Dangerous Decisions (15 page)

It was ten days before Christmas and at Broadway Manor there was a buzz of expectation. In the kitchen Cook finished larding a beef fillet and, going to wash her hands in the deep sink, she called over her shoulder, ‘Do you know exactly what time they're expected, Mr Bostock?'

He completed the winding of his pocket watch and then said, ‘According to the master they should be here in time for luncheon, that's as accurately as I can tell you.'

‘I can't wait to see Miss Helena,' Charlotte said. ‘I've heard so much about her.' She glanced round at them all and her face reddened. ‘I've been knitting some bootees for her baby.'

‘Got on my nerves, she did,' Elsie said with a sniff. ‘Nothing but click click click, it was, just when I was trying to get off to sleep.'

‘Everything gets on your nerves!'

She glared at Annie. ‘Well if the cap fits!'

‘That's enough! I've got too much to do to be bothered with all this squabbling.' Cook's voice was sharp, her face flushed.

The butler frowned and gave her a light touch on the shoulder. Seeing him make a slight movement with his head, she followed him into his small office.

‘You know,' he said in a low voice, ‘I can't help thinking that that girl has been a mistake.'

‘We've had nothing but trouble from her, Mr Bostock. If she isn't complaining or moaning, she's stirring up trouble. We never had any of this before she came. If there's one thing I can't stand it's having bad feeling in the Servants' Hall. We used to be such a happy band when Molly and Ida were here.'

‘And we will be again, Mrs Kemp, I promise you.'

Later it was Annie who first saw Molly, turning when she heard light footsteps hurrying down the stairs. With a shriek, she rushed forward to give her a hug. Molly hugged her back and then called to the others, ‘Surprise everyone!'

‘Well I'll be blowed,' Cook exclaimed. ‘Now you
are
a sight for sore eyes.'

Molly was full of excitement. ‘Gosh, it's good to be back.' She glanced round the familiar cosy kitchen, at the long table being set for the servants' lunch, and with some curiosity at the two new parlourmaids. ‘I've just seen Mr Bostock. Where's Miss Hewson?'

‘She'll be upstairs in Miss Beatrice's room, fussing that little dog, I expect,' Cook said. ‘How did this come about, then?'

‘Miss Forrester slipped and sprained her ankle. I'm to be Miss Helena's personal maid while she's here.' She turned to see a thin elfin face peering round the scullery door. ‘You must be Daisy.'

‘Yes, Miss.'

‘You don't need to call me Miss. I'm Molly, I used to work here.' She swung round as Enid Hewson came to join them.

‘You look well – Miss Helena told me you were here. All we need now is Ida, but I don't suppose there's much chance of that happening.'

‘How is she?'

‘Annie's been to see her, haven't you Annie?'

Lifting her head from where she was pouring boiling water into the large brown teapot, Annie nodded. ‘She's got her place ever so nice. Hoping for a baby too, but no sign so far.'

‘She's got plenty of time,' Molly said.

Helena too was delighted to be back, although concerned to see that Caesar and Nero, who were from the same litter, seemed to have lapsed into old age.

Aunt Beatrice was so absorbed in her little Westie that Helena wondered why she had never before had a pet of her own. ‘I've called her Skye,' she said the morning after their arrival. ‘It's somewhere I've always wanted to visit, ever since I read about Flora McDonald helping Bonnie Prince Charlie to escape.'

‘I'm discovering lots of things about your Aunt,' Jacob told Helena. ‘I've even had to promise to take her to Rome next year.'

The three of them were relaxing in the morning room just as they used to, and Helena hadn't felt quite so happy for ages. ‘Oh do go,' Helena's face lit up. ‘You would love it. And our hotel was wonderful. So was the one where Mrs Horton and Johnnie were staying. I told you we met them?'

‘Yes, in one of your letters. You also were less than complimentary – about Mrs Horton, I mean.' Beatrice looked reprovingly at her niece. ‘One needs to be careful about such comments.'

