by Karen Ranney
“It’s important that the countess be moved to a chair until we can ready her bed.”
She nodded and helped Lauren to a chair not far away.
“The woman terrifies me, Jennifer,” she whispered. “She always has. I do wish my father hadn’t hired her.”
It was a bit late to be concerned with Mr. Campbell’s arrangements.
“What if she’s sent word to him?”
“I thought he was still in America,” Jennifer said.
Lauren shook her head. “He told me that he’d be here, and whenever my father says he’ll be somewhere, he’s there. He never breaks his word. Never.”
The two women looked at each other.
It wouldn’t look good if Lauren’s father arrived at Adaire Hall before her husband. Jennifer could just imagine his reaction if Harrison wasn’t here.
However, the man had been more than willing to marry his daughter to an earl. Or perhaps she’d misjudged Mr. Campbell’s desire for a title. Or, since Lauren hadn’t made any secret of the fact that she adored Harrison, maybe her father had consented to the match simply to make his daughter happy.
Mrs. Farmer and the maid were stripping the bed down to the mattress. Once that was done, several sheets were folded in half lengthwise and stretched across the width of the mattress before being tucked in on the sides. The middle part of the bed was covered in lengths of toweling before an older set of sheets was placed over everything.
Another troubling detail was that Mrs. Farmer had a length of sheet tied to each of the two upper bedposts. She didn’t say what they were for, but Jennifer had an idea that Lauren would be using them before her labor was over.
“We need a comfortable nightgown for the countess. Do you have something older yet still serviceable?”
Jennifer doubted it, since her sister-in-law had arrived last year with seven trunks of new clothes, most of them made for her in Paris.
“I do,” she said, leaving the room to retrieve the garments.
Once in her own suite, she went to the bottom drawer of her dresser and took out two cotton nightgowns, both of them worn and nearly threadbare. Before returning to Lauren’s room, she took a moment to compose herself.
Women died in childbirth. One of their closest neighbors had died two years ago giving birth to a little boy. He, too, had perished. A friend she’d made in Edinburgh had also died of childbirth fever a few months ago.
Yet more women survived. She had to remember that. Lauren was young, healthy, and Mrs. Farmer was reputed to be an excellent midwife.
She said a quick prayer for Lauren as she rushed back to the earl’s suite.
Once Lauren was changed Mrs. Farmer escorted her back to the bed, making sure she was tucked up and comfortable with two pillows behind her.
Where was Harrison? He’d evidently ignored her letter just as he’d ignored his wife. Was he going to ignore his child as well?
Perhaps that would be for the best. When he was at Adaire Hall, Harrison was difficult, critical, complaining, and generally a misery to be around. Yet Lauren loved him and missed him.
Even as isolated as they were in the Highlands, gossip still filtered to the Hall in the form of London newspapers. Harrison, as the Earl of Burfield, was occasionally mentioned, and not in a way that would please a wife.
“He seems to like London a great deal better than Scotland,” Lauren had said, just in the past week.
“He does at that,” Jennifer said.
“It’s because there aren’t as many entertainments here as there are in London. Harrison’s often bored. His mind is such that it craves stimulation.”
No, it was because there weren’t any gambling establishments locally like there were in London. Harrison was a gambler. He’d always been one for wagering on anything. The worst of it, however, had started after he’d been sent away to school. Ever since, he’d done everything in his power to empty the Adaire coffers and, to her dismay, might be succeeding.
She didn’t say that to Lauren, however. What good would it do to point out some difficult facts to the woman? There was nothing Lauren could do about the situation that she hadn’t already tried. Charm hadn’t worked. Understanding certainly hadn’t.
Not for the first time, she wished her brother was a different kind of man, someone who wasn’t as involved with his own pursuits. Someone who cared about those around him. Yet wishing for him to be different was silly. He wasn’t going to change.
“Now, Lady Jennifer, while I appreciate your assistance, this is not the place for a single woman.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s time for you to leave.”
Jennifer didn’t understand why Mrs. Farmer was being so restrictive. She’d assisted in the birth of the scullery maid’s child, a secret hidden until the moment the girl went into labor. There hadn’t been time to summon anyone else, and Jennifer had been the only one available to help.
Everyone had been ridiculous about that event. They didn’t seem to care that the poor girl had been so terrified that she would be struck off for being pregnant that she’d hidden her condition. No, what everyone paid attention to was the fact that Jennifer was unmarried and therefore too virginal to have witnessed the event.
What nonsense.
How could she possibly leave now with Lauren looking at her with such pleading eyes?
“Mrs. Farmer, I will concede that you have a great deal more experience than I, but Lauren is not just my sister-in-law. She’s my friend. Surely it isn’t necessary for me to leave right this moment?”
Just when she was certain that Mrs. Farmer was going to have her bodily removed, Lauren looked up at the midwife. “Please, Mrs. Farmer. May I stay just for little while.”
“Very well, Your Ladyship.” She didn’t look happy about the concession, however.
Right at the moment, Jennifer didn’t care about the midwife’s feelings.
