by Quinn, Paula
Simon ran a hand through his hair. “One minute, Jenny was in the parlor, looking out the window for you,” he said, trying to keep the condemnation from his tone. After all, it wasn’t their fault, and he would be happy to hear all about the tribulations of their journey later, when he had his wife in his arms again.
“I went upstairs with Lionel, and she just disappeared. We can’t find her anywhere.”
Maggie paled. “I’ve come a very long way, and I want to see my sister.” Turning to her husband, she said, “Find her this instant!”
The Earl of Cambrey considered the situation, which was good because Simon felt too distraught to think clearly. “Could she be taking a bath?”
“Brilliant!” Maggie said, looking hopeful.
“No, I checked.” Simon hated to disappoint them.
“Have you got the great hall decorated with a big tree?” Maggie asked. “She loves that at Christmas, as she remembers better than Eleanor and I when we used to come here as children for your parents’ yuletide parties. Maybe she went to sit by the tree and fell asleep.”
Truthfully, Simon had merely stuck his head around the door into the expansive ballroom, but it was dark and quiet, so he hadn’t gone in.
“Good idea!” he declared.
As a group, they all moved toward the double doors on the right, which closed off the great room. He pushed one open and entered, feeling everyone coming in behind him.
Without bothering to light a lamp, Simon moved slowly through the room, until he got to the far end where the spruce fir reached the ceiling. He’d even done as Jenny had asked and climbed a ladder to decorate the top-most branches.
In the darkness, it didn’t look like more than a tall tree, but when its candles were lit and with the room’s lamps turned on, it was magnificent.
All at once, the room did, indeed, brighten, and Simon whirled to see Binkley doing his job, lighting lamps before drawing the curtains against the winter chill. Looking back at the tree, alas, there was no Jenny under it or beside it or—he scanned the room—anywhere in sight.
“Damn!” he said softly.
“We’ve checked the kitchens,” Lady Blackwood said, her voice sounding tremulous, “and the rest of the servants’ quarters. The house is so big, though, I’m sure she is simply in some room we’ve neglected to search and probably sound asleep, just like this little one here.” She indicated the sleeping toddlekins whose head rested on her shoulder.
“I am happy to go over the entire house,” Maggie said, though she sounded weary. “I will search every room, every nook, and each wardrobe even.”
“What about outside?” John asked.
Simon stared at his friend. “In this weather? I can think of no purpose for which she would go out.” He looked to his butler. “Binkley, did her ladyship ask for her cloak and boots?”
“No, my lord, but I was off duty and not at my post. I am deeply sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Simon told the man as he strode past him.
He and Jenny always kept outerwear in the nearby closet under the stairs, for they were apt to take a stroll together at any time. Or they used to. Those walks had been getting rarer of late due to her delicate condition.
Opening the closet, he saw the Cambreys’ garments that Binkley had only just hung up. Then he saw his own overcoat and fur-trimmed boots, as well as—
Gone! Jenny’s fur-lined cloak was gone, although strangely, her lace-up boots were there.
“Dammit all!” he swore again under his breath. More loudly, he called into the great room, “You were right, I believe she’s gone outside.”
He had wasted so much time wandering around Belton Manor while his precious wife was out in the snow. Dear God!
John reached him first, followed by Jenny’s family, all exclaiming in dismay.
Where to start? Panic had seized him, and Simon could hardly think straight. Grabbing his coat, he ran toward the front door as he shrugged into it, then, realizing it was now pitch-black outside except for the moonlight, he dashed back for a lamp.
“Quick, Binkley, a large lantern at once.”
John reached into the closet and grabbed his coat. “Don’t worry, old sport,” his friend assured him. “We’ll find her.”
“She might have wanted to stroll in the gardens,” Simon considered, “though what she thought she would see at this time of year, I cannot fathom. We have some favorite spots. There’s a bench in the center of one of the gardens, she might have gone there. Anyway, I’ll start out back. John, you go out front. Blast it all, we’ll need another lamp. Ladies, stay inside so we don’t have to worry about anyone else.”
