The Hungry Tide (24 page)

‘Warm!’ Isobel threw off the blankets, ‘I can’t breathe with all this on top of me.’

Mrs Moxon tut-tutted, and re-arranged them again. ‘I must insist, madam, or I can’t be held responsible. Sir—’ She turned to Isaac for support. ‘Sir, I must insist – madam must be kept warm. Heat is essential for madam’s wellbeing – and for ’sake of her child!’

‘Best to be careful, my dear, I’m sure Mrs Moxon knows best.’

‘Certainly I do, sir. Attended ’undreds of women – er – and ladies like yourself, madam, and I always insist on plenty of heat. Isn’t that right, Mrs Hawk?’

Mrs Hawk had made herself a comfortable corner on the opposite side of the carriage and made no reply to Mrs Moxon’s enquiry, but merely smiled drowsily and nodded her head, clutching tightly a capacious green baize bag which she held on her knee.

‘For goodness sake, let’s get moving, Isaac, the sooner we are there the better.’

Isobel turned her face to the window as they moved off. She didn’t want to have to look at the two large, muscular women in whose hands she had placed her life and that of her child. She had had the utmost difficulty in finding a midwife to accompany her to Garston Hall, and although her doctor had assured her that the country midwives were perfectly competent, she was not to be persuaded and insisted on taking someone from town. Mrs Moxon had appeared in person on hearing that someone of her profession was required, and declared that she would be delighted to accompany such an esteemed family to the country. She would bring her own assistant and would not require the services of a doctor. Even though she was sure that the country doctor who had been so highly recommended by Doctor Stone was very efficient, she was of the opinion that it was quite improper to have gentlemen anywhere near ladies in labour.

As Isobel agreed wholeheartedly with this declaration and as Mrs Moxon appeared to be so self-confident, it was arranged that she would accompany her. It was only now that she viewed the women with distaste, as she realized that they were rough and blowsy and very inferior indeed, and although Mrs Moxon appeared to be quite clean if rather dishevelled, Mrs Hawk looked most decidedly as if she had slept all night in the clothes she was wearing now. Her dress was torn and spotted with grease and her hands were rough and dirty. But what was worse she had a most disagreeable smell, causing Isobel to put her scented handkerchief to her nose and leave it there.

The innkeeper and his daughter were waiting to greet them as the carriage drove into the yard an hour later. Isaac dismounted stiffly. He was extremely sore and had decided that next time he undertook the journey it would not be on horseback. A youth appeared to take his mount and lead it to the stable, whilst the innkeeper helped Isobel down and gave her into the charge of his daughter.

Susan gave Isobel a sweet smile and led her into a private room, closing the door firmly on the two other women who were bearing determinedly down on her.

‘Please make yourself comfortable, ma-am,’ she said, drawing up a chair, ‘or perhaps you’d care to walk about a bit to ease ’stiffness?’

‘Thank you,’ said Isobel wearily. ‘I am extremely shaken about.’

‘I’ll fetch some hot chocolate, and perhaps tha – you would care for a little bread and cheese.’

‘No, just the chocolate, and would you ask my husband to join me?’

Isaac sat down with a groan a few minutes later. ‘I’m going to be very stiff tomorrow!’

‘
You’re
going to be stiff! How do you think
I
am going to feel? I feel terribly ill already. I don’t know how I’m going to withstand the rest of the journey.’

‘I’m so sorry, my dear, perhaps we should have waited before moving.’ He leaned towards her. ‘It’s just that I had this notion of our child being born in his heritage – out at Garston Hall. Do you see what I mean?’

‘Hmph. It might not be a son,’ she replied irritably. She had no far-fetched ideas like Isaac, and just now she didn’t care where the child was born as long as she could get it over and done with.

The girl arrived with the chocolate. ‘I’ve taken ’liberty of bringing you a small brandy, ma-am,’ she said. ‘I thought perhaps it might revive you a little’

‘Oh, how thoughtful of you,’ exclaimed Isobel. ‘Isn’t that thoughtful, Mr Masterson?’

‘Indeed it is,’ agreed Isaac, recognizing the admonishment that was implied because he hadn’t thought of it first.

‘So, you are the young woman who would like to come and work for me?’

Susan dropped a respectful curtsey and demurely lowered her eyes, then opened them wide and candidly. ‘Yes, ma-am, I’d very much like that.’

Isobel nodded and viewed her critically. She was dressed neatly and modestly, and was extremely pretty. It would be pleasant to have someone like her around. She was certainly in marked contrast to the two harridans sitting outside now.

