Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999) (24 page)

It was not her husband, she decided, as she came a little nearer; this was an older man. He walked slowly and stiffly, his shoulders hunched. She paused, panting for breath. But supposing he had news? Good news or bad? From a distance he did not look joyful. She watched as the door was opened and Fletcher came out and hurried down the steps to help the caller inside. The carriage was driven away. He was obviously known to the footman. She began to run again and, reaching the front door, raced in in time to see the newcomer disappearing into the library. He turned when he heard her.

She stood and stared for several moments before she found the voice to speak. ‘
Jack!
It is you!’

He was as thin as a beanpole, his normally tanned face ashen, his eyes sunk deep in their sockets, his clothes hanging on him in loose folds. One arm was tucked uselessly inside his coat. He could hardly stand and was still being supported by Fletcher. She curbed her inclination to throw herself at him; she would bowl him over. A feather would fell him.

She stopped. ‘Jack! Oh, how good it is to see you!’

‘Good?’ he queried with a twisted smile. ‘A wreck of a man appears on the step and you call it good.’

‘At least you are alive. Fletcher, does the Countess know he is here?’

‘I was about to inform her, my lady, as soon as his lordship was seated.’

‘I’ll go and tell her. Jack, can you climb the stairs? You should go straight to bed.’

‘Later,’ he said, pushing the footman away and walking unaided towards the library. ‘I need a drink first.’ Kitty ran to support him. He waved her away. ‘I can manage, I am not ill.’

She stood back and watched him, afraid he would fall. ‘Fetch the Countess,’ she said to Fletcher. ‘Then see that his lordship’s room is made ready.’

Fletcher disappeared at a run as Jack sank into an armchair before the hearth. Kitty went and knelt beside him, taking his hand in both her own. ‘Oh, Jack, we have been so worried, especially when Thomas arrived with the Marchioness …’

He gave a twisted smile. ‘They made it, did they?’

‘Yes. Nanette and James were here when she arrived. She went back to live with them.’

‘Not an entirely wasted trip, then.’

‘No. Thomas said you were very courageous. In fact, he said you were reckless considering you had been wounded in the attempt to free Antoinette.’

‘That very nearly succeeded,’ he said. ‘It would have if certain people had had a little more backbone.’

‘Not everyone can be as brave as you are, Jack. But do not talk about it now. It will tire you and you need to rest.’

‘Rest,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, I think I may rest now.’

‘Jack! Jack!’ Lady Beauworth ran into the room, her skirts bunched in her hand. ‘Fletcher tells me …’ She stopped at the sight of her son. ‘Oh, my dearest, what ‘as happened to you?’

He tried to rise, to make his obeisance, but sank back into the chair. ‘A slight wound, Mother, nothing serious …’

‘Not serious! You look at death’s door.’ She came forward to kneel at his feet and take the hand Kitty had relinquished. ‘You must go to bed at once and Dr Seward sent for.’

‘Don’t fuss, Mother. All I need is rest.’ But it was evident there was more than fatigue wrong with him. He was in a state of collapse.

The Countess called Fletcher back to carry Jack to his bedchamber, sent his valet to him, sent a groom on horseback to fetch the doctor, another to find the Earl who was out riding
somewhere on the estate, and ordered the cook to prepare nourishing broth.

Kitty waited until the valet came out of Jack’s room and then went to sit with him. He was delirious and did not know her; he hardly seemed to know where he was. She sat watching him, wringing out a cloth and mopping his brow every so often, trying to stop him thrashing about.

The doctor arrived half an hour later. Kitty left the room while he made his examination and paced up and down the corridor outside. Justine came to her, her soft skirts rustling. ‘How is he?’

‘I cannot tell, he is not fully conscious. Dr Seward is with him now.’

‘‘Ow did he manage to come home like that? Fletcher said ‘e came alone, there was no one else in the carriage that brought ‘im.’

‘He is in no condition for explanations. We must wait until he has recovered.’

‘Yes, of course. Let us give thanks that ‘e is back with us.’

‘No! I will not have it!’ The sound of Jack’s voice came clearly through the closed door. ‘Clean it up, then leave me.’