With a hasty step, Binkley returned with a lamp, and Simon sent him for another one for John.
“Where’s your carriage, by the way?” Simon asked his friend. “Did you already put your horses away? I won’t bother checking the stables if you were just—”
“We came by sleigh,” Maggie spoke up. “Our carriage got stuck at the last inn, and we received a ride—”
“For a considerable amount of coin,” John added. “We were dropped off, so we haven’t been to the stables.”
At that moment, nearly colliding with the harried Binkley, one of the tall footmen rounded the corner from the back hall, dragging a small stranger by the arm and carrying a lit lamp.
Simon focused on the lamp first. “Give that to Lord Cambrey,” he ordered, and Binkley relieved the footman of it, handing it to John.
“The boy was knocking at the side door, my lord,” the footman spoke up. “He says he is here to see you.”
“I don’t have time right now.” Simon looked at the waif’s pinched face, red nose, and large, frightened eyes. “Take him to the kitchen and get him fed. Looks like he could use a very large, hot meal.”
Then Simon pushed past his servant and the boy, heading toward the rear of the manor, when he heard, “My lord.”
It was the young one’s voice, barely above a whisper. “It’s Lady Jenny.”
Simon wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. Turning, he crouched low before the boy. “What did you say, lad?”
“Lady…Lady Jenny,” the boy managed, looking terrified.
When he paused, Simon nearly reached out and shook him.
“Yes? Out with it.”
“She’s in the stables, my lord,” the boys’ words came out in a breathless rush. “She needs you!”
Simon felt the blood drain from his head as he stood. Taking a deep breath without saying a word, he ran for the front door, still clutching the lantern. Behind him, he heard chatter, but didn’t even hesitate nor check to see who was coming with him. He simply had to get to Jenny.
Chapter Four
Wracked with pain, Jenny was trying to get to her hands and knees, remembering how good it felt to stretch her back like a cat during her last labor. Just as she reached the desired position, she heard the frantic, running footfalls that could be none other than Simon. At last!
Knowing he was there, a sense of calm infused her even before she saw him. She heard Simon call her name, sounding as frightened as she’d felt earlier.
“Here,” she managed, belatedly wishing she’d asked Jasper to fetch her some water, too. Unsure she could actually drink it or keep anything down, still, Jenny wanted to wet her dry mouth.
And suddenly, there was her dear, handsome husband standing before her. Or at least, there were his boots. He dropped to his knees, mimicking her pose.
“What in blue blazes are you doing?” he demanded, angry and tender at the same time.
She sucked in a breath as her body squeezed itself. When she could speak again, she said, “I think I’m birthing our babies.”
“Why did you come out here to do it?” he asked.
She nearly giggled. He assumed she’d begun her labor and then gone to the stables. Refusing to answer the obvious—because I am an idiot—instead, she saved her breath for her next question. “Did you send for Emily?”
&
nbsp; By the look on his face, he hadn’t.
“Didn’t Jasper tell you?”
“Who?” he asked.
“The boy.” For a moment, Jenny wondered if she’d imagined the little orphan with the lamplight.
“I ran here as soon as he told me where you were,” Simon confessed. “I didn’t wait to find out if there was a message.”
“I love you,” Jenny told him, merely in case she forgot to say it later.
“I love you, too. I shall carry you back to—”
“No!” Jenny couldn’t bear the thought. “I cannot move.”
“You cannot stay here,” Simon exclaimed.
She nearly began to cry, for she was definitely going to stay exactly where she was until her babies were born. She had no choice.
“Just…I don’t know. Rub my back, please.”
“You cannot deliver our children in a filthy stable,” he said, his warm palm already rubbing up and down her aching spine.
Rolling her eyes, another wave of pain robbed her of any speech. When she could talk, she said only, “Christ.”