‘Very well, you may join me in a few weeks’ time. I shan’t need you until then, but when you do come I shall expect you to attend me as well as help in the house.’

The girl smiled again, showing her small, even, white teeth. ‘Thank you, ma-am, I’ll do what I can to satisfy you.’

As Susan passed the two women who were sitting by the fire, their boots taken off and their bare toes wiggling towards the flames, Mrs Hawk whispered to her companion. ‘What does tha mek of that fine young piece, Mrs Moxon?’

Mrs Moxon took a long draught of the ale which Mr Masterson had had brought for them, or rather which they had requested of the landlord when told that refreshments were available for them.

‘Well, she’s a fine lookin’ piece, I’ll say that for her. But there’s summat strange that I can’t put me finger on. If tha asks me – and tha did – I’d say she was moonstruck!’

‘How does tha make that out then, Mrs Moxon?’

‘Look at her eyes. I’ve brought enough babbys into ’world to know that wi’ colour of eyes like that, there’s summat not quite right!’

They were about five miles from Monkston when Isobel began to feel unwell. The constant jolting of the carriage and the warmth from the blankets had already made her sick, but now she had a discomfort unlike anything she had experienced before, and with dread she realized that the birth had begun.

‘Mrs Moxon, I am unwell,’ she said weakly.

Mrs Moxon was asleep, her mouth open slackly and emitting an occasional whinnying snort. Mrs Hawk moved across and sat beside Isobel and placed her hand on her forehead. Isobel grimaced. The woman reeked of spirits, and she had caught her several times surreptitiously placing something back into her bag, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she saw Isobel watching her.

‘We’ll leave Mrs Moxon be, for the time being, madam.’ She smiled ingratiatingly. ‘She’s going to need all her strength!’

Isobel paled at the words, but summoned enough vigour to reply angrily, ‘Waken her immediately. She is here to attend me, not to sleep when I need her!’

Mrs Hawk took one look at the fury on Mrs Masterson’s face and did as she was bid, shaking Mrs Moxon roughly by the arm.

‘Now then, my lady, no need to get alarmed, nothing’s going to happen for a bit.’ Mrs Moxon was soothing and placatory. ‘I’m afraid that you’ve just got to put up with ’pain ’best you can till it’s over.’ She laughed coarsely. ‘And I can only say, madam, that it’ll get a lot worse afore it gets better, so best prepare yourself.’ She gave a deep complacent sigh. ‘It’s what I say, it’s a great leveller, is childbirth, makes us all ’same – rich or poor.’

‘I’m going to be sick,’ gasped Isobel. ‘For goodness sake do something!’

Mrs Moxon crooked a finger at her assistant, who immediately opened up the green baize bag and took out a half full bottle of brandy and handed it to her. Mrs Moxon held it up as if measuring the contents and looked quizzically at Mrs Hawk, who said nothing but merely smiled weakly.

‘Have a drop o’ this, madam, it’ll help.’ She poured a generous glassful and held it whilst Isobel sipped. ‘That’s it, drink it all down.’ She put more blankets on top of her patient. ‘I’ll just call up to ’coachie to go a bit faster.’ She put her head out of the carriage window, the feathers on her hat blowing wildly, and called up to the driver, who cracked his whip and urged on the horses faster, leaving Isaac Masterson sitting uncomfortably on his horse staring after them in surprise.

‘No! Stop! Stop! I can’t bear it!’ Isobel cried out. She was being shaken from side to side, the breath being beaten out of her as they tore along the rutted road. ‘Tell him to slow down, or I shall be dead of exhaustion before we’re there.’

Mrs Moxon did as she was asked. She was barely able to stand as she put her head out again, her wide behind swaying precariously, and Isobel gasped in dismay as she feared that she would fall on top of her.

‘Take a little drop more brandy, madam.’ The midwife held the glass to Isobel’s lips again. She started to sip and then swallowed hurriedly as Mrs Moxon tipped the glass generously.

‘Can’t beat spirits for childbirth.’ Mrs Moxon poured herself a glassful and leaned back contentedly. ‘Or for a lot of other things, for that matter.’ She held up the glass and gazed at the amber liquid contemplatively before taking another drink. ‘Finest medicine that ever was invented.’

Isobel gazed back at her through bleary eyes. The woman was swaying and moving, even the features of her face, her nose and mouth, seemed to be shifting in a distorted fashion as if she was seeing her through water.

‘Mishis Moxshon,’ she began, her tongue not seeming to belong to her. ‘You mushn’t drink too much. I’m going to have a baby soon.’

