The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (34 page)

“We will get through this; you and I are strong. Your husband says we are very much alike. I do not plan on giving up on Georgina, and neither will you. As with your daughter, we will do what is necessary, no matter what it takes.”

“I am so thankful that God placed you in this house at this moment. I could not have done this alone.”

Ella thought about what had happened to her in the last month, and she knew she would suffer it all again with a glad heart if it meant her presence at Linton Park would make a difference in saving Georgina Whittington's life. Ella smiled slightly, admiring the older woman. “I beg to differ, Lady Linworth.You do not have to be alone. I am here, and we will save your child and her child.”

Bran reluctantly answered the room's door. He had drunk too much during the evening and had been abed less than two hours, but he staggered to where the sound came. When he released the bolt and cracked the door, a sliver of light assaulted his eyes, and he squeezed them closed.

“Fowler,” James Kerrington's voice came from the near-darkness of the inn's passageway. “I am leaving.”

Bran eased his eyes open, letting the light in a little at a time. “Leaving? What time is it?”

“About four.” James lowered the candle to take away the light's sting.

Bran looked confused. “Four? Why so early? Cannot stay away from my sister?” Bran's alcohol-saturated mind could not think seriously.

“No, not exactly.” James paused in his explanation. “There is just something—something is not right—a gut feeling. I cannot shake it. We have always listened to our instincts.”

Bran shook his head to clear it. “Levering do you suppose?”

“I do not know; I just need to go.You will deal with things in London?”

“It is done,Worthing. You may be assured of it.”

James shook his head, already moving to leave. “I will see you soon.” Then Worthing disappeared into the darkness, taking the light from the candle with him.

Within minutes, Bran heard the carriage's rattle in retreat. He crawled back into the bed, pulling the blanket up over his head. He would rise in a few hours and return to London. The more he thought of the possibility of Levering being in Derby, the less likely he considered the notion. Worthing simply missed Eleanor and wanted to start his new life. It was a nice dream; Bran knew it too. In fact, he suspected that each Realm member held like desires—a chance to find love and happiness. Thoughts of Velvet Aldridge renewed these prayers in him, and Bran welcomed his favorite dream of the dark-haired beauty.

“Lady Eleanor!” Daniel pounded on his Aunt Georgina's door. “Help, Lady Eleanor!”

Ella, exhausted by her constant vigil over Georgina's bed, reeled in place before jerking the door open. “What is it?” she snapped, not disguising her high dudgeon with the newest interruption and then regretting snapping at the boy.

Daniel stepped back, momentarily stung by her tone, but he shot a glance toward the earl's room and plunged ahead. “Grandpapa is getting out of bed. He says he wants to see for himself what is happening; he will not listen to me.”

“I will go.” Lady Linworth's drained spirit came from behind Ella.

Ella looked closely at James's mother—the woman's appearance was fagged and haggard. “If the Earl sees you, it will worry him. Neither of us has much color, but your husband will notice it more on you. Besides, you have a calming effect on Georgina. I will tend to His Lordship.” Motioning to Daniel to lead the way, Ella followed the boy to his grandfather's room. Her frustration and her fear increased with each step, and by the time Ella reached the earl's room, she exploded. “What do you think you are doing, old man?”

A man used to having people at his beck and call, Martin Kerrington stood less than three feet from his bed, a satin robe sashed tightly around his waist. Her words inflamed him. “I am to see my wife and daughter,” he snapped aristocratically. “I will ask that you not try to stop me, Lady Fowler.”

If the earl wanted highborn, Ella would match his high-toned pretentiousness with some of her own. “That is right,Your Lordship. Hobble your way to Lady Amsteadt's room, and allow your loved ones to worry for your demise. They have no other concerns than you at the moment. Make Lady Linworth feel guilty for choosing to stay with her daughter right now rather than to hold your hand. Please do come to your daughter's bedchamber. Obviously, if you are able to stand on your own and to maneuver
your way to Georgina's room, you are feeling better.Your wife and I could use your help.”

“Who do you think you are?” he flared.

“I am the woman who is trying to save your daughter's life and that of your second grandchild. If you will excuse me,Your Lordship, I have no time or energy to tend to your bruised ego. Do us all a favor: Return to your bed. Let your grandson tend you as I have asked him to do. Allow Lady Linton and me to concentrate all our energies on Georgina's well-being. When we know anything, you will be apprised.” Ella's hands now fisted on her hips, and her chin rose in defiance.

Martin Kerrington leaned on a cane, but he made no other move as they spent the next few minutes daring one another to say anything else. “Bloody hell,” he grumbled, turning toward the bed. “Did Camelia teach you that stance or does it come naturally to you also?” he called over his shoulder.

Having expected James's father to continue to argue with her, Ella needed a second shake of her head to clear her thoughts. She stuttered, “I…I suppose it is natural.”

Jerking the blankets back, the earl motioned to Daniel to come support him. “I will need to warn James about your temper,” Kerrington said flatly. “You might match his mother in intensity.”

“I will take that as a compliment.” Ella made an amused, halfhearted curtsy to leave.