Helena laughed. ‘Oh, don't you start – it's bad enough with Oliver.'

‘What is?' Oliver came in to join them.

‘Aunt Beatrice is reminding me to be more discreet.'

Jacob smiled at her. ‘Your aunt tends to forget that you are now a married woman, and no longer her responsibility.'

But for Helena the easy familiarity and banter changed somewhat now that Oliver was with them, and as the days drew nearer to Christmas itself, with the glittering huge tree decorating the hall and the rooms festooned with holly boughs bright with red berries, she sensed that he was restless. But Helena was loving it all; the nostalgia of Cook making her favourite puddings, sleeping in the bedroom that had been her childhood refuge, Molly keeping her entertained with kitchen gossip.

‘It's just like the old days,' she said on Christmas Eve. ‘Do you miss being here, Molly?'

‘In some ways, I do.' Molly was struggling with hairpins. ‘I don't know, Miss Helena, this just won't go right. I need more practice.'

‘Here, let me help.'

Between them, with some laughter, the chignon was eventually achieved, and Molly said, ‘Miss Helena, I wondered if you'd mind my having tomorrow afternoon off. I'd be back in time to dress you for dinner.'

‘Of course I don't mind, Molly. It's natural you will wish to see your family.'

Yes, Molly thought as she later tidied the bedroom and brushed the grey serge skirt Helena had worn during the day. I wish to go home all right, but not for the reasons most would think. It was because of her three younger sisters. Annie had told her that one of them had been seen with a bruised face. If her dad had been laying in to them, he'd have her to answer to. Her mum was sure to be on the cadge, and Molly was prepared to give her ten bob, although it would be too much to hope that she'd spend it wisely. Perhaps, she thought as she closed the door and went down the back stairs, Cook would give her treats to take. There were bound to be plenty of leftovers.

‘It's been a wonderful Christmas, Papa, thank you.' Helena went to Jacob and kissed his cheek. ‘Oliver and I have so enjoyed it.'

‘Splendid. And your spending it with us has been the icing on the cake, hasn't it, Beatrice?' Jacob, standing before the fire in the drawing room, was finding the cold weather rather a trial and lifting his coat tails to feel extra warmth.

‘It certainly has.' She looked searchingly at her niece. ‘I do hope Oliver has felt comfortable here. I have gained an impression otherwise at times.'

‘My dear, I hardly think …'

‘Jacob, I'm sure that Helena is perfectly aware of what I'm referring to.'

Helena had also been feeling some resentment at what she felt was discourtesy on Oliver's behalf. It wasn't that he was openly discourteous, but sometimes there had been a barely concealed boredom in his manner. ‘Yes of course I do. I'm afraid he always finds it difficult to be away from Graylings.'

Later, before leaving, Helena stood before the large casement windows in the drawing room and gazed out. In one way, Broadway Manor felt so much more like her home than Graylings, and yet she knew she had changed from the light-hearted girl who had left twelve months ago. Even then, she had indulged in dreams about Nicholas. Yet now she was beginning to feel resigned about what was, after all, merely a futile fantasy.

Helena had read that in the last months of pregnancy a woman became placid, immersed in the changes in her body, and it would seem to be true. She looked at the empty flowerbeds and stark leafless trees and tried to imagine what the view would be like in the spring, when the showy yellow of daffodils clustered around the trunks and groups of scarlet tulips would bring life into the garden. While at Graylings, she would be giving birth to her own tiny miracle. Please God it would be a boy so that she would provide Oliver's desperately needed heir. Helena turned away from the window feeling a little disconsolate. Sometimes she wondered whether that was his main reason for marrying her.

It was at the beginning of March, at least three weeks before her due date when Helena felt the dull ache in her lower back. At first, she ignored it, enjoying her early morning sedate stroll on the terrace at Graylings – the weather was unusually mild and she paused to watch the swoop of a falcon in the distance. However, within an hour of returning to the morning room the ache had become intrusive, heavy and dragging. She felt unsure … could labour pains begin in the back? Helena went over to the silken bell pull at the side of the fireplace.