They looked at each other, wondering whether to go in, but before either could do so, Dr Seward came out of the bedchamber looking grave. ‘He has sustained a wound, perhaps more than one, which was not properly attended to. I cannot be sure, but it looks as if a musket ball is lodged in his upper arm and has been there some time. The area round the wound has putrified. I have told him he must lose the arm.’

‘And he has refused?’ Kitty queried. ‘Is there no alternative?’

‘I think it will be unwise to wait. I tried to explain to him, but I fear he is not fully aware of his condition.’

‘Go to ‘im, Kitty,’ her ladyship said. ‘Talk to ‘im.

Kitty crept into the room. Jack was lying on his back, his face a pale mask. ‘You still here?’ he queried weakly. ‘I had thought you would be long gone.’

‘Why should I go? I am your wife. This is our home.’

‘So it is.’ His tone was full of wry irony.

‘You wish me gone?’

She waited, with her heart in her mouth for his reply. He smiled lop-sidedly. ‘That fool wants to take off my arm.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘I won’t have it. It will heal, given time.’

‘Jack, please, do not take any more risks. You are home now and I would rather have a husband with one arm than no husband at all.’

‘I am not your husband, I never have been.’

She rose and ran from the room. He knew. He had known all along. He had arranged that ceremony simply to make her conform, to obey him. She passed the Countess, still pacing up and down the corridor, and fled to her room, where she laid herself on her bed. To have him home when they thought him lost, to see him so obviously in pain and be able to do nothing to help, to have continued to hope when all hope should have faded—surely she deserved a reward for that?

While he had been away, she had been able to convince herself that, as soon as he came home, all would be well and he would love her and their child. She had been deluding herself. Now what could she do? Where could she go? How could she explain to the Earl and the Countess, who had both been so good to her, that her marriage was a sham?

Jack lay back exhausted. What had made him say such a terrible thing to her? Why didn’t she understand that he loved her, that he had been to hell and back and all he wanted was the peace and quiet of Chiltern Hall, his parents and a wife who
loved him and wanted him? She didn’t want him, she had not even tried to touch him when he arrived.

He could not blame her for that; he must be a ghastly sight, but if she cared for him at all, she would have ignored that. It had been his disappointment that made him lash out. It had been the thought of being reunited with Kitty which had driven him on, helped him to ignore the pain, the hunger, the sore feet from walking miles every day, the danger of being spotted. Kitty, always Kitty. Now he was home and too weak to say and do the things he had planned.

His mother came into the room and sat beside the bed, not speaking, just watching him tenderly. He smiled lop-sidedly. ‘I do not make a good patient.’

‘Are you going to let the doctor amputate your arm?’

‘No.’

‘He says the ball is still in there and is poisoning your system.’

‘He is wrong. It was taken out. The wound never healed properly because I could not rest. And in Lyons a gendarme stuck his bayonet into it. Filthy it was, so I don’t wonder the wound has gone bad. But, now I am home, it will mend.’ He paused to gather his strength. ‘See, already I am growing stronger.’

She sighed. ‘Why did you send Kitty away?’

‘I didn’t. She went. Mother, keep her away. She only stays from duty …’

‘I never heard such nonsense! You are delirious. Why, she loves you. She ‘as been beside herself worrying about you, worrying about the child …’

‘Child?’

‘Did you not notice? Oh, Jack, I can only think your fever has affected your eyes.’

‘She is expecting a child? But how could she? We …’ This was something he had never envisaged. It put a completely different light on the matter. ‘Where is she? Fetch her back.’

‘Later.’ She stood up as the doctor came back into the room. ‘Here is Dr Seward come back.’

‘With his chopper and his saw, no doubt.’ He lifted his head. ‘Take them away. You may clean the wound, no more.’

‘But, Jack …’ his mother protested.

‘You risk your life by refusing,’ the doctor said.

Jack’s smile was more a grimace of pain as the doctor removed the bandage which had been strapping his arm to his body and peeled off the dressing. ‘I have risked my life many times in the last three years, sir. I am … used to it …’ His voice faded away as he fainted.

‘Good,’ the doctor said. ‘Now we can get on.’

‘No.’ The Countess’s voice was quite firm. ‘I will not let you do it against ‘is wishes. Clean the wound and bind ‘im again. We shall see how ‘e does.’

