Chapter Seven

They’d done it again. The thrill of imminent success wove through Kit’s tired muscles, giving her the strength to toss Lady Elizabeth’s valise into the back of the wagon. Nash slid the larger, heavier trunk in beside it.

It wasn’t a massive trunk by aristocracy standards, and Lady Elizabeth was probably convinced that she’d spent the past several months living in near squalor, but the sad yet hopeful smile that offset the sheen of tears in her eyes said it was all worth it.

“What will you do now?” Kit asked. She always asked because she needed the hope as badly as the women did. They were why she was doing this, the women robbed of innocence and opportunity. And after today, she’d never see or hear from Lady Elizabeth again. That was part of the agreement. It was Kit’s job to make everything disappear.

Lady Elizabeth glanced back at the small house she’d lived in for nearly seven months. “I’m hoping to marry. Start a family.” She smiled at Kit. “Father said he would take me to Edinburgh when I’m ready. Let me have a Season there. I . . . I told him I didn’t want to have anything to do with London. I didn’t want to have to see . . . certain people.”

They all knew there was only one person Lady Elizabeth wanted to avoid. One man. Kit didn’t blame her. She didn’t want to ever see that man again either, and she’d only had to talk to him one night. She hadn’t spent months being lied to and promised love and a future only to have the man walk away when a larger dowry showed interest in him. By then it had been too late for Lady Elizabeth.

“I can’t thank you enough, Kit.” Lady Elizabeth ran a hand down her skirt, a simple muslin she probably wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing before finding herself with child. “Mrs. Foster and I would take food to the workhouse sometimes.”

Kit didn’t know what to say to that. It was good for Lady Elizabeth to see the fate that could easily have been hers, wasn’t it? A little perspective was always a good thing. Perhaps, once she married and had a household and means of her own, she would still reach out and help those trapped in forlorn situations.

“There was a girl there when we first went,” Lady Elizabeth said. “She wasn’t there last time.”

A tightness gripped Kit’s throat. She knew all too well what happened to young girls in those workhouses. The illness. The poor conditions. It could easily have been Kit or Daphne who encountered such a fate, but for Kit’s sheer stubbornness and the kindness of a few strangers they’d stumbled across.

Lady Elizabeth glanced back at the house once more. “You won’t let that happen to her, will you? She won’t be one of those girls?”

“No,” Kit said firmly. “She’ll likely never know luxury, but she’ll get an education, learn the skills needed to support herself. Probably go into service somewhere, but that’s not a bad lot in life.”

The other woman’s mouth opened, but then she pressed her lips into a thin line and let Nash hand her up into the wagon seat.

“We need to be going if we’re going to have Lady Elizabeth on the next stage,” Nash said as he untied Balaam from the post.

Kit nodded. “I’ll go get Daphne.”

As Kit approached the house, she heard a low singing and shook her head. While Kit did this for the women, there was no question that Daphne loved the children. Oh, she cared about the women, too, related to them more than Kit ever could, but the babies really made her smile.

Inside the house, Daphne was pacing the floor, staring down into a bundled grey blanket as she sang. In a chair to the side sat another woman, older and with a few more lines on her face, with another baby pressed to her chest.

“I believe Luke is finished. I can feed little Olivia now,” Mrs. Foster said, leaning to the side to lay her baby in a wooden cradle.

Daphne looked up at Kit and sighed. “We have to leave anyway, don’t we?”

Kit nodded.

After a light kiss on the top of the baby’s head, Daphne passed the baby off to Mrs. Foster. “If you need anything, let us know. Otherwise, I’ll be back to visit the baby in a month or so.”

As they stepped out of the house, Kit whispered, “Why do you come visit the babies? In a little more than a year she’ll be weaned and come live at Haven Manor with us.”

The frown that creased Daphne’s face was such a foreign expression that Kit had to blink. “If the baby knows me she won’t be as scared when the time comes for her to move.” A serene smile took the place of the frown. “Besides, that baby is a gift from God. She deserves to know that.”

There was a time when Kit would have challenged Daphne’s statement, saying that God wouldn’t have given a gift that destroyed lives in the process, but she couldn’t imagine a world without the children she cared for, couldn’t imagine trading their lives for the potential future their arrival had interrupted.

“That may be,” Kit said as she tugged Daphne toward the wagon, “but we’ve twelve other children who need to know that as well, and right now the only person watching over them is Jess.”

Who was likely doing a fine job of things. Jess could probably manage the entire manor and the neighboring town of Marlborough without breaking a sweat.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to come along with me on more of those visits, you know,” Daphne said as she climbed into the back of the wagon. “It takes a good year for the children to warm up to you once they move into the house.”

Kit climbed in beside Daphne and signaled to Nash that they were ready to go. “I don’t know what to do with them those first few years,” she said. “I’m only just now making progress with Sophie. The younger two . . .” Kit shrugged. “They just seem to toddle around and run into things.”

Daphne laughed. “Pheobe is barely two years old. What do you expect?”

“Not a thing,” Kit said honestly. With the first five or six children, she’d hoped for an absolution, a relief of the guilt she felt every time Daphne got a wistful look on her face. Whether or not Daphne was actually pining for what she’d lost didn’t matter. Kit felt the guilt down to her toenails, and it was becoming apparent that no matter how many children they gave a home to, no matter how many women she saved from having the same fate as Daphne, there wasn’t a way to change the past.

