12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Theresa watched from the window as a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree. The first signs of autumn were beginning to show, and a small smile played on her lips, her eyes reflecting the warm hues that painted the landscape. She turned her attention back to Lady Laura, sitting quietly in the corner by the fireplace, a delicate shawl draped over her shoulders.

"Would you like some tea, Lady Laura?" Theresa asked gently, her eyes full of concern for the young woman who had become her charge these past few weeks. As Laura's pregnancy progressed, her health seemed to improve bit by bit with Theresa's attentive care, though her spirits remained low.

"Thank you, Theresa," Laura replied softly, offering a tentative smile. "I do believe I would enjoy a cup."

Theresa busied herself with the task, preparing a tray laden with a fragrant pot of tea, porcelain cups, and a plate of freshly baked biscuits. She carried it to Lady Laura, setting it down on a small table next to her.

"Here you are," Theresa said warmly, pouring the steaming liquid into a cup and handing it to Laura.

"Thank you," Laura murmured, cradling the cup between her hands and inhaling the comforting scent. A brief flicker of contentment crossed her face before it faded, replaced once again by a cloud of melancholy.

Theresa hesitated, her hand reaching out to touch Laura's arm before drawing back. She longed to offer comfort but was unsure of how to breach the wall of sadness that seemed to surround her. "Lady Laura," she began tentatively, "is there anything else I can do to help? Perhaps a walk outside might lift your spirits?"

Laura considered the suggestion, her gaze drifting toward the window and the vibrant display of nature beyond. "Perhaps," she agreed, her voice barely audible. "The sun on my face might be enjoyable."

"Then let's go," Theresa said, offering an encouraging smile. "The fresh air might do us both some good."

As they walked arm in arm through the gardens, Theresa couldn't help but think of how their lives had become intertwined these past few weeks. Someone she had never met before had now become an integral part of her life, and with each day that passed, Theresa found herself growing more attached to the young woman who carried so much weight on her delicate shoulders. She knew that Lady Laura's journey was far from easy, but Theresa was determined to do all she could to help her find a measure of peace and happiness in the midst of her trials.

"Theresa?" Laura asked suddenly, her voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.

"Yes, Lady Laura?" Theresa responded, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked at the young woman beside her.

"Thank you," Laura whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "For everything."

"Of course, Lady Laura," Theresa replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "We're in this together, remember?"

"Theresa?" Laura's voice was hesitant, barely a whisper.

"Yes, Lady Laura?" Theresa sensed the weight of unspoken words pressing down upon the young woman.

"May I confide something in you?"

"Of course," Theresa replied gently, reaching over to take Laura's hand in her own.

Laura took a deep breath, her eyes darting away for a moment before returning to meet Theresa's steady gaze. "I... I fell in love with a man who turned out to be a rake." Her voice trembled, vulnerability apparent in every word. "He was already married, but I didn't find out until it was too late."

"Dear Laura," Theresa murmured, squeezing her hand in sympathy. "You mustn't blame yourself for his deceit."

"Thank you, Theresa," Laura whispered. "My brother tried to find someone willing to marry me, but by then, my pregnancy was starting to show. We could not risk it - somebody would have talked, and the scandal could have destroyed my family."

"Your brother is a good man, trying to protect you as best he can," said Theresa softly, her heart aching for the girl beside her.

"Indeed," Laura agreed, tears glistening in her eyes. "He suggested that I go away, somewhere where no one would know me, and have my baby in secret. And perhaps in a year or two, we might look for a suitable marriage prospect for me."

"Your brother is doing his best to ensure your future happiness, Laura," Theresa reassured her. "And I promise you that I will be by your side, helping you through this difficult time."

"Thank you, Theresa," Laura whispered, the gratitude in her eyes almost tangible as she leaned into the embrace that Theresa offered. They walked together in the garden for a while longer, Laura obviously drawing strength from Theresa's supportive presence.

"Promise me one thing, Laura," Theresa said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "Promise me that you won't let yourself believe that you are unworthy of love or happiness because of what has happened."

"Theresa, I—" Laura's voice wavered, her tears threatening to spill over.

"Promise me," Theresa repeated firmly, her eyes locked with Laura's.

"I promise," Laura whispered, the words coming out shaky but resolute.

"Good. Now, how about we sit on this bench here for a little while? It's so lovely in the sun."

Laura nodded in agreement and the pair of them sat down in the garden to enjoy the warm sunshine.

The scent of roses filled the air, and the distant sound of laughter from Richard and their daughters as Richard gave the girls a jumping lesson on their ponies brought a small smile to Laura's lips.

"Theresa," Laura began hesitantly, her voice barely audible above the whisper of the breeze rustling through the leaves. "I know I should be grateful for the opportunity to start anew once my child is born, but the thought of giving up my baby... it makes me so incredibly sad."

Theresa reached over, placing a comforting hand on Laura's arm. "That's only natural, Laura. You are this child's mother, and your love for them is just as strong and real as any other mother's."

