After about an hour of no improvement Tilly and Mary became concerned. “Is this normal?” Tilly asked the old woman. “Has my mistress lost the baby now?”
“Too early to say, too early to say,” muttered the old woman.
When, after another hour, Diana was only able to rouse from semi-consciousness in order to vomit, the old woman decided it was time this fine lady left her house.
“You must take her home now. She can’t stay here. Whatever will happen will happen. My job is done.”
“She is surely too ill to move,” said a concerned Tilly.
“You must take her and now,” the crone snarled, indicating the door and pushing them toward it.
Tilly and Mary had to carry Diana between them into the waiting carriage. They feared for her life. “What will the master do to us if owt happens to the mistress,” cried Mary.
“We must pray she survives,” answered Tilly, who was also in tears.
The carriage eventually reached Brockwood Hall, and Lord Brockwood came out onto the drive to meet it.
“My lady has taken ill,” said Tilly through her tears. “We must get her to bed right away.”
Rollo saw that Diana was nearly unconscious and covered in vomit. Without hesitation he scooped her up into his arms. His heart was thumping in his chest with fear, and he realized that this woman, his wife, meant more to him than his own life.
“You. Driver. Go for Dr. Sanders and bring him here immediately. Tell him it is urgent.” The driver set off with the carriage at a blistering pace.
Rollo carefully carried Diana to her room and placed her on the bed. His usually expressionless face was now frowning deeply with concern. He asked Tilly to get a damp cloth and a towel and began to clean her up. Then he wiped at his own soiled clothing while Tilly got Diana into a clean nightgown. The doctor arrived just as she finished.
“Cornelius, thank you for being so prompt,” Rollo greeted him. He had known Dr. Cornelius Sanders since childhood. The doctor was the youngest son of Lord Deely, whose estate abutted the Brockwood estate. Cornelius had been destined for the clergy, but while studying at Oxford University, he had become fascinated with science and, much to his parents’ dismay, had changed his studies to medicine. Upon qualifying, he had returned to the area to practice and had engendered an excellent reputation. Rollo knew he could trust this man.
“Please hurry,” Rollo said. “I fear for my wife’s life. I beg you to do all you can to make her well again. I love her deeply and cannot lose her.”
Cornelius nodded. He had never before seen or heard Rollo display such emotion and sympathized with his fears. “Rollo, I must ask you to leave the room while I carry out my examination, and you—” he looked at Tilly “—must collect yourself and assist me with your mistress.” The maid’s distress and sobbing led him to suspect she knew more about Lady Brockwood’s illness than did her husband.
Diana was too weak to talk and was still retching painfully, even though there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. She had heard Rollo’s entreaty to the doctor and his words of love for her. Her heart almost broke as she wondered if she would still have his love if he found out that she had been, perhaps still was, with child.
The doctor was gently but firmly demanding a response to his questions. When she failed to answer him he turned to the maid. “Tell me where your mistress has been and what she has eaten today.”
Tilly, who had calmed somewhat, burst into tears again. “I cannot tell. My mistress has instructed me not to.”
Cornelius was not satisfied with this and took a firmer approach. “If you do not tell me, I cannot treat your mistress and she may die. I will lay the blame on your shoulders. Is that what you want?”
“No!” Tilly wailed. She feared she’d be dismissed as a lady’s maid, but as she was genuinely fond of her mistress, she tried to be helpful without breaking her promise.
“We went visiting and Lady Brockwood was given something to drink, and afterward she began to be sick and just got worse and worse.”
Well, that’s a start, thought Cornelius. It seemed that he should consider food poisoning. “Can you remember what your mistress was given to drink?” he inquired.
“That I do not know,” Tilly replied truthfully. She had no knowledge of what the old woman had mixed together for Lady Brockwood to drink.
It was clear he would get little more information from the maid, so turned his attention to Lady Brockwood. “I am going to examine you now, my lady. I will try to be gentle, but I need to ascertain if you are suffering as a result of poison of some kind, or if you have a physical problem such as a twisted gut.” He placed his hands on her abdomen, hoping he could palpate her stomach through her thin nightshirt. As soon as he applied a little pressure, he believed that he had found the condition that accounted for her illness. He took his ear trumpet out of his bag and applied it to Lady Brockwood’s slightly distended belly, and smiled when he heard the steady beat that could only be the heartbeat of a developing child.
Diana became alarmed at the gentle probing of her abdomen and her fears were confirmed by Dr. Sanders’ next question.
“My lady, I assume that you and your maid are aware that you are with child. I insist that one of you tell me honestly what has occurred this day,” he asked, but gently, sensing their fear.
Tears began to flow down Diana’s cheeks. The attempt at losing the baby had not been successful. It must be a strong little thing, determined to survive, and for the first time, she felt a stirring of love for this child growing inside her.
But she loved Rollo more and he did not want children.
“Doctor,” she said weakly, “I need to rid myself of this child. My husband does not know I carry it and he will not want it. He has been quite clear that he does not want children.”
She took several deep breaths before continuing, “Today I went to a woman in the village who said she could help. She gave me a foul potion to drink, but even though I am sick and in such pain, it seems the baby is still within me.” She looked pleadingly at the doctor “Will…will you help?”
