4. Estelle

4

Estelle

" M iss Estelle, are you ill?"

I looked up into the brown eyes of my maid, Lenore. Petite and rosy-cheeked, she stood next to my bed, looking at me with concern. Mumbling that I was fine, I turned onto my side facing away from her.

"Your mother wants you downstairs to greet Mr. and Mrs. Perrin." Lenore had spoken little English when she'd arrived in America from France at age sixteen to work for us. Other than her accent, sweet and jammy as an overripe plum, she now spoke English fluently. She'd married one of our gardeners, Charles Winchester, last summer. No one said it out loud, but I know they'd asked her specifically to keep watch over me. My lack of interest in living had alarmed even Father.

"I just want to sleep," I said faintly. "You may go."

"Your mother told me I must insist. I've picked out one of your new afternoon dresses for you to wear. The purple one. It's so becoming on you."

I sighed, knowing it was impossible to hide today of all days. Mother's excitement about the return of my twin and Pierre would not allow it. The beautiful young couple's return from their European honeymoon must be celebrated. No matter that I was heartsick. Regardless that Constantine was dead, and I now had a problem no one could fix.

Lenore perched on the side of the bed, and I flinched when her cool, dry hand came to rest on my forehead. "You're not warm. But it's your heart, yes?"

"Yes, it's my heart." And the hole that went right through my chest. I sighed and rolled onto my back. "How much time do I have?" I'd been awake for hours. The nausea that came every morning at six could not be ignored. After I'd been sick into the toilet, I'd returned to bed, and fallen back to sleep. I'd dreamt of Constantine and our garden. He'd been sitting on the swing, calling out to me. When I woke, it had taken some time to remember he was no longer of this world. He would not sit in the swing again or hold my hand or kiss my mouth and tell me how beautiful I was. "I cannot wait to call you my wife." That had been one of the last things he'd ever said to me.

"You can come back up after luncheon and rest," Lenore said. "But now you must get out of bed so I can help you wash and dress. Do you want your sister to see you this way?"

"I'm too tired." All I wanted was to sleep and not wake again. My future was undeniably ruined. In fact, I was ruined, and so was the rest of my family. When the truth became known, we would be shunned from society. Pierre and Mauve's return could not save me.

Even as much as I'd missed Mauve, I didn't want to face her. Would she know right away? If not, how could I possibly tell her?

"Miss, please, you must let me know what is ailing you." Lenore smoothed strands of my dirty hair away from my face. "I've heard you be sick in the mornings. I know what that is. My mother had six children. I myself have experienced it of late."

My eyes flew open, surprised. "You're having a baby?"

"Yes, miss. Mr. Winchester and I are expecting a baby in the spring. Is the same true for you?"

Tears leaked from my eyes and rolled into my ears. "I think so."

"Dear me."

"Before he died, Constantine and I…knowing we were marrying soon…" I didn't continue.

"Yes, of course. These things happen, even to young ladies such as yourself."

Such as myself? Who was I anymore? Soon, I would be an outcast. The relative no one spoke of and pretended never existed. I knew Father. I knew already what would become of me, regardless of who I'd been or hoped to be.

Still, Lenore understood. She shared a marital bed in one of the cottages built for our married staff. They were not expected to reside downstairs like those without spouses.

The relief upon sharing my secret did not alleviate the horrid dread that lived in the pit of my stomach. It had mixed with my grief into a concoction of black tar.

"What will you do?" Lenore asked, stroking my hand that had crept out from under the blankets.

"I don't know."

"You've not told anyone?"

"No. I've thought about taking poison, but I don't know how to get any." I laughed, but it sounded more like a hiccup.

"You mustn't speak this way. There must be a solution."

"You don't think me wicked? Immoral?" I asked.

"I'm not the judge of such matters, miss. We leave that up to Jesus."

Jesus? He'd abandoned me. Taken my Connie from me and left me here alone to suffer.

"Did you know I'm a twin too?" Lenore asked. "She remains in France. I feel connected to her still, even though we are so far apart now."

Mauve and I had always been bonded in a similar fashion. Only since I lost her to Pierre had she seemed out of my grasp.

"Yvonne lives in Paris with her husband. But I feel her here." Lenore patted her chest. "Whatever I needed, she would provide if she could."

"Mauve cannot do anything for me," I said. "My life's over. Once Father finds out, he'll banish me."