Laura's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she watched Richard, endlessly patient as Eliza urged Duck towards a tiny jump. "Seeing you and Richard with your girls, how loving a home you've built for them... it gives me hope that perhaps my child can have a happy future too."

Theresa watched her husband and girls play, her heart filled with warmth and affection. She thought about the life little Louise had been saved from at the orphanage, and the bleak existence that awaited Laura's baby if they did not intervene. A sudden resolve solidified within her, and she knew what must be done.

"Laura, I will talk to Richard," she said resolutely. "We have room for many more children in our hearts, and he has certainly already proven his willingness to be a father to children not his own. Would you allow us to adopt your child?"

"Oh, Theresa," Laura whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I cannot express how much this means to me. But, you and Richard have not been married long! Surely you will have your own children, one day."

"And if we do, we will love them and treat them with neither more nor less favour than the children we already have," Theresa assured her, quite confident that Richard would feel the same way. "Your child will be safe and loved here at Belle Haven, just as Clara, Anna and Eliza are, I promise you."

Laura startled Theresa by throwing her arms around her, and beginning to sob on her shoulder. "Oh thank you. Thank you! And perhaps… perhaps I could visit, one day?"

"You would be very welcome," Theresa said, understanding that Laura could not bear the thought of never seeing her baby again. Perhaps practicality and fear of exposure would put paid to the scheme, but Theresa would never keep Laura from her child. "Always."

A tempestuous night had settled over Belle Haven, its fierce winds rattling shutters and raindrops pelting against the windowpanes. Theresa lay in bed, the rhythmic sound of the storm and Richard's gentle snores beside her lulling her into a restless sleep. She was torn from her slumber by frantic knocking on her chamber door.

"Lady Bell! Lady Laura's pains have begun!" cried one of the maidservants, her voice barely heard above the cacophony of the storm.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Theresa, as she leapt from her bed and hastily threw on a robe.

"What is it?" Richard mumbled sleepily, lifting his head.

"Go back to sleep." She knew he'd had a long day, breaking in a difficult young colt. "I'll take care of it."

Gathering her hair into a hasty knot, she rushed to Laura's room. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"Please, Theresa, help me," Laura sobbed as another contraction gripped her body, her face contorted with pain. "It's too soon!"

"Of course, dear," Theresa said gently, taking Laura's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "We'll get through this together."

Her mind raced with worry for Laura and her child, knowing the baby was not due for another month or more, but she steeled herself, determined to be strong for her friend. As Laura cried out again, Theresa mopped her brow with a cool cloth and murmured soothing words. She glanced at Molly, who stood in the corner wringing her hands.

"Molly," Theresa called, her voice firm, "fetch the local midwife right away. Tell her Lady Laura has gone into labour."

"Y-yes, Theresa," Molly stuttered, her eyes wide with fear. She dashed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As they waited, Theresa continued to comfort Laura, remembering the strength and love that had brought them all to this moment. She focused on the bond they had formed, hoping to steady herself as she faced the challenges of the night.

"Richard and I will be here for you and your child, Laura," Theresa whispered, her voice wavering slightly. "I promise."

Laura managed a weak smile amidst her pain, her eyes glistening with gratitude. "Thank you, Theresa. Knowing that brings me more comfort than you can imagine."

As the storm continued to batter the windows, Theresa sat by Laura's side, her own heart aching with each cry of pain that escaped her friend's lips. She had never felt so helpless and desperate for assistance, praying for the midwife's timely arrival.

A knock on the door startled Theresa from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Helen standing in the doorway, worry etched across her lovely features. Her hair was pulled back into a simple bun, and her eyes sparkled with concern.

"Molly stopped at the vicarage to ask if we knew where the midwife would be found, and told me about Laura. Can I help?" Helen asked, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

"Thank goodness you're here," Theresa breathed, relief washing over her. Helen had only given birth a few months earlier herself, and knew much better what to do than Theresa did. If the midwife didn't arrive quickly, Helen might be the only help Laura would get.

Helen quickly joined Theresa at Laura's bedside, offering words of comfort and encouragement as they worked together to support their friend in her time of need.

"Theresa, Helen... I don't know if I can do this," Laura sobbed between contractions, her voice strained and weak.

"You have our love and strength, Laura," Helen reassured her, grasping her hand gently. "Just focus on your breathing and trust in us to guide you through."

The midwife finally arrived, her face flushed from the haste of her journey through the storm. She took immediate control of the situation, examining Laura and issuing orders to the gathered helpers.

"Prepare some hot water and clean linens," she instructed, her voice calm and authoritative. "The birth is indeed imminent."

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Theresa said, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Of course, dear," the midwife replied with a warm smile. "Now, let's help bring this little one into the world."

Lady Laura, her face contorted in pain and determination, gripped Theresa's hand with an intensity that belied her frail frame. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow, and Theresa gently wiped them away, offering her friend words of encouragement and comfort.

"Almost there, Laura," Theresa murmured, her heart aching as she witnessed the immense effort it took for the young woman to bring her child into the world. "You're doing wonderfully."