Cornelius did not answer immediately. He knew that Lord Brockwood had always said he would not have children because of the fear they would inherit his epilepsy; but he also knew Rollo well enough to believe that he would not blame his wife for her present condition.
“I am sure your husband will be understanding even if he is surprised by your condition. He must be aware that in a marriage there is always a chance of a baby, however careful you may have been.” He shook his head. “I cannot help you get rid of the baby. It has a strong and healthy heartbeat, and I should think it is more than sixteen weeks’ gestation, judging by your size. Perhaps your husband has noticed and is waiting for you to break the news?”
“No, I am certain that is not the case,” said Diana tearfully. “Will you tell him?”
Cornelius thought it unlikely that Rollo would not have at least a suspicion of his wife’s condition, if not outright certainty, but wisely did not contradict the distraught Diana.
“He is very concerned about you and when he asks me what ails you, I will have to tell him the truth, but I shall leave you to tell him the full story. I will merely say that you have eaten or drunk something that has disagreed with you. I will have to tell him you are with child, else he will think me a poor doctor. I will try to give his lordship time to digest the information before I let him come in to talk to you.” Cornelius patted her hand, aware this was not the answer she had been hoping for and then bowed and left the room.
Rollo had wanted to stay with Diana, even though he had been ordered out of the room while the doctor carried out his examination. He paced the corridor restlessly. What had happened to her? She had said she was feeling better this morning. When Cornelius eventually emerged from the room with a grave expression, Rollo feared the worse.
“Come, let us find somewhere to talk in private,” the physician suggested. Rollo led him into his study and
poured them each a brandy.
“Tell me. What ails my wife?”
“It appears that she has eaten or drunk something that has disagreed with her. She has regained consciousness now and stopped retching. I think with plenty of fluids and time to rest, she will make a good recovery.” Fairly certain that Lord Brockwood knew about his wife’s pregnancy—how could he not?—he ploughed on, “I am pleased to inform you that the baby appears unharmed and I could hear a strong heartbeat.”
There was the sound of glass shattering as Rollo lost his grip on his brandy. “B-baby,” he stammered. “How? When?”
Cornelius swallowed. Rollo did not know. Clearly the news had come as a shock to him. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and urged him into the chair behind him, then poured him another shot of brandy.
“Only you can answer that,” the doctor said solemnly, but could not prevent a smile from curving his mouth. “Now, my friend, I think you need to go talk to that pretty wife of yours.”
“How far along is she? When will it be born?” asked Rollo, completely stunned by the news. Why had she not told him? Surely she hadn’t been frightened to tell him? But maybe so, for he had told her many times that he did not want children.
“I think, all being well, you will be a proud father early in the New Year.” Cornelius gave Rollo a congratulatory pat on his back. “I can get Briggs to show me out. You go now and talk to your wife. Be gentle with her, for she is worried that you will not be pleased.”
Rollo entered the room to find Diana, her face pale and her eyes glistening, propped up a little on the bed. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I tried to get rid of it, as I know you don’t want it, but...oh, what will we do?”
Rollo tenderly took her hand. “My first thought is that I want you to recover your strength and get well. I admit I was shocked when Cornelius told me you were with child, but look, I am still here with you. I love you.”
“”What about the baby? The doctor said it is too late to get rid of it.”
“You must not even think of such a thing. You shall have our baby and I am sure it will be a fine child that we will both love very much.”
Now that the reality that he was to become a father had penetrated, Rollo found that he was, in fact, quite pleased about it. If the child did develop fits, they would cope with it. One thing for certain—he would not make the child feel ashamed of its affliction, as his parents had done with him,
“But what if the child should have fits?” Diana whispered, voicing their fears.
“We will worry about that if it happens,” replied Rollo tenderly as he picked up her small hand and, lifting it to his mouth, kissed it. “You must concentrate on getting your strength back both for yourself and for our child.”
Diana’s weak smile reflected her fatigue. Relief that Rollo now knew her situation and had not blamed her washed over her, and she allowed her eyes to close and drifted off to sleep.
Rollo remained seated beside her for a few minutes, watching her gentle breathing, before quietly getting up and leaving the room. Having got over the initial shock of finding out that he was to become a father, he now felt deeply saddened that she had not felt able to tell him. Did she find him an ogre? Was she frightened of him? He had thought that they had a close relationship and that she had never been fooled by his ice-cold facade. Perhaps he had misjudged her. It seemed that she had been willing put her own life at risk rather than confide in him. He had come to love Diana deeply, but now had doubts about her reciprocation.
Diana’s behaviour over the following weeks did little to reassure him. She kept mainly to the bedroom and he slept in the adjoining room; nor did not invite him to share their bed. Being sensitive to her condition, he did not press the matter, although he desperately missed the feel of her warm body next to his. On the rare occasions that Diana did venture out of the bedroom, she spoke very little to him, seemed, in fact, almost to avoid him.
