Not Quite a Wife Read online

  Laurel poured her beaten eggs over the sautéed ingredients, then stirred a few times before letting the mixture quietly cook. Colin Holt had been Daniel’s assistant for several months. He was a pleasant young man, and he must be a very good physician to have earned her brother’s approval. “I like him, he seems capable, and if having another doctor at the infirmary means you won’t have to work as hard, I’m in favor of it.”

  “I wouldn’t mind working fewer hours,” Daniel admitted.

  The eggs had set, so Laurel removed the skillet from the heat and divided the dish into two pieces, sliding the lion’s share onto Daniel’s plate along with two slices of the bread he’d toasted and buttered. After serving herself, she sat down opposite her brother and attacked her meal. She was hungrier than she’d realized.

  There was silence as they cleared their plates. When he was finished, Daniel sighed with pleasure. “That was so good. I feel restored.” He poured them more tea, then spread honey on his toast. “I trust we can afford to pay Colin a decent salary?”

  Laurel considered as she fed a piece of egg to the cat. “Yes, though you may need to take on a few patients who can afford to pay you well.”

  He shrugged. “Rich people need medical care as much as poor ones do.”

  “If you’re not so busy, maybe you’ll have time to think of taking a wife,” she said, half teasing. “Surgery may be a low trade, but you’re also ordained and heir to Belmond Manor. That makes you very eligible.”

  “I suppose someday I’ll do my duty and marry to produce an heir to the family estate,” he said without enthusiasm. “But there’s no rush. I haven’t met anyone who seemed worth disrupting both our lives for.”

  She frowned. “Have you been avoiding courtship because of me, Daniel?”

  “Not really.” He scooped Shadow onto his lap and began scratching behind the cat’s ears. Shadow leaned into Daniel blissfully. “Rose was the only girl I could even imagine as my wife. After she died . . .” Daniel shrugged.

  Laurel bit her lip. Laughing, golden Rose Hiller had been a neighbor and a beloved friend to both of them. Rose and Daniel had moved seamlessly from friendship into love. Though they’d not been formally betrothed, both families approved and it was understood that after he finished his studies, they would marry. Rose was maid of honor at Laurel’s wedding.

  Not long before Laurel’s marriage shattered, Rose had died of a swift fever. She was gone before Daniel could return from Oxford. He’d been devastated.

  Laurel suspected that Rose’s death was much of the reason he’d decided to pursue his childhood dream of medicine rather than entering the church after his ordination. It might have also contributed to his fierce championship of his sister after she left Kirkland. He was a protector by nature, and since he’d been unable to protect Rose, he became all the more protective of other women.

  Only now, when he mentioned Rose’s name for the first time in years, did Laurel realize how deeply he was still affected by her death. Daniel had such a generous, loving heart. She uttered a silent prayer that someday he would find another woman whom he could love, and who would love him back as he deserved.

  But she didn’t speak. Instead, she stood and began to clear the table. Who was she to advise anyone about love?

  Luckily the infant school teacher was well enough to work the next morning, so Laurel headed to her office to finish her budgeting. She needed to make adjustments so they could pay Colin Holt a decent salary.

  She was just finishing when a light knock sounded at her door. “Come in,” she called, not looking up.

  She assumed it was her assistant, Betsy Rivers, who helped her most mornings, but instead an excited male voice said, “Miss Herbert?”

  Colin Holt. With a smile, she rose to greet him. He was a year or two older than Laurel, but his boyish face and enthusiasm made him seem younger. “You look happy, Dr. Holt. Did my brother speak with you this morning?”

  “Indeed he did!” Colin said with a grin. “I’ve been praying he would ask me to stay at the infirmary, and my prayers have been answered.”

  She offered her hand. “Congratulations! You will be a great blessing to us.”

  He took her hand in both of his, his expression turning serious. “You and your brother are such wonderful examples of Christian charity. I love the work I do here and the people I work with.”

  “I’m so glad.” She tried to pull her hand away. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in the process of finding money for your salary, and I’m sure you’ll agree that’s a worthy goal.”

