Cynthia’s maid of all works, Mrs. Rubins, answered Wilhelmina’s call. Her eyes widened the moment she saw who it was. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Mrs. Lawson. Please come in.”
Wilhelmina frowned on account of the maid’s agitation. She stepped into the foyer and began removing her gloves. “Is everything all right?”
“I wish I could say it were, but I have to confess I’m mighty worried about the mistress. She’s been horribly ill for more than a week now – can’t seem to keep anything down.”
Concern rippled across Wilhelmina’s shoulders. Cynthia hadn’t mentioned feeling unwell when she’d written. “I trust she’s upstairs in bed then?”
“Aye, that she is. I’ll show you up right away.”
“No need to trouble yourself with that.” Wilhelmina drew off her bonnet, hung it on a peg, and patted her hair. “If you’re able, I’d rather you make a pot of ginger tea.”
“All right, ma’am. I’ll see to it straight away.”
Wilhelmina thanked her and started up the stairs. She’d visited here many times in the months following Cynthia and Henry’s wedding. The last time she’d come had been the day after Henry’s funeral. She’d stayed away for the solemn occasion itself since she’d already started making headlines and had no wish to make life harder for her daughter or Henry’s family.
Just like then, she was on her way to her daughter’s bedchamber now to see how she was faring. She found the door she sought with ease and gave it a gentle knock.
“Come in.”
Wilhelmina pushed the door open and peered inside the dimly lit room. Her gaze swept to the bed where Cynthia lay, propped against a pile of pillows. A book was in her lap. She shifted her head and glanced at Wilhelmina. “Mama?”
“Mrs. Rubins tells me you’re feeling poorly.” Wilhelmina stepped into the room, closed the door, and approached the bed. She reached for Cynthia’s hand.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Cynthia asked, not addressing Wilhelmina’s comment.
Wilhelmina perched on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her. “Did you honestly think I would stay away after learning of Cloverfield’s outrageous actions against Mr. Dale? I needed to make sure you are all right. That he is as well.” She placed one palm on Cynthia’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I know,” Cynthia groaned.
“What are your symptoms?”
“My stomach is queasy. The mere thought of food makes me feel like I’m about to be sick.”
“Could you have caught this ailment from someone you’ve socialized with?”
Cynthia gave a weak laugh. “I do not think so.”
“Then it must be something you’ve eaten. For it to trouble you more than a week though is highly unusual.”
“Mama.” Cynthia licked her lips and gave the glass of water on her nightstand a longing look. Her features contorted. She took a shuddering breath and seemed to relax. “I’m fairly certain I know what’s wrong.”
“Oh?” Wilhelmina handed the glass of water to Cynthia so she could drink.
Cynthia did so. A weak smile followed. “Apparently the impossible has happened.”
“You’re…” Wilhelmina tried to control the mixture of joy and concern her daughter’s insinuation stirred in her breast. “When did you last have your courses?”
“Nearly two months ago. Before you and I left for Renwick.”
A rush of air left Wilhelmina. “Then you are expecting.”
Tears sprang to Cynthia’s eyes. She nodded. “It would appear so, though how on earth this can be I do not know. Henry and I tried to conceive. We visited three separate doctors. I was subjected to the most intrusive examinations, Mama, only to be told that I was to blame.”
“My poor darling.” Wilhelmina stroked Cynthia’s hair with gentle movements intended to soothe.
Cynthia jerked away and gasped for air. “Sorry. It’s your fragrance.”
Wilhelmina pulled back. “I’d like to give those doctors you saw a piece of my mind.”
Cynthia snorted. “It would be interesting to show up on their doorstep once my belly grows bigger and ask them how this might have happened.”
“They’ll probably chalk it up to a miracle,” Wilhelmina told her dryly. She sobered. “Obviously the issue was with Henry, not you. I’m thinking they treated you ill because they did not want to offend him.”
“I have to tell Michael, but I’m scared his father will try to interfere again. Especially after your falling out with him. He might prevent us from marrying out of spite and then—”
“Mr. Dale isn’t like that, Cynthia. He’s a reasonable man who’s trying to do what’s best for his son.”
“Exactly!”
“He would never deny his grandchild the chance to have a father.” Wilhelmina was certain of this. “I’d stake all my worldly goods on it. But he has to be warned before you or Michael makes another drastic decision.”
A humorless laugh escaped Cynthia. “I’m in no position to run away any more, Mama.”
“Perhaps not, but I wouldn’t put other things past you, like having a clandestine wedding right here in this room. And that would be wrong. Mr. Dale deserves to be included in this. He has the right to oppose, but also to help as I believe he would. So…” Wilhelmina took a fortifying breath. “I shall speak with him.”
“Mama…”
“It’s the correct thing to do, Cynthia. No more secrets.”
“Then you are prepared to tell him everything?”
Wilhelmina nodded. A strange sense of calm embraced her. “I am.”
A knock distracted Wilhelmina from her thoughts of facing James. Mrs. Rubins entered with a tray. “I’ve got the ginger tea – made certain it’s not too hot.”
A cup was poured upon which Wilhelmina helped Cynthia drink. It was slow going. Cynthia recoiled from the tea to begin with, but Wilhelmina persisted. She knew her daughter needed the liquid. She’d need sustenance too, which was something Wilhelmina intended to set her mind to later.
“If you don’t mind,” Cynthia said once she’d finished the tea, “I think I’d like to rest now.” She looked at Mrs. Rubins who’d lingered near the door throughout, ready to help in any way she could. “Would you please prepare a room for my mother?”
“Aye. I’ll see to it straight way, Mrs. Petersen.”
“I shouldn’t stay here,” Wilhelmina told Cynthia “It isn’t good for your reputation.”
Cynthia met her gaze with a serious look. “I think there are more important things than my reputation right now. Besides, it’s not as if I’m going to try and entice anyone other than Michael into marriage.”
Wilhelmina nodded. “See you in the morning then?”
“Yes, Mama.” Cynthia yawned. “Sleep well.”
Wilhelmina gave Cynthia’s hand a squeeze. She glanced at the clock on the dresser which showed it was almost eight o’clock, and followed Mrs. Rubins out into the hallway.