The Widow's Christmas Surprise

Book 5: Widows' Club

by Jenna Jaxon

Genres: Historical Fantasy; Historical Mysteries

Synopsis

Maria just gave birth to her first child, a beautiful daughter, but the event is shrouded in sorrow. A month earlier, Maria’s husband, Lord Kersey, was killed in a duel under compromising circumstances. Worse, Maria’s failure to provide a male heir has stripped her of any hope of an inheritance. Scorned by the ton, one of her few allies is her late husband’s steward, Hugh Granger. Hugh is everything her husband was not—warm, charming...and penniless. Hugh has fallen desperately in love with Maria but has little to offer but comfort. As their attraction becomes impossible to resist, Maria flees to London to spend Christmas with her dearest friends, a group of widows who lost their own husbands in the Battle of Waterloo. Little does she know that the holidays will reveal a twist of fate she never expected—proving that the greatest Christmas gift is the magic of true love.

Release date: September 29, 2020

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 258

Sample

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I—Owww.” In the grip of an exquisitely painful contraction, Maria, Lady Kersey, squeezed the already mangled hand of her cousin Jane, Lady John Tarkington.

“Stop talking and breathe, Maria.” Jane smiled at her through clenched teeth, wiggling her fingers against the death grip.

“You’re almost there, my lady.” Mrs. Middleton, the village midwife, looked up at her, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow.

The birthing room had been prepared for the delivery, the windows closed off, dark coverings erected over every wall, so the fireplace and the myriad candles burning gave off incredible heat. The airless chamber was suffocating, though by now Maria had ceased to care.

“I’m going to need you to push with the next one.”

“I’ve been pushing forever as it is.” Lying on her left side, Maria had been instructed to draw her legs up toward her stomach, a position she’d been in for several hours. Comfortable at first, her body now seemed ready to split in two. The pains were almost constant, one long, searing cramp after another. “When is this going to end?”

“Very soon, my lady.” Leaning forward, the midwife, a local woman from Kersey Village, shifted Maria’s stained and sweat-soaked nightgown away from her body.

“You’ll have your son in your arms before you know it, Maria, and you’ll forget all about the ordeal.” With her free hand, Jane wiped a cool sponge over Maria’s hot skin. “Trust me. I know.”

Her cousin should indeed know. She had birthed four children in the years before her husband had been killed at Waterloo. How on earth had she managed it? Right now, every inch of Maria’s body seemed on fire. If she survived this nightmare, she’d never have another child as long as she lived.

Gritting her teeth in preparation for the coming pain, she forced herself to think only about her son. The one duty she had left to accomplish for Alan. Her husband was dead—she still could scarcely take that in. There was so much she’d had to endure the past month, from the disagreeable effects of late pregnancy, compounded by the shocking discovery that Alan had been unfaithful to her, to the equally stunning news of his death less than a month ago. Anger had fought with despair the past few weeks, leaving her exhausted, morose, and weak even as her time had drawn near.

Pain seized her belly, threatening to tear her apart, and she sat up in the bed, shrieking.

“Push, my lady. Now. A big push.” Face eager and intent, the midwife crouched closer at the end of the bed.

“Nooo.” The sharp agony in her belly mirrored the one in her heart. She’d loved Alan, and he’d betrayed that love in the bed of another woman. When she’d learned of it she’d wanted only to die. Perhaps now she would get her wish.

“Almost there, my dear.” Jane had disengaged her hand and now slid an arm around Maria’s shoulders, steadying her when all her strength seemed to have drained away. “Just a bit longer and your baby will be here.”

Her baby. Hers and Alan’s. He’d been so pleased as her pregnancy had progressed. So proud to have sired a child to carry on after him. Despite her fury at Alan’s betrayal, she owed it to him to bring his son safely into the world so the Garrett line could continue here at Kersey Hall.

Another pain swept through her body, forcing a cry from her lips as she instinctively bore down. There was a moment of pure agony, then Maria sagged back against the pillows.

“Good, Maria, good.” Jane smiled as she peered over at the midwife. “I believe that did the—”

A piercing wail cut off Jane’s words. Maria raised up as Mrs. Middleton stood, the shrill squalling continuing to emanate from the swath of white cloth she carried. “Well done, my lady. Very well done, indeed.”

