Nella smiled and went on to explain that more than a century ago, Culpeper—the great healer—believed it to bring joy to new mothers and remove the melancholy so common in the days after childbirth. “But you see,” she continued, “motherwort also settles the womb and stimulates the belly to shed what’s inside. In doing so, it must be administered very carefully, and only to those who are positive they are not with child.”

She pulled a stem of hay from the bale and began to twist it around her finger, like a ring. “The next week Frederick returned, vibrant and gentlemanlike, thanking me for returning his sister to her normal, healthy self. I found myself intensely drawn to him for reasons I didn’t understand at the time. I thought it love, then, but now I wonder if it wasn’t simply the emptiness of grief, seeking something to rush in and take away the barren feeling.”

She exhaled. “Frederick seemed drawn to me, too, and in the weeks that followed, he promised me his hand. With each passing day, each promise, something in my heart came back to life. He promised me a house full of children and a beautiful shop with pink glass windows to carry on the memory of my mother. Imagine how that made me feel... What could I call it other than love?” She looked down at her hand, where the stem of hay was wrapped in a perfect circle around her finger. At once, she let go and it fell to her lap.

“I soon became pregnant. One would think I knew how to prevent such a thing, but that is not how it happened. Despite my grief, the new life inside of me gave me a great deal of hope. Not everything in the world had given up its last breath, like my mother. And when I told Frederick about our baby on that early-winter morning, he seemed overjoyed. He said we would get married the week after next, following Martinmas, before anyone else could see that I was with child. You may be young, Eliza, but you know enough to see that the sun does not shine so brightly on a child born out of wedlock.”

Concern bubbled inside of me. Nella had never mentioned a child, grown or otherwise; where was the child now?