The Midwife and the Marquess

Chapter 1: A Reunion

Evan Jacob Morrison, the Marquess Granfell, felt water trickle down his nose and over his lips. He stood in the pouring rain upon the doorstep of a cottage. It was unsightly for a man of his status to be out without a hat, and goddamn idiotic in this weather, but he had forgotten the thing in his haste.

He banged the flat of his fist in three successive strikes against the old wooden door and waited a moment before turning to look back at his carriage. The coachman sat hunched over in the driver's seat, the rain pelting down and soaking his woolen coat, droplets dripping off the rim of his wide brimmed hat. Evan grunted under his breath. They needed to get out of this accursed rain.

It had been raining for nearly a week straight now. All roads in the area were bogged and muddy, making it take nearly three times longer than usual to get to the village.

Evan pounded on the door again, his fist held ready to strike, when suddenly the door jolted open and he stared, stunned into complete stillness, into the dark brown eyes of a woman he had never expected to see again.

Maria Ross had just settled down for the night after a long, laborious day, when she heard a pounding at the cottage door. Her occupation obliged her to open the door to anyone in need at any hour of the day or night.

With a great sigh, Maria set down her cup of tea, stood from her chair by the low burning fire and walked to the door. The old iron hinges were rusty from the damp weather. When she pulled hard on the doorknob it opened with a violent jolt, causing her to take an involuntery step backward.

It was then that she found herself staring into clear crystal blue eyes. Eyes that were familiar in a kind of distant way, like a memory from long, long ago. And that was exactly what they were- what he was- or at least all he had been up until this moment. But here he was in the flesh, his features refined and slim, the lines of his face sharp but not overly harsh. His glossy black hair was trimmed to his ears. Several wet tendrils were plastered to his face in defined clumps, reminding her of the unruly feathers on a raven. He was as he had been and the sight of him nearly overwhelmed her.

She swallowed and steadied herself, her eyebrows furrowing. What was he doing here? It had been years since they had last seen each other, and in that time he had not once inquired after her. Now he popped up on her doorstep in the middle of the night demanding to be seen? Whatever could the man want from her?

She stared at him for perhaps a moment too long before taking a step back in a silent gesture of welcome. The downpour outside was deafening. She needed to get him inside if they were going to speak.

Lord Granfell took one long stride into her little cottage and wiped his face with a handkerchief. Where was his hat? She didn't remember him being the careless type, quite the opposite really.

She smoothly closed the door and turned to face him where he stood in the middle of her tiny kitchen, a slight grimace on his face. The ceiling of the ancient stone cottage was so low, his hair nearly grazed the timber beams that stretched across the ceiling, supporting the upper floor. His wide black cloak rippled outward from his body, heavy from the rain. He had a cloak but no hat?

"Thank you... Miss Ross..." he trailed, looking at her with an expression of bewilderment, which, Maria reflected, was amusing considering how he was the one barging back into her life.

"Lord Granfell," she bobbed a small curtsy and looked up at him expectantly. "How may I be of assistance?"

He cleared his throat, "My cousin, Mrs. Diana Thorne, is currently in labor at my Granfell estate." He swallowed as he looked her up and down. "I have come to call a midwife."