Her heart beating strangely as the woman crossed to the head of the bed, Maria stared helplessly as the woman placed the wiggling bundle into her arms. The baby’s red and wrinkled face below a shock of almost black hair ceased its crying for a moment and stared directly at her, its eyes round and blue. Maria’s heart melted. Every inch of her exhausted body pricked with excitement, her pain forgotten. “Oh, look at you. You are so beautiful, my love.”

The baby opened its mouth and screeched anew.

“He’s likely hungry, my dear.” Jane bent over, adjusting the pillows so Maria sat more fully erect. “Why don’t you put him to your breast?”

Smiling broadly, unable to take her gaze from her son, Maria nodded and Jane adjusted her nightgown, opening the placket at the neck. Carefully, Maria moved the baby to her nipple and gasped when he latched on with a vengeance.

Jane smiled, pushing a stray wisp of hair out of her face. “Oh, he’s a grand one, Maria. Not all babies catch on so quickly.”

“It’s quite, um, startling, isn’t it?” The baby’s deep pulling on her breast was a strange, yet satisfying sensation.

“You’ll get used to it quickly, my lady.” Mrs. Middleton had finished cleaning up evidence of the birth and was washing her hands at the basin. “It helps your body heal itself from the childbirth.” She shook her hands, then grabbed a piece of clean toweling to dry them. “And the longer you have the child at the breast, the longer it’ll be before you’ll conceive again.”

The midwife turned white, Jane gasped, and Maria clenched her jaw. The pain of Alan’s death, mixed with the equal anguish of his infidelity, shot through her. Her body tensed and she flinched, as from a blow. The movement pulled her nipple out of the baby’s mouth and he set up another hungry wail.

“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady.” Mrs. Middleton wrung her hands. “It’s just that’s always been my advice to new mothers, so it just popped out. I’m that sorry to upset you.”

Though Jane looked daggers at the woman, she nodded. “That will do, Mrs. Middleton. I believe I can carry on with Lady Kersey from here.”

Taking a deep breath, Maria nodded as well and steered the baby’s mouth back to her breast. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Middleton.”

The midwife dipped a curtsey and turned toward the door.

“What shall you name him, Maria?” Jane bent down and ran a gentle finger over the wrinkled brow of the sucking child. “Have you decided?”

“I haven’t fixed on a name yet.” She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but secretly she wanted to name the child for Alan. Jane would object, with good reason, and Maria suspected that such a reminder of her husband would haunt her for the rest of her life. Still, this was Alan’s son. If he couldn’t have the raising of him, at least the child could share something of his father.

“One more thing, my lady.” At the doorway, the midwife had turned back toward her.

“Yes, Mrs. Middleton?” Maria looked up expectantly. Some additional piece of advice for newborns was likely on the woman’s mind.

The midwife clenched her hands. “About the baby.”

Fear shot through Maria, making her clutch the child closer to her. Was there something wrong with her son?

“What about the child, Mrs. Middleton?” Jane’s voice cut the sudden silence like a reaper’s scythe.

“It’s a girl.” The midwife nodded her head toward the baby rooting happily at Maria’s breast. “You have a daughter, Lady Kersey.”

Several hours later, after some much needed sleep, Maria awakened to the clatter of silverware on a tray. A maid had set a tray on the bedside table and Jane was now directing her to pull the dark wall hangings back, allowing the afternoon sun to blaze into the chamber.

“What time is it?” Maria sat up in bed, then winced. “Owww.” The child. Her gaze darted around the room, but there was no cradle to be seen. Panic flared in her muddled mind, adding urgency to her voice. “Where’s the baby?”

“Ah, good.” Jane turned toward her, smiling despite the dark circles under her eyes. She’d been up half the night with Maria, never leaving her side throughout the excruciating ordeal. “You’re awake. You need to keep up your strength. I’ve had Cook fix some broth, tea, and toast, and later, if you can manage it, you can have some blancmange.”

“The baby, Jane. Where is she?” A sudden premonition that Jane was hiding horrible news and was trying to distract her with food made Maria’s mouth dry as cotton.

“In the nursery with her nursemaid.” Her cousin came forward and adjusted the pillows before pulling up a chair. “You would have been of no use to her after you fell asleep, so I had Nurse fetch her.” She picked up the cup of broth. “Once you’ve eaten, I’ll have her brought back to you if you like.”