Simon was silent for a few heartbeats, then he said gently, “I haven’t heard you swear since the last birth.”
“No, no.” Jenny shook her head, feeling sweat bead upon her temples and soak the underarms of her dress. She rocked back and forth, trying to relieve the throbbing in her back. “I mean Jesus Christ, Christmas, the manger! Not filthy.”
“Ohh,” he said.
Then she heard more footsteps, a whole stampede of deer had apparently entered the Lindsey stables.
Boots came into view. Many of them, in fact. And then, dropping beside her were her mother, Eleanor, and Maggie.
Maggie?
“Mags!” Jenny exclaimed, and tears instantly pricked her eyes.
Her sister kissed her damp forehead, then said, “I had a great tale of harrowing adventure to tell, and you had to steal my thunder by beginning your labor on Christmas Eve.”
“In a manger,” Jenny murmured to her beautiful sister, who looked perfect, as usual, and none the worse for wear for travelling in the cold and snow. Thank God! “Top that!” she added.
Maggie cracked a smile, and Jenny would have laughed if she could. Eleanor did, in fact, chuckle. Then Jenny felt her mother’s gentle hand wipe the hair off her forehead before she took over for Simon with rubbing her back.
It seemed her husband had been squeezed out of the stall by her kin.
“Midwife?” Jenny managed to ask.
“Already sent for.” She recognized her brother-in-law’s voice. Then John added, “Your little messenger boy did his job.”
“Water,” she added.
“Coming up,” John said, and she saw his boots hurry away.
She’d just sent the Earl of Cambrey on a servant’s errand, and he had gone instantly. One of the few perks of labor, she supposed.
“We need to get blankets,” Maggie said, “and…I’m trying to remember what else the midwife will want. She’ll bring all those wonderful things like oils and smelling salts and—”
“Clove buns,” Jenny suggested.
“Doubtful, my love,” Simon dashed her hopes. “It’s late, and it’s Christmas Eve after all. I’ll get blankets.”
“Not horse blankets,” Jenny heard her mother caution him.
“No,” Simon assured her. “From the stable boys’ beds.”
Jenny did not give a fig about blankets. She was plenty hot. In fact, she very much wished to strip off a few layers as soon as she could clear out some of the people.
When John returned with water—a whole pitcher and a beaker for her to drink from—more boots appeared beside his. He had the admiral with him if Jenny was identifying the footwear correctly.
Gratefully, she accepted some water, though she had to let Eleanor bring the cup to her lips as she still had both hands firmly planted in the straw.
After a few sips, she told them all, “I need to lie down again.”
For some reason, it was Mr. Binkley who sprang into action first. “Let’s place the blankets under and behind Lady Lindsey, then she can recline. I brought pillows, too,” he added.
Bless the admiral’s heart!
Simon spread a blanket behind her and helped her maneuver in the stall so her head was at the far end where he placed a pillow. Sinking down again, she rolled onto her side, then she moaned.
“What is it, my love?” he asked, and the herd all stepped forward, nearly crowding into the stall, awaiting her answer.
“My cloak,” she said. “Too warm. And boots. And stockings. All off. Please,” Jenny added, hoping he didn’t still think her a shrew from earlier.
“Everyone,” her mother said loudly, “back up, please.”
Jenny could hear the shuffling of feet, which she could no longer see without lifting her head, and she felt no compunction to lift it.
With more room, Simon and her mother were able to remove her cloak, then her sisters got to work taking off her boots and stockings.
“Those are my Wellies!” Eleanor exclaimed, though everyone ignored her.
Jenny sighed as the cool air touched her toes, then she scrabbled at her skirts to lift them higher.
“Darling,” Simon said, warning her, she guessed, that there were still people within viewing distance. That wasn’t her concern. She wanted to feel the coolness upon her legs.
“Never mind,” he muttered and backed out of the stall. “I suggest we all give Jenny some privacy while we await the midwife,” he told the rest of her family and any servants who’d gathered.