* * *
Gradually Diana recovered physically from the failed attempt to rid herself of the baby, but she could not rid herself of her guilt for letting Rollo down. He did not want children. She understood his reasons, and indeed, had a deep fear herself that, like her twin brother, this baby she was carrying may be afflicted. She knew that she would love the child regardless, but could she expect her husband to do the same?
Over the days and weeks, the worry and guilt ate into her very being, and she felt unable to discuss her fears with Rollo, too nervous about his response. These fears, together with the sight in the mirror of her increasingly bloated body, caused her to avoid his company. She wanted to shut herself away and wait until the baby was born when she could see if it looked healthy and normal. If she gave him a perfect baby, she hoped that he would forget that he had not wanted children. If the baby was not perfect, she would take it and leave—and never give it up.
Her strained relationship with her husband persisted, and they had a cheerless Christmas. The dowager countess visited for two nights and was saddened by the unhappiness she saw in her son and his wife. She tried to reassure Rollo that it was not unusual for women to behave strangely and emotionally when they were carrying a child. She spoke tenderly to Diana and tried to reassure her that Rollo loved her and was worried about her. Diana felt so ugly and wretched she could not believe this was possible.
After the New Year, when the last of the snow had melted, Diana’s mother came to stay at Brockwood Hall for the remainder of her confinement.
“It is natural to feel apprehensive pending the birth of a firstborn,” Lady Westbury said soothingly. She tried not to let it show, but she was very concerned for her daughter. Diana she should be looking forward to having a child, not being sad and withdrawn. Rollo, too, seemed unhappy.
It was a dark frosty January evening, and Diana and her mother were sitting in the drawing room, when Diana first felt her abdomen tighten with a sharp pain.
“Ouch!” she gasped, causing her mother to look up.
“Have you pricked your finger?” Lady Westbury inquired, her gaze on the sewing that lay on Diana’s lap.
“No, a pain, but it is gone now. It is nothing, perhaps just the baby kicking a little too hard…Ouch!” Diana stood as a second pain, far worse than the first, forced her to double over in agony.
“Come, dear,” said her mother, calmly reaching for her daughter’s hand. “I think the baby is telling you it is ready to face the world.” She rang the bell for the maid.
When Tilly appeared, she instructed, “Please take your mistress to her bedroom and I will be along shortly.” She gave Diana a kiss as she urged her toward the door. “Get some rest,” she advised.
Lady Westbury then sought out Rollo and found him in his study immersed in accounts and books. “I think it is time to send for the midwife. The baby is on its way.” Seeing the alarm on Rollo’s face, she smiled and said, “First babies are usually slow to arrive, so we will have plenty of time, no need to panic.”
Lady Westbury knew only too well that childbirth was not always straightforward and had her own fears for her daughter, but this was not the time to give in to them. She needed to be strong and keep a calm head.
Poor Diana suffered a long labour, battling through the night and well into the next day. The pain at times was almost too much to bear, and she found it hard to believe her mother and the midwife when the told her that everything was progressing well. At last, as the midday sun cast a weak ray of light into the room through a chink in the curtains, with one final push the baby emerged. After a quick check to ensure all was as it should be, the midwife handed the wrinkled bloody scrap of life to its mother to hold, while she cut the cord and dealt with the afterbirth.
“A boy,” she proclaimed. “And a healthy one by the looks of him.” The baby gave his first tiny cry.
Diana lay back against the pillows and cradled her son in her arms. Her son looked perfect, all his fingers and toes, his little legs kicking and his arms reaching out. His tiny
mouth opening and closing.
What now? Only time would tell.
* * *
Rollo had been pacing the corridor all night. He had refused to go to bed, despite both his valet and Lady Westbury’s begging him to get some rest. How could he rest when he could hear Diana crying in pain? He was no longer worrying about the child, only the welfare of his wife. He prayed to God that she would have a safe delivery and vowed that night, should she come through this ordeal, to do everything in his power to make her happy.
Eventually Lady Westbury came out of the bedroom. The smile on her tired face gave Rollo hope that all was well.
“You have a son,” she proudly informed him.
Although her words registered, at this moment the child was not Rollo’s primary concern. “How is Diana?” he asked.
“She is very tired, but there were no complications,” Lady Westbury reported.
Relieved, Rollo could now think about the baby. “A son, you say. When can I see them both?”
Lady Westbury smiled. “Now. I have been sent to fetch you, but you must not tire them too much.”
Rollo nearly knocked his mother-in-law over as he pushed past her to go to his wife. As he entered the room, the sight of her with her baby—their baby—caused a flood of emotions to tighten his chest.
Diana shooed the midwife and her mother out of the room as Rollo sat down beside her on the bed.
“I am so proud of you,” he whispered as he gently pushed back a tendril of hair that had fallen over her eyes. “You look beautiful and our son is perfect.” He kissed her softly on the mouth, and then leaned forward and kissed the check of the precious infant in her arms.
Rollo was so overcome with relief, tenderness and love that, as the last crystals of ice melted from around his heart, his tears ran unchecked down his checks. He wrapped his arms around his wife and son.
“I know he looks perfect, but what if he does have fits?” Diana’s voice wobbled as she voiced her fears.
The Earl of Ice Page 15
