by Ruth Owen
In her mind’s eye Rina caught a glimpse of a wedding party, with her in a dress of white satin that sparkled in the late summer sunlight. Edward stood at her side in his finest black coat, his demeanor stern and lordly, but his harsh countenance softened by a smile so loving it stopped her breath. The vision was so clear that it brought a bittersweet lump to her throat. But such a future was not to be.
She turned her mare toward the road that led to Ravenshold, but she hadn’t gone a quarter mile before she heard the pounding of hooves behind her. Toby was riding toward her, kicking poor old Socrates into a full gallop. “Miss, miss, come quick!”
Rina sighed, out of patience with the young man’s crises. “Toby, I have had my fill of surprises for one day. This one will just have to wait.”
“But it can’t wait,” the breathless lad cried. “Miss Clara’s ‘avin’ her baby. And there’s not a soul in the village who’ll help her!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rina soaked a cloth in cool water, and started to bathe Clara’s forehead. “Only a little while longer, dear.”
The girl attempted to give her a wavering smile, but the expression ended in a sharp wince as the pain knotted through her. Rina took Clara’s hand, trying not to wince herself as the girl squeezed it to the bone. Rina glanced around the small bedroom, willing the door to open and help to step through. It remained resolutely shut. Swallowing panic, Rina reminded herself that it had been only a little over an hour since she’d sent Toby to fetch Dr. Williams. But it felt like ten hours. Ten years.
Clara started to thrash her head against the pillows, her eyes glazed in pain-induced confusion. “Momma? Where’s Momma?”
Rina smoothed Clara’s damp hair, and spoke with a calm she did not feel. “You remember, Clara. You told me yourself. Your mother went to visit your aunt in St. Petroc.” And is not due to be back until late this evening, she added silently. Where the blazes is Charles?
Clara thrashed again. “And my love? Where is my love?”
Her cry broke Rina’s heart. Clara was still in love with her baby’s father, even though the man had cast her aside to bear their child in shame. It wasn’t right that Clara should still care for the blackguard, but Rina had learned that right and wrong didn’t matter much when it came to love. She still loved Edward, even after what he’d done to her. Even after what he had done to this poor girl…
The door opened.
“Charles, thank heaven! I was beginning to despair—” Rina’s relief died as Amy stepped into the room. “Where is Charles?”
“ I do not know,” Amy said as she stripped off her gloves and deposited them along with her reticule on the bedside table. “I met Toby on the south road, and came at once. How is she?”
“She is—” Rina bit her tongue, realizing that her true opinion of Clara’s condition was the last thing the suffering girl needed to hear. “She’s doing just fine,” she stated, so that Clara could hear her. Then she stood up and nodded her head toward the door. “Amy, we need more cloths and hot water from the kitchen…”
Once out of earshot, Rina gave Amy a true picture of the young girl’s condition. She told Amy about the painful contractions, and the fading in and out of Clara’s reason. “But ‘tis more than just the physical pain. Clara’s spirit is disheartened. Her mother is away, her neighbours will not lift a hand to help her, and the villain who did this to her has washed his hands of her. She feels as if she hasn’t a friend in the world.”
“Well, she is wrong in that. She has us,” Lady Amy stated as she efficiently started to roll up her sleeves. “I hope that young Toby finds Charles in time, but if he does not, we shall have to attend to this ourselves.”
Rina did not share her friend’s confidence. “Amy, have you ever been present at a birthing?”
Amy’s confidence faltered momentarily. “Well, not precisely. But I assisted in a number of foalings and calvings over the years—at least, until my pompous governess deemed such behavior unseemly for a lady. As if anything to do with Ravenshold could be unseemly to a Trevelyan. In any event, I assume the birth of a baby is much the same as that of a cow or horse. But what about you, Prudence? Have you attended a birthing?”
“N—no,” Rina answered hesitantly. It was not entirely a lie. She had not actually witnessed her brother’s birth. It was only afterward that she’d peeked into the room and seen her mother’s motionless body, and spied the pitifully small bundle of the child who’d been born too soon. She’d heard the choking sounds of her father weeping, smelled the viscous odors of blood, terror, and death, felt the numbing despair that would warp her dreams into nightmares for years to come.
Rina reminded herself that her mother had been older and weakened by influenza, and that Clara was a healthy young girl. Still, such assurances could not stop the memories that filled her with the fear, the despair, and the paralyzing thoughts of a helpless child who’d watched her safe, happy world crumble to dust.
Rina and Amy gathered the cloths and water and returned to the bedroom. Another hour passed without the doctor. Then another. Afternoon shadows stretched and lengthened across the wooden floor like gaunt, spindly spiders. Clara faded in and out of lucidity as her pains grew sharper and more frequent. Rina and Amy took turns mopping the girl’s brow and holding her hand, but as the final hour ticked by Amy pulled Rina aside.
“I fear we cannot wait any longer for Charles. Her time is almost here. We will have to bring this babe into the world by ourselves.” Amy glanced back at Clara, who looked pitifully fragile and pales as the sheets she lay against. “The child is coming. We must do what we can to help.”