The door opened within seconds. ‘Crossley, do you know where Mr Faraday is?'

‘I believe he went out for a ride, Madam.'

‘Then please send a groom to find him. And would you kindly ask Mrs Birley and Miss Forrester to attend me immediately.' She went to sit awkwardly on the sofa and looked up to see the butler's normally impassive expression become one of concern. Helena nodded. ‘I am not certain, but Crossley, perhaps if my husband has left any instructions concerning my condition …'

He bent his head in acknowledgement and then once the door had closed behind him, Helena leaned back against the downy cushion, trying to remain calm. Preparations had been made for a premature birth – Aunt Beatrice was supposed to be at Graylings already, only a cold had prevented her arrival. But what about Dr Haverstock, what if he had other commitments he couldn't leave at a moment's notice? What if … panic swept through her … surely he wouldn't send Nicholas in his place? Yet hadn't that been the very reason he had been introduced to them, in case such a situation arose? The very thought of the most intimate part of her body being exposed to those expressive eyes made colour flood into her face. Not even her husband had ever seen …

‘Mrs Faraday, are you all right?' The housekeeper hurried into the room.

‘I think …' Helena winced at a sudden gripping pain.

‘I see.' Mrs Birley's tone became one of brisk efficiency. ‘There is no need to worry. Mr Crossley has already sent one of the grooms to fetch the master, and a telegram will soon be on its way to London.'

When Oliver eventually arrived, he found Helena lying on a chaise longue in her room while two maids were busy securing a rubber sheet on the bed. He frowned with distaste and waved a dismissive hand at their startled faces. After they had scuttled out, and still in his riding clothes, his face flushed with exertion, he queried, ‘Helena?'

‘It has all happened so quickly …'

‘You have done nothing to precipitate it?'

She shook her head. ‘No, I was just walking on the terrace.'

‘Everything will soon be in readiness, Sir.' The housekeeper was hovering just inside the door. ‘And I believe the local doctor and midwife have been sent for.'

‘It's Dr Haverstock we need.'

‘Oliver,' Helena said, ‘I'm sure nothing will happen just yet, why don't you go and change and then once the maids have completed their task, Forrester will help me to undress.'

He gazed speculatively at her. She was a shade pale perhaps, but … He gave a nod, and as he left, glanced at the tiny clock at the side of Helena's bed, hoping that the London physician would soon be on his way. The local doctor, the bespectacled impertinent young man who had attended him during his influenza, was taking an unforgiveable amount of time to answer the summons. When eventually he did arrive and later emerged from Helena's bedroom, Oliver snapped, ‘Well?'

‘I can confirm that your wife is in the first stages of labour. However, there is no urgency, a first confinement is often a lengthy process.'

‘But she is more than three weeks early. You do realise that until Dr Haverstock arrives that my wife's health is your responsibility?'

‘As I have told you, there is little I can do at the moment and I have other patients to attend to. However, I am leaving Nurse Robertson here, at least for the moment, although I understand Dr Haverstock will be bringing his own midwife. Good day to you, Mr Faraday.' He swiftly descended the stairs to where Crossley was waiting to usher him out.

Oliver watched him leave with a dislike that bordered on contempt. The man was probably a charlatan.

Would Helena expect him to go in and see her? He would prefer not to have to enter that room again until after the birth was over; even seeing the necessary preparations had been a distasteful experience. However, if it helped to encourage her then he would force himself do so; he must do everything he could to safeguard what was, after all, no ordinary birth.

Although Oliver had been to see her, his stay had been brief and uneasy, and so when later a knock came at the bedroom door, it was with relief that Helena welcomed Molly's familiar and smiling face.

‘Cook has sent you some chicken soup, Madam,' she said, carrying in a tray, ‘and she says there's something hot for you, Nurse, if you care to go down. I can stay with Mrs Faraday.'

