“Papa,” she whispered.
“Take the baby,” I said. “Get the others and lock yourselves in the nursery.”
Two weeks later, Ida had walked into the snow wearing nothing but her dressing gown.
Now, I blinked and looked up at the stars. Those days were gone. We’d come out of that awful time to the present.
My wife had changed dramatically after the birth of the twins. Before them, she’d been prone to sadness and irrational fears, but she’d still been able to participate in life. With Josephine, she’d been trepidatious and overly worried about the baby, yet distant from her. After the boys came, she seemed uninterested in them and preferred to spend her days in her room, painting or drawing. I hired a nanny to help, and we continued to live as we had. At the mercy of Ida’s moods. I loved the children enough for both of us. At least, that’s what I told myself.
During her energetic cycles, she’d come to my bed. I’m ashamed how weak I was. Even knowing how sick the pregnancies made her, I was unable to fend off her advances. She became pregnant with Cymbeline. When she gave birth, she wouldn’t feed or hold her. One night, she said the baby had been sent from the devil to kill her.
I asked Dr. Moore to examine her. He said he’d seen it before. Psychosis after giving birth. He assured me the irrational fears would subside after a few months. He’d asked if she’d demonstrated any unstable symptoms before this. I lied to him. I couldn’t tell him of her manic behavior, of the ups and downs I’d endured with her from the very first year of our marriage. The weeks she wouldn’t get out of her bed. The many, many nights she couldn’t sleep, pacing around the house like a caged tiger. The endless cycle of despondency followed by a clamored elation.
He was right. Three months after Cymbeline came, Ida returned to her usual behavior. The manic cycles continued, but she no longer thought the baby was sent by the devil. In hindsight, I can see that her psychosis grew deeper and more violent, ending finally with her poised over her own baby’s crib with a knife.
Even now, after three years, shame flamed inside me. Her poor, tortured mind had finally been given relief as she died in the cold, all alone. I’d grieved for my babies who would never know their mother. Yet, and I’m ashamed of this too, I felt a sense of relief. Living with her had been a daily hell. Without her, I could bring calm and routine into my home.
Bloody hell, this was not doing me any good. Rehashing everything for the thousandth time. Allowing the shame to bubble to the surface and strangle me. Was I deserving of a new love? A second chance for happiness? I had no idea. Was it bold and ridiculous to hope that Miss Cooper would fall in love with me and agree to be my wife? Would that even be the right thing for her? I’d driven one woman to madness already. I’d brought danger into Miss Cooper’s life by bringing her out here.
Oh, but she was breathtaking. And intelligent. Graceful, steady, and exceptionally brave to come all the way out west to teach school on the frontier.
“What do you think of Miss Cooper?” I asked. Oliver and Twist both whinnied in response. “I’d say the horses like her.”
“She’s lively and authoritative. Like a herding dog.”
I laughed. “And you disapprove?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I’m rather taken with her myself.”
I nudged his shoulder. “Jasper, are you growing soft on me?”
He sniffed. “I’m thinking of the children. What could be better than a herding dog for your brood?”
“What about for me? Do I need a herding dog?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
I laughed again.
“You’re interested for real,” Jasper asked.
“I’m interested,” I said. “Not that I remember how to court someone.”
“I’m happy to hear this. Lizzie and I have worried you’d never get over what happened with Lady Ida.”
“It’s too soon to know if there’s anything special between us, of course. The children are keen on the idea.” I told him about the strange way they’d reacted to her looking after them. “They were adamant that she would be my wife, not their nanny. I’ve never known them to do or say anything so outlandish. Then they asked if I’d ordered her, like Carter did with this wife.”
I expected Jasper to chuckle over that. Instead, I heard him sniff and looked over to see him dabbing at his eyes.
“Something in your eye?” I asked.
“A fleck of dust,” he said.
“You really are getting soft on me.”
“I’ve always been soft when it comes to the children,” he said. “It’s shameful how they have me wrapped around their fingers.”
“You and me both,” I said.