She tried desperately to retain her dignity, but her mind was fuddled and her back ached. She wanted to get up and walk about, but in the confined space of the carriage, and even though they were now travelling at not much more than a walking pace, she lacked the ability to stand.

Mrs Hawk, at a word from Mrs Moxon, lifted Isobel’s legs and stretched them out on the seat, tucking them in securely with the blankets.

‘Now, madam, tha’ll soon be home, and in tha own bed. Try to rest till then. Tek a drop more and tha’ll happen sleep.’

Isobel opened her mouth to protest, but the glass was pressed to her lips and she was forced to swallow. Her throat burned, her body sweated from the weight of the blankets, yet she shivered uncontrollably. She slipped into a light, uneasy sleep, where she dreamed that she lay trapped in a cave with two wild horses which reared and cavorted on her swollen body.

The mist was rolling in across the fields from the sea as they arrived at the door of Garston Hall and Isobel was helped unsteadily into the house. The afternoon was dark and grey and gulls wheeled plaintively above the house, but fires had been lit in all the rooms and Isobel, in spite of herself, felt comforted.

Mrs Scryven brought in a tray. ‘I’ve brought thee some tay, ma-am.’ There was a red flush under her brown skin and her eyes were fiery, yet when she looked at Isobel they showed compassion. ‘Tha’ll happen be hungry, ma-am, after ’journey? There’s some boiled fowl, or a little light junket to give thee thy strength back.’

Isobel realized that she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten at all since early morning and, though she still felt sick and dizzy, she managed to eat a small amount and felt her strength returning.

‘Where is Mrs Foster?’ she demanded. ‘I expected to see her.’

‘She’s here, ma-am, she’s just showing them two persons to ’lying-in chamber. They wanted to see it – to see if it was satisfactory.’ Mrs Scryven snorted as she finished speaking and she clenched her lips as if to stop herself from saying more than she should. ‘There’s a fire lit already, though I didn’t know it would be used so soon. Happen jolting of ’carriage has brought thy labour on, ma-am.’

Isobel didn’t reply. She didn’t want to discuss her personal affairs with servants and provide them with chit chat over their bread and ale. Bad enough having to put up with the indignities of the other two women poking and prodding roughly at her body. She put her head back against the sofa. The ache in her back had eased, and the sharp pain in her side had subsided since she had rested. She felt cooler and the effect of the brandy was diminishing.

‘Can I suggest, ma-am, that when ’pains come, tha rests between ’em, to gather strength like!’

As Mrs Scryven spoke, Maria knocked quietly on the door to admit Mrs Moxon, who gasped in resentment at this advice.

‘I’ll not have that, madam, I’ll not have anybody interfering in this business. I’m paid to do ’job and I don’t want anybody else pushing their nose in. And another thing.’ She paused to draw breath. ‘That room up there is freezing. I’ll need a lot more fuel to build up ’fire and a lot more blankets. What we want is heat!’

Mrs Scryven, with barely concealed anger, excused herself and hurried from the room, her eyebrows bristling and her lips clenched. Isobel groaned aloud, a groan that was misinterpreted by Mrs Moxon who insisted that she was helped upstairs and put to bed immediately.

‘By, I can see ’flames coming out of thee!’ Maria hid a smile as Mrs Scryven burst into the kitchen, her small round body propelled by her fury. She picked up a pan and clattered it on to the table, awakening Sarah who was in her crib under the table. She bent to pick her up, her anger abating as she soothed her. ‘I’m sorry, my angel, did this nasty, horrid old woman, who doesn’t know owt about babbies, wake thee?’

‘Don’t get upset, Mrs Scryven.’ Maria took the crying baby from her and put her to her breast.

‘But I am upset!’ She sat with a thump in the chair by the fire. ‘How dare they? Scum – dregs! How dare they bring in ’mistress looking like that? Half drunk, her hat hanging off – where’s their respect?’ Her face got pinker as she took a deep breath. ‘I tell thee, Maria, I don’t like what’s happening. I said that I’d tell thee one day what happened to me when I was young.’ She bent over, her elbows on her plump knees, her hands cradling her chin and rocked to and fro as she gazed into the fire.

‘Well, it was women such as them as was sent for when I started in labour. They gave me spirits, which had never before passed my lips, and they sweated me – to get rid of ’impurities they said. But ’babby was a breech and wouldn’t come, so they sent for two more women, and they gave me even more strong liquor so that I could barely stand.’