Salt Redux: Sequel to Salt Bride (Salt Hendon) by Lucinda Brant

Author:Lucinda Brant [Brant, Lucinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: England, family saga, Georgette Heyer, eighteenth, drama, 18th, 1700s
ISBN: 9780980801361
Goodreads: 17631519
Publisher: Sprigleaf
Published: 2013-03-08T13:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

ONCE IN THE CONFINES of the Earl’s Grosvenor Square estate, Betsy went straight to the nursery, though she was thirsty and needed to have her injured wrist washed and bandaged. All she cared about was being assured the baby was safe.

She found Sam crying. One of her sister nursery maids, Sukie, was doing her best to get him to drop off to sleep, rocking his cradle, but without success. His little face was crumpled and red and his arms were stiff, so he had been in distress for some little while. Betsy forgot about her injured wrist, tossed the package on the chair, shouldered Sukie aside, and scooped Sam up into her embrace. She held him against her, hand supporting the back of his head to keep his linen cap in place. She whispered soothing words of reassurance, that his Betsy was returned and he was safe, and would always be safe. Soon Sam’s fretful sobs subsided and he snuggled into her neck and was quiet in her arms. She rocked him and sung him a lullaby as she paced before the warmth of the fire; her own heart beat slowing with every step.

“What’s this?” Sukie demanded, holding up the discarded parcel. “Shall I untie it?”

“Leave it,” Betsy replied, scowling, and then, seeing Sukie’s frown added in a more conciliatory tone, “It’s nothin’ special, just another gown for Sam.”

“Like he don’t have a dozen or more of those!” Sukie replied, no longer interested in the contents of the parcel. She dropped it back on the chair. “What’s that from?” she asked, pointing to the dots of fresh blood on the back of the soft shawl in which Sam was wrapped, revealed when Betsy shifted the infant in her arms. “They weren’t there before. I swear it!”

Betsy lifted her arm and saw that the wound inflicted by Diana St. John’s nails had stopped bleeding but that it was still fresh. She showed her wrist to Sukie. “It’s mine. See. My blood. I scraped m’wrist on the—on the garden wall, just now.”

Sukie smiled crookedly. The markings to Betsy’s wrist did not resemble any scrape she had ever seen. To her mind they looked like the markings left by fingernails dug deep. She knew all about those; her elder sister had done the same to her on many an occasion when she wanted her compliance. Still, she did not correct the girl.

“You don’t want that scrape to turn nasty,” she said with a kind smile. “I’ll fetch a bandage and salve and bind it up for you, if you want?”

Betsy smiled and nodded.

“Here. Give me that shawl and I’ll take it to the laundry quick,” Sukie advised, over by the clothes press, “before Nanny sees them blood spots and starts askin’ all sorts of questions. You don’t want her thinkin’ they belong to the baby, do you. That would be your job gone, whatever you said to the contrary. Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

Betsy carefully unwrapped the shawl and handed it to Sukie, who gave her a clean shawl in which to wrap Sam up snuggly.

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