“I…don’t know if I can,” Rina whispered brokenly. “Amy, I lied to you before. Years ago I saw a birth, and it went terribly wrong. The mother and the baby both…well, I do not think I can face that again.”
Amy gripped her hand almost as tightly as Clara had. “Pru, you must. I cannot do this alone. I can tend her body and deliver the babe, but you must tend her spirit and keep her calm. You must try. For Clara’s sake. For my sake. And maybe for the sake of that poor woman you saw die all those years ago—”
Clara’s scream swallowed her words.
Amy rushed back to the bed, casting a final pleading look at Rina. In that instant Rina realized that Amy was almost as distressed as she was. But Amy valiantly hid that fear as she arranged the bedclothes for the birth. She worked with the single-minded diligence that marked the Trevelyan breed, and Rina felt a new respect for her friend. But that respect was tempered by a soul-deep fear.
The birth was not going well. Clara’s eyes were ringed white with pain and panic, and her strength was spent from months of disdain and abandonment. Her breath was shallow, her brow clammy, and the fear in her eyes grew with every contraction. The girl might die. The baby might die. Edward’s baby…
Clara screamed again.
“Push, Clara,” Amy cried. “Pru, tell her to push!”
For a moment Rina could say nothing. The smell of blood and the cries of terror were her childhood nightmares come to life. But she was no longer a child. She wasn’t the lost little girl who’d stood helplessly by as her mother’s life ebbed away. She was a strong and capable woman, tempered to steel by the trials of life, who had a family who loved her, and a man she loved. She was no longer helpless, lost, or alone.
She leaned over Clara, planting her arms for the girl to grip on to. “Listen to me, Clara. You are going to be all right. Your baby is going to be all right. You are not alone, not anymore. Now push!”
From that moment on the three girls struggled as one to bring the baby into the world. Clara’s cries, Amy’s commands, and Rina’s encouragement blended together into one fighting voice. And just when they thought the babe would never come, she slipped out with ease and into Amy’s waiting arms.
An hour later Charles barged into the room, his hat missing and his glasses askew from his ride across the moors. The fear in his eyes changed to relief as he saw Clara s
leeping peacefully in her bed. His relief turned to wonder as he caught sight of Amy asleep in the rocking chair by the brazier, with a tiny, contented baby in her arms. “What the—?”
Rina lifted a cautioning finger to her lips. She got up from beside Clara’s bed where she’d been holding her hand, and shepherded the amazed doctor out the door, “They all need their rest. ‘Twas a difficult birth.”
Charles rubbed his chin. “I feared as much. If I had suspected the child would come so soon, I would never have left the village today. I’m grateful you were here to help her. Quite possibly, you saved her life.”
“No. You are wrong to give me the credit. If I had been here alone, Clara and her baby would have surely died. Amy is the one who deserves your praise.” Rina gave him a brief description of Amy’s courage and cool-headedness during the dangerous birth. When she had finished, she crossed her arms and gave the doctor a meaningful glance. “Amy told me what happened between you two yesterday. After what I witnessed this afternoon. I can promise you that she would make an exemplary doctor’s wife.”
Charles swallowed, his usually sober eyes raw with unsober emotion. “I…know that. I knew it yesterday. But I cannot condemn her to my austere life. No matter how hard I work, I will never be a rich man. I can never give her the things she has grown up with, the things she deserves—”
“She deserves to be loved. She does not want an empty life of wealth. If she did, she would have accepted Fitzroy’s proposal. But I will own that you are probably right—if you go away, she will eventually marry someone who can give her all the things you believe she needs. She will be wealthy, but she will never be truly happy. Her brave spirit will suffocate under silks and satins, her heart will grow cold and hard without love. Is that what you want for her?”
“Of course not!” He stroked back his hair with both hands, his voice tortured with frustration. “But do you not see it is impossible for us? I have nothing to offer her. Nothing!”
Rina’s expression softened as she looked up at the earnest face of the man she’d come to care for as a brother. “You are wrong. You can offer her a life filled with purpose and meaning. You can offer her your faith that you trust her enough to share that life with you. But, most of all, you can offer her your heart. That is all the wealth she needs. Indeed, ‘tis the only wealth worth having.” She reached out and wrapped her hands around his. “What Amy needs is a husband who can love her with all his heart. She needs you, Charles. And unless you are the world’s biggest fool, you will see that you need her just as much.”
For a long moment Charles remained silent, his head bent in thought. Rina held her breath, hoping that some of her words had gotten through. More than anyone, she knew how rare and precious real love was. And how empty life was without it.
Charles cleared his throat. “I believe—” he began, then stopped to clear his throat again. “I believe I should discuss this with Lady Amy. A frank and sober examination of the future is not out of order.”
Rina’s mouth ticked up. The doctor’s sensible words could not mask the hope in his hope. “A wise choice,” she offered as she gave his hands an encouraging squeeze. “Wait here. I will send Amy out to you.”
“But I should see to Clara and the baby—”
“They can wait a few more minutes. I cannot say the same for you.” She opened the door and slipped through.