"Perhaps so. But not today. Today you're going to get up and become presentable. When alone, you will tell your sister everything, and she will help you to know what to do next." Lenore got up from the bed and went over to the desk where she'd set a breakfast tray. "You will have coffee and a roll while I run your bath."

She set the tray next to me on the bed. Reluctantly, I sat up.

"Here, lean forward just a bit for me so I can fix the pillows," Lenore said.

I did so. She fluffed and arranged the pillows to support my back. The tray held a basket of fresh rolls, several boiled eggs, and slices of apple. Steam filtered out of the handle of a silver coffeepot, wafting a nutty scent. Normally I loved coffee, but lately it turned my stomach.

"Do you want coffee, Miss Estelle?"

"No, thank you."

She clucked sympathetically. "Eat the roll anyway. The food will settle your stomach. It is that way for me. Try to eat an egg too. It's good for the baby."

She left me to eat my breakfast. I heard water running for the bath about the same time I heard the sound of the motorcar bringing my sister home.

Mauve hugged me tightly and didn't seem inclined to let me go. I hugged her back, breathing in the floral scent of her perfume. New from Paris, I assumed. Once, I might have felt envious, but I no longer cared about anything as mundane as cologne.

We spent the morning with the rest of the family. Mauve had brought home an entire trunk filled with gifts from their travels. I smiled and acted the part. After luncheon, Pierre excused himself to rest in their room. Mother and Father had other things to attend to, leaving Mauve and me alone.

The weather was pleasant that afternoon, even though September had brought colorful leaves to the trees and a crispness to the air. The gardeners had planted mums in the flowerpots that decorated the front of the house.

Mauve told me stories of her adventuress as we strolled arm in arm, as we had as children. I made the appropriate comments and asked questions, but it was an act.

Finally, she seemed to pick up on my dullness. When one shone as brightly as my sister it would be hard to understand the grief of others.

"Darling, what's happened to you since I was away?" Mauve stopped us near a bench under the shade of an oak.

"Mother didn't write to you?"

"No, we didn't stay in one place long enough for a letter." She took my hand and brought it into her lap. "You seem different. Have you missed me? I missed you terribly. It's the first time we've been away from each other."

"I have also missed you terribly. More than you could know. And I have something to tell you." My voice shook, which appeared to alarm my sister. She turned to face me, searching my face for answers.

"What is it?"

"I fell in love while you were away."

"Yes?" Her eyes flickered with interest but also alarm.

"Do you remember Louisa's cousin? Constantine Harris? He attended your wedding."

"Yes, of course. Very handsome, as I recall. Is he the one?"

I nodded, tears flooding my eyes. "We had the most wonderful time at the reception. I showed him our garden. We fell in love so quickly, like you and Pierre, that it made my head spin. Father agreed to our marriage."

"Thank goodness. Knowing Father I'm surprised. Wealth and influence carry a great weight with him, as you know. But why the tears? Has he decided to call off the engagement?"

"No, he died in an accident. The night he intended to propose."

Her face drained of color. "Oh no. Please say it isn't so."

I swiped at my tears, only to have them readily replaced by more. "My heart's broken."

She took me into her arms, cradling my head against her chest. "Dearest, I'm so terribly sorry. I had no idea. This all was happening while I was away? How did I not feel it? We've always sensed each other's emotions."

I withdrew from her, unable to bear her loving touch. Not when I had to tell her what I'd done. How I'd ruined my life while she was looking at art in Paris. "It's because you've replaced me with Pierre. There's nothing wrong with it. In fact, it's the natural way of things. I felt the same about Connie. Romantic love is so all-consuming."

"When did this happen?"

"Last month," I said.

"Someone should have sent a telegram. We would have come home early."

"No one wanted that. Anyway, there's nothing you can do for me. At least one of us should be happy."

Mauve's eyes filled. "I wish I could do something to help you."

"There's more," I mumbled. "Something terrible."

"What is it?" Her gaze sharpened. My sister might be kind and gentle, but she was also smart.

"I'm going to have a baby."

The silence that followed was like the world after a snowstorm, everything quiet and paused, waiting for life to resume.

Mauve rose to her feet, her hands covering her mouth as if she were trying not to scream. She walked a few paces to the right and then the left before turning back to look at me. "Do they know?"

"I've been waiting for you. I couldn't face it without you." Tears streamed from my eyes with such force that it was obvious they'd been waiting for my sister.

"We have to fix this. For all our sakes. What will happen to Father should this get out?"

