Taken to Heart

by Jane Jackson

  Pressing Tamara’s hand in reassurance, Jenefer spoke up. ‘Molly, give Jon what you have prepared for him, then put on his coat and hat and walk him round to Trescowe. Ask Mrs Casvellan to come as soon as possible. If it’s convenient for Jon to stay and play with Enor, you come back with her for you’ll be needed here.’

  Molly looked aghast. ‘But I can’t − I’ve never—’

  ‘In the kitchen, Molly. That’s where you’ll be needed during Mrs Bosanko’s absence, to supply whatever Mrs Casvellan may need, and prepare dinner. I’m sure you can do that.’

  Visibly relieved and with dawning pride, Molly nodded. ‘Yes, miss. ’Course I can. You leave it to me.’

  As the door closed, Tamara released Jenefer’s arm. ‘Do you mind pouring the tea yourself?’

  ‘Not at all. Will you have some?’

  Tamara shook her head. ‘I’ve lost all taste for it.’

  ‘What about a cold drink? Some lemonade perhaps?’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  Jenefer gazed at her feeling helpless and inept. ‘Is there anything I can get you? Anything at all that would help?’

  Tamara’s face crumpled for an instant. She made a valiant effort to smile but her mouth quivered. ‘Only Devlin. But he’s not here and cannot be reached.’

  Leaving the tray, Jenefer crossed quickly and hugged her friend, careful to avoid her huge belly. ‘Oh, Tamara. I’d find him and fetch him if I could.’

  With a sound that was half laugh, half sob, Tamara wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. ‘Perhaps it’s just as well. If he were here he would drive us all to distraction with his fretting.’

  Gently rocking Tamara, offering what comfort she could, Jenefer pictured the Devlin she knew: a man who inspired loyalty in his friends and hatred in his enemies. He had risked his life on a mission to France to rescue her fiancé whose whole life was a lie: who had conspired with her father and betrayed her trust. While saving his best friend, now Betsy’s husband, from the wild waves, he had almost drowned. He would have, had not Tamara, heedless of her own safety, waded thigh-deep into the crashing surf and dragged him out.

  The image of them both soaked to the skin, oblivious of the crowd, holding each other as if they would never let go, while rescuers struggled to save the rest of the boat’s crew and Mrs Gillis shrieked in hysterics, was indelibly etched on Jenefer’s memory.

  The past three years had only deepened their love. Yet Jenefer was astonished that Tamara should want her husband with her at such a time. It was unheard of. Childbirth was the most intimate of women’s experiences. And yet to love a man so much, and know you mattered to him more than anything else, what must that be like? Suddenly she recalled the intensity of Charles’s expression the night he had kissed her. But if that look had meant what she hoped it did, why had he remained silent?

  The gentle pressure of Tamara pushing her away brought her back to the present.

  ‘Drink your tea, Jenna. Go on,’ she urged, with an impish grin. ‘I am sure you need it after arriving here to such a to-do.’ Fine curls had escaped the coil pinned high on her crown. Wet and dark, they were plastered to her forehead, temples and the nape of her neck. Frowning in discomfort she untied the kerchief draped about her shoulders and flung it aside, then pulled at the sleeves and bodice of the spotted peach muslin clinging damply to her skin.

  With a hand that was not quite steady, Jenefer poured tea into a cup. The pot rattled as she set it down. She added a dash of milk.

  ‘How—?’ she began, then shook her head.

  ‘How what?’ Tamara looked round as she continued her slow progress around the room, cradling her belly with one hand while she rested the other on a chair back for support.

  ‘No, it was a stupid question.’

  ‘Ask me anyway. I’ll tell you if I can.’

  ‘How do you bear the pain?’

  Tamara shrugged. ‘I have no choice.’

  Jenefer made an apologetic face. ‘I told you it was a stupid question.’

  Tamara touched her arm as she passed. ‘You didn’t let me finish. I have no choice while it’s happening. But if I am as fortunate this time as I was with Jon, it will only last for a few hours. It’s not like being ill. I’m bringing a new life into the world: our child, Devlin’s and mine. Through Jon and this new baby, some part of us will go on. They are our stake in the future.’ She grinned over her shoulder. ‘Hark at me.’

  ‘Actually, it’s a rather beautiful thought.’