Which meant Kit would always have to live with what she’d done.

They left Lady Elizabeth and her luggage at an out-of-the-way posting inn. The stage would be by in less than an hour, and she’d be on her way to meet her father and try to find a new path forward. It wouldn’t be the one she’d originally planned—no one could go through this experience and simply go back to the way she’d been—but at least it had the potential to be a good future, free of disease and despair.

Nash then drove the wagon back to Haven Manor, getting Kit and Daphne home in time to help with the final dinner preparations.

Daphne was quiet as they carried the dishes up to the dining hall. Much quieter than normal. Had it all been too much? They’d brought Priscilla into the fold, dealt with the two required contracts, and sent another woman home after the birth of her child, all within a matter of weeks. What sorts of memories had it pulled forth?

Twelve little faces frowned at the bowl of boiled turnips Kit set on the table followed by Jess’s pot of broth. None of them said a word, but they didn’t have to. Everyone knew that turnips were easy to grow and plenty filling.

When Daphne came in with a tray of apricot cakes and marmalade, though, even Kit had to admit it was fun to watch the faces light up in smiles.

On the heels of enjoyment came another wave of guilt and a hot flash of anger. It blurred together into the threatening burn of tears. These children shouldn’t be marveling over apricot cakes. Had life been kinder, they’d eat like this every day. Marmalade wouldn’t be a cause for celebration. They deserved to know whether or not they liked white soup or venison. They should have their pick of puddings and fruit compotes.

But they wouldn’t have that, because other people had made decisions that robbed them of that chance.

Twelve years ago, Kit and Daphne had vowed to try to give a little bit back, preserve just a bit of that innocence and opportunity.

Giving them apricot cakes didn’t feel like enough.

Was it enough for Daphne? She looked happy, helping the youngest children hold their forks properly. Was Daphne ever sad that Kit hadn’t managed to save her from this? Hadn’t been able to send her off the way they’d done Lady Elizabeth? The way they’d done eleven other women?

“She doesn’t miss it,” Jess said quietly in Kit’s ear.

Kit cleared her throat and tried to look confused. “Miss what?”

“London. The parties. The gowns. All of it. She doesn’t miss it.”

The bottom of Kit’s stomach lurched. Did Jess and Daphne talk about this when Kit wasn’t around? While Jess had become a close friend very quickly, Kit and Daphne had been friends for nearly twenty years. They’d shared everything since they were children.

But they didn’t talk about London. They didn’t talk about the incident. Not once since they’d started Haven Manor in the old, nearly abandoned estate had Daphne engaged in a single conversation about their past life.

It was like London was a distant fairy tale for her.

Kit dropped her gaze to the floor. “Has she said anything?”

“No,” Jess said softly. “But she doesn’t cry about it in the middle of the night either.”

A fine tremble started in Kit’s fingers and worked its way up her arms. She didn’t want to ask the obvious question, but she refused to be a coward. “Do I?” She swallowed. “Do I cry at night?”

Jess’s face was blank as she looked into Kit’s. “I’m glad it’s my room that shares a wall with yours and not the children’s.” She paused for a moment and then spoke again. “It’s always worse when you come back from London.”

Kit was still having the dreams, still waking up in a cold sweat having dreamed about a life where she’d abandoned Daphne just like everyone else had, where she still swirled through ballrooms in jewels and satins, indulging in as many exquisite dishes as she wished.

What she hadn’t known was that she’d been crying out. What did she say? Had she mentioned the blackmail? Or Lord Wharton? Was that why Jess had been making small, pointed comments for the past three days, poking and prodding away at Kit’s sanity?

Jess knew Kit was holding something back, and trying to remember not to say anything was exhausting. Perhaps Kit should tell her friends a bit more. She could tell them about seeing her father. That would surely explain a great deal of her added distress.

If at all possible, she didn’t want to tell them about Lord Wharton. She didn’t want to have to examine everything that came along with him, the pangs of longing that, for all that she hated about London society, revealed what she still missed. She missed dancing and pretty dresses. And good food. She missed the city. As much as she loved the beautiful forest that surrounded their new home, she sometimes missed the noise and life of London.

But she could never tell anyone that. She could never let Daphne know that Kit had a sliver of regret about running away with her all those years ago.

Because Kit didn’t regret that. Even knowing what she knew now, she’d still have made the same decision.

“I know guilt, Kit,” Jess said quietly, “and I know regret. But I also know, whatever it is you’re beating yourself up with, don’t let it be Daphne. She’s happy.”

Jess gave Kit’s shoulder a single pat and then moved to the table to keep the boys from playing marbles with their turnips.

Kit looked over at the woman who had been her dearest friend for as long as she could remember. Daphne’s round cheeks were creased with a smile as she rolled a turnip around on the youngest child’s plate, encouraging the child to view the simple food as fun and exciting. Was Jess right? Was Daphne happy?

Kit hoped so. She really did. So she would keep the man she’d met to herself. No one needed to know about him or how he’d made Kit feel. Because everyone in this house had been knocked around enough by life and deserved a little happiness.

And as Kit stepped forward to join in the laughter around the large table, she thought maybe, just maybe, that might even include her.