"I do agree with your Radical sentiments, Clifford, but many men would not. Even a large proportion of women would argue in favor of maintaining the status quo and having all matters of property reside with the male line."
"I for one should not care if the child were male or female so long as it were healthy. Worrying the poor woman with threats of being divorced over something she cannot control will only give her sick fancies. I shall speak to her husband Stephen in no uncertain terms should he do anything rash.
"Esther's family have been amongst our oldest friends for many years, though their wealth has declined much recently with the war against the French. But that does not mean to say she is without supporters. You tell her everything will be fine, and if she needs anything at all, to send her maid Tilly to our house."
Dr. Gold gathered up his bag and greatcoat once more. "I shall tell her, Clifford. Thank you."
He strode out of the room, leaving the two friends alone with their charge. Vanessa seemed to be sleeping, albeit restlessly, tossing and turning every so often. She had indeed heard snippets of what the two men had been discussing before Malcolm had returned, though her pain made the words wash over her for the most part.
As the hours passed, Clifford soothed her with reassuring words and a cold compress on her brow, and she would once again subside into a peaceful state. The deep, reassuring tones reminded her of her father, though they did not command the same awed respect and tenderness. The touch too was different, causing the most unusual flutterings in her chest and the pit of her belly, which were delightful compared to the previous roilings of her stomach.
Clifford placed his head against her chest every so often to listen to her heart and lungs as the doctor had taught him, but apart from the sound of her slow but steady heartbeat, with an occasional racing or two, he could hear nothing which caused him alarm.
Vanessa lay there entranced as she was enveloped by his arms and felt his head nestle upon the top of her breast so intimately. She caught a glimpse of her companion's gleaming blond hair, the color of flax, and inhaled deeply his rich masculine scent. It was good leather and wool, with a hint of citrus. Certainly not the reek of alcohol and tobacco which filled the room whenever her brother was near.
Nor of her father, she recalled, though it had not always been so. When her mother had been alive, he had smelled rich and clean, with a rich aroma of bay rum and boot polish.
She wondered distantly why smells seemed so important to her now. It seemed an odd thing to recall. But then ever since she had returned to Somerset, she had begun to recall things that seemed strange to even think about. She only wished she had someone in whom she could confide, but...
Clifford watched her pass over into a much more deep, relaxed sleep. For a moment he had been alarmed, feeling the whole change in her body from head to toe as she had surged up against his ear, arching her back. Then she had relaxed back down onto the table, and he stood up straight to look at her.
Her patrician beauty was marred only by a slight frown between her elegantly arched brows. Apart from that she was gorgeous. Many women went through an awkward phase in their early adolescence, with spots on their faces, prominent teeth, gangling limbs. Vanessa had always been lovely and serene.
He had not thought it possible for her to grow more gorgeous than she had been that last time he had seen her, though she had been clad in black, topped with a hideous bonnet which would have scared a crow. Mayhap it had been the contrast between the awful mourning garb and her natural pulchritude which had made her appear so breathtaking. Which had caused her to leave such an indelible impression on his mind, though he was certain he had not consciously thought of her for years, not until she had returned to Millcote earlier in the month.
Now as he gazed down at her he saw that she had surpassed herself, looking even more refined, though once again her life had been marred by grievous loss. She had retained her youthful slenderness, but had rounded nicely in all the right feminine places. Were she not reputed to be a bluestocking, or at worst mad, he could well imagine her giving every other woman in the Marriage Mart a run for their money. Her fortune in itself would be enough to recommend her. But with her looks she could easily capture a lofty member of the upper class without any difficulty whatsoever.
He thought of his dearest friend Thomas, the Duke of Ellesmere, with a pang. He had tried to send a note to him that morning, asking him to come visit so he could explain. And so he could even enlist his aid in assisting Vanessa. He had been disappointed to find he had gone up to Oxford to see their friend Jonathan. There had been some talk of them going together to visit their old college, but that was before the Duke had taken umbrage at the card game and left Stone Court.