Dr Seward sighed. He had seen brave men brought down when it came to amputation and many had at first refused, but when the pain and putrefaction became too much to bear they had been willing enough. The trouble was that delay usually meant the infection spread and the final cut was all the more severe; because the patient had been weakened by his obstinacy, he frequently did not survive the operation.

‘I will take the responsibility,’ she added, when he hesitated. ‘Tell me what we must do to nurse ‘im and we will do it.’

Reluctantly he gave in.

For three days Justine and Kitty nursed him in turns, never leaving him alone for a second. He grew more and more feverish and restless, tossing this way and that, crying out and mumbling in delirium. Sometimes Kitty thought he called her name.

‘He cannot go on much longer like this,’ Kitty said to her mother-in-law. ‘Are you sure we are doing the right thing?’

‘No, I am not, but Jack would not forgive me if ‘e came to ‘is senses and found we ‘ad agreed to let the doctor take ‘is arm off.’

‘It is better than letting him die.’

‘‘E did not die in France when there was no one to nurse ‘im. ‘Ere, where ‘e ‘as every attention, ‘e will survive.’

‘You are as stubborn as he is,’ Kitty said. ‘I think he would rather die than stay married to me.’

‘What? What nonsense is this? You must not say such dreadful things. ‘E came ‘ome to you. It is for you ‘e wants to get better …’

‘Then why is he getting worse?’

‘Is ‘e?’ Justine stood looking down at the form in the bed. For once Jack had stopped thrashing about, as if his soul had already accepted death and welcomed it. He was no longer fighting.

‘Yes. Please, send for the doctor again,’ Kitty whispered. ‘Tell him to do as he thinks fit. I would rather die myself than be the cause of his death …’

‘Kitty, go to bed,’ the Countess commanded. ‘You are so exhausted, you talk as much nonsense as Jack. It is not good for the child.’

‘Send for the doctor, please.’

‘Very well. But go to bed, child. I’ll send Rose to you with a tisane. I will call you if there is any change.’

Slowly Kitty dragged herself to her own room. Jack was dying and, whichever way you looked at it, it was her fault. His innate sense of chivalry had made him offer to escort her in the first place, to try and take her to freedom, to marry her. And having done so, he had brought her to safety, left her in possession of his home and gone off again, risking his life to save a doomed queen.

It was all her fault. He thought so too. She could not forget his words: ‘I am not your husband, I never have been.’

Rose came into her room with a glass in her hand and persuaded her to drink the bitter draught it contained. She needed oblivion. She would not be able to think clearly until she had slept. She stripped off her gown and lay down in her petticoat. Her last conscious thought was of her child.

How much were unborn children affected by their mother’s upsets? Did the little one know the anguish she suffered? Was he equally disturbed? She felt him kick, quite violently. ‘Oh, you do know,’ she murmured. ‘You are determined to punish me too.’

Forced into sleep by the drug, she did not wake until the next day. The sun was shining through the fabric of the curtains and she could hear the church bells ringing. For a moment she was confused, wondering what day it was. Then she remembered it was Christmas Day. She rose and went to the window, pulling back the curtains to peer out.

It had snowed a little in the night. The path was glittering with it and it hung on the branches of the bare trees and piled itself against the hedgerows, white and pure. Today was a day of purity; the birthday of the Saviour. ‘A child is born,’ she murmured, turning back towards the room as Rose came in.

‘I thought I heard you about, my lady. I’ve brought you hot chocolate and water to wash. Shall I help you dress?’

‘Yes, please. Lord Chiltern?’

‘The Earl sat with him during the night while her ladyship rested, my lady. I believe she went back to him after she had breakfasted.’

‘Has the doctor been?’

‘Expected any minute.’

‘Then let us make haste.’

Fifteen minutes later, Kitty crept into the sick room. It was uncannily silent. The Countess sat beside the bed, watching her son, with tears raining down her cheeks. He lay very still, a
hump in the bedclothes, no more. The single candle left burning all night guttered and went out.

Kitty gasped and moved forward to fall on her knees beside the bed, her heart screaming against the outrage, but no sound came from her throat. What she felt was beyond speech.

Justine put a hand on her shoulder and gripped it. ‘He sleeps,’ she said.

At first Kitty did not comprehend; she thought of eternal sleep, not the sleep from which one awoke refreshed. ‘Yes,’ she said softly.