Slumping back onto the pillows, Maria burst into tears. “I thought she had died.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jane returned the cup to the tray, then patted Maria’s hand. “It’s all right. New mothers get these notions.” She blotted the tears with a handkerchief. “I remember with Robert, my first, I was convinced the wet nurse was starving him. I changed the women three times before Tark put his foot down. He said all the different women were upsetting the baby and I suspect he was correct.” Her cousin smiled at the memory. “Once I gave the woman a chance, Robert settled down and put on so much weight he looked six months old at three months.”

Maria rubbed her eyes, trying to stem the tide of tears. So much had happened in the past six weeks. A lifetime of sorrow compressed into such a small space of time. “So many bad things have happened to me, Jane, I can only think my wretched luck will continue. As though I am cursed.”

“You are not cursed, my dear. Far from it.” Jane picked up the broth again and held it to Maria’s lips. “Here, take a sip of this.”

Obediently, Maria took a tiny sip. The rich chicken broth exploded on her tongue and her stomach growled.

“I believe you can manage this by yourself.” Jane relinquished the cup.

Maria took a larger mouthful. Now she was ravenous. “You said there is toast?”

“Yes, right here. Very good, my dear.”

Too soon the cup was empty, the plate of toast bare. “Can I have more, please? I’m still frightfully hungry.”

“The midwife said not to overdo with food. Let that bit settle and we’ll see what you can manage this evening.”

“I hope Mrs. Middleton does not intend to starve me.” More rumblings from her stomach, despite what she’d just eaten, attested to Maria’s fear. Advice she’d been sent from the other of her formerly widowed friends, had spoken of keeping to a bland diet until she’d been churched, some six weeks from now. When she’d read that, she’d supposed it was because new mothers had no appetite. Apparently that was far from the truth, at least for her.

“Well, my dear, you were the one who insisted upon a midwife rather than an accoucheur.” Jane’s rueful words were said with a pucker of the mouth as she settled onto the side of the bed. “I could easily have had Dr. Gilliam come attend you instead. Hopefully he would not have made such an inappropriate suggestion.”

Avoiding Jane’s gaze, Maria tucked her arms beneath the covers. “I suppose I could have done, but Mama was so adamant about having a midwife attend me, and since she could not be here, I felt that I should at least take her wishes into consideration.” Jane was a dear and had been by her side ever since the revelation of Alan’s infidelity. Still, a woman wanted her mother with her at such a time as childbirth. “Besides, having Dr. Gilliam attend me would not have changed the fact that Jane is a girl.”

Her cousin’s eyes lit up. “You have decided on a name, then?”

“Of course she must be named for you, Jane.” Maria pulled her arms free of the covers and sat up to hug her cousin. “You have been my staunchest supporter these many weeks.” She sighed and leaned back on the bed. “And now you must help me decide what to do.”

“What do you mean, Maria?”

“Jane cannot inherit the Kersey title and estates, so another heir must be found.” Alan had impressed that upon her, the need for this child to be a son to secure the line. “When he is located, Jane and I shall quite likely be made to leave.”

“You don’t know that, Maria.” Though Jane surely meant to be comforting, her downcast eyes spoke more eloquently than her words.

“I must be prepared for it. Whether or not he meant to torment me, Alan made my options perfectly clear only days before he—” Oh, but she didn’t want to cry for the wretch again, but here were tears trickling down her face once more. She sniffed them back and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her white gown. “He told me if he survived there would be nothing to worry about. But if he was killed, I had to pray hard our child was a son, because if it was not I would likely be turned out by the next Lord Kersey, who had no obligation toward me.”

“What a horrible thing for the wretch to say. And at such a time as that.” Narrowing her eyes, Jane looked as though she itched to plant Alan a facer if only he were here. “But what about your settlements? Your dower rights? My father negotiated a jointure with Tark before our marriage, which is why I am in no hurry to remarry.” Jane frowned. “Surely your father made arrangements for you and your children in your settlements?”

For the thousandth time, Maria admitted to herself that she had been a fool for Alan Garrett in more ways than one. “I have none.”

“What?” Jane sat back, her mouth agape.