  Still holding her hand, he said intensely, “Miss Herbert. Laurel. Now that I have a secure position and future, I . . . I would like permission to pay my addresses to you.”

  Her jaw dropped. After her separation, she had consciously cultivated an air of cool reserve, and very effective it was, too. She was considered to be a natural spinster, so she’d never had to learn how to deflect unwanted advances.

  Seeing her surprise, Colin said earnestly, “Surely you are not unaware of how much I admire you. You are the personification of womanly grace and goodness. Now that I am in a position to take a wife, I am eager to further our acquaintance.”

  Laurel yanked her hand free. Reminding herself that he didn’t know her situation, she drew a deep breath before saying calmly, “I owe you an apology, Dr. Holt. Though I use the name Miss Herbert, I am . . . not free to marry. I’m sorry to have unintentionally misled you.”

  It was Colin’s turn to be shocked. “I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I had no idea.”

  “The subject is not one I ever discuss.” Wanting to ease the blow, she said, “Perhaps if matters were different, we would discover that we suit, but that can never be.” Which wasn’t true. Even if she were free, Colin would not interest her, she realized. Perhaps he might have pleased her when she was eighteen, but Kirkland had ruined her for uncomplicated men.

  “I’m sorry to distress you,” he said awkwardly.

  “No need to apologize.” She bit her lip. “I hope this doesn’t change your decision about joining the infirmary permanently.”

  He blinked. “I . . . no, I won’t change my mind. I will not find another position that so fulfills my own ideals.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said sincerely. “Daniel would be very disappointed to lose you.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “If you are seriously seeking a wife, have you noticed Miss Elizabeth Ware, who volunteers at Zion House several times a week? She watches you when you aren’t looking and blushes if you turn her way.”

  “The pretty blond girl?” His expression brightened. “I didn’t realize that she took any special notice of me. She seems very modest and ladylike.”

  “Yes, that’s Elizabeth. She’s shy but very intelligent and kind. She looks out for the youngest children and they adore her. She’s the daughter of a solicitor.” In other words, she would be a suitable match for a young physician.

  “I must visit Zion House tomorrow to see several patients. Perhaps . . . perhaps I’ll have an opportunity to speak with her.” Looking happier, Colin took his leave.

  Before then, Laurel would talk with Anne Wilson, the capable Zion House matron. Anne had a romantic streak and she would make sure that Colin and Elizabeth were properly introduced. The young doctor was a devout evangelical, as was Elizabeth. He would surely be happier with a sweet innocent than with Laurel.

  After drafting her budget, she checked the date in her pocket book—and froze. It had been a fortnight since Kirkland’s unexpected visit, and she realized that her personal body clock was off. Her cycles were more regular than most clocks, actually. Ever since she’d come to womanhood, her courses began midafternoon every fourth Monday.

  Living a celibate life, she never thought much about such regularity—until now, when it was gone. Stunned, she pressed one hand to her abdomen and the other to her breast. Though she and James had shared a passionate relationship, she’d never quickened. She’d wondered if
she might be barren. Then her marriage collapsed and the subject became moot. Could she be with child as a result of one brief, mad coupling?

  Yes. She knew the answer in her bones as soon as the question formed in her mind. She’d learned much about childbearing during her years at the infirmary, including the fact that some women knew immediately. Now that she was no longer trying to keep her mind busy, she recognized that her body felt subtly different.

  Dear God, what had she done?

  Chapter 6

  Shaking with shock, Laurel rose and walked into the adjacent room, where her assistant was working. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she said, “After all that work on the budget, I need some fresh air.”

  Betsy Rivers, who had come to Zion House as the oldest daughter of an abused wife and was now valuable in ways beyond counting, nodded with approval. “ ’Tis too nice a day to waste indoors at a desk. You work too hard. Do you want me to check the supply closets to see what needs ordering?”

  “Please do.” Hoping her eyes didn’t look too wild, Laurel headed downstairs, collecting her shawl and bonnet before she stepped blindly into the street.