Apparently, no one was listening to him because Eleanor and Maggie marched past him back into the stall, dropping to their knees beside her.
“Let’s get you out of all these wet things,” Maggie said, being the most recent to give birth among them.
“Wet?” Jenny heard her husband repeat, sounding puzzled, reminding her why men were not usually present at a birthing.
“Simon,” Maggie called over her shoulder to her brother-in-law, “perhaps we could have another lantern and all of you men could wait around the corner. I saw a bench by the door, yes?”
In a moment, another lamp was handed in, and Eleanor climbed up the railing between the stalls and hung it on the lamp hook.
Jenny appreciated her family’s help because the crippling waves of pain had stolen her ability to speak, let alone to think rationally. All she could do was try to breathe steadily, for each time she gave in to the panic of what was happening, she started to pant. And the more she panted, the more lightheaded she felt, ready to faint.
Then time stood still. Wracking pain, sips of water, her clothing disappearing from her body except for her shift—it all happened through her haze of labor. She heard Mr. Binkley on the other side of the wooden stall discussing people’s orders for tea or brandy and even sandwiches, as if they were setting up a party in the stables.
Apparently, they were having a Christmas Eve party after all. And everyone was there. Who was looking after Lionel? And what about Maggie’s daughter? Jenny hadn’t even asked about her.
“Rosie?” she mumbled.
“In the nursery,” Maggie assured her, “with the nanny and Lionel. Don’t you worry.”
“Jasper?”
“Who?” her sister asked.
It was Simon who answered, though Jenny couldn’t see him. She should have known he was hovering close by.
“The little boy who found her.”
Jenny smiled. It was actually the other way around. She had found him, but he had been her little savior, carrying her message to those who loved her.
“He’s all right?” she asked.
“Binkley said the lad was eating from a plate piled high.” Her husband’s voice had such a soothing pitch to it, low and rumbling. If not for the pain, she could drift off to sleep. Instead, she gasped when her muscles contracted again.
“She’s here!” the Earl of Cambrey’s voice rang out.
Befu
ddled for a moment, Jenny thought he meant Maggie because she had awaited her sister for so many hours over the past few days. But Maggie was beside her.
The midwife’s round-cheeked face poked into the stall, and all the Blackwood ladies gave a collective sigh of relief. Beside her, Simon appeared, carrying the birthing stool, which he set down before disappearing again. Emily carried her familiar bag containing oils and smelling salts, also soft, clean cloths. And perhaps most importantly of all, she held the experience of many births within her.
“I had a feeling they would come before the new year,” Emily said, kneeling beside her.
“I have far more than a feeling,” Jenny replied wryly.
The midwife grinned, her dimples showing. “I need some hot water or at least warm, in a large tub for the cloths, and another shallower bowl so I can warm some oil.”
She said all this over her shoulder while keeping her intelligent, dark eyes trained on Jenny, obviously taking her measure, gauging how well she was holding up. Next, the midwife cleared some straw away and positioned the birthing stool.
“Well, ladies, we’ve done this before, haven’t we? Nothing we can’t do again.”
“I haven’t done this,” Eleanor protested.
Emily chuckled at her. “You were at your sister’s last birth, I recall. And you were very helpful.”
In truth, Jenny recalled her youngest sister had barely arrived at Belton in time, along with their mother and Maggie, from London. Eleanor had wandered the edge of the spacious bedroom, but she’d been skittish at best. Now, they were in very tight quarters. If she stayed, she would get the full experience.
Emily had other plans for her. “Will you make sure those men out there are getting my pots of water right quick? And I’d imagine your sister might need a little sustenance, some sweet warm, milky tea. But not too hot, mind you.”
Eleanor ran out of the stall like a young colt. The rest of them exchanged glances. At the best of times, childbirth could be a frightening experience to watch. And with Jenny carrying two babies, they knew there was even more danger.
“Your water broke,” Emily noted. “How long ago?”
