Chapter 5

“The babe has been washed and clothed and I left him with the wet nurse,” Fern said from just inside the door.

Olivia looked up from her work to acknowledge her.

“The undertaker has come to claim Miss Eve and Mr. Graham and his sons will sit by the grave after she has been buried.”

“Let me know when that will be,” Olivia said. “I would like to be there for the service.” Not that there would be anyone else. As far as Olivia knew, Eve had no friends, other than those who she came to know at Westbrook House and her family lived too far away…unless they were in London for the Season.

There would not be much of a service. A vicar would read a prayer, recite a few words and then dirt would be tossed upon the pine box. Still, Eve should have someone there.

“It has been a long night,” Olivia told Fern. “You should find your bed. The children will be awake for breakfast before the household is ready.”

“As they always are,” Fern chuckled. “Goodnight, Lady Olivia.”

Olivia looked down at the parchment where she had been writing. This was Eve’s record, from when she arrived, her history, her progress while she lived at Westbrook House, and her end. Olivia kept records of every single person who came to live at Westbrook House, whether they walked through the door on their own, or were carried in as an infant. Notes on progress were charted through the years and until the time they left on their own, or as Eve, were carried out. These also served as her own collection of medical observations, and from these she wrote some of her articles. Her other articles were things she questioned after reading journals or pointing out contradictory information, and offering observations that may have been overlooked. Often her articles had been published in medical journals, much to her delight, though nobody knew that they had come from her, or they would have been dismissed and ignored simply because she was a woman.

With a sigh, Olivia sanded the parchment so that it would dry and set her quill aside then sat back and rubbed her tired eyes. She’d check on the children one more time then return home to dine with her sister, though she was undecided if she would attend any balls this evening. It didn’t feel right to do so after Eve had died today.

After blowing out the candles in her office, Olivia stepped into the corridor and toward the stairs when pounding on the front door caused her to pause. Women seeking refuge knew to come to the back door because it was safer and harder for anyone to see them enter, which was why the women took turns sleeping in the kitchen in case someone arrived in the middle of the night. Too often they only managed to escape an unpleasant situation when the person responsible slept or passed out from overindulgence.

Stepping back into her office, Olivia pulled the small gun from her drawer and checked that it was ready to fire, then held it within the folds of her skirt. There were no men who resided at Westbrook House. Only women and children, though she and Victoria had discussed hiring footmen who would act more as guards.

When she stepped back out into the corridor, she noted that Fern was waiting. With a nod, Fern approached the door and opened it, surprised to find Viscount Clermont.

“I am to understand that my son was born here today.”

“Where did you come by this information?” Though, she had a very good idea and would need to speak to either Dr. Valentine or Dr. Sinclair about keeping the confidences of what happened within Westbrook House. The safety of every inhabitant relied on secrets and discretion.

“I learned from two physicians.”

So, they both had spoken out of turn. “They sent you here?” she questioned in surprise with no intention of letting the viscount know the truth.

“They would not tell me but given one of the doctors treats those who are ill at Westbrook House, and this is where women and children come, I deduced it myself.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. “I only wish I would have figured it out much sooner.”

She couldn’t understand why. Clermont had wanted to be rid of Eve so why would he have come here?

“I was also told that Miss Eve passed away.”

His voice broke and for a moment, Olivia almost believed he cared.

“None of this explains why you are here now.”

“He is my son.”

“He matters now?” she demanded. “You abandoned Miss Eve and ignored her these last four months.”

Viscount Clermont gaped. “I certainly did not. She left me. Disappeared and left only a letter.”

That is not what Eve had told her. Besides, everyone knew that Clermont needed an heir and likely that was why he was so suddenly interested in the child.

“May I please come in so that I may explain?”

Few men were allowed in Westbrook House without a good reason, but it was possible that Viscount Clermont would not leave until she gave him an audience.

“Very well.”

She stepped back to allow him to enter.

Clermont glanced behind her and frowned. Olivia turned to note that five other women had joined them in the entry, likely having heard the knock and were there to help protect those who lived within.

“Is there somewhere that we may speak privately?”

Olivia nodded and led him back into her office and closed the door. Their discussion would remain private for now.

