Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy) (13 page)

The dinner guest was Timothy Brennan. From the instant he saw her she could tell he was smitten with her. He courted her, brought her small gifts and when he asked to marry her, she consented. Living on a farm held no appeal, but Lydia had grown to hate Athlone and helping her father in the shop.

With Timothy, she knew kindness and caring, but when he extinguished the candle at night after they were settled in bed and groped for her beneath her gown, she cringed inwardly and shut her eyes so tightly she felt they would cease to open.

Finally the nightly lovemaking sessions, when Timothy slobbered over her, had borne fruit. Her son, Gavin Brennan, was about to enter the world.

After a moment's hesitation, Dera agreed to accompany Timothy. She wondered why Lydia requested her, for she had practically no knowledge of babies. But Anna who was nearby and heard Timothy, offered her help. "I've delivered a few babies in my time. Of course, they were backstairs babies, belonging to servants, but I know enough to help Mrs. Brennan.”

"I still think we should send for the midwife," Dera worried.

"T’ain't enough time. Lydia needs help now and you're the one she wants and you're the one I'm going to bring," Timothy firmly stated, standing in agitation by the blazing fireplace. He puffed continually on his pipe, his body poised for flight back to the farmhouse. Dera perceived his worried state, so she ordered Anna to bring her cloak and to ring for the carriage.

“
I’ll start walking back now. By the time the carriage comes round, I'll be with Lydia. Thank you for coming, Dera." Timothy hurriedly departed, oblivious to the cold night air.

Avery looked at Dera in disapproval. "Dera, rushing into the night to help deliver a baby even if it is your aunt's child ... well, it isn't proper. The midwife is perfectly capable. We should send for her."

"Lydia wants me. We've never been close, but if she thinks my being there will comfort her, I’m going. She and Timothy were kind to me after my mother abandoned me. This is the least I can do for them. Besides, Anna will be there. If I cared what people thought, I would never have agreed to marry you.”

His somber face broke into a grin. "I've always prided myself on choosing an honest woman for a wife. I'd do anything for you if you asked me.”

"Yes I believe you would, though I don't deserve your kindness. I hope there will never be need for you to think otherwise of me." She brushed his cheek with her fingertips.

His eyes searched her face. “I wish I could be a husband to you. I wish, I wish…” He stopped short; tears filled his eyes.

“
Don’t speak of it.”

“
I must. My failure is constantly with me. You leave now to help another woman give birth, a joyful experience you shall never know as my wife. Can you forgive me?” He clutched her hand.

"There is nothing to forgive, Avery. I chose you freely and I shall keep my promise."

"Yes, the promise. I believe I ask too much of one so young and beautiful. If only you could love me a little, Dera. Perhaps that would give our marriage some substance, something for me to cling to."

“
I'm fond of you," she admitted. She could never tell him she loved him for he would know it was a lie.

"Then that is all I can ask. I am satisfied."

"Your ladyship, the carriage has come," Anna peered into the room and informed her.

Dera turned to Avery. "I must go."

Avery nodded as she left, then he poured himself a large glass of brandy and stared intently at the amber colored liquid. "At least I have this to warm me." He gulped the contents in one swallow.

Shortly after Dera and Anna arrived, they sent Timothy from Lydia's bedside and helped to undress her. The sheets were soaked with sweat and rumpled from Lydia's painful twistings.

“
Perhaps we should send for a midwife," Dera voiced again.

Lydia shook her head. "Nay, I'll not have that filthy Mrs. Brady. She never washes and she'd be glad to see me suffer like so many of our neighbors. They begrudge us this house and are jealous of our connection with Lord Fairfax. I need you, Dera. I can rely on you." She gasped in pain and took a deep breath. "See," she said after a few moments. "T'will be soon."

Dera followed Anna's instructions about boiling water and getting clean towels. She marveled at how well Anna took over. In reality, Anna was all Lydia needed and she felt useless. She put a pot on the hearth and filled it with water just as Timothy came in from outside.

"Is it over yet?"

"No, uncle." Dera sighed. "When the baby comes, I'll tell you first thing. No one is going to find out before you."

Timothy sat down and nibbled on his pipe stem. "She just looks so pale lately, not like before when her cheeks were rosy. I'm fearful, Dera.”

Dera, too, had noticed Lydia's wanness the past few weeks, but she tried to reassure Timothy. "All women find the last weeks to be tiring. Everything will be fine."

He stared at the flickering firelight warming the pot in the hearth. Dera brought the clean towels to Anna who wiped Lydia's brow. Lydia twisted back the covers and held onto the bed post.

“
I can’t stand this pain! Why is it taking so long?” Lydia gasped, her eyes darting towards Anna for an answer.

“
Calm yourself, birth takes time,” Anna soothingly assured her. “Breathe easy and flow with the pain instead of fighting it."

"But I can't," Lydia whined.

Anna motioned Dera to follow her into the cooking area. Luckily Timothy had retreated outside to escape Lydia's screams. Dera read Anna's worried expression before the woman said a word. "Something's wrong."

"She has had some hard pains, hard enough to bring that baby down, but I'm afraid the little one is having a difficult time. Mrs. Brennan doesn't have large hips. I've only seen one case like this before. I helped a midwife for two days, but the baby refused to budge. By the time a doctor was sent for, he had to cut the mother open and take the baby. Both of them died." Anna shivered at the memory, "I can't cut her open. Is there a doctor nearby?"

