I tore my gaze away and shook my head as he studied the spot I’d been staring at. Could he see the spiders? “My mind must have wandered.”
Poor choice of words. Was that what had happened earlier on the ice? Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking of moments I couldn’t explain. Putting the photograph of Margot in Smith’s desk drawer. Forgetting the nappies on the changing table. I hadn’t even checked the tea I had been given by the pharmacist. It was a wonder that something worse hadn’t happened.
Well, it almost had.
A shiver rolled up my back, turning into a full tremble that overtook my body until I was shaking like the leaves the spiders crawled across on the wallpaper. Smith reached for my hand, pulling me up from the bed so that he could wrap his strong arms around me. But the instinct I usually had—the one that sent me melting against my husband’s chest—was gone. I stood, locked in the spot, letting him hold me, but wanting something much darker than comfort.
“You should drink your tea,” Mrs. Winters announced, ignoring our embrace and bustling around us to pour me a cup. Before she could hand it to me, Smith intercepted it and raised it to his nose.
“This is the new one?” he asked.
“Lord knows. It was in the bag from the shops.” She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.
I couldn’t help wondering what she thought of us. The frantic, incompetent young mother and her suspicious, mysterious husband. But whatever she thought of us, Smith seemed reassured by her answer.
“You should drink this,” he coaxed.
I arched an eyebrow, trying to get a read on what was going on with him. At least if I was going mental, I wouldn’t be alone. “Has it been approved by my poison tester?”
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. Given that he’d been moments from watching his wife and child die, I couldn’t exactly blame him. “Why don’t you sit back down?”
I did as he suggested, more than willing to follow his orders. If I listened to him, he would keep me safe. That’s what I needed him to do. Smith would make the decisions. Or Edward. Or whoever was around and still had a functioning brain in their skull. I wrapped my hands around the teacup, letting its warmth seep into my skin, but my trembling continued. The day had been cold, but my physical reaction had less to do with the weather and more to do with my close call.
“It’s about the tea,” he said, and I looked at him in surprise. “You got the wrong one. There must have been a mixup at the pharmacy. The tea you were drinking decreases milk supply.”
“What?” I blinked at him. That didn’t make sense. “I read the box.”
“It didn’t come in that tin?” he asked.
“I put it in the tin to keep it fresh,” Mrs. Winters interjected. She twisted her fingers together, looking back and forth between the two of us as she confessed. “I should have asked.”
“Why?” I asked slowly.
“When you brought it home from the doctor, I assumed you wanted your supply to dry up,” Mrs. Winters admitted.
“Why would I want that?” A strange urge to cry took hold of me.
“I’m not in the business of prying,” she said softly. “You went to the doctor and you came back with a prescription. I assumed you couldn’t nurse the baby and needed to take it. I didn’t feel it was my station to ask.”
“But you knew what it would do?” I asked, shocked.
“I thought you knew. When I found the box sitting in the kitchen and you told me you needed to take it…“ She trailed away. Gathering her courage, she lifted her shoulders and looked squarely at me. “I’m very sorry that this happened.”
“An honest mistake then,” Smith said, his face unreadable. I knew my husband well enough to see that part of him wanted to strangle her for the mistake—the part of him that wanted to protect me at all costs.
I took a sip of the tea, wrinkling my nose with displeasure at its taste.
“The pharmacist said it tastes like licorice,” Smith told me.
“It does.” I abandoned the cup back on the tray and sighed. “There’s no point to it, I’ve already dried up.”
“The pharmacist said…“
But I wasn’t listening to him. I was tired of pretending I could solve these problems with medication or herbs or hired help. Whatever was happening to me, it was beyond the scope of traditional care. I would do everything Smith suggested, but I wouldn’t delude myself as to what the results would be.
And I never allow my baby to suffer like that again. I could still hear her screams, the sound of them was branded on my soul. I had done that to her through my own negligence and through pride. I had no business keeping formula out of the house. How did I not foresee what would happen if I couldn’t nurse her?
Smith’s lecture on restarting my milk supply was interrupted by a knock on the door. He turned and called out a welcome.
Nora’s head appeared through a crack in the door. “She’s asleep. Poor angel was exhausted. She took the whole bottle, though.”
“Thank you,” Smith said shortly. He’d never liked her. I could sense it. I just didn’t understand why. I found myself wishing he liked her more. She would make a better mother than me.
“Please keep an eye on her?” Smith asked Nora. “Belle is going to take a bath.”
“Of course,” she said brightly, disappearing from view. Maybe her way of coping with trauma was to put on a happy face and add a spoonful of sugar. I couldn’t help but wonder where she found this unlimited supply of sunshine from, though. I was glad she was here to take care of Penny, since I continued to prove myself completely useless. But I didn’t think I could stomach her bright smile a minute longer.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Nora. She was helpful to have around. But she was also a constant reminder that I’d utterly failed my own child.
“Your bath is ready, ma’am,” Mrs. Winters announced. She bowed slightly and headed toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
I didn’t resist as he led me to the bathroom. This was how it needed to be. Smith would direct my days and I would finally get better or I wouldn’t, but, at least, I wouldn’t put myself or anyone else in danger. He’d never allow it.
But as he undressed me, he kept his eyes trained away from me. His hands didn’t linger on my skin. When he helped me into the warm water, he turned to leave. I grabbed his hand.
“Don’t leave me,” I blurted out.
His throat slid as he pressed his lips into a flat line. He pulled the stool from my vanity, its metal feet scraping shrilly against the tile floor, and sat next to me. I tucked my legs against my chest and held them there. The chill I’d felt in my skin slowly disappeared, but the one that clung to my bones lingered.
Smith couldn’t even look at me. I couldn’t blame him for that. I tried to imagine what he must think of me now. A tear leaked from my eye and ran down my cheek. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t move from the spot until I pulled the plug. He stood with a towel as the water began to circle the drain. Smith wrapped it around me before he helped me out of the tub.