It was well past midnight when Demery returned. By then, Luke was merely warm and fitfully sleeping. The doctor was a fat middle-aged man with a thick beard and scowling eyes. He poked and prodded Luke, who woke up with a cry, listened to his heart with a stethoscope, and stuck a stubby finger in his mouth to look at his tongue. Cate watched, her own heart hammering.
"A febrile episode," the doctor declared. "And almost over. Calm yourself, Mrs Demery. There was nothing to be concerned about."
After everything that had happened, it was the 'calm yourself' that sent Cate over the edge. She dropped onto the sofa and began to cry helplessly. The doctor muttered something about new mothers and mother hens.
"Of course, new mothers are naturally anxious about their babies," Demery said. "And greater knowledge will help allay that anxiety. Why is he sick? What should we do?"
"Why? Sometimes babies get fevers. Cold compresses and boiled Peruvian bark are all that should be given. But this child's fever has broken and he can be put to bed and left alone. There is certainly nothing for me to do here." The doctor clicked his tongue. "All that way through the snow to get here, and all for nothing!"
"But not for nothing," Demery said. "We now know it is not out of the usual. We know what to do next time. Let us leave the women to the baby. I have some very good brandy downstairs if you would like something to ward off the chill..."
The doctor and Demery left the room. Cate stayed weeping on the sofa while Luke wriggled and cried softly in his bed — perhaps in response to her tears.
Miss Skinner had never been the maternal sort. She sat gingerly next to Cate and patted her on the knee. "There. You see. Nothing to worry about. I knew it wouldn't be."
She had known nothing of the sort. She had fretted and worried all night.
"And what did I tell you," she added. "The doctor did not have anything of any sense to tell us. They never do. Now stop crying, Catherine. It does no one any good."
Cate rubbed at her eyes and tried to stop weeping, but the tears kept coming. She felt even worse to know that the doctor and Demery had gone out through the cold and dark to no real effect, and that Demery was right and the apothecary would have been a faster, wiser choice. The apothecary would have had Peruvian bark. That made her cry harder.
"We must buy Peruvian bark tomorrow." Cate spoke through tears. "We must always have some ready."
"It is wise to have a well-stocked medicine box," Miss Skinner said. "Though I do not know that Peruvian bark is any more powerful than other remedies."
"We must buy other medicines as well. I should have thought of the matter before now."
"Better late than never," Miss Skinner said. "Though, of course, a stitch in time saves nine. I suppose we'll save our stitches next time. Ah. Captain Demery."
Cate looked up. Demery's dark figure loomed in the doorway, blurred through her tears. She blinked at him. For the first time, she noticed that he still wore the threadbare maroon banyan, and he had not had time to change. He could not have done more than put on his greatcoat and boots before leaving the house.
"I'm sorry I made you go through the snow," she said.
"You did not make me. You asked and I agreed. Here. I have some wine. I think you should drink it."
He came closer and pressed a glass into her hand. She sipped it slowly. Some of her tears mixed in with it and it was too strong for her taste anyway, but somehow the alcohol did calm the ache of guilt in her belly.
Miss Skinner looked crossly at Demery. "Now is hardly the time to start drinking wine."
"A little wine helps settle the nerves," he said. "Perhaps you would like some too, Miss Skinner?"
"I was not hinting that I had been neglected. Though it comes to me now that I was. You only brought wine for Catherine. Of course, she is your wife, but the more you mention it, the more pointed the omission feels."
"I apologize for overlooking you," Demery said. "I thought you to be in no need of a stimulant. I will go at once."
He made a movement towards the door but Miss Skinner rose to her feet and stalled him.
"No, no," she said. "I am quite in control of my nerves. They do not trouble me at all. The crisis is over and I am going to bed."
She departed before he could even say good night.
"She is right," Demery said. "The crisis is over. We can all go to bed."
There may have been some faint, dry humour in his voice, but Cate was in no mood for even a smile. She worried down some more wine. "I can't sleep. I want to watch him."
"May I stay and watch him with you?"
"Why?"
"Because I don't think your eyes are in any condition for watching yet." He crossed to Luke's crib and looked down upon him. "And because I was worried too."
That made Cate cry again, a river of hot, painful tears running down her face. Then Luke began to cry too, and she downed the rest of the wine to attempt to halt her tears. Through blurred vision, she saw Demery pick him up and soothe him gently against his broad shoulder. Luke looked so tiny in his arms. And so safe.
"Do you want him?" Demery asked.
"No. You... you do it." She wiped her eyes on her damp sleeve. "I don't trust myself not to drop him right now."
"I trust you." Demery sat down on the other end of the sofa and nestled Luke against his chest. "The last thing you would do is drop him."
She could not quite believe it, not right now. She set the empty wine glass down on the floor and took raw, salty breaths to try to control herself. As her tears dried, she could see Demery more clearly. He looked incongruous in the softly furnished room, shabby and windswept and out of place. His hands, so powerful and strong, yet so gentle, holding Luke. His face was tilted away from her, giving her the opportunity to study it. A rather long, solemn face, with such a heavy brow and such dark eyes. The lines around his eyes told of years spent outdoors, but the lashes that surrounded them were long and dark. She had never particularly noticed them before.
His dark eyes rose to meet her gaze and she quickly looked away.
"He's sleeping again," Demery said. "I'll try to put him back to bed."
