Delia’s heart started thumping. “I know that it happens after marriage. It can only happen when a man and a woman are…together in that way.”
“Aye,” said the nun, smiling slightly. “But there are many children born on the wrong side of the sheets in this world. I have worked with many who have been abandoned out of shame, for the poor mother can’t support them by herself if the man will not marry her.”
She paused, looking at Delia intently. “There are many men who will take their pleasure and disappear if there are any consequences. You do not want that to happen to you, do you?”
Delia hung her head. Her face was burning. “No. I do not want that.”
“Has Mr Hartfield said that he wants to see you in Bradford?” she pressed. “Has he made any indication that he takes what is between you seriously or that he is falling in love?”
“No, he has not,” said Delia in a strangled voice. “The only time we have discussed marriage, he said that he has no desire to do so, but if he does, it will be a marriage of convenience, for practical purposes. He does not believe in romantic love at all.”
The nun looked at her sadly. “Then I think you know what you must do, my dear. Do not get me wrong. I admire Mr Hartfield. I believe he is a good man as well as a clever one. And a handsome one.” She paused. “But if he is not in love with you, nor willing to marry, then you cannot risk it. He has made you no promises. Likely you will never see him again once this coach finally makes it to Bradford.”
Delia’s heart sank. She knew that what the nun said was true. She had been ruminating upon it in the coach. But hearing it said aloud made the truth of it starker still.
“You do not want to be left holding a baby,” said the nun in a gentle voice. “For I have spoken to girls who have been forced to give up their babies out of wedlock, and they are mostly heartbroken. They live in regret. They always wonder about their child.”
“It is cruel,” said Delia, biting her lip. “A mother should not be separated from her child.”
The nun sighed. “It is the way of the world. The world can be a brutal place. What hope would an unmarried girl have trying to support a child out of wedlock? She is shunned and shamed. The child bears the mark of illegitimacy and is shunned because of it, as well.” She paused. “You do not want such a fate. Believe me.”
Delia nodded. “I appreciate your kindness and wisdom, Sister. I know you are trying to look out for me.”
The nun patted her hand. “I could do nothing else, child. For you are such a pretty, refined-looking girl, and I knew you had no experience of the ways of men.” She hesitated. “Unless he declares love for you and wishes to marry you, then you would be better to deny your passion.”
“Yes,” whispered Delia. “I know.”
The nun hesitated. “Are you in love with him?”
Delia sighed as her heart flipped over. She didn’t know what to tell the nun, for she had no idea herself. She had never been in love before. Was love this yearning, fierce need to constantly be beside the other person? Or was she merely experiencing passion for the first time in her life?
It didn’t matter either way. Sister Mary Majella spoke the brutal truth. Ambrose wasn’t in love with her. He didn’t want to marry her. And if she succumbed to him, she might end up with child, unmarried and forsaken, forced to give up her baby to an orphanage. She shuddered just thinking about it.
Or he might marry her out of a sense of duty to the child. But that would be equally dreadful because it would be forced. He would always resent her. Their marriage would be unhappy. She would never want a man to marry her just to put a name to a child…even if she was in love with him.
It would be torturous to be married to a man who could never love her in return.
“I do not know,” she whispered, her heart aching. “But the fact remains. He does not love me, and I cannot risk it. For more reasons than you are aware, Sister.”
Sister Mary Majella stood up. “I am glad we have had this talk. I will leave you to wash before dinner.” She walked to the door but then turned back. “I will pray for you, Delia. I know what it is like to be in the grip of passion and be forced to make such choices. It is not easy. But you will hold your head higher regardless. Remember that.”
Delia smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Sister.”
Sister Mary Majella closed the door. She was alone once again in the small room.
For a moment, she felt like collapsing on the bed and weeping her heart out. But then, she took a deep breath and stood up, walking to the bowl and pitcher. Carefully, she poured water into the bowl, splashing her face.
She must protect herself. There was no one else to do it. It was as simple as that.
Chapter 24
Ambrose closed his trunk with a decisive snap. He gazed around the Spartan room. The wind was howling outside the window, and he could see a swirl of snowflakes. The storm didn’t seem to be abating. In fact, it was intensifying. It was almost like a physical entity, banging on the thin glass of the window, demanding entry. The old wooden window creaked and rattled against the onslaught.
He sighed heavily. He was sharing the room with Mr Giles for the night, and judging by the ferocity of this snowstorm, he might be sharing it for further nights. He knew that these storms could set in for days. He might not be back in Bradford for quite a few days yet.
He was trying to make the best of the situation. Resolve himself to the further delay. He both desired it and feared it, for he knew that he could not avoid further entangling himself with Delia. They were in close proximity in this inn, entrapped by the storm. They couldn’t even go for walks.
It was going to test his ability to resist her to the extreme.