  What now? Her thoughts were such a jumble that she didn’t realize that her long, restless strides had carried her halfway across Bristol until she found herself at the New Room, John Wesley’s own chapel. The modest building was the cradle of the Methodist religious movement.

  Though neither Laurel nor her brother had formally joined the Methodist church, they worked closely with the Bristol Methodists. Zion House had been set up in conjunction with a local chapel, so perhaps it was inevitable that she’d been drawn to the New Room, where she’d always found peace and clarity.

  The inside was plain, in keeping with Methodist teachings, but the space was saturated with the power of faith and prayers. Wearily she subsided onto one of the long wooden pews and bowed her head to pray for guidance.

  Gradually the chapel’s serenity untied the knots of her anxiety. Her life might have changed forever, but it was impossible to regret having a baby when she’d always yearned for children.

  The major difficulty would be telling everyone around her, since a pregnancy was not something that could be concealed. She couldn’t let the world think she was bearing a child out of wedlock when she was supposedly a model of female virtue.

  Daniel would be shocked and deeply disappointed. Despite his easy disposition, he might be angry with her, and much more with Kirkland.

  The real question was how her husband would react. Naturally James would be pleased by the prospect of an heir. A daughter wouldn’t interest him as much as a son, so he’d be unlikely to take away a female child.

  Even for a son and heir, surely Kirkland would allow the boy to stay with his mother until it was time to send him to school? Laurel had to believe that her husband would be reasonable, because she couldn’t bear the alternative.

  When her thoughts were sorted out, Laurel gathered her shawl around her and left the New Room. The sun was low in the sky. Inner peace didn’t come quickly.

  As she walked through the still-bustling streets, she thought about how to proceed. Daniel must be the first person she informed. Once he recovered from his shock and disappointment, she thought he’d be happy for her. Certainly he’d love the prospect of having a niece or nephew. He was wonderful with children.

  For her friends and neighbors, a simple and reasonably honest explanation would be best. She’d say that she and her long estranged husband had briefly reconciled, but it hadn’t worked out so they’d separated again. All true.

  Not quite ready to return home, she decided to walk by the port, which was a never-ending source of fascination. The diverse ships and sailors and babel of languages helped put her own problems into perspective.

  She paused on the quay to inhale the scents that marked the meeting of sea and land, and to study the creaking forest of masts. Over the years, she’d occasionally seen a ship flying the flag of Kirkland’s fleet. For the first time she wondered how often her husband came to Bristol to consult with one of his captains.

  Had he thought about her when he visited the city? Surely he must have. The man was a spy, after all. He’d kept track of her ever since their separation. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  She was turning to head home when a plain carriage pulled up just in front of her on the quay. Two men descended and turned to drag a slender young black woman out of the vehicle. The girl was struggling frantically. “No, no!”

  The burlier man slapped her hard, almost knocking her from her feet. “Shut your bawlin’ mouth, girl. You’re about to take a nice sea voyage with Mr. Hardwick.”

  Laurel’s horror was instantly followed by fury. She strode toward the carriage. “Release that girl at once!”

  The other man, Hardwick, was expensively dressed and had an air of arrogant authority. He drawled, “This is none of your business, madam. Violet is my property and I can do with her as I damn well please.”

  “No, you cannot!” Laurel retorted. “Let her go!”

  With the men’s attention turned toward Laurel, the girl managed to break loose. She bolted toward Laurel, her dark eyes terrified. “Please, ma’am, help me!”

  Violet spoke with a light, musical accent, and she had the stunning, exotic beauty Laurel had seen in others of mixed race. She looked to be about twenty, and her plain, neat gray gown had been torn in her struggle to escape.

  Laurel caught Violet’s hand. “You’re safe, my dear,” she said soothingly. “These men have no right to take you away.”

  Eyes like ice, Hardwick barked, “I own her and I have the papers to prove it! Get out of the way if you don’t want to be hurt.”

  Laurel stepped between the girl and her pursuers, saying in her most authoritative voice, “No one is a slave in Britain. That was decided by Lord Mansfield of the King’s Bench in 1772. Somersett versus Stewart .”