“If you remember the circumstances, I had just discovered I was with child when I arrived at Charlotte’s house party last October. Alan had been beaten almost senseless by Lord Wrotham. I still have no idea why.” She glared at Jane, who looked away. “He was unceremoniously thrown out of the house and so I went with him. By the time we reached London he had agreed to our marriage, but I was so afraid he would change his mind if we waited even a day, that I encouraged him when he said he would get a special license so we could be married at once. My parents didn’t know about the marriage until after I was Lady Kersey. They were thrilled, make no mistake. But because of my haste there are no settlements, no dowry, no jointure.” Tears welled again. “There are only Jane and I, with nowhere to go.”

Jane sat still, her brow furrowed as if in deep thought.

Could her cousin come up with some way for Maria and her daughter to remain here at Kersey Hall? That would be a miracle indeed.

“Did Lord Kersey have a will?”

The question caught Maria off guard and she stared at her cousin. “I . . . I don’t know. Would that matter?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so.” Jane smoothed the covers down. “If he made a will after his marriage, he might very well have left you money or jewels or property for your continued maintenance.”

Maria frowned. This had never occurred to her. “I thought everything went to the next Lord Kersey.”

Jane shook her head with vigor. “Oh, no, my dear. Only the title and any lands or property that are part of the earldom’s entailment. If there is anything unentailed, even though it was inherited from the previous Lord Kersey, it would have been your husband’s to dispose of.”

Hope rose in Maria’s heart for the first time since learning her child was a girl. “How do I find out if he made such a will?”

“The family solicitor would have it. Did he not contact you after Lord Kersey’s death?”

“Well, yes, he wrote to tell me that we needed to wait until the child was born before he could make any determination about the estate.” Mr. Clarke’s message had confirmed Maria’s suspicion at the time that if her child was not a boy, she’d be in dire straits indeed. She frowned at Jane. “That does not sound as though I am to inherit anything.”

The lines around Jane’s mouth tightened. “I admit it does not. Still, you must write to him now to advise him about Jane’s birth and to inquire directly about any will or provisions Lord Kersey may have made.”

“I shall do so first thing tomorrow.” Despite the recent food, Maria’s strength was waning again. She stifled a yawn. Another nap would not be amiss.

Rising from the bed, Jane shook her head and straightened the covers. “If the worst comes to pass, can you not go home to your mother and Cousin Edward?”

“Father has been ill for months. Mother attends to him night and day. That’s why she couldn’t be here for my lying-in. I could take the baby and move in with them, but it would be an increased burden on them.” She looked hopefully at Jane. “Might I stay with you, Cousin? At least until I am out of mourning.” The ghastly crepe awaited her after her confinement. She’d only worn the deep purples and dark browns of half mourning since Alan’s death. Her mother had feared wearing black would harm the child. “Hopefully by then I will be able to figure out where to go. What to do.”

Jane’s pained expression foretold what her words would be. “I am afraid I can offer you no sanctuary, my dear. When in London I still reside with my brother-in-law, although the marquess is a gravely ill man. I am not quite sure what I will do if he succumbs to this odd sickness Fanny related to me at her wedding.” Clasping Maria’s fingers, Jane looked deep into her eyes. “I stayed in London only briefly before coming here, but long enough to tell you that even if I did have a place to offer you, I would not do so.”

“What?” Her cousin’s statement startled Maria more than anything else she’d said. “Why not?”

“Because I must advise you, whatever you may do, do not to go to London.”

Why on earth would Jane say such a thing? “I don’t understand.”

Drawing a deep breath, Jane paused, as if words failed her. When finally she spoke, she did so very unwillingly. “I have kept this from you because of your condition, but now you must be warned about what the ton has been saying. About Lord Kersey and about you.”

“Members of the ton have been gossiping about me?” Such a thing was baffling to even contemplate. “No one in London ever gave a fig about Maria Wickley.”

“But they all give a fig about Lady Kersey and her husband’s scandalous infidelity while she was carrying his child. And they care even more about his death in a duel by a man defending his wife’s honor. Even though the woman had none, to be sure.”