He rose and nestled Luke back in his crib. After a little wriggling and whimpering, Luke fell silent, but Demery did not leave. Instead, he came back to sit down on the other end of the sofa. There was weariness in his movements. Guiltily, Cate remembered that he was to begin his journey to London in the morning, which was not far away now.
"Thank you," she said. "For going to get the doctor, and in the snow too. I asked a lot of you. I'm truly grateful."
"I will always help you if you ask, Catherine."
Of course he had said so before now, he had even proven it. He had provided her with pin money, given her these apartments, and treated her with courtesy, albeit distant, but until now it had not felt personal. It had been money and manners, not kindness.
For the first time, Cate felt the need to make him understand. It did not seem right to accept his kindness without him knowing the shameful truth behind her disgrace.
"I want to explain myself," she said. "The choices I made last year that led to me having Luke. I'm not asking forgiveness. I just want you to know. Will you listen?"
He thought about it for a long moment before responding. "If you wish."
She took a deep breath and tried to think of a way to begin that would not hurt him. Perhaps it was impossible. She launched clumsily in:
"I wanted to say no," she said. "When you asked me to marry you, I wanted to refuse."
"Why didn't you?"
"I could not. You asked my father's permission first, you see, and he gave it to you. So I had no choice but to say yes."
Demery shook his head but said nothing.
"It felt like I had been bought and sold," she said. "One dance at a ball, and the next day, I was engaged to marry a stranger. I was so angry. And terrified. I knew nothing of you at all. But all my friends told me it was such a good match and my father so very pleased and my mother so very proud."
She looked at him, in case he had some reply, but he was only leaning against the arm of the sofa and staring off into the distance. He might not have been listening at all.
"The more time I spent with you, the more scared I felt," she said. "You were so very severe and serious. I could not understand you at all and I could not imagine being your wife. I thought you were some sort of Bluebeard and I your chosen victim. I would rather be engaged to anyone else I knew." She shut her eyes. "And I knew someone else. I thought he was a friend, I trusted him."
Demery was silent. The only sound in the room was Luke's soft breathing. Cate opened her eyes and let out a short, sharp breath. She could not stop telling the story now, no matter how much it hurt to recall it.
"This... man, Luke's father, he had a flirtatious manner. I thought with a little encouragement, he might ask me to marry him. It seemed the only way I could escape my engagement to you."
She paused for a moment to wonder at her thinking. She had not loved Luke's father, not even close. She had merely been trying to trade one cage for another.
"He saw in my encouragement something else," she continued. "And I saw in his flirtation something that was not there. So I allowed him to make love to me, thinking it might precipitate the proposal he had not offered. But it did not." She swallowed sudden tears. "Afterwards, he promised me that he would never tell anyone. He had never seduced a virgin before, and he did not wish to ruin my reputation or my engagement."
She waited, in case Demery wished to speak, but he still leaned silently against the arm of the sofa with his head bowed. He might even have been asleep. From this angle, she could not quite tell if his eyes were open or closed.
"I began to see then how foolish I had been. I begged him to take me as his wife as honour demanded. He said that he was very sorry, but he was poor and could not support a wife — not unless my father would help." Cate laughed bitterly. "He said he could not risk an elopement unless he was sure of at least a thousand pounds a year afterwards. I said that, knowing my father, the only thing he could be sure of was my love. And he said he was flattered but one cannot eat love."
Even now, the memory of the sudden cold condescension of his tone made Cate shudder. Everything in his voice had said that he thought her a fool — and she had been.
"I pretended it never happened. I told myself it had all been a bad dream and that if I did not tell anyone about it then it would fade from memory, the way bad dreams do." She looked at Luke's crib. "Then I found out about Luke. I went down on my knees and begged his father to marry me. He refused."
It had been more than a refusal. There had been words said that Cate shuddered to remember. She did not think even Demery would agree with them. Although, slouched against the end of the sofa, he appeared to hardly be listening.
"Are you not going to ask for his name?" Cate asked.
"No."
Was he angry? He sounded more tired. Cate settled back against the cushions.
"I was even more terrified of you then," she said. "I knew I had to tell you before we were married, but I thought you would kill me when you found out. Only on the morning of our wedding day, I still had not said. I did not dare. So I told my father instead and made him tell you. I'm a coward."
There was a long silence.
"And I'm sorry," she whispered.
Perhaps he really was asleep. He was making neither sound nor movement. Then he stirred.
"Catherine."
"Yes?"
"I need to go to bed. And so do you. Or else it will soon be dawn."
"I'm not leaving Luke. Not tonight."
Demery only grunted. He got to his feet and went through the door to her bedroom. A few moments later he reemerged carrying the bulk of her bedding in his arms. He dumped it unceremoniously on top of her. She extracted a pillow from the pile and slipped it behind her head.
"Thank you."
"Mmm." Demery went to the door and stopped. "Catherine."
"Yes?"
"Are you still afraid of me?"
For some reason, the question made her heart race. "Not anymore."
Perhaps it was only the flicker of the candlelight in the draft, but she thought she saw the briefest of smiles cross his face. "Goodnight then, Catherine."
"Goodnight."
__
2022-12-15: This was the scene that kind of formed the basis of the whole story. I thought it would be really poignant and dramatic. Then somehow when I wrote it I felt like it went a bit flat. Maybe I need some time to see it more clearly and fix the little bits that need to be fixed.