“Lady Eleanor.” His voice held her in place, returning to a more familiar address. “Please give Camelia and Georgina my love. Daniel and I will offer special prayers. Will we not, my Boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ella rotated slowly to his voice, happy to have won the battle. “It will be my pleasure to convey your affection to your loved ones, my Lord.” She curtsied again and then slyly sidled up to the boy whom she would soon call her son. “Master Daniel,” she draped an arm over his shoulder in an act of conspiracy and of apology for her earlier reaction, “if His Lordship chooses to ignore all our best
advice, you have my permission to wrestle him into submission.” With that, she swept from the room, the sound of Daniel's laughter and the earl's sputtering drifting through the open doorway.

 

“Thank God, you are back.” Lady Linworth seemed relieved although Ella had been gone less than ten minutes. “I think she is ready.”

Ella simply moved to where she could support Georgina's weight, helping the woman to the birthing chair, a weird-looking contraption designed to place a mother in a better position to deliver a baby naturally. Settling her soon-to-be sister in a very unladylike position, Ella half-laughed at how much she had changed in the past month. If she had not spent an intimate night with James Kerrington less than two evenings ago, the current scene might have shocked her. However, now she took it in stride, realizing that the human body was not a tool for evil.

The contractions now only minutes apart, Lady Amsteadt screamed and began to push, her hands clutching at the straps on the wood-armed chair. A flush of blood told Ella that Georgina's time drew near.

“Breathe,” Ella ordered as she moved to where she could assist the baby. Camelia Kerrington tried to soothe her daughter's brow.

“Another one,” Georgina gasped and gritted her teeth. Jaw locked tightly, she held her breath and concentrated her energy on the pressure between her legs.

Less than an hour of sweat and anxiety brought them to the delivery. Georgina was early but not so early that it was impossible for Lady Amsteadt to survive. The child was a different story. So, expecting the baby's head, Eleanor watched in morbid curiosity as a miniature hand, arm, and shoulder appeared. “Oh, Lord, no!” She felt the panic coursing through her veins.
What could she do now?
The baby could not survive such a delivery, and they had no way of surgically removing the child. They might lose both mother and child.

“Can you see it… the baby?” Georgina panted breathlessly.

“Not…not yet,” Ella stammered, trying to determine what to do next. If Georgina pushed again, it might be too late to do anything. She glanced at James's ring on her finger and knew what she must do: She must save Georgina from Elizabeth's fate.

“Georgina, listen to me,” Ella's voice held no chance for argument. “The baby did not turn. I can see the child's arm and shoulder, but it cannot come out this way without hurting the child, wrapping the cord around it. I need to slide the arm back in you somehow and turn the shoulder enough so the head comes first. You must not push until I finish.” She slid the ring from her hand and slipped it into her pocket for safekeeping. James's love would be her guide through all this.

“I am frightened,” Georgina gasped. “I do not think I am capable of what you ask.”

Ella pressed her suit,“Georgina, will you leave Lord Amsteadt to suffer the way your brother did with Elizabeth, where he must live with the loss of his wife or his child? Will you put James through that again? He will not survive a repeat of such grief. Help me to save them both—I love James, and I know you love Lord Amsteadt.”

Georgina's eyes widened in disbelief, but she shook her head in understanding. “Do it quickly, Eleanor, before I have time to think about it.”

Ella did not want to consider how this would be. She would do the unthinkable for a lady of noble birth; yet, she caught the tiny arm and locked it close to the child's body before shoving it upward into Georgina's opening, saying a private prayer she did not hurt the baby. She instinctively bumped against Georgina's legs, opening them further.

“Easy,” Ella continued to coach. “Almost.” She did not know whether what she did made a difference, but she worked the baby's shoulder free from Lady Amsteadt's opening. Blood gushed from the womb, and Ella wondered why it did not repulse her. “Hold…hold…”The baby seemed to shift at the opening, and she
could see bright red hair and an ear. “Nearly there.” She had her fingers in Lady Amsteadt's opening, touching the matted locks of the woman's child. Ella had once seen a groomsman reach up into a mare to turn a colt. This was not the same, but she could not eliminate the image from her mind. Slimy mucus coated her fingers, but Ella continued to touch the top of the head, working it fraction by fraction toward the opening. “Lord Amsteadt has red hair,” she laughed at the absurdity of what she said. “Another minute, Georgina,” she ordered, but never looked up.

Georgina said nothing, but Ella could hear her labored breathing and sense the pain the woman suffered.

The ear was no longer evident, and all Eleanor saw was tangled red locks. “Push, Georgina,” she rasped out.

Lady Amsteadt gulped for air and bore down, needing desperately to release the pressure she felt. Ella watched carefully as the baby's head crowned and stretched the opening. “Again,” she barked before feeling the baby's face in her hands. Gently, Ella guided it forward. “It is there, Georgina. A couple more times,” she encouraged.

This time the baby's full head and neck appeared. Ella released the breath, which she had held throughout the ordeal. Georgina rose up and pressed forward, Lady Linworth supporting her daughter's back. Ella did not release the head she held tenderly in her hands. Somehow it seemed important that the child know someone would protect it. Finally, the shoulders cleared, and the trunk followed.