“Now I’m hungry. Isn’t that awful?” Lauren whispered. “Who’s hungry when they’re having a child?”
When Jennifer asked Mrs. Farmer if Lauren could have something to eat, the midwife just frowned at her.
Jennifer would have left to fetch Lauren some mints she’d purchased in Edinburgh, except for one thing. She wasn’t sure Mrs. Farmer would let her back into the room.
“Could you read some of the book you were reading before?”
Jennifer nodded and picked up the book. She noticed, as she read, that Mrs. Farmer seemed to listen along as well. Anything to keep her from mentioning how long the labor was going to be.
For most of the morning, nothing further happened. Then Lauren’s face suddenly contorted. She gripped the sheets with both hands, her eyes wild.
Jennifer turned to find the midwife. “Mrs. Farmer!”
The woman looked over at the bed. “It’s only the birthing process, Lady Jennifer. She’ll have plenty of those pains before the bairn is born.”
Yet the contraction seemed to last forever. When it was over, Lauren sagged against the pillows, her face damp with perspiration.
More women lived than died during childbirth. She had to keep that thought in her mind. It became even more difficult during the next hour as Lauren experienced three more labor pains. During the last one she cried out, and all Mrs. Farmer did was bathe her forehead with a damp cloth.
“Isn’t there something you can do?” Jennifer asked.
“This is why I don’t like to have young misses in my birthing rooms,” the midwife replied. “You don’t understand the pain that a woman has to go through in order to bear children. It’s something that God decreed. Would you have the countess be spared?”
“Yes,” Jennifer said. “Queen Victoria had the use of chloroform. Why shouldn’t Lauren?”
The midwife looked decidedly disapproving now.
“I think it’s time you left.”
“On the contrary, I’d like to stay.”
“As I told you earlier, Lady Jennifer, Her Ladyship will pro
bably be in labor for quite some time.”
“Is there anything she needs, Mrs. Farmer? Or anything I can get you?”
“Rest and patience. The good Lord will bring this child into the world on His timetable, Lady Jennifer. Not ours. In the meantime, your presence here is scandalous. You’re a single woman.”
“It’s all right, Jennifer. Truly,” Lauren said. She looked exhausted and it had only been an hour. Her hairline was damp. Her face was pale except for spots of color on the top of her cheeks. Even her lips looked a little bluish.
She made a gesture with her finger and Jennifer bent close.
“Don’t make the dragon mad,” Lauren whispered. “She’ll be even more unbearable.”
“Are you very sure?” Jennifer asked, holding her sister-in-law’s hand.
“I am. You can go and welcome my father, who I’m sure is going to be here any minute.”
“And Harrison.”
They smiled at each other, and Jennifer hoped she wasn’t lying.
Where was her brother?
Chapter Fifteen
Since she didn’t want to disturb Gordon when he was with Sean and it was too early for lunch, Jennifer left the Hall, her destination the bench beside the loch.
Nothing here ever changed. The years passed in tranquility; the beauty of the Scottish scenery remained as awe-inspiring as it had for centuries. The loch didn’t dry up. The hills didn’t crumble. Nothing ever changed.
She’d come to this spot when it was evident her mother wasn’t going to recover from the pneumonia that was sapping her strength. She’d come here after she’d made all the funeral arrangements, since Harrison didn’t seem to want to accept any of his responsibilities. It was here she’d come when he brought his carousing friends home, some of whom had wandering hands. She’d had to slap a young man because he’d made an advance toward her. Her brother hadn’t said a word to him.
They were only a year apart, and when they were small, they’d played together and been friends. As they grew, however, they’d grown apart as well. Harrison was only too cognizant that he was the sixth Earl of Burfield. All other lesser mortals, even a sister, were beneath his notice.
She didn’t know if Mr. McBain had anything to do with Harrison’s arrogance or if he’d gained an inflated opinion of himself away at university. She suspected it was a combination of the two.
Once his education was finished, Harrison spent more time in Edinburgh and London. Nor did that change after their mother’s death. He’d attained his majority, so there was no further need for a guardian. All restrictions on the Adaire fortune were released as well. Harrison seemed to think that his only task was to live a life of hedonism.
She understood, in a sense. Adaire Hall was isolated, one of the jewels of the Highlands, but not a place that a young man might wish to spend all his time. Yet even after Harrison returned with news that he was to be married his behavior hadn’t changed. After the wedding he’d simply deposited Lauren here and gone off to live the life he’d established in London.
Now his wife needed him and he was nowhere to be found.
“Are you angry about something?”
She turned to see Gordon standing there, one hand on the back of the bench.
“Do I look angry?”
He came around the bench and sat. “As a matter of fact, you do. You’re glaring at the loch.”
“I am angry,” she confessed. “About Harrison.”
He didn’t say anything, which she appreciated. He never tried to talk her out of feeling what she was feeling or offering her a rational explanation when she was feeling emotional. She’d always been able to be herself with him.
“Lauren needs him and he isn’t here.”
He still didn’t say anything.
