‘I helped an experienced mother with her husband there, who also knew just what to expect,’ Giles protested, even as he clambered over the wall and began to dig again.
‘We have both got common sense, you have some experience, Dorothy’s a practical girl, for all her nerves about it. We’ll manage,’ Julia said firmly, more to convince herself than Giles. ‘There really isn’t any other option.’
* * *
They soon got within ten yards of Dorothy as the level of the snow began to lower in the shelter of taller trees and the cottage.
‘Give me the spade and you go and change your clothes,’ Julia said. ‘You are soaking wet.’
‘I’ll finish this.’ Giles kept hold of the shovel.
‘You will be no use if we deliver the baby and you come down with pneumonia.’
‘And there I was thinking you were worried about my well-being.’ Giles handed her the spade and turned back.
I’ve offended him, she thought, then caught the ghost of a laugh as he vanished down the path behind her.
What sort of gentleman has a sense of humour about being made to dig snow, about being interrupted in the middle of a kiss and about being dragooned into assisting at a childbed?
One I rather like, Julia concluded as she dragged her sodden glove across her tingling mouth and began to dig again.
It was easier to focus on each foot of snow in front of her, on placing each shovelful well out of the way, on looking up and smiling encouragement at Dorothy than it was to ponder on what exactly she had done, kissing a man she was stranded with. No one could get through this snow down to the village, which meant they would have to spend another night together.
Or no... If they reached Bluebell Cottage, then she could stay there, leave Beech View to Giles. The thought should have been a relief. Of course it was.
No more star-gazing. No more kisses.
‘Give me that and you go and get changed as well,’ Giles said from behind her. He made her jump and she dropped the shovel, turned and hurried back along the path, back to the warmth and away from those all-too-perceptive eyes, those tempting lips.
* * *
‘Good morning!’ Giles called when he saw the red-headed young woman stop shovelling to stare at him.
‘You gave me a fright, sir! Didn’t see you for that big drift on the bank.’
‘You must be Dorothy. I am Giles Darrowby, stranded in the storm yesterday.’ Her eyes widened and, before she could start speculating about just where he had spent the night, he added, ‘I gather we have a baby to deliver.’
‘Yes, sir, that we do. But there’s no doctor.’
‘That’s all right, I’m...er...experienced with childbirth.’
‘Oh, Dr Darrowby! Heavens be praised, you’re a miracle and no mistake. I’ll run and tell them, they’ll be so relieved.’
‘Did you just tell her that you were a doctor?’ Julia demanded, arriving back at his side. She had changed into a dry gown, he noticed, seeing the dark blue skirt below her wrapping of shawls and a long scarf. Her blue mittens matched and for some reason that made him smile.
‘I implied it. If it stops them panicking and keeps the mother calm, it can only help.’
‘I suppose so. But what if there are complications?’ She bit her lip and shot him a rueful smile. ‘I should not borrow trouble, should I?’
‘We probably have enough already,’ Giles agreed with a smile. ‘If there are complications, they will happen whoever I tell them I am. A dozen more spadefuls and we will be through.’
He thought he heard her sigh and glanced down, the snow balanced on the blade of the shovel. Julia’s face was tense, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She looked well kissed and he knew he should feel guilty, but all he was aware of was disappointment at the interruption.
‘Frightened?’ he asked, hoping that his own anxiety was not showing.
‘Terrified,’ she admitted. ‘But that’s not going to help. Come on, Dr Darrowby.’
The Misses Jepson were in the kitchen, one talking soothingly to a scrap of a child who was peeling potatoes at the kitchen table, the other clearly about to go out of the far door with a pile of clean linen in her hands. The elder stood up, a formidably tall woman with a face that, unfortunately, somewhat resembled a horse. But an amiable horse, Giles decided as Julia introduced him.
‘This is Giles Darrowby, Miss Jepson. He has been stranded by the storm on his way to the village. Mr Darrowby, Miss Jepson and Miss Margaret Jepson.’