Once Nurse Robertson had gone, leaving instructions to ring if she was needed, Molly was able to relax into her normal friendly manner. ‘My sister was three weeks early, Miss Helena. I remember seeing her all wrapped up in a blanket in the drawer. I must have been about seven at the time.'

Helena looked up in surprise. ‘Did you say in a drawer?'

Molly nodded. ‘We couldn't afford a cradle. Lots of people empty a drawer and use it. You'll be all right, Miss Helena. You don't need to worry until the pains come every five minutes. It can take ages to get going so I'm sure the doctor from London will arrive in time.'

‘You're a great comfort to me, Molly. Later, when you go down could you find out whether any message has been sent to Broadway Manor?'

‘Of course I will. It's chaos down in the Servants' Hall. The scullery maids are making sure there's plenty of hot water, and as luck would have it, Mrs Birley only yesterday ordered rooms to be made ready for Dr Haverstock and his nurse, so there's only the fires to be lit. And Cook's got her head in her recipe book, cos she says meals may need to be kept hot as nobody knows what time the baby will be born.'

Helena began to laugh. ‘You do cheer me up. But oh dear, I do seem to have caused a great deal of inconvenience.' She pushed away the omelette as she felt another contraction begin.

‘It'll all be worth it, Miss Helena. You'll see.'

When Nicholas, in response to the urgent message, arrived at Wimpole Street he found Miss Barnes in a fluster, while Andrew came to greet him with fulsome apologies. ‘Thank you for stepping in. At least it's the weekend tomorrow so there are only the remainder of today's appointments to consider.'

‘Could there be any mistake with the date?'

Andrew shook his head. ‘No, I examined her only ten days ago. But as we know it's not uncommon for a baby to be in a hurry. Nor, might I add, for a false alarm. In any event I should be back in London by Monday, but if anything urgent arises …'

Nicholas smiled at him. ‘You can rest assured that I'll deal with it.' He watched the distinguished physician collect his top hat, pick up his medical and overnight bags, and seconds later he was gone. ‘So, it's just you and me to hold the fort, Miss Barnes.'

‘Yes, Dr Carstairs. I've managed to contact those patients with a telephone, but Lady Trentley is due – it was too late to contact her.'

‘Then I'd better straighten my shoulders.'

She laughed, but despite his earlier resolve as he went into his consulting room Nicholas found himself thinking only of Helena. Childbirth was not without its dangers.

By the time Dr Haverstock, accompanied by a hurriedly collected Nurse Parks, arrived at Graylings, Helena's contractions were coming at increasingly shorter intervals. It was with obvious relief that the village midwife handed over responsibility to the London one, a tall grey-haired woman whose efficient manner and sweet smile must have gladdened the heart of many a mother.

The physician was swift to assess the situation. ‘Everything is proceeding as it should, Mrs Faraday. We just need to be patient.'

But two long and exhausting hours later, despite Dr Haverstock administering chloroform to alleviate the pain, Helena was still trying to ride excruciating waves, biting hard on the wad of cloth the midwife had given her and gripping the rods of the brass bedstead. ‘You're doing really well,' said Nurse Parks, full of encouragement, and then the doctor's brisk voice came. ‘The baby's head is crowned. That's excellent. Now when the next contraction comes I want you to push really hard. But when I say stop, cease immediately and take quick short breaths.' With one last supreme effort she managed to find the strength to obey, and within seconds Helena felt a heavy slithering sensation as her body at last expelled its burden. Soon a thin piercing cry was followed by the words, ‘You have a daughter, Mrs Faraday.'

Helena's euphoria was crushed. She lay in a listless state, only dimly aware of the physician snipping the umbilical cord and of the midwife taking the baby away. She was lost in a dazed world. How could she face Oliver?

‘You will be able to see your baby very soon,' Dr Haverstock murmured as he attended to the afterbirth.