She glanced at him with a smile. “You’ve learned tact in the past five years, Gordon. The young man I knew would have launched into a speech about how selfish Harrison had always been.”
He shrugged. “Why say something twice when it’s already been said?”
She shook her head, her smile disappearing. “At least my mother isn’t here to see his behavior. It would have disappointed her greatly.”
He squeezed her hand. “Perhaps he’s been delayed for some reason. His carriage could’ve lost a wheel. He could have missed the train.”
“He could have been set upon by pirates. Or robbers. Perhaps his trunks were set afire and he had no clothes.”
They smiled at each other.
“Perhaps he’ll shock us both,” he said, taking her hand and turning it over to inspect the palm.
What did he see? It was the hand of a woman who often forgot to use the lemon-scented cream on her vanity.
“The last time I heard from him he was annoyed, but then he often is with me. I did something to anger him.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him to be a better husband. Evidently, I’m not to ever criticize Harrison.”
“Or spend too much time with me. That always set him off.”
He curled her fingers toward the palm and then covered them with his hand.
“You were my best friend, Gordon. I was just thinking how many times I came here in the past five years and wished I had you to talk to.” She stole a glance at him. “I have so much to learn about those missing five years.”
“And I have so much to tell you. Is it just Harrison that has you upset?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been banished from the birthing room because I’m single. Unmarried. Therefore, I am too innocent to view my niece’s or nephew’s birth. Mrs. Farmer evidently believes that I would run screaming from the room.”
“Who’s Mrs. Farmer?”
“A very interfering midwife Lauren’s father hired from Edinburgh. The woman does not tolerate any disobedience, from Lauren or me, for that matter. Lauren should have one member of the family with her. If Harrison could not be bothered, there is always me. However, Mrs. Farmer refuses to allow me admittance. God forbid I should discover how babies are born.” She looked up at the sky. “Does the woman not realize that Adaire Hall has a great many horses, cows, pigs, and sheep?”
“But Harrison wouldn’t be in the birthing room, either.”
She nodded. “You have a point. But the woman doesn’t have to be so annoying.”
His laughter surprised her and made her grateful that he could turn aside her anger and worry.
Mrs. Farmer was right in one respect. There was nothing she could do to speed up Lauren’s labor. The baby would come when the baby would come.
She glanced at him and then back at the water. “I missed your laugh the most, I think.”
“While I missed laughing with you.”
“Do you think we’ve changed, the two of us?”
“Life changes us,” he said.
“Absence changed us,” Jennifer added.
“Longing does as well.”
She dared herself to look at him again. “What have you longed for, Gordon?”
“Do you really need to ask me that question?”
She looked away again, this time at the ground between the bench and the shoreline. It was littered with various sizes of brown and black stones. When they were younger, they’d challenged each other. Who would be better at skipping stones across the water? He almost always won, but she’d had years of practice.
“I missed you so much. When you left, it was like you took my heart with you.”
He startled her by reaching over and grabbing her around the waist and hauling her onto his lap.
“What are you doing?”
“Being rash and reckless. It’s been years since I allowed myself to be either.”
“And you expect me to be rash and reckless as well?” She couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Last night you wanted to be.”
“Ah, but you counseled restraint,” she said.
“More fool me. Do you want to move?”
She shook her head. �
�Do I look foolish?”
Should she tell him that she’d gone to him last night? For a moment she considered remaining silent. Then that same daring spirit that had been awakened around him pressed her to speak.
“I came to you last night,” she said, feeling her face flame. “I dressed in my prettiest nightgown and was intent on seducing you.”
He didn’t say anything, but his smile faded as they looked at each other.
“I was awake most of the night. I would have remembered if you’d come visiting.”
She shouldn’t have said anything because now she had to tell him the rest of the story.
“The footman saw me. He and I spoke and then Lauren opened her door.”
“So you were well and truly found out.”
Now she knew her face was bright red. “I was. I retreated to my room after that.”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I know, but I’m not sorry. I only wish the footman hadn’t been there.”
“Me, too. But perhaps I’m foolish to wish that.”
“I should dismiss all the footmen.”
“What will you do about Lauren?” he asked with a smile.
“She’ll be having her baby soon. Surely he will keep her busy. I don’t need a chaperone.”
“After last night I’m more than sure you do,” he said with a smile.
Gordon wasn’t demonstrative by nature, having been trained that it was best not to show emotion. Betty had been his teacher, followed by Sean. Yet around Jennifer he’d always been different, freer to be himself, perhaps. Or it could be that she brought out the best in him.
Mary was always touching her children, smoothing her hand across Harrison’s sleeve, reaching up and placing her palm against Jennifer’s cheek. He’d been envious of that easy familiarity, that sign of caring. More than once she stopped Harrison, called him back, and made him bend down so that she could smooth his hair away from his forehead or kiss his cheek. When that happened and he saw it, Gordon couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. The only time Betty touched him was to give him the back of her hand.
Jennifer was like her mother. She’d always touched him, her fingers brushing his wrist. Sometimes she’d placed her hand on his shoulder in a wordless gesture of comfort.
