A Burdened Woman: A Historical Romance Mystery (Tabitha & Wolf Historical Mystery Series Book 15), page 1
A Burdened Woman
Tabitha & Wolf Historical Mystery Series
Book Fifteen
Sarah F. Noel
Copyright © 2026 Sarah F. Noel
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN - 979-8-9919192-8-9
Cover design by: HelloBriie Creative
Printed in the United States of America
Also by Sarah F. Noel
Tabitha & Wolf Historical Mystery Series
A Proud Woman
A Singular Woman
An Independent Woman
An Inexplicable Woman
An Audacious Woman
A Discerning Woman
An Indomitable Woman
An Intrepid Woman
A Patient Woman
An Enigmatic Woman
A Valiant Woman
An Anointed Woman
A Conspicuous Woman
A Lyrical Woman
The Continental Capers of Melody Chesterson
A Venetian Escapade
Mischief In Morocco
The Amsterdam Enigma
About the book
Tabitha and Wolf should be relishing the quiet joys of new parenthood when yet another investigation calls them away.
Lady Arlene Archibald approaches Wolf with a troubling request. An elderly stranger from Grenada has arrived in England with letters from her grandfather, once a wealthy plantation owner, and from Hana, the house slave he married after emancipation. The letters speak of a promise: money placed with a Bristol charitable organisation to build a school in Grenada for the children of the formerly enslaved. The school was never built. Instead, the funds seem to have vanished into the so-called charitable world that now venerates Edward Colston as the city’s greatest benefactor.
A nonconformist minister in Bristol invites the Grenadian man to speak and expose this betrayal. Before he can share his story, he is found dead.
Despite the righteousness of the cause, Tabitha cannot quite banish her unease at Arlene’s summons. Now, Tabitha and Wolf must unravel a murder and a broken promise at the heart of respectable Bristol.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Afterword
About Sarah F. Noel
Acknowledgments
I want to thank my wonderful editor, Kieran Devaney and the eagle-eyed Patricia Goulden for doing a final check of the manuscript.
To my dear friend (and excellent personal trainer), Troy Felix. Thank you for letting me take liberties with your name.
Also, Happy Birthday to Marty Klauber, the most dedicated reader an author could hope for.
Foreword
This book is written using British English spelling. e.g. dishonour instead of dishonor, realise instead of realize.
British spelling aside, while every effort has been made to proofread this thoroughly, typos do creep in. If you find any, I'd greatly appreciate a quick email to report them at sarahfnoelauthor@gmail.com
Chapter 1
London February 1899
Tabitha had not slept a full night since the baby was born, and yet the thought of leaving the nursery made her chest tighten with panic.
“Six weeks is a good stretch, my lady. Now we can settle him properly, and you can have your strength back.” Mrs Jackson, the lying-in nurse, said this with the certainty of a woman who had looked after hundreds of newborns over the years and wouldn’t be contradicted, even by a countess.
While Tabitha didn’t argue, her hesitancy must have been evident. “Your ladyship has done admirably, but the child is forever at the breast, and we can’t tell what he’s eaten. With the bottle, we can keep him regular, and you can get back to your usual schedule as well.” This last phrase was said with particular emphasis, as if the nurse were ready to have her employer out from under her feet.
“‘Tis past time for me to be on my way, truth be told,” Mrs Jackson said, a little more gently. “He’s a fine, healthy baby, and Missy Palmer is more than capable of taking on her charge full-time.”
Tabitha knew the woman was right, and, to a certain extent, she was ready for her body to feel more like itself again. Between the ravages of childbirth and the constant demands of nursing, the past six weeks had been painful and exhausting. Yet they’d also been exhilarating and joyful in ways she couldn’t have imagined.
Although she had longed for a baby of her own for many years, Tabitha still hadn’t anticipated what it would feel like to hold her son in her arms. She loved her ward, Melody, with all her heart, but this child evoked a response in her she hadn’t anticipated. It was an almost feral urge to nurture and protect at all costs. This urge drove her to forgo a wet nurse and feed her baby herself, even though such a practice was frowned upon in the upper classes.
In fact, as perhaps was predictable, no one was more appalled by Tabitha’s choice than the dowager, who exclaimed, “You cannot possibly mean to put the child to your own breast like some dairymaid.” Nevertheless, Tabitha had stood her ground, and Wolf had fully supported her decision.
While there had been moments, particularly in the early days when the mechanics of nursing her baby were challenging, and Tabitha had questioned the wisdom of her choice, for the most part, it had been miraculous to watch her son grow into a chubby, healthy, and happy baby solely from the nourishment her body could provide.
Julius, Viscount Chesterton, had been christened just days earlier at a small, intimate gathering of close friends and family. Julia Chesterton, the Dowager Countess of Pembroke, had been thrilled to be her namesake’s godmother, and Bear had been touched beyond words to be asked to be godfather.