Helena managed to say, ‘She isn't too small?'

‘I would imagine about five pounds, but we can weigh her properly later.'

The midwife called softly, ‘Dr Haverstock?'

Helena turned her head away, unable to prevent weak tears. When he returned his voice was gentle. ‘Now then, Mrs Faraday, you're bound to be emotional after all you've been through. Most new mothers are. You'll feel different when you see your baby. But being early it's essential that she's kept warm so Nurse Parks is dressing her first.' He turned and said over his shoulder, ‘I think the mittens too, Nurse.'

Several minutes later, sitting propped against her pillows, Helena was at last able to take the tiny bundle in her arms and gaze down at her daughter, marvelling at the pale delicate skin, at the almost transparent veining of her eyelids. The midwife who was standing beside the bed said, ‘There, she's opening her eyes, bless her.'

Helena looked down into an unblinking quizzical gaze and she was lost. Joy and wonder swept through her as she whispered, ‘She's beautiful.'

‘Isn't she? Her eyes may change from blue though.'

Dr Haverstock was now washing his hands and forearms and pulling down his sleeves. Once more in his formal jacket, he came to Helena and said, ‘Mother and child, a picture I always like to see.'

‘Thank you, both of you, for all your help.'

He smiled at her. ‘It's been a pleasure. If I may say so, you've been a model patient, hasn't she, Nurse.'

‘I wish all my mothers were as co-operative.'

Helena said, ‘My husband …?'

The physician was already moving towards the door. ‘I shall go and see him now.'

Oliver was waiting in the library, his impatience mounting as the minutes and hours ticked by with the suspense becoming almost unbearable. At last, the door opened and with eager expectation, he strode across the room. ‘Dr Haverstock! Is there news?'

‘Indeed there is. May I offer you my congratulations. Your wife has been safely delivered of a daughter.'

Oliver could only stare at him wordlessly before sinking on the leather chesterfield to gaze with despair into the crackling log fire. After all his efforts, all these months of hoping and planning …

The doctor came to sit nearby and leaned forward, his hands planted on his portly knees. ‘I know you were hoping for an heir, Oliver, but your wife is young and there is no reason why the next child should not be a boy.' He paused. ‘Although I do have to inform you that there is something …'

Oliver glanced up sharply. ‘What is it?'

Dr Haverstock shook his head. ‘Might I suggest that we go upstairs? You will be anxious to see your wife and child, and I would prefer to explain then.'

Helena, refreshed, her soiled nightdress changed for a pale blue silk one, lay gazing at the white-lace-frilled bassinet, which was placed carefully out of draughts and near to the fire. Despite wondering why she had only been allowed to hold the baby for such a short time, her main feeling was one of apprehension as she waited for her husband.

And then the door opened, and Oliver came in to walk past the bassinet without a single glance. As he came to the bed and she looked up at him, Helena could see in his eyes such strain, such dismay, that she could only whisper, ‘I'm so sorry.'

‘There will be another time.'

She longed for some words of affection, a gesture of tenderness. Instead, Oliver nodded towards the bassinet. ‘You have seen it?'

‘You mean our baby? Oh yes – and, Oliver, she's beautiful.'

‘You couldn't see anything wrong?'

She stared up at him. ‘How do you mean?'

It was then that Dr Haverstock, who had remained at a discreet distance, came over to join them. ‘I apologise for causing you both concern, and repeat again that your daughter is perfectly healthy, but … Nurse, would you bring the baby, please.'

The midwife carried her over and began to loosen the fine blankets in which she was swaddled. As Helena watched with growing apprehension, Nurse Parks lifted first one small hand and then the other, and with the ribbons now untied she gently removed the white lacy mittens.

‘I'm afraid,' Dr Haverstock said, ‘that as you will see, there is a slight irregularity with her hands.'

Oliver's sharp intake of breath was almost strangled, while Helena stared down in shock and distress at the two tiny hands, each with a thumb and not four – but five fingers.