A minute later Sabrina stood beside the closed bedroom door with the baby in her arms, listening to the muffled sound of voices on the other side. She could not make out their words, but she noted when those words ended abruptly, the sudden silence marked only by hushed murmurs and soft sighs. Sighing herself, Rina stepped away from the door, and smiled down at the tiny, gurgling baby. “Well, young lady, it appears as if those two will live happily ever after. Perhaps you and I should hang out a shingle as matchmakers?”
The baby stared up at Sabrina with serious blue eyes under a shock of chestnut hair. Blue eyes, Rina thought as she smoothed her finger against the baby’s cheek. She knew that all newborns had blue eyes, but there was something about their color that stirred her memory. I suppose ‘tis because I recognize Edward in her. But I expected her eyes to be darker, like Sarah’s and David’s…
A soft cry from the bed shook Sabrina from her thoughts. “Miss Prudence? My baby, is she—?”
“She is fine,” Rina said as she hurried to Clara, and laid the child in her mother’s arms. “She is the healthiest baby I have ever seen. And the most beautiful.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Clara whispered, her voice weak with happiness and exhaustion. She cuddled her daughter, staring at her with love and awe. “You’re the prettiest baby in the whole world, you are. And lucky, too. Got his blue eyes. And his ‘andsome chestnut hair.”
Rina froze. ”Chestnut hair?”
“Aye,” Clara murmured as she slipped back toward unconsciousness. “Chestnut hair, groomed perfect fine. So handsome, my gentleman. So lovely elegant…”
The girl drifted back to sleep without finishing her sentence. True to the man she still loved, Clara had not revealed her sweetheart’s name. But it hardly mattered. The baby’s hair color, coupled with Clara’s muddled words, revealed the father’s name as clearly as if it were written in the family Bible. Rina stared down at the girl, her heart hammering so hard that she could barely breathe.
“Paris,” she muttered.
* * *
Thunder rolled through the halls of Ravenshold as the clock chimed eleven.
The two sounds echoed through the vast, empty corridors before fading to lonely silence. Grimacing, Sabrina shifted uneasily in the gilt and velvet chair stationed across from Edward’s rooms. The ornate antique dated to the reign of France’s Sun King and had clearly been built more for beauty than comfort—and she’d been sitting in the blasted thing over an hour. Still, the discomfort in her body was nothing compared to the discomfort in her mind. Even her pleasure over Amy’s soon-to-be-announced engagement did not lessen her disquiet. She had an apology to deliver. A huge one. And she had to deliver it tonight. In the morning there would be no chance to see him alone before he left for the mine. And in the evening, she would be gone.
She bit her lip, fighting against the quicksand of anguish that lay just beneath her discomfort. The apology wasn’t the only reason she was here. She wanted to see him. Had to see him, even though she knew it was foolish beyond measure. He didn’t love her, didn’t want her, and—after tomorrow—would speak her name in the same betraying breath as his wife’s. Seeing him tonight would accomplish nothing. Except that she could apologize for thinking the worst of him. Except that she could tell him that she believed in him, even if that belief meant nothing.
Except that she could see his face and hear his voice one last time.
A flicker of candlelight caught her eye. Rina watched as the Earl of Trevelyan trudged down the empty hall holding a single taper. She started to rise, but her legs wouldn’t move. Frozen in place, she drank in the sight of the man she loved beyond reason, cherishing the confidence of his step and taut power of his body that was evident despite his weariness. His greatcoat was soaked through from the storm, and his dark hair was plastered against his forehead. Someone should make him take better care of himself, she thought automatically. A sharp pain stroked through her as she remembered that that someone would not be her. “Edward?”
Quick as a cat he whirled around, holding his candle high. His dark eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of her, but that was the only sign of emotion in his face. “You should be asleep.”
“I know, but I—” Her carefully planned words vanished like smoke under his intense gaze. “Edward, I wanted—”
He held up his palm, silencing her. His stern gaze glared past her down the hallway. “Is there something you wanted, Mary Rose?”
Surprised, Rina looked around and saw the maid detach herself from the shadows she’d been half hiding in. “Uhm, no, my lord. That is, Cook was wondering if you’
d be wanting some supper.”
The earl’s mouth twitched up with the barest hint of humor. “Tell Cook that I am not hungry. You may go.”
The maid’s glance flickered between Prudence and the earl. Then she bobbed a curtsey, and scurried off into the darkness. Edward watched her go, his mouth settling back in its cold, harsh lines. “Unless you wish your words discussed openly in the servant’s hall, Miss Winthrope, I suggest we continue this in my rooms.”
He pushed open his door. Rina hesitated an instant, then stepped into the room, feeling oddly unnerved as he shut the door behind them. She drew her cashmere shawl around her, shivering. ‘Tis like being sealed in a tomb.
He must have noticed her shiver because he walked over to the hearth, and set a pair of heavy logs on the banked fire. He picked up the poker, and began to coax the embers into a hearty blaze. Without looking up he asked, “What was it you wanted to say to me?”