Beyond being ready for her body to return to normal, Tabitha was secretly relieved at the thought that her life could return to its usual routine. This relief was something she hadn’t mentioned aloud, not even to Wolf. In fact, she felt very guilty about the thought of wishing for time away from her child. Wasn’t a baby of her own what she’d most wanted in life? How could that be true, and yet now she felt ready to hand the child over to servants and spend time outside the nursery?
Of course, when she considered actually leaving Julius, she panicked at the thought of all that might happen to him if she weren’t there to protect him. How was it possible to love someone so much, ache at the thought of being away from them, yet also long for time alone to consider something other than feeding and sleeping schedules? Tabitha couldn’t answer these questions, and her conflicting feelings nagged at her constantly.
These musings were interrupted by Mrs Jackson’s very practical, no-nonsense orders. “For the first days, my lady, you’ll feel full and tight at the very hours the babe would feed, and you may leak besides. Do not let yourself become overfull. Take a little off for comfort only, never empty. Cool cloths afterwards, rest, and send for me at once if you become feverish. Some say to wean gradually, but in my experience, it’s better to make a clean break.”
Tabitha had never had a servant speak to her in such an authoritative tone before; even Ginny, her lady’s maid, never forgot her place. While Tabitha was not one to take offence at such an attitude, she did wonder how Mrs Jackson fared in other aristocratic households.
As if she could read Tabitha’s mind, the nurse added, “My words might seem harsh, and your ladyship might not be used to being instructed by the likes of me, but you’re paying me for my experience, so there’s no reason for me to beat around the bush. I am giving the wisdom of my many years of taking care of babes.”
“Of course, Mrs Jackson. You came so highly recommended, and I can see why. I am sure that you are entirely right in all your advice, and I shall take heed of your words,” Tabitha assured her.
At that moment, Missy Palmer, the nursemaid, entered the baby’s room, ready to give baby Julius his bath. A slight raise of Mrs Jackson’s eyebrow left Tabitha in little doubt that this was her cue to kiss her baby goodbye and leave the nursery.
Before she left, Tabitha reminded the nurse, “Please ensure that baby Julius is well rested and ready to greet the dowager countess at two o’clock.” As she said this, she raised her own eyebrows a little. The last time Julius’s godmother had visited him, the new viscount had been cranky, which had been deemed “Not at all appropriate for the heir to the earldom.”
Mrs Jackson sighed; despite her long career caring for the offspring of her betters, she still marvelled at how little these pampered toffs understood about child rearing. While she considered Tabitha and Wolf better than most, she had little time for the dowager and her absurd expectations of a newborn. Even so, she assured her employer that the baby was now on a regular nap routine and would be well-rested to greet his doting godmother.
At two o’clock on the dot, the dowager sailed into Chesterton House, with Isabella Hartwell in her wake. It seemed the bond forged between the two women during their last investigation had only strengthened.
Tabitha knew that the demands of motherhood had preoccupied her and so understood that her new American friend might have found herself lacking companionship. Nevertheless, both she and Wolf viewed the growing intimacy between the two women with a somewhat sceptical eye.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time the dowager had struck up an unlikely friendship with someone who might have been assumed to be her social inferior; after all, the woman had a monthly luncheon with a group of madams, and loved nothing more than to boast about her dear friend, Mrs Tuchinsky, an East European Jewish immigrant living in the East End.
Perhaps the more surprising element of this friendship was that Isabella, a young American heiress, genuinely seemed to enjoy the company of the snobbish, difficult septuagenarian. Certainly, as soon as the two women were settled in the drawing room, they fell into telling stories of their recent adventures, often finishing each other’s sentences.
“And then, Julia gave the most glorious put-down, and the woman didn’t know where to look,” Isabella exclaimed.
“She really did not. I cannot deny the truth of Bella’s words.”
Julia? Bella? For heaven’s sake! Tabitha thought. Wolf still addressed the dowager as Lady Pembroke. Just how close had these two become?
As she had a few times over the past couple of months, Tabitha felt a twinge of envy. Was it because the dowager was getting so close to the woman Tabitha considered her new friend? Or was it that the prickly old woman seemed to have so thoroughly embraced Isabella, yet still often treated Tabitha as her antagonist? The truth was a bit of both.
“Now, where is my godson?” the dowager demanded after taking her first sip of tea. “And I hope he is better prepared for the visit than he was last time, Tabitha!”
“I have the nurse’s assurance that he will be fed, rested, and in a tolerable humour for inspection.” As Tabitha said this, she caught Isabella’s eye, and the other woman quirked an eyebrow and twitched her mouth just enough to convey solidarity and empathy. It was good to know that despite their firm friendship, Isabella wasn’t blind to the dowager’s eccentricities and demanding nature.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Mrs Jackson entered with the baby. Tabitha was glad to see that he seemed content and was even cooing.