"Mother too. Think of how happy the society women will be to get rid of Mother. They've wanted to before now, simply because Father's money is new. This will ruin them. You and Pierre will be tainted as well."

She returned to the bench and bent over her knees, resting her face in her hands. When she looked up, a little color had returned to her cheeks. The initial shock was wearing off and reality setting in. "I thought it would be me—coming home from my honeymoon to tell you I was having a baby."

"Are you?"

"No. As much as I wished for it, there's no baby." She absently placed a hand over her stomach but then pulled it away, staring blankly up at the sky.

"One will come. You must be patient." I fiddled with the hankie I kept tucked under the sleeve of my blouse, an idea expanding in my mind. The solution was so obvious. Would she do it? Could I, do it? What about Mother and Father? Pierre? "You could pretend the baby's yours."

She turned slowly until her eyes met mine. "What did you say?"

"You and Pierre could take the baby and raise it as your own. No one would have to know. Other than the family, obviously. Even the baby wouldn't have to know that you were her aunt. She'll believe it's you if you take it immediately after the birth. Babies bond to whoever holds them and feeds them."

Her expression turned incredulous. "How could you stand it? Seeing a child raised by your sister that belongs to you? It's too much. In fact, it could be disastrous."

"I would go away somewhere. Start a new kind of life. Somewhere far away. You're all better off without me."

"What about me? I'm not better off. You're a part of me."

"I'll still be a part of you, just from a distance." I took in a deep breath. The more I spoke of it, the more I thought this was the right solution. "It will be better for the child. She or he won't stand a chance of a good life if it's born out of wedlock. A bastard, that's what he or she will be in the eyes of the world. Especially the one we live in."

"There's something I've never told you," Mauve said.

My blood ran cold at the sight of her face.

"Do you remember when I fell off the horse when we were twelve?

"Of course. It was awful. I thought you were going to die." The horse had bucked her and then kicked her hard enough that she broke her pelvis. She'd cried out in excruciating pain. I'd had to leave her in the pasture and ride home to get help.

"The fracture to my pelvis wasn't the only damage. At the time the doctor told me the kick had hurt my reproductive organs. He said I might not be able to have children because of it. I've hoped he was wrong. But after the amount of lovemaking over the last three months without a pregnancy, I fear it's true."

"Why have you not told me this before?"

"Saying it out loud makes it seem true," Mauve said.

"Does Pierre know?"

She nodded. "I told him before the wedding, so that he could back out if he wanted."

"He didn't want to. Anyone could have told you that."

"He said he didn't care—that we could be a couple free to travel and do as we please. But I could see it in his eyes. He was disappointed. We agreed then and there that we'd pray and hope that the doctor was wrong. Pierre said if it was meant to be, then a baby would come to us somehow."

"This is your somehow," I said softly.

"We have to tell Father and Mother. And Pierre. We can't keep this a secret from them, as much as I'd like to."

"I know." She was right, but I wished it was not so. "Father will send me away. I'll want to go. It's best for all of us. You and Pierre will raise the child as your own. I'd only be in the way, and it would be confusing for the child if I were hanging about in the shadows, yearning to be her mother instead of her aunt. There will be no place for me. We must think of the baby above all else. Being with you and Pierre without me to muddle things is what's best. You'll see. Once she or he is born, you'll know I'm right."

"No, it will all work out somehow," Mauve said. "We shouldn't be separated. You're my sister. The person I love most in the world. You can't leave me."

I took my sister's hands, squeezing gently. "I'll have to. You know that as well as I. But you're strong and good. You'll be the perfect mother. You were born to do this." Apparently, I was not.

The family gathered at twilight in the drawing room for drinks before dinner. Pierre and Mauve sat together holding hands on the love seat. Father was in his usual chair by the fire. Mother and her needlepoint in the one next to him. Me, alone on the sofa.

One of the maids had brought a tray of gin and tonics. With my recently powerful sense of smell, the acerbic aroma made me sick. I thought for a moment I might have to run out of the room to vomit, but the nausea passed. Regardless, I declined when Mother offered me one.

"Mother and Father, we have something we'd like to talk to you about," Mauve said. "Pierre, Estelle, and me, that is."

Mother, dressed in a lovely fawn-colored gown, folded her hands in her lap. "What is it, darling?"

We'd discussed our strategy beforehand. Mauve, having spoken to Pierre earlier, suggested she and I tell them together. Our telepathic twin-speak, developed when we first learned to talk, would serve us well.

Mauve nodded at me to begin.