  Hardwick arched his brows. “Well, aren’t you the clever little thing,” he sneered. “But there are two of us, and might makes right is a much older law.”

  “That’s not a law but mere bullying,” Laurel retorted. In a lower voice, she said to Violet, “We’d best leave here.”

  Before they could move, the burly man lunged at Violet. The girl spun out of his way, then stuck out a foot, tripping him. The man fell hard before scrambling to his feet with ugly oaths. Behind him, Hardwick whipped out a small pistol.

  Laurel couldn’t suppress a spurt of fear, but she kept her voice calm. “Pistols are not very accurate and a single shot will not stop us both.”

  “It can stop one of you,” Hardwick barked as he cocked the weapon.

  “Hey, there, you fellows leave Miss Herbert alone!” a voice boomed from behind.

  Laurel glanced over her shoulder and saw that a crowd of dock workers had been drawn by the altercation. She recognized the speaker, a stevedore named Jeb Brown. He’d brought his wife to the infirmary when she was dangerously ill with fever.

  Another stevedore stepped forward. He had a broken nose that Daniel had set after a tavern brawl. His name was Brian, if she remembered correctly. “Aye, mister. You run along now. That girl ain’t a slave here.”

  A muttering rose from the crowd. Many had been treated at the infirmary and a few attended Daniel’s chapel. They were solidly on her side and against the strangers.

  Hardwick seethed on the verge of explosion, but he wasn’t stupid. Grimly he uncocked the pistol and shoved it into a holster under his coat. “You win for today,” he snapped. “But both you bitches had better be watching over your shoulder from now on.” He stalked down the pier to a moored dinghy, his thug behind him.

  Violet was shaking as she dropped to her knees in front of Laurel. “God bless you, Miss Herbert!” she said brokenly. “I was sure I was lost!”

  Laurel caught the girl’s hands and raised her to her feet. “You’re safe now, Violet. Do you have any place to go?”

  “No, but I’ll find som
ething. I’ll do any work as long as I’m free.”

  “My brother and I run an infirmary and also Zion House, a refuge for women and children who need help. You can stay there for now. But first, we thank these men for saving us.” She turned and smiled at the group of dock workers who had backed her up. “Thank you all for your good deed! Mr. Brown, is your wife well?”

  “Aye, Miss Herbert, very well indeed. We’re expecting a babe now.” He gazed after Hardwick’s dinghy. “We’ll escort you ladies home to make sure you’re safe.”

  “You are very kind.” Violet brushed the tears from her eyes and smiled at her saviors. “God will bless you for what you’ve done.”

  Looking pleased with themselves, the men smiled back. Most returned to their work, but Jeb and Brian fell into step behind Laurel and Violet. Laurel said warmly to the girl, “My name is Laurel Herbert. Will you tell me about yourself?”

  “I am called Violet Smith. My owner in Jamaica didn’t think slaves deserved anything but the plainest of names.” She glanced at Laurel fearfully. “The law you mentioned. It is true? I am free?”

  “Yes, there is no tradition of slavery in England. It’s generally accepted that a slave who is brought here becomes free.” Since Bristol had been one of Britain’s major slave-trading ports, Laurel had had occasion to learn about the subject.

  Violet’s smile was radiant. “Hallelujah!”

  “How did you come to be here? Was that man really your master?”

  Violet spat into the street. “As I said, I am from Jamaica. You can see in my face that I was fathered by a white man. His wife made him sell my mother to another plantation owner before I was even born.”

  Having noted how well the girl spoke, Laurel observed, “You seem to have been raised with some advantages?”

  Violet nodded. “I was trained to be lady’s maid to Mrs. Bertram, the new master’s wife. She treated me well and brought me with her to England when she came for a visit. I have only been here a week. As I grew up, her husband came to despise me because I would not lie with him and my mistress would not let him force me. Hardwick saw me and wanted to buy me for his pleasure, and Mr. Bertram was happy to sell me.”