Maria hitched in a breath. Alan had been discovered in Lady Remington’s bed by Lord Remington, in such a way, she had gathered—certainly no one had breathed a word of what had actually happened to her directly—that there had been no doubt whatsoever what they had been doing there. “So Society is reviling my dead husband. I can understand why they would. I have done so, ever since I discovered what he had done.” She had rung a peal over his head while he lived and, after his death, had done the same to his empty bedchamber. “But that should have nothing to do with me. I am the woman wronged in this whole horrible mess.”

Jane shook her head. “Unfortunately, my dear, the ton is made up of some of the ficklest people on earth. They have concluded that you were no better than you should be—believe me when I tell you they have been counting the months since your wedding and the numbers do not add up to a child conceived in wedlock. They are saying you trapped him into a marriage he did not want, as evidenced by his infidelity so soon after the marriage.” Jane ducked her head. “There is even one hideous on-dit that claims the child is not Lord Kersey’s.”

Maria gasped, her stomach clenching on the food that now threatened to come back up. “How dare they! Jane most certainly is Alan’s child.”

“Shhh. You mustn’t upset yourself. This is exactly why I did not wish to tell you what has been said in Town before now. But they have torn your reputation to shreds along with Lord Kersey’s.” With nervous fingers Jane picked at the edge of her sleeve. “Compound that with your husband’s scandalous death, and you are now considered persona non grata in London. How long that will last I do not know. It may be that your disgrace will be displaced by the next outrageous on-dit that comes along. But until then, you must stay well away from London, lest you receive the cut direct whenever you show your face.”

Maria sagged against her pillows and closed her eyes, not wanting to think about the devastating news Jane had just delivered. Even though she had not truly thought of going to London, unless to stay with Jane, to be told that she could not go unless she wanted to endure the worst Society could do to her made her want to give up completely. What use was it to try to go on?

“My lady?”

The strange voice brought Maria up instantly to a sitting position, her gaze on the tall older woman in the nurse’s uniform standing in the doorway, a swathed bundle in her arms.

Jane. Her daughter.

“Lady John gave instructions for me to bring Lady Jane to you at exactly three o’clock.” Nurse hesitated, but Maria opened her arms and the woman laid her sleeping child in them. Her baby.

“Thank you, Nurse. That will be all.” Jane dismissed the woman, who left the room, then rose. “I will leave you with my namesake for a while. Try not to worry. It will likely take the solicitors time to find the new earl. We will think of something before then.”

“Yes, we will.” Maria gazed down on the angelic face in her arms. The petite nose, the delicate dark brows, the soft rounded cheeks. No one would take her daughter’s birthright from her. Lady Jane Garrett would have her come-out in Society one day and nothing her parents had done was going to stop that from happening. Whatever it took, she would make certain that her daughter, hers and Alan’s, had every advantage socially possible. So help her God.

Mid-October 1817

Golden-yellow leaves swirled against the windowpanes of the cozy drawing room, making Maria smile as she poured tea for her and Jane. Autumn had always been her favorite season—the crisp air, the colorful leaves, the sweet taste of roasted chestnuts. Few things had made her smile in the past months. Her future was still as uncertain as it had been when Jane was born.

“So you have still had no recent word from Mr. Clarke?” Jane tasted her tea and sighed with pleasure. “Is this the new tea from Jackson’s?”

“No, I haven’t, and yes, it is.” Maria dropped a lump of sugar into her own cup and stirred it briskly. “I finally decided to order the tea just last week. I feel odd spending money that truly isn’t mine, but we have to live until the heir is found.” She gritted her teeth to keep from tearing up each time she thought of her precarious circumstances. “My last letter from Mr. Clarke, which I received a fortnight ago, assured me that he had set every available clerk to searching Alan’s lineage to find the heir. He mentioned that these inquiries sometimes take a very long time to complete. Years, he told me, in some cases.” She truly didn’t think she could live for years with the uncertainty of eviction hanging over her and Jane’s heads. Her inquiry as to whether Alan had made a will benefitting her or her daughter had been met with a dignified but firm “no” from Mr. Clarke in June. “So I try to maintain as frugal an existence as possible.”

“You are a model of frugality, my dear.” Sipping the fragrant tea, Jane nodded, and Maria relaxed back a trifle. “You have been putting that purchase off until I believed we would need to steep the leaves three times ourselves.”

“I simply feel that as I’ve been left in cha. . .