“I did care for Eve. She is the one who disappeared,” he insisted. “I have proof.” With those words, he withdrew a parchment from inside his suitcoat. It was wrinkled and worn, as if it had been read several times and carried constantly.

Olivia opened it and read.

My Dearest James,

I must leave you for if the child I carry is a son, you will take him from me. Your wife is also increasing, and you claim that our babes should arrive near the same time. If hers is another daughter, and mine a son, I know that you will take him away.

As this baby grows, and it moves within, I know that I could never live with myself if I gave them away. I am to be a mother, and I want to be a mother. I already love this child more than I thought possible and could not bear to be parted from my child. Therefore, I am leaving. I will disappear and I hope that you do not search for me.

Best wishes to you, and I hope that your wife does finally deliver you a healthy son so that you will not want mine if that is what I carry.

Eve

Olivia handed the parchment back to Clermont and sank into her chair. She would like to claim that it was a ruse, but she recognized the handwriting. Before the child was born, Eve had acted as secretary and wrote many letters and instructions for her and Victoria because Eve was one of the few women within Westbrook House who knew how to read and write.

“I am sorry. Eve insisted that you had abandoned her.”

“I would never have done so,” Clermont insisted.

Olivia straightened. “You also have a wife.”

Clermont thrust his fingers through his hair. “I am aware.”

She had never approved of lords who kept mistresses while a wife remained at home, nor did she approve of Clermont, but something told her that she’d judged him more harshly than perhaps she should have.

Standing, she walked to the cabinet and poured him a glass of brandy and one for herself.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the glass.

Olivia settled behind the desk. “If I give you the child, how am I to know that he will be accepted by your wife. By society?” If anyone learned that he was a bastard, he would still be welcomed as the son of a viscount but would not be able to inherit.

“My wife delivered a daughter yesterday.” He shook his head. “The babes were born closer together than any of us anticipated.”

“Congratulations,” Olivia offered.

“Ours was an arranged marriage.” He looked down into his brandy. “We were young and wanted to honor our fathers,” he added.

Clermont took a sip of the brandy then blew out a sigh.

Olivia studied him and believed the viscount was telling her the truth.

“We finally reached an agreement that I would only visit her bed for an heir. When she was increasing, I would not bother her.” He shook his head. “I should not be telling you something so private.”

“I can assure you that I have heard many things that a lady should not discuss or acknowledge, Lord Clermont.”

“She told me once that if I got a mistress with child and she delivered a son, that she would accept him as her own to be done with what was required of her.”

Olivia found it difficult to believe that a wife would voice such, and for a moment wondered if he was spinning a sad tale so that she’d hand over his son.

“How could you claim this son when your wife delivered a daughter?”

“You are the first that I have told. As for the servants, they would not speak out of turn.”

Most servants could not keep something so important to themselves and she was certain one would speak out.

“You are going to claim she had twins,” Olivia concluded.

“Yes. If I return with a son, then I will no longer need to bother her with my presence.”

This would solve the problem of feeding, clothing, raising, and educating yet another child, and if one could be given to a home… “Let me think about what you have said. You will have my answer in the morning.”

Olivia set her brandy aside and stood.

“He is my son,” Clermont reminded her.

“You have brought me your story, but I also know what Eve has told me. I need to think on the matter before I decide if I am going to simply hand him over to you.”

Clermont stood and slammed his fist on the desk. “I could call for a magistrate.”

“You may do so if you wish, but if it is your desire for Society to believe that your wife delivered the son, then you will not do so.”

She stared into his eyes and noted his anger, and the fact that he had hit her desk, made her want to proceed cautiously. Perhaps there was a reason his wife wanted nothing to do with him. If that was the case, then maybe a child was not safe with the viscount. Though a coveted son might not come to harm.

“Return tomorrow.”

“Very well.” The viscount blew out a sigh. “But I fully expect to take my son from the home.”

Olivia escorted Clermont to the door and let him out before closing and locking it. Fern and a few ladies were still waiting in the corridor. “Check all windows and doors and make certain they are locked. I do not trust that the viscount will not attempt to take his child.”

“I will take the kitchen tonight,” Fern announced.

“I will set my cot in the back parlor by the doors to the terrace,” another offered.

