trustees confirming that decisions regarding Oliver’s care are mine.”
Clara frowned. “Why involve trustees?”
“Because Bellweather’s household budget is administered through the family office, which my mother has chaired since my father’s stroke. She can dismiss staff engaged through the estate. She cannot dismiss someone I employ privately.”
“You have found a legal method to retain a governess before learning to hold your son.”
“It was the task I understood.”
The answer was so plain that Clara could not mock it.
Oliver stirred.
They prepared the bottle together. Edmund measured the water incorrectly and swore under his breath. Clara discarded it and made him begin again.
“Wasteful,” he said.
“Safer.”
“My mother will hear of it.”
“Then we shall blame the swan.”
At six-fifteen, Edmund sat in the pale-blue chair with Oliver in his arms.
The baby remained drowsy. Clara had arranged the same cream cloth around the bottle and placed Edmund where the cold daylight would fall from his right, as it did when she fed.
“Let him smell the milk,” she said.
Edmund brought the nipple near Oliver’s lip.
“Not so close.”
He moved it back.
“Now you are in another county.”
He glanced at her.
“Between those positions, sir.”
Oliver opened his mouth.
Edmund offered the nipple.
The baby turned away.
His father’s shoulders tightened.
“Wait,” Clara said.
Oliver moved his head again. Edmund followed too quickly.
“Do not chase him.”
“I am offering it.”
“He knows where it is.”
Edmund lowered the bottle a fraction.
Oliver’s mouth opened.
The nipple touched his lip. He cried once, sharply, then latched.
Edmund froze.
“Keep the angle,” Clara whispered.
Milk moved through the glass.
Oliver swallowed.
Edmund looked at Clara with something close to alarm.
“Look at him,” she said.
He lowered his eyes.
The baby drank six swallows and stopped.
Edmund’s hand trembled.
“Lower the bottle slightly.”
He did.
“Breathe.”
He breathed.
Oliver resumed.
The feeding lasted twenty-eight minutes. Twice the baby cried. Once he pushed the nipple away and did not return to it for several minutes. Edmund did not stand. He did not call for Clara to take over.
When the bottle was empty, he continued holding it in place.
“He is finished,” Clara said.
“I know.”
“Then remove it.”
Edmund did, slowly.
A tiny drop of milk rested near Oliver’s lower lip. Edmund wiped it with the edge of the cream cloth.
The baby opened his eyes.
For the first time, father and son looked at each other from less than a foot apart.
Oliver lifted one hand and struck Edmund’s waistcoat button without intention.
Edmund closed his eyes.
No tear fell. His jaw tightened once.
“Do not leave me alone with him yet,” he said.
Clara sat in the chair near the wall. “I will not.”
They remained that way until Oliver slept.
At eight-thirty, the Richmond car arrived.
Clara heard its tires grind over the snow from the nursery window. A footman carried two traveling cases down the front steps. Mrs. Finch supervised the loading with the expression of a woman arranging her own execution.
Marianne came upstairs in her coat.
She stopped beneath the doorway.
Edmund still sat in the pale-blue chair with Oliver asleep against his chest.
Marianne removed one glove.
“He took it?” she asked.
“Most of it.”
“From you?”
Edmund nodded.
Her face folded for one second. She turned away before either of them could see more.
Lady Agnes arrived behind her. She took in the scene without speaking.
Edmund rose carefully, keeping one hand beneath Oliver’s head. “The car may go.”
His mother’s gaze moved to Clara.
“This is not Miss Vale’s decision,” Edmund said.
“No,” Lady Agnes replied. “It is yours.”
“Yes.”
“And if he loses weight again?”
“I will take him to Richmond myself.”
“You cannot sleep in London.”
“I may not.”
“Then what?”
“I will be awake.”
Lady Agnes looked at the infant in his arms. “You believe one bottle has altered everything.”
“No.”
“Then do not behave as if it has.”
Edmund’s shoulders lowered, but he did not retreat. “One bottle altered this morning.”
Marianne stood near the door, twisting the loose glove between her fingers.
Lady Agnes addressed Clara. “You will leave us.”
Edmund looked at his mother.
Clara rose. “Of course.”
As she passed Marianne, the woman caught her sleeve.
“Stay nearby,” she whispered.
Clara waited in the corridor with Mrs. Finch.
Inside the nursery, the conversation remained low. Clara could not hear every word and did not try. Once, Lady Agnes’s voice sharpened. Once, Oliver cried. Edmund did not call for Clara.
Mrs. Finch watched the closed distance between them and the doorway.
“You packed the child’s bag properly,” she said.
“Yes.”
“You packed your own poorly.”
“I was tired.”
“You folded stockings with books.”
“I may have been distracted.”
Mrs. Finch nodded toward the nursery. “He will need the seven o’clock feeding.”
“I know.”
“You are dismissed.”
“Apparently I have been privately employed.”
May you like
“That sounds improper.”
“It is administrative.”