"Before he died, Constantine and I were very much in love," I said, voice shaking. "Almost deliriously so, and we got carried away one night—I'm going to have a baby." I blurted out the last part rather abruptly. However, it got the point across.

No one moved for a good five seconds. Then all hell broke loose.

Father's face turned various shades of purple, landing finally on a hue resembling the skin of an eggplant. He leapt to his feet, spilling gin over the edge of his glass. "How could you do this? To me? To us? You've ruined us."

"I understand your concern. However, Mauve, Pierre, and I have decided what to do. We can remedy the situation." I was strangely calm now. Like someone facing a firing squad, knowing my time had come. "Pierre and Mauve have agreed to take the baby and raise her or him as their own."

Mother's hand shook as she reached for her drink. "What will we tell this poor child?"

"That I'm his aunt and Mauve is his mother," I said. "No one but the people in this room will ever know."

Father continued to rage, calling me more foul names and telling me I was headed straight for hell. "You'll be punished one way or another. God's wrath will come down upon you and no one will care. You'll already be dead to us."

My mouth dropped open at the cruelty of his words. How could my own father say such a thing? I was too stunned to cry. Who was this purple-faced monster? Or was this the truth about who he really was? He only loved me if I made no mistakes or missteps? A perfect daughter, like Mauve?

Pierre stood; fists clenched. Specks of pink dotted his cheeks. "Sir, this is your daughter. Estelle's made a mistake. If Constantine had lived, it wouldn't matter at all. There would be a white lie about due dates and such, but everyone would assume the baby was made during the honeymoon."

"But he is dead." Father's voice echoed, bouncing against walls to fly back and sting me. "She committed a sin, and now we're all to pay the price. She's ruined this entire family. Are you too dumb or blind to see that, Pierre? How are we supposed to keep this from getting out? You know how servants talk. Think of the child—raised as a bastard?"

Mother clasped both hands around her drink. A droplet of moisture slid from the glass onto her lap. "Sean, please, keep your voice down. The staff's sure to hear you."

Father's face fell, clearly chastised by her admonishment. "Yes, quite right."

"We can send the girls and Pierre away," Mother said quietly. "To our house by the seaside. Estelle will have the baby there. When they return, Mauve and Pierre will claim the baby as their own."

Mauve and I locked gazes, communicating as we did without words. I nodded. It was a good idea. Without the prying eyes of servants, no one would know the truth.

Father turned to look at me directly for the first time, speaking softly. "Estelle, you will not be welcome home. Not ever. Do you understand?"

"But Father, why?" Mauve asked, starting to cry. "Isn't it punishment enough that she'll have to give away her baby?"

"It's not a matter of punishment." Father stomped over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey. "I simply will not be able to stand the sight of her."

I was too numb to cry, but my nerves were another matter entirely. A violent trembling made my teeth clatter. I clamped them together.

"You can't separate us," Mauve said. "It's too cruel."

"Estelle should have thought of that before she lay with a man she wasn't married to." Father tossed his drink against the stone fireplace. Shattered glass cascaded across the floor. Floorboards creaked from his panther-like pacing. But he remembered to speak softly, his fear of the servants hearing more powerful than his contempt for me. "May I remind all of you that I'm the only one in this house who funds this extravagant lifestyle you all enjoy? Three months in Europe. The wedding. Taking Pierre into the company even though he has no skills whatsoever? Has it occurred to any of you that you'd be out on the street if it were not for my good graces?"

"We're all acutely aware of our stations in life," Mother said. "We are women. Pierre has nary a penny of his own. You, my dear, are the one with all the power. It's not the first time this has occurred to us. The pity lies with your lack of sympathy. You have the power to make this as painful as you wish it to be, and we have no choice but to stand by and watch."

"No, he's right," I said, finding my voice. "I've made a terrible mistake, and because of it I will be alone for the rest of my life. Separated from my twin and from my mother and you, Father. I'll go away quietly after the baby's born. I'll be no more trouble to you."

"You were supposed to be my assets," Father said, shaking his head. "My two pretty girls. Further tools for our entry into society. You had everything. Not like me, who worked and scraped for every single thing I've ever had. You've thrown it all away."

I got to my feet, wobbly. "If you would be so kind as to have my supper sent up to my room, I'll begin preparation for the seaside."

Mauve got up as well. "Wait, this cannot be how all of this ends. Not like this. Father, please. Don't you see how you've devastated her?"

"There's plenty of devastation for all of us," Father said. "She's made sure of that."