Olivia nodded. “Thank you.” She knew that one of the women would sleep near a vulnerable entrance, a bell by her side. This would not be the first time that they had feared there would be a break-in, though usually the person was after a woman who had left an unpleasant circumstance. It would likely not be the last time they did this either.

She really needed to speak to her sister about hiring guards so that the women could get rest, and so that they all could feel safe.

As for Olivia, she’d make her pallet by the front door as she had done in the past.

Xavier suffered a fitful night of sleep. He kept remembering how useless he had been at the bedside of that young woman. Just as useless as he’d been in helping his sister.

He had attended the best medical school in the world, he had gotten high marks, but it mattered not when he did not know what to do.

At one time he would have known where to make the incision and how to avoid the bladder, or at least have been of assistance to Dr. Valentine. Xavier would have also stitched up just as neatly. But once he left school, Xavier concentrated on the mind and forgot the body.

He”d not even been able to help his younger brother, Micah, when he returned home after being injured in the Battle of Vitoria. Other physicians and surgeons had been called in to consult and for a time, there was a concern that he might not walk again. That is when Xavier should have concentrated on the body and perhaps his brother might have fully recovered. Instead, Micah often needed to use a cane because the pain in his lower back was so debilitating.

Xavier was useless as a physician, and he did not like it one bit. He did not want to be the person who stood by while someone else saved a life. He no longer wanted to be called to homes because someone had a fit of the vapors so that he could pat their hand and then prescribe laudanum. He wanted to help but he”d been gone too long from medical college that he did not trust his hands.

Therefore, there was only one way to solve this predicament and as soon as he was dressed for the day and had broken his fast, Xavier found his way to the door of Dr. Orlando Valentine and stepped into what he thought to be a home in Covent Garden near Cheapside. Instead, in what should be a parlor, several people sat upon chairs and settees, waiting. To the right would have been a dining room, but instead, it was an apothecary. If Valentine had his own apothecary here, then the medications were likely prepared in the kitchen off the dining room.

Xaviar remained in the entry and glanced back into the parlor, noting that several people appeared poor, with their clothing worn, torn, and repaired. There were older men and women as well as small children, and every age in between.

Did Valentine see patients every day? If so, when did he have time to call on those who were ill at home or visit Westbrook House?

As he stood there not certain what to do, Orlando stepped out of a room farther down the corridor and assisted an old man who shuffled more than walked. Xavier didn”t listen to the instructions Orlando whispered but when Valentine looked up and saw Xavier, his eyebrows drew together in a question.

“I see that you are busy, but may I have a moment of your time?” Xavier asked.

Valentine glanced around the room filled with people and then nodded. “A moment.”

Xavier followed him back into another room. This had likely been a library and it was larger than the parlor. At one end of the room, a wall was lined with bookshelves that were filled with medical journals and books, as well as a desk piled with documents. At the opposite end was a table, which he assumed was used for examining people.

“I want to be your apprentice,” Xavier blurted out. “I want to be more useful.”

“You already possess the same education as I do.”

“Yet, I have no experience and I want to do more than visit lords to lecture them on proper wrapping of a foot when suffering gout or check a pulse when a lady insists that she is suffering from heart palpitations.”

“Heart palpitations can be serious,” Valentine reminded him.

“Yes, I know, and I do take their concerns seriously, but too often the woman has a marriageable daughter and medical concerns are followed by questions regarding my bachelor brother, the Earl of Garretson.” Xavier hadn’t meant to yell, but he hadn’t realized how irritated he had become with those in Society who believed they had difficulties when they truly hoped that their daughter would marry an earl. Not that he was jealous of Lucian, and Xavier was extremely grateful that he was the spare, and thus did not need to put up with near the nonsense of ladies, misses and their mothers as his brother did. No wonder Lucian avoided Society. “I apologize.”

“You are the son of an earl. Gentlemen in your position do not become surgeons and sully their hands,” Orlando pointed out.

Except, Xavier wanted his sullied. He wanted to heal. He wanted to be a surgeon and not simply a gentleman doctor, for that was a waste of time and source of irritation. “If you do not take me on as an apprentice, I will find someone else,” he threatened. “I have seen how many people are waiting to see you. Can you honestly say that the assistance would not be welcomed?”

Valentine studied him. “Very well. Assist me today. Tomorrow we will talk again.”