By Any Other Name by Jodi Picoult

Author:Jodi Picoult [Picoult, Jodi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2024-08-20T00:00:00+00:00

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When the door of the house slammed open in the middle of the night, Emilia startled. Her movements woke Henry, who had fallen asleep in the crook of her arm after nursing, and she rocked him tightly. She could hear Bess’s voice and Alphonso’s louder, slurred one. There was a crash and a squeal and then heavy footsteps.

The bedchamber door opened and Alphonso stood in the threshold, rubbing his eyes as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Bess scrambled to squeeze in beside him. For a skinny slip of a thing, she was fiercely protective of Emilia. “Master Lanier,” she said nervously, “what a fine son the mistress has delivered!”

Emilia had never expressly told Bess why she had been sent from Somerset House. She imagined the maid now knew; she could count months like anyone else. But the truth of the baby’s paternity was never spoken aloud, and the expectation had always been that Alphonso’s acceptance of the marriage (and the money) meant he would raise the baby as his own.

Yet even if he presented the child as his in public, that did not guarantee how he would treat the baby in private.

Emilia saw his eyes grow damp, and for a heartbeat she thought: Mayhap this will change things. Mayhap this will change him.

“Alphonso,” she said softly. “Would you…would you like to see him?”

He walked slowly to the side of the bed and stared down at the baby. He reached out one finger as if to touch the tiny fist, and then pulled back as if he did not trust himself.

The baby started to cry. Emilia tried to soothe him by holding him to her breast, but he did not want to nurse. He was damp through his blanket.

Bess sprang toward the bed. “I will wrap him in a fresh swaddling cloth,” she said, taking the infant. “And then he will wish to eat, mistress.” She hurried out of the room, leaving Alphonso standing beside the bed.

He seemed to be chewing on his words. “You are well?”

“I am,” she said. “Although it is not an experience I care to repeat.” She realized her mistake immediately, even before Alphonso’s dark eyes flashed.

The baby’s cries grew more urgent as he was cleaned by Bess in the adjoining room.

“What did you name the bastard?” Alphonso asked.

Perhaps it was his use of the slur, or the spirits on his breath. Perhaps it was her anger at being bound to Alphonso as tight as the baby was in his swaddling. Emilia looked him directly in the eye. “Henry,” she said.

She should have seen it coming. The fist struck her on the side of the head, snapping her sideways. The second blow crunched her jaw. She curled away from Alphonso’s beating, but not before she heard the sickening crack of bone in her nose and tasted blood running down her throat.

After that, she didn’t feel anything.

Dearest Kit,

I need you. Please come home.

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