Whisper To Me of Love Read Free Page B

antechamber—call me if you need me.”
    Hester nodded weakly, wondering frantically how she could best use the scant time she would have to insure her daughter’s safety. Clutching the baby protectively to her breast, she gazed distractedly about the room, seeking some way to save Morgana from the fate the stranger and the man she had thought her dearest friend had planned for the child.
    She realized with a sickening lurch of her heart that there was little she could do, but as her gaze fell upon her Bible and the writing paraphernalia that lay on the table next to her bed, a desperate plan occurred to her. Knowing she was helpless to stop them from carrying out their villainous deed unless there was some miraculous interference, she could only hope to leave a record of what she had overheard and some indelible way of identifying the child ... should Morgana live.
    Laying the infant down with almost the last bit of strength she possessed, Hester painfully sat up and reached for the quill and paper. Her movements were clumsy, and she spilled some ink as she laboriously wrote out precisely what she had overheard ... and what she planned to do. Then, folding the paper, with trembling fingers she quickly hid it in the spine of her Bible.
    Nearly exhausted from these efforts, she fell back onto the bed, but driven by the age-old instinct of a mother to protect her young, she gently unwrapped her baby, turning Morgana so that the tiny buttocks were exposed, and reached once again for an object on the table. With a shaking hand, she heated the small seal of the Dowager Countess of St. Audries over the candle flame and then, tears filling her eyes, she murmured, “Dear, dear child, forgive me for what I must do to you.” And deliberately she branded her daughter on the side of the right buttock.
    The baby shrieked, but the distress Morgana suffered in that instant was nothing compared to the agony in her mother’s heart for having had to inflict such pain. Tears sliding down her pale cheeks, Hester swiftly examined the brand she had made upon the smooth, tender flesh. Satisfied that it was clearly recognizable as her seal, and fearful that the baby’s cry would bring Stephen into the room, she dropped the seal and hastily rewrapped the baby.
    She had barely finished when Stephen strode quickly into the room. “What is wrong? I heard the child cry out.”
    â€œI think that she is merely hungry and is letting us know that she wishes to be fed,” Hester replied, her voice noticeably weaker than it had been.
    Stephen gave Hester a sharp look, his eyes taking in the increased pallor of her skin. “You are worn out!” he scolded, reaching for the baby. “I have already seen to a wet nurse for her. Do not trouble yourself, Hester, I beg you. You will only make yourself worse.”
    Hating him, yet forced to appear as if all were normal, she smiled faintly, albeit with bitterness, and said cynically, “How can I make myself worse? Dying is the worst that can happen to someone!”
    Stephen’s eyes closed, and she thought that he might actually be suffering. But then his gray eyes met hers and he said quietly, “No, there are worse things than dying—sometimes living is the worst that can happen to you.”
    Worn out from her exertions, her lifeblood draining away with every second, Hester made no demur as Stephen lifted the baby and placed her in the cradle. Tiredly Hester said, “Will you see to it that my old nanny, Mrs. Gray, is given my Bible? She has been like a mother to me, and I know that she will cherish it and I hope someday give it to Morgana.” Her eyes locking with Stephen’s, knowing now that everything he said was a lie, she asked softly, “You do intend to keep Mrs. Gray on and let her help with Morgana’s raising?”
    His eyes averted from hers, Stephen said gruffly, “Of course. You know I will do my best by the