  ‘Then you must remind me of it when I am inflicting yet another bruise on your poor arm. Though I should warn you now, if you do I will probably bite your head off.’

  ‘I shall try to make allowances. But only because you are my particular friend.’

  Tamara’s eyes filled. ‘I’m truly glad you are here.’ Impatiently she dashed the tears away. ‘Take no notice. I am not unhappy. It is just—’ words failed her and she shrugged. ‘What’s in the parcel?’

  ‘A gift for your new son or daughter.’

  ‘Oh, Jenna. How kind. Thank you.’

  ‘You haven’t seen it yet.’

  ‘It’s from you, so I shall love it.’ Tamara moved slowly round the sofa.

  ‘Let me—’

  ‘Drink your tea. And sit down. You need not remain standing. I promise I am not about to fall over. And I am perfectly able to open my own gifts.’ Laying the parcel on the side table she pulled the bow loose, carefully unfolded the tissue then lifted out the shawl. ‘Oh!’ Closing her eyes she held it to her face. Jenefer was appalled to see huge tears tremble on her lashes, then spill down her cheeks.

  ‘Tamara—?’

  ‘It’s so beautiful. So fine. I can’t— ‘Her chin dropped and she reached out. ‘Jen – please—’

  Swiftly setting her cup down, Jenefer tossed the shawl onto the sofa, put her arm around Tamara and took her hand, ready this time for the vice-like grip.

  As the pain subsided, Jenefer heard footsteps in the hallway and turned as the door opened and Roz walked in with Molly close behind.

  Swallowing relief that left her decidedly shaky, Jenefer smiled. ‘Roz, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.’

  Setting her basket on a table, Roz began removing her hat and coat, turning to the maid as she did so. ‘All right, Molly, off you go. Kettle first. Then take two sheets and a blanket to Mrs Varcoe’s bedroom. The oldest ones you can find.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Casvellan.’ With a quick bob, Molly scuttled out.

  Tossing her coat over the back of a chair and dropping her hat on top, Roz came to Tamara and took both her hands, her tone warm and gentle. ‘How often are the pains coming?’

  ‘I’m not sure—’

  ‘About every fifteen minutes,’ Jenefer said.

  Roz nodded and Jenefer was amazed at her calm. Then she realized: having borne a child herself, Roz was familiar with everything it entailed.

  ‘Shall we go upstairs now?’

  ‘I’m so uncomfortable, Roz.’

  ‘Might a sponge down with cool water and a clean nightgown help?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Tamara’s response was heartfelt. ‘But I don’t want to lie down.’

  ‘Then you need not,’ Roz said calmly. ‘Until you tell me you are ready.’ She took one arm, Jenefer the other, and they supported Tamara up the stairs.

  As they entered the master bedroom, Jenefer’s gaze flew to the big oak bed where Tamara and Devlin lay each night. Heat flashed over her skin and, pierced by an arrow of longing, she averted her eyes.

  Tamara’s grip tightened. ‘Roz—’ she gasped. Then shaking them both off she grasped the footboard and braced herself on outstretched arms, bowing her head as the contraction strengthened.

  ‘Jen, light the fire, will you?’ Roz gently rubbed Tamara’s lower back.

  Molly brought a pitcher of steaming water. After a quick glance at her mistress that combined sympathy and fear, she looked away. ‘I’ll fetch the sheets now.’

  ‘Bring up my basket firs
t, will you?’ Roz said. ‘Then fill a clean teapot with boiling water and bring it up with a cup and spoon.’ As Molly rushed out again, Roz explained. ‘An infusion of raspberry leaves and golden seal will help with the contractions.’

  Jenefer shrugged helplessly. ‘I’ve never – I’m completely out of my depth.’

  ‘So would we be if we tried to do your job,’ Roz said. ‘But I’m so glad you’re here. I’d be hard-pressed to manage alone, and Molly would be more hindrance than help.’

  ‘Neither use nor ornament, according to Mrs Bosanko,’ Tamara said; her voice tight, her eyes still closed. ‘But she has endless patience with Jon and he adores her.’

  ‘Just tell me what to do,’ Jenefer begged.

  ‘Stop worrying,’ Roz said. ‘Tamara is fine. Everything is just as it should be.’

  ‘That’s all very well for you to say,’ Tamara grumbled as she slowly straightened up.