Miss Margaret, the younger sister, was shorter, plumper and prettier with blue eyes and thickly waving grey hair, rather out of control in contrast to her sister’s tight coiffure. ‘We are so thankful to have your expertise, Doctor. Or perhaps I should address you as Mister. That is correct with surgeons, is it not? I have never quite understood the etiquette of it. One would not wish to give offence—’
‘None taken, ma’am. Mr Darrowby will do excellently.’ He cut her off before she could launch into the distinction between doctors, surgeons and apothecaries.
‘And you are a man midwife?’ Miss Jepson interjected.
‘Er...no. That is not my speciality.’
I know more about breeding thoroughbreds and farrowing pigs, but you do not want to hear that.
‘But I can assure you all the births I have attended have had happy outcomes for mother and child.’
All one of them.
‘I will take you to your patient,’ Miss Margaret said. ‘We’ve had a bed set up in the small parlour on this floor. So much more convenient, we thought. Dear Annie, she has been so brave about everything.’
As if on cue there was a sound from the front of the house that sent a cold shock down Giles’s gradually thawing spine. The girl at the table dropped her paring knife into the water with a splash.
‘You are making a fine job of those potatoes, Molly.’ Miss Jepson sat down again next to the child and began to talk about how they might be cooked for supper. Giles took a deep breath and followed Miss Margaret as she hurried out of the kitchen.
He looked down and saw Julia beside him. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m not leaving you to face this alone,’ she whispered back and gave his hand a quick squeeze.
Touched, Giles fixed his most confident expression on his face, squared his shoulders and marched into the stuffy little parlour.
* * *
It was not as dreadful as Julia’s ignorant fears had conjured up. No one told unmarried ladies anything about childbirth, but there were always whispers, murmurings that created imaginings at least as bad as reality, she was sure. Certainly having a baby was painful, messy and exhausting, and at one point, when Annie’s grip on her hands felt as though it was crushing the bones, Julia had a fleeting thought that next time she was in church she was going to have a firm word with the Almighty about organising matters better. But after the first few hours she saw Giles relax slightly and when he murmured, ‘Everything seems to be going just as it should, just as I remember,’ she relaxed, too.
There was satisfaction working together on something as basic, as important, as this and she said so when they were resting by the window and Dorothy was sitting with Annie, talking quietly between contractions.
She wondered if Giles would understand what she meant, but he nodded immediately. ‘I agree. It feels so...essential.’ He smiled and shrugged ruefully. ‘And it puts everything else that I think is difficult or important into perspective.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘I am glad you are here.’
‘But I know even less than you,’ Julia protested, keeping her voice down in case the words reached the other two women. ‘And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here having to deal with this.’
‘You are calm, you are practical and you do a very good job of seeming to believe in me.’ He let his head fall back against the cushions and cl
osed his eyes.
‘That is because I do believe in you,’ she said firmly. Her hand was still in his and she could tell he had not fallen asleep. Should she pull it away? But she did not want to and his thumb was stroking back and forth against her palm as though he was absent-mindedly stroking a cat. It was pleasant, more than pleasant if she was honest, and if it helped Giles relax, would it not be selfish to be missish? The tingle the touch created seemed to travel to the most unexpected place and she shifted uneasily on her chair.
Then Annie gasped and Giles sat up, let go of Julia’s hand and sat watching intently.
‘Listen!’ he said and all three women looked at him. ‘Bells. It must be the church bells.’
‘It is Christmas Eve, of course,’ Julia said, startled to discover that she had completely forgotten about it. She went to the window and opened it, keeping the curtain drawn against the cold. ‘The sound is carrying on this still air—I can hear more than one set in the distance as well.’
She closed the window again. ‘A Christmas baby, Annie. What a wonderful gift.’