“Ah, there he is, the young Viscount Chesterton. Let me take a look at him.” The dowager held out her arms, and the child was placed in them. She looked down at him with approval. “He is rosy-cheeked and clear-eyed. A very healthy child.”
Tabitha understood full well the dowager’s opinion of her insistence on feeding her baby herself, so she didn’t bother to suggest that this might have something to do with his good health. Instead, she basked in the admiration the other women showered on her beautiful baby boy.
“He is a very handsome young man,” Isabella offered with a smile. “I think he favours Wolf, at least for now.”
It was true; there was something of her handsome husband in the baby’s look. In addition, his eyes were a deep, dark blue. Tabitha had assumed this meant he had inherited Wolf’s eyes, but Mrs Jackson had been quick to inform her that a baby’s eyes usually changed colour over the first few months. However, it was undeniable that he had the same thick, dark eyelashes that framed his father’s eyes.
“How do the other children feel about the latest addition to the nursery?” Isabella asked.
“Melody loves her new brother and would like to play with him as if he were her newest doll. She likes nothing more than to sit in the armchair and hold him, singing him lullabies and telling him stories. The twins are not particularly interested. I am sure that once Julius is big enough to play with them, they will become more intrigued.”
They talked about the children for a while before Isabella cleared her throat, shooting the dowager a knowing look. What were these two up to? Tabitha wondered.
“Arlene is in town,” Isabella said hesitantly. She was well aware of the animosity between Wolf’s first love and his new wife. Despite her friendship with the beautiful, vain Lady Archibald, Isabella was firmly on Tabitha’s side.
Tabitha steeled herself; this was unlikely to be a casual observation on Isabella’s part. She understood Tabitha’s feelings about her friend too well to bring Arlene’s name up in conversation for no good reason.
“She needs Wolf’s help. Well, the help of both of you, really,” Isabella continued. “Knowing that we have become close, she asked me to broach the subject with you in particular.”
It was clear that Arlene hoped to win points by appearing to ask Tabitha’s permission rather than going straight to Wolf. However, distrust of the woman was too deeply ingrained, and Tabitha was disinclined to play into whatever new misadventure Arlene had got herself into.
While her first impulse was to assert that she didn’t care what Lady Archibald needed, something stopped Tabitha. If she were honest with herself, she craved an intellectual challenge. If Arlene had an investigation for them, perhaps Tabitha should at least hear what she had to say.
After battling these competing feelings for a moment, she finally said, “Tell Lady Archibald she may call tomorrow afternoon, and I will hear her out.” Tabitha emphasised the first-person singular pronoun; if they were to provide the woman with any assistance, Tabitha wanted there to be no doubt that she, not Wolf, had agreed. Perhaps the thing she loathed most about Arlene was that the woman managed to get under her skin with her subtle insinuations that Wolf regretted his choice of wife. She had no intention of allowing this situation in any way to fuel that fantasy.
Chapter 2
To say that Wolf was surprised by Tabitha’s news was an understatement. After the games Arlene had played in Brighton to try to undermine his marriage, Wolf was fully committed to having nothing more to do with the woman.
“Are you certain about this?” he pressed.
“I am,” Tabitha insisted. “Though, only to hear her out,” she clarified. “Nothing more.”
“But after what she tried to do in Brighton…”
“Wolf, I was in a highly emotional state at the time, and yes, she took advantage of that. However, I do know she is no threat to me or our marriage, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of imagining that I consider that she is one.” Tabitha said this calmly but firmly. The more she’d considered the question, the more confident she’d become in her decision. There was no doubt that if Lady Archibald were refused her interview, she would chalk it up to Tabitha’s insecurities, and that was an unacceptable outcome.
Although he wasn’t convinced of the wisdom of the decision, Wolf accepted it. Isabella had suggested that she accompany Arlene, hoping her presence might temper her friend’s worst impulses. Of course, once that had been decided, the dowager had made it quite clear she wouldn’t be excluded from what was sure to be a dramatic encounter.
Therefore, at two o’clock that afternoon, Isabella, Lady Arlene Archibald, and the dowager were shown into the drawing room at Chesterton House.
Tabitha had thought carefully about how she wished to present herself to her nemesis. Although she realised that obsessing over her dress and appearance played into the other woman’s games, Tabitha also knew that, given Arlene’s extreme vanity, this was the measure by which she judged all other women. Perhaps, Tabitha had reflected, she should rise above such pettiness. Still, she was only human, and if she had learned anything from the dowager, it was that a perfectly accessorised outfit was a woman’s best armour.