  ‘So you’re back with us again. Arms up.’ Lifting Tamara’s gown over her head, Roz passed it to Jenefer who was about to lay it over the back of a chair when Molly ran in with the basket, grabbed the sweat-damp gown and dashed out again.

  Roz handed Jenefer a clean white apron and quickly tied another around her own waist. Then while Roz sponged Tamara down and gently patted her dry, Jenefer prepared the bed with a square of tarpaulin covered by a folded blanket and an old sheet.

  As the afternoon wore on, Tamara’s contractions grew more frequent. Clad in a fresh cotton nightgown she prowled the room, occasionally sipping the herbal infusion, and supporting herself on anything within reach when the pains came.

  Jenefer fetched in the crib, and hung small sheets and blankets, a tiny shirt and several muslin squares on an airer in front of the fire. Molly emptied the slop bucket, brought in a second pail, more hot water and fresh towels. Then Roz sent her to find scissors and silk yarn.

  When Tamara could no longer walk, Roz helped her onto the bed, bathing her flushed face with a cool wet cloth while she groaned.

  Wrenched by Tamara’s suffering, Jenefer moved about the room. She added more coal to the fire. Thick clouds obscured the sun and darkened the room. Jenefer lit every candle she could find, hating her own helplessness.

  ‘Patience,’ Roz mumured, pressing her shoulder gently as she passed.

  ‘How does she bear it?’

  ‘Because she has no choice. Yes, it’s hard. But it has a purpose. As soon as she sees her baby all this will be forgotten.’

  Though she would not argue the point, Jenefer could not imagine how anyone could ever forget such agony.

  Suddenly Tamara raised her knees and curled forward. ‘Roz, I need – I have to—’ Her whole body shuddered as she grunted with effort.

  ‘If you’re ready to push, it won’t be long now. You’re doing so well,’ Roz encouraged, as Tamara slumped back, her eyes closed as she heaved in air. Her face was drawn with exhaustion and plum-coloured shadows had formed beneath her eyes. Seeing her tongue snake across her dry lips, Jenefer trickled a little lemonade into her mouth and was rewarded with a weary smile. Then Tamara tensed for another push, her lips drawn back as she strained.

  From her position near the foot of the bed, Roz glanced up. ‘I can see the head.’

  Pins and needles tingled in Jenefer’s arms and legs. Her heartbeat was fast and loud in her ears. Then pain knifed through her chest. Realizing she had been holding her breath in sympathy she released it and the unpleasant tingling faded.

  ‘Wait, Tamara,’ Roz urged, her hands busy. ‘All right. Push now. Your baby is nearly here. One more.’

  After a mighty effort, Tamara fell back against the pillows. Jenefer heard a quivering kitten-like cry.

  ‘Well, look at you,’ Roz crooned, laughing in delight as she lifted a small slippery pink body and laid it on Tamara’s deflated stomach. ‘You have a beautiful daughter.’

  Jenefer marvelled at the little face, screwed up as if in angry complaint. Tiny arms waved. Little legs kicked erratically. Her vision blurred then tears slid down her cheeks as she watched Tamara reverently stroke her baby’s dark head.

  ‘Ohhh!’ Tamara breathed. ‘Aren’t you just perfect?’

  The mewing cries stopped with a hiccup. The baby’s eyes opened and a frown creased her downy forehead.

  Jenefer swallowed the huge lump in her throat. ‘She knows your voice.’

  ‘Of course she does,’ Tamara said softly. ‘I have been talking to her for months. Welcome, Zoe Varcoe. I am so happy to see you.’ She raised her head. ‘Thank you, Roz, with all my heart.’ Then she looked up at Jenefer. Drawn and damp from her exertions, she was radiant. In that moment Jenefer understood. This perfect little being, this new life, made all the pain and effort worthwhile. ‘And you, Jenna.’

  ‘I’m so glad I was here. To be part of this – it is such a privilege. You were so brave.’ For the first time she understood what was meant by labour.

  Roz quickly tied two lengths of silk yarn around the silver-blue cord then cut it, then gently wrapped the baby in a length of warm muslin. ‘Jenefer, would you like to hold her? We’re not quite finished.’

  Jenefer looked at Tamara. ‘May I?’

  As Tamara nodded and winced in the grip of an after-pain, Roz placed the bundled baby in Jenefer’s arms and began to gently massage Tamara’s flaccid belly.