"The village is too small for a doctor," Dera explained. "There may be one in Ballinasloe, but I don't know how long it would take him to get here." She was quiet for a few seconds, then she looked at Anna who took the pot from the hearth. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Anna sighed deeply. "Just pray that the little one makes its appearance shortly and somehow the good Lord sees fit to let it be born without losing the mother."

Lydia's hysterical shriek cut through the farmhouse like a sharp knife, making Dera shiver with fear.

The night passed slowly. The bedroom grew unbearably hot in spite of the cold north wind outside. Lydia's condition was no better. She took deep breaths and pushed when told, but the baby wouldn't come. All three women were drenched in sweat. Dera was afraid that Lydia might die, since each contraction weakened her until she hardly had any strength left. At times, Dera thought Lydia was hallucinating. "Gavin," she called. "I want my Gavin." A huge sob wrenched from Lydia's throat and tears of pain and frustration mingled together on her cheeks. At one point, Timothy poked his head through the doorway.

The long night of waiting had lined his face even more. His red hair was disheveled and new stubble grew on his chin. "How much longer?" he asked.

"I can't say, uncle. Soon, I hope." Dera wiped her wet brow with the corner of her apron. "She keeps asking for someone named Gavin."

Timothy's expression changed from one of worry to one of intense pain. He mouthed the name but no sound issued from his lips. A flicker of resentment crossed his face. "The woman bears my child. Still she asks for him. When it is over, come tell me. I shall be outside.” He turned and slammed the door behind him.

"Dera.” She turned at the sound of Anna's voice. "The child is coming." Dera looked to see the dark head emerging from between Lydia's thighs. "Be ready to take it while I guide it through," Anna said.

Lydia bore down, her strength seemingly replenished by the news that the baby was about to be born.

"Push harder, Mrs. Brennan," Anna ordered and kneaded Lydia's abdomen.

"I can't. It hurts."

"You can do it, Lydia. Please." Dera was close to tears as the little head made no more progress. She waited at the foot of the bed, clean towels in hand, ready to catch the infant.

“
He's just not moving. I've got to get that baby out or we're going to lose them both." Anna stood up and took Dera's place. "Sit beside her and hold her down. I have to pull him out."

"No," Lydia said weakly. The pain was intense, but she tried to sit up. "I won't let you take it from me like that. Nothing is wrong."

Dera gently pushed her onto the pillows and Lydia gave in. "I'm here, Lydia. I won't leave you.” She gave Lydia her hand which Lydia clutched tightly.

"He'll be fine," Lydia whispered through parched lips. "My Gavin will be all right." Anna began her ministrations at the foot of the bed and suddenly Lydia screamed such a blood curdling scream that it echoed throughout the house before she fainted into unconsciousness.

Anna held the infant in one arm while her free hand vigorously rubbed his back. He was extremely tiny and unmoving. His hair was blacker than pitch, but to Dera's horror she saw he was an ugly shade of purple. "He isn't crying," was all she could think of to say.

After a number of minutes, Anna gave up. "Nor will he. I wonder why the Lord lets a woman carry a child for so long only to have it born dead. At least, poor Mrs. Brennan will be spared seeing her son. She'll sleep for a while. The little one suffocated on his way down."

Anna washed and wrapped the baby in a linen towel while Dera stood transfixed, unable to believe that Lydia's child was dead. She had wanted it so badly.

"I had better tell Uncle Timothy." She left the room, unable to look at the tiny baby shrouded in the cradle.

Dera found him outside. He sat immobile in the cold night air, his hair whipping around his head. At Dera's approach, he stood up. "Uncle. . . ." she began, but was unable to say the words.

His attention was upon her, but he was seeing through her and beyond her. "I know. The child is dead."

"Yes."'

"Damn that woman! By mentioning that man's name, she cursed herself and the child."

“
Come inside. Lydia will need you when she wakes.”

“
Nay. I shall not. She never wanted me. All she needs is her memories.” He turned and started down the road, looking as if someone had pulled his insides from him. Dera called after him, but he continued walking oblivious to everything but his pain.

Within the hour, Dera returned home, tired and weary. Anna had insisted she get some sleep, and Dera willingly obliged, for she knew Anna would take good care of Lydia. Practically dragging herself up the stairs as the first light of dawn shone through the landing windows, she walked down the corridor. Avery staggered from the door of his own room and positioned himself in the passageway.

"You're back," he said. The smell of whiskey clung to him. She turned her head away, because his breath was so potent.

"I'm very tired. Lydia lost her baby, and Uncle Timothy has taken off for God only knows where."

"Don't speak to me, trollop."

She stared at him, open mouthed in disbelief. "What did you call me?"

"Trol ... lop," he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol.

"You've had too much to drink. Let me help you to your bed." She reached out to take his arm, but he shrugged her hand off.

"Don't touch me. I ... I know you've been with a man."

"I was with Lydia."

"Don't lie." He staggered a bit, and she reached out to help him, but he pushed her roughly against the wall. Turning slowly, he made his way into his room, Dera following him. He threw himself on his bed and cradled the bottle in his arms. "Been alone all night. Too tired to ar... gue."

She approached the bed and attempted to take the bottle from him. He swiped at her but missed. "Need this. Go away, bitch."