Annie nodded, then gritted her teeth while another contraction passed. ‘Wouldn’t want to do this in a stable,’ she muttered, making them all laugh.
‘I know, love, straw everywhere,’ Dorothy agreed comfortably. ‘I’ll go and make a nice cup of tea, shall I?’
Chapter Five
The clock struck three as Julia closed the parlour door behind her and tiptoed into the kitchen. Miss Jepson was asleep, bolt upright in the Windsor chair by the range. Miss Margaret snored quietly from the depths of a battered old armchair and all that could be seen of little Molly was her tousled hair sticking out of the mound of blankets covering her on the settle.
Dorothy was slumped at the kitchen table, where she had retreated an hour since at Giles’s insistence. Her head was on her crossed arms, her plait half-unravelled. Julia shook her lightly by the shoulder and whispered, ‘Hush’, in her ear as she sat up. ‘Can you come?’
When they reached the hall she closed the kitchen door and leaned back against it. ‘It’s a boy. He’s perfect and Annie is fine, although she’s exhausted. Have you had enough rest to take over for a while?’
‘Oh, thanks be.’ Dorothy scrubbed her hands over her eyes and smiled. ‘I thought you’d come to say it was still going on.’
‘Mr Darrowby is just, um, tidying up.’ Giles had pushed her out firmly while he dealt with things, which Julia considered was a quite noble level of heroism. ‘I thought you and I could make the bed again and give Annie a wash and then she’ll be comfortable enough to sleep, I hope.’
‘And I’ll sit with her,’ Dorothy said. ‘But I’ll heat up some broth for her first. The two spare bedchambers are all made up if you and Mr Darrowby want to go and rest.’
The thought of lying down was so tempting that Julia swayed where she stood. ‘In a while, let’s just get everything straight and Annie and the baby settled.’
When she opened the door into the parlour Giles was propped against a bookcase, his face white with exhaustion. He had gathered all the soiled linen into one bundle, covered the various basins they had used and now was simply staring at the baby in its mother’s arms as though he had never seen anything like it before.
Julia took his hand and tugged. ‘Go upstairs, there’s a bedchamber at the back for you. I’ll bring you some tea as soon as we have made Annie comfortable.’
‘Mmm.’ He blinked at her. ‘We did a good job, didn’t we?’
‘Yes,’ Julia agreed. ‘We did.’ It had been terrifying at times when it was hard to pretend that they knew exactly what they were doing, to stay calm and cheerful for Annie’s sake. Giles had been a rock, staying throughout while sending Julia and Dorothy off in turns to rest. ‘I do not know what we’d have done without you.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ he said at the same moment and grinned at her, almost too tired to lift both corners of his mouth.
‘Bed.’ Julia pushed him towards the door. ‘Up one flight, there are two rooms at the back.’
He straightened, nodded and went out as Julia turned back to the everyday miracle they had just helped happen.
‘What will you call him?’ she asked Annie when the young woman was settled with Dorothy curled up in the armchair to stay with her through the rest of the night.
‘William for his pa and Giles for Mr Darrowby and Julian for you, miss, if that’s all right.’
‘That’s more than all right.’
Ridiculous. I am not going to start weeping now.
Julia tiptoed out and collected a tray of tea and plum cake from the kitchen and found the older ladies waking. They were jubilant when they heard the good news.
‘We’ll just peep in at them, bless them, before we go to bed. And we’re keeping you from your bed in your own cottage,’ Miss Margaret said, patting her arm as she stood aside to let her go upstairs with the tray. ‘It is very good of you, dear. An imposition, I know, but we feel so much better knowing you and Mr Darrowby are in the house.’
‘It is no trouble at all, Miss Margaret.’ Julia balanced the tray carefully on her way down the shadowy landing. ‘Goodnight.’
Neither of the sisters had asked about ‘Mr Darrowby’s’ sleeping arrangements the night before, nor where he was going to stay tomorrow night, she noticed. Either they were exceedingly tolerant in their views or they were such an innocent pair of spinsters they simply did not think about such things.