  Cradling the warm weight, awed by the miracle she had witnessed, Jenefer swallowed more tears and crossed to the window. Raindrops streaked the glass and she was astonished to see how dark it was. Charles. She caught her breath, thoughts racing. He would be waiting, wondering where she was, if she had forgotten. No, he would not think that. Surely he must know that only something of great importance would have prevented her from keeping their appointment?

  She heard voices, Molly’s protesting and a man’s raised in anger, then the sound of booted feet. She turned in time to see the door flung open. Devlin burst in, his coat wet and dark across the shoulders, his face a mask of fear. Roz quickly drew a sheet over Tamara’s lower body.

  Without a glance at either woman, Devlin crossed to his wife. Dropping to one knee beside the bed, he clasped Tamara’s hand, kissed it then held it to his cheek.

  ‘Are you all right?’ His voice was hoarse.

  ‘I’m very well,’ she touched his face.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would never have gone.’

  ‘Better for you that you did.’ Tamara’s smile softened into tender adoration. ‘Would you like to meet your new daughter?’

  ‘What? My—?’ Looking round Devlin rose to his feet in one lithe movement. He glanced from Roz to Jenefer then his gaze fell on the bundle she held. They both stepped forward and she placed the baby in his arms. Her throat stiffened at the expression of awe on his harsh features, and she gulped back fresh tears.

  Roz caught her eye and they quietly left the room and met Molly on the landing.

  ‘A tray of tea and toast for Mrs Varcoe, please Molly. The proud parents wish for a few private moments with their baby daughter.’

  ‘A little girl! That’s ’andsome, that is. A little sister for Master Jon, dear of ’n.’ Molly beamed. ‘Mrs Bosanko will be spitting feathers for missing it.’ She hurried down the stairs.

  ‘Roz,’ Jenefer touched her friend’s arm. ‘I would not have missed this for the world. But I must go.’

  ‘Judging by Devlin’s appearance, it’s pouring outside. Come back to Trescowe and spend the night with us. You are more than welcome.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you, but I really must get home. I was supposed to be having dinner with Charles’ − she glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall − ‘two hours ago.’

  ‘And he will be wondering where you are and why you did not keep the appointment,’ Roz said. ‘Then of course you must go home. But you cannot cross the moor alone in the dark.’

  As Jenefer opened her mouth, ready to protest that she knew the moor like the back of her hand, Roz raised her hand.

  ‘I know
you could find your way home blindfolded, but my husband would never forgive me, nor would Tamara. Nor, I imagine, would Mr Polgray. Devlin’s man can escort you. Go on down and tell him to saddle both horses. Tamara told me you were visiting her today. She was supposed to ask you to call at Trescowe afterwards so I could give you another bottle of liquorice mixture for Percy Tresidder and a pot of arnica ointment for Mr Polgray’s wrist. They are in my basket, so you can take them with you.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Devlin’s manservant waited while Jenefer dismounted. Grasping the bridle, the lad hunched his shoulders against the rain falling on his bare head.

  ‘Please give Mr Rollason my apologies,’ Jenefer said, as she took a bottle and a small pot from the saddle-bag. ‘I did not intend being out so late.’

  ‘No trouble, miss,’ the boy said. ‘Mister didn’t need ’n.’ Turning away he clicked his tongue, urging the cob into the stable.

  Jenefer returned to the gate. ‘You go on back now,’ she told the manservant. ‘My cottage is only a few yards down the road. And thank you. I was glad of your company.’

  ‘No trouble, miss.’ With a nod, he wheeled his mount and trotted away towards the moor.

  As she closed the door, Jenefer’s shoulders sagged as a wave of tiredness rolled over her and with it disappointment. She had meant every word when she told Roz she would not have missed being present for the birth of Tamara’s daughter. It had been an amazing, awe-inspiring experience. But it was not the afternoon she had looked forward to so much. Indeed, being present at the birth, then witnessing Devlin’s arrival; his blindness to all but his wife; had made her even more aware of longings that, since meeting Charles, she could no longer suppress or ignore.

  Wearily, she set the bottle of mixture and pot of ointment on the table, lit the lamp and drew the curtain across the kitchen window. Untying the ribbons holding her bonnet in place, she shook it, dropped it on the table, then unbuttoned her coat. The fire in the range had gone out. But after riddling the ashes and laying furze logs on the kindling, she quickly got it going again.