Lady Laura let out a guttural cry, her body trembling with the force of the contraction. The midwife, a stout, unflappable woman who had seen more than her fair share of births, nodded her approval.

"Good work, my dear," she said, her voice steady and soothing. "One more push should do it."

Summoning the last of her strength, Laura threw back her head and screamed, her voice mingling with the howl of the wind outside. And then, as if in answer to her call, a new sound joined the cacophony – the lusty wail of a newborn child.

"Congratulations, Lady Laura," the midwife announced, her eyes shining with pride as she handed the squalling infant to Theresa. "It's a girl."

Theresa gazed down at the tiny, red-faced creature in her arms, her heart swelling with love and wonder. "She's beautiful," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "Laura, you did it."

Before she could go on, however, another cry from Lady Laura stopped her cold. Shock and terror were etched upon her friend's features as she clutched at her swollen belly, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Something's not right," she panted, her eyes wild with fear. "There's another – I can feel it!"

"Another?" Theresa echoed, her mind reeling as the midwife hurried back to Laura's side.

"Stay calm, dear," the midwife instructed, her voice betraying a hint of urgency. "Sometimes these things happen. We must be prepared for whatever comes our way."

"Theresa," Helen interjected, her own eyes wide with concern, "give me the baby, and go hold Laura's hand. She needs you now more than ever."

As she passed the newborn girl to Helen, Theresa couldn't help but worry about the unexpected turn of events. Her thoughts raced, wondering how they would manage to care for two infants when they had barely been prepared for one.

"Focus, Theresa," she told herself sternly, taking Laura's trembling hand in hers once more. "One miracle at a time."

With gritted teeth and a fierce determination in her eyes, Lady Laura pushed through the pain of yet another contraction, her friends by her side, offering her their unwavering support. The storm outside, though still raging, seemed to pale in comparison to the tempest within that room as the second child made its way into the world.

"Push, Laura," urged the midwife, her hands firmly positioned to receive the second child. "Just a little more, my dear."

Lady Laura's face contorted in pain, but with a final, agonised cry, she brought forth a second baby girl into the world. The newborn's wail joined her sister's, filling the room with the sound of new life.

"Two beautiful girls," breathed Theresa, tears of relief and happiness glistening in her eyes. But as she looked at Lady Laura, her heart clenched in sudden dread. The young woman's complexion had turned ghostly pale, her once-vibrant blue eyes now glassy and unfocused. Her breaths came out weak and laboured, barely audible over the storm outside and the cries of her newborn daughters.

"Theresa..." Laura murmured, her voice barely a whisper. She looked at her friend imploringly, her hand weakly reaching for hers.

"Shh, don't speak," Theresa whispered back, clasping Laura's hand tightly. "Save your strength. You've done so well, Laura."

"Please... take care of them," Laura pleaded, her gaze flickering toward the infants nestled in Helen's arms. "I-I don't think I can..."

"Of course, Laura," Theresa assured her, trying to keep her own fear hidden behind a comforting smile. "But you're going to be here for them too; you just need to rest now."

Even as she spoke the words, Theresa's heart ached with the knowledge that Laura's frail body had been pushed to its limits by the difficult twin birth. As the minutes passed, Laura's breathing grew shallower, her grip on Theresa's hand slackening. The midwife met Theresa's eyes, shaking her head slowly.

"Stay with us," Theresa pleaded silently, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched her friend slip away.

But despite Theresa's fervent prayers, Laura took one final, faint breath and then lay still, her hand going limp in Theresa's grasp.

"Rest well, dear friend," Theresa whispered, gently closing Laura's eyes with trembling fingers. "I promise to care for your precious girls as though they were my own."

With the weight of her promise settled on her shoulders, Theresa turned her gaze to the two newborns. Their cries pierced the air, as if calling out for the mother they would never know.

"Your mama loved you dearly," she told them, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "But worry not, for we shall give you a loving home and family."

"You're keeping them?" Helen asked softly.

"I promised Laura," Theresa said. "Richard agreed; we have room in our hearts for another. Two more." She smiled wryly. "Ten more; it matters not, he said."

"You'll need a wet nurse, but I can give them a first meal, at least." Helen took one of the babies into her lap and opened the front of her gown. "Thank you for not sending them to Duke Street," she said softly, as the baby latched onto her breast and began to suckle greedily.

"I could no more send them there than you could have sent Louise." The baby Theresa still held had fallen asleep; with a gentle finger she traced the curve of a tiny pink cheek.

"Twins?" Richard's sleep-roughened voice at the door made her look up. "Laura…" he looked at the still form on the bed, the sheet drawn up to cover her face. "Oh, Theresa. I am so sorry."

A tear trickled down Theresa's cheek, but she managed to find a smile for Richard as he came to stand beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning down to look at the baby in her arms. "We have twin daughters, Richard," she managed to get out through the lump in her throat.

"They are beautiful," he said softly. "I must send word to Laura's brother."

Theresa shut her eyes, but nodded. The Duke of Allanworth might have other plans for his nieces; she could only hope he would allow her and Richard to keep the babies. It would break her heart all over again if she lost them, too.