One door stood ajar and she pushed it with the tray, expecting to find Giles sitting beside the fire. Instead he was sprawled face down on the bed, snoring gently. He had taken off his coat early on in the afternoon, but other than that, he was fully clothed down to his boots.
Should she wake him up, persuade him to at least take off his footwear? Perhaps better to leave him, he would wake up enough to make himself comfortable in a while, surely. She left a cup of tea and a slice of cake on the nightstand and tiptoed out to the other spare room.
Someone had left a robe at the foot of the bed, so she undressed except for her shift, put on the robe and went back to set the door ajar. If Dorothy needed help, she could be with her without having to worry about dressing.
There was a grunt and a mutter from the room opposite and she hesitated, half-turned back. What if Giles had fallen off the bed? He had been so tired...
She went across the landing again and looked round the door to find that he had turned over and was lying on his back, his boots now on the pristine white coverlet. Julia went in, took one firmly in both hands and tugged. It slid off easily and Giles did not wake. Emboldened, she pulled off the other and set them to one side of the bed, then shivered. He was going to become chilled, lying on top of the covers like that.
Julia pushed, one hand on his shoulder, the other at his hip and Giles turned to the other side of the bed with a protesting mumble. She rolled up the covers behind him, went to the far side and pushed again. Goodness, a full-grown man was heavy. He was boneless, it seemed, a dead weight, but finally he was over the top bedding on to the bottom sheet. Now all she had to do was pull the covers up over him and he’d be snug for what was left of the night.
Off balance, panting, she had half-straightened up when a hand closed firmly around her wrist and tugged. Julia toppled gracelessly on to the bed and Giles’s arm dropped heavily over her waist, pinning her down. He gave a grunt of what sounded like satisfaction, but the next moment he was breathing deeply and evenly again.
She should struggle, wake him up. But he was exhausted and he was fully clothed. What was the harm? No one would come into the room without knocking, surely?
The bed was comfortable and warm and the presence of the man breathing softly beside her was oddly comforting. And unsettling. But Julia knew she was bone-weary, all she had to do was close her eyes...
* * *
Twenty
minutes later she found sleep was completely eluding her. She couldn’t try punching the pillows or turning over, not without wrestling herself free of Giles’s arm. She tried breathing deeply, but that didn’t help. And counting sheep was futile. The stupid things just milled about in their fold and refused to jump fences or even walk in a countable line.
Julia opened her eyes and stared up into the darkness and tried to let her thoughts settle, drift away from babies, the fears and joys of the night, an unsettling desire to burrow closer to Giles and the worry about what the neighbours might think about her when they discovered he had spent a night in her cottage. But her mind would not rest and it gradually began to dawn on her that this inability to sleep meant something and what that was. She was no longer content to stay here in Spinsters’ Row in her cosy exile.
Not that it was exile, she realised bitterly, wondering if exhaustion had been what was necessary to clear her mind. I had run away. I was shy and awkward and not happy, then people I thought were my friends betrayed me and so I ran. But I am not going to run any more.
The resolution was clear and plain in her mind. ‘I am finished with hiding,’ she mumbled to herself as her eyelids finally began to droop.
She found she could relax against the warm body next to hers. Making that decision was what she had needed to finally let go.
* * *
Julia woke to the sound of bells and early, rosy light streaming across the foot of the bed and blinked, trying to remember where she was and why.
It is Christmas Day, I helped deliver a baby last night, I kissed a viscount in a snowdrift and I have made a resolution about my life. My goodness.
Then she became aware of the bed dipping towards the middle and the fact that someone was breathing in her ear and that the viscount in question was no longer in a snowdrift, but in bed beside her.
Her startled gasp must have woken him. ‘What the—Julia? What are you doing in my bed?’ Giles sounded surprised, but not upset by the discovery.
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