Dressed for travel, George Spencer-Kimberly came to bid his two sisters farewell. Cally could not help weeping. “I feel that I will never see you again,” she sobbed piteously, but he reassured her fear as he always had since they were children.
“We’ll come for a visit in five years’ time, little sister,” he told her. “Perhaps we will even be able to persuade Mama to come then.”
“And our children will get to know one another,” Aurora said cheerily. “Mama will be in her glory with all her grandchildren gathered about her, don’t you think, Cally?”
Cally sniffled, and nodded slowly.
George now turned to Aurora. “You are certain?” he said meaningfully, looking directly at her. “I want you happy with St. John, and not miserable like our poor Cally.” His hands rested lightly upon her shoulders, his eyes filled with concern.
“I am as sure as any woman can be,” she answered him. “It is a good match, and I believe we suit, George. What more can there be but that. At least I do not fear the marriage bed like our sister.”
“No”—his hazel eyes twinkled at her—“you do not, I suspect, but more than that I do not want to know,” he chuckled. Then he kissed her upon the forehead, hugging her to him. “Be happy, dearest Aurora!”
“I will, George,” she promised him.
He turned his attention back to Calandra, pulling her gently to her feet and embracing her, kissing her upon both cheeks. “Try and be good, Cally,” he said softly. “In the end you will find that hearthside and children are the happiest life for a woman.”
“Nonsense!” Cally replied with a touch of her old spirit. Then she sat back down again heavily. “Give Mama my love.”
“Together,” George said. “Forever,” Cally replied. “As one!” Aurora finished.
“The bouquet! Betsy is going to toss her bouquet!” came the cry from the hallway. “Come along, girls!”
Giggling, pushing, and shoving for the best position, all the unmarried ladies hurried into the hallway, where Betsy stood halfway up the staircase, the now slightly wilting flowers clutched in her hand.
“Come on!” George pulled Aurora by the hand and pushed her into the fray.
“One! Two! Three!” chorused the other guests, and then the bride pitched her bouquet, which seemingly by magic went directly into Aurora’s outstretched hands. She caught it, laughing, and blew a kiss in St. John’s direction.
“Oh, that’s not fair!” Isabelle Bowen protested. “We all know that Aurora will soon be married! She already wears the St. John betrothal ring.”
“You’re too young to be married yet, Bella,” the new Mistress Spencer-Kimberly said with a smile. “Whoever catches the bouquet must wed within a year, or no one else present can marry. That is the rule. Do you want every girl in the county waiting for you to make up your mind regarding some young man? We all know that you have a terrible time deciding things!”
There were nods and chuckles of agreement all around. Then, before Isabelle could protest, the bridal couple was making its final farewells, climbing into the coach and departing. As the vehicle made its way down the drive with both Betsy and George hanging out its window, smiling happily and waving, Lady Elsie burst into fulsome tears, joined by her daughters, who continued waving weepily at the retreating carriage.
“Good grief!” the dowager muttered. “Where is our transport? I do not intend to stand here and be drowned by the tears of that silly woman and her four remaining chits. Valerian! Fetch the coach!” She turned her attention to her host and hostess. “A lovely wedding,” she murmured. “May I thank you on behalf of the entire family, but we must be going. The duchess cannot take any more excitement, y’know. It was quite an effort for her to come, you understand. Good-bye! Good-bye!”
She practically leapt into the carriage, followed by Aurora. Cally had already been ensconced inside as her brother and his wife departed. The dowager’s agility was remarkable for one of her advanced years. The door to the vehicle slammed shut, and it moved off.
“Thank heavens!” Mary Rose Hawkesworth said with feeling.
Both Cally and Aurora giggled, unable to help themselves.
The dowager herself smiled a small smile, saying, “Elsie Bowen is a sweet creature to be sure, but a silly and sentimental one as well. Why on earth was she crying? Five daughters to marry off, and the dowries not particularly large, and Betsy marries a handsome young man with a good income and excellent prospects. What, I ask you, is there to cry about that? Not to mention that her daughter is now connected to our family by marriage. That should help that chit Isabelle when she is ready to go husband hunting. I know a most suitable young baronet who should be ready to settle down in another year or two,” the dowager concluded, her eyes narrowing at the prospect of matchmaking again.
“Gracious, ma’am,” Aurora replied with a small chuckle, “you will have Lady Bowen’s daughters all married off before she knows what has happened, and then she will really drown us all in her tears.”
“Heh! Heh! Heh!” came the reply, and the dowager settled down with a pleased expression as they were driven home to Hawkes Hill.
Cally retired to her room immediately, complaining that she felt even worse than usual. The dowager and Aurora settled themselves in the family parlor overlooking the gardens to have tea.
“I do not like the look of Calandra,” the dowager noted. “Her hands and her feet are quite swollen, and she has become sallow. Perhaps we should call in Dr. Michaels tomorrow.”
Aurora nodded. “I believe it might be a good idea to err on the side of caution, ma’am. I have never known Cally to complain quite so much as she has in recent months.”
The day ended, and the house grew quiet. Extra quiet, it seemed to Aurora without George. For some reason, she could not fall into a deep sleep. It was almost as if she were waiting for something to happen. She would doze and then waken, doze and waken. Then, just as she was finally drifting into a deep sleep, there came a frantic knocking upon her bedroom door. Aurora struggled awake again even as Martha hurried from her little chamber to answer the frantic knocking. The servant flung open the door, and there stood Molly.
“It’s her grace,” Molly sputtered. “She says she’s in terrible pain and wants Miss Aurora to come to her.”
Aurora arose quickly, putting her robe about her. “Did you call the duke? What about the dowager? Perhaps we should send for Dr. Michaels.” She pushed past the two servants, who followed after her.
Entering her sister’s bedroom, she saw Cally was even paler than she had been earlier. There were droplets of perspiration beading her forehead, and her breathing was heavy. “Aurora!” she cried. “I am in the most dreadful pain. I think this creature may be coming early.”
“You are certain it is not just something you ate, Cally?” Aurora queried her sister. “This is not a bit of indigestion?”
Calandra shook her head vehemently. “I drank no champagne but a sip to toast George and Betsy. I ate no cake, and have had no supper but for some tea with cream and sugar, for I have felt wretched all day. Ahhhhhh! I am being ripped apart by this thing!”
“Sally, wake Peters and have him send for Dr. Michaels,” Aurora instructed the servant. “Then go to Browne and have him waken the duke.”
“What about the old dowager?” Sally asked.
“Leave her sleep. There is nothing she can do to help us right now. Neither can the duke, for that matter, but it is his heir.” She caressed Cally’s swollen little hand. “It will be all right, Cally. This child will soon be born, early though he may be, and you will be a mother! How wonderful! I cannot wait until St. John and I produce.”
Cally wrinkled her nose. “You will feel different when you are at my stage of life,” she said. Then she brightened. “If the baby comes early, I shall be able to be back in London for Christmas. Perhaps it is all to the good. Ahhhhhhh! Nasty little beast! You don’t think being born early will harm it, do you, Aurora?”
“Now, what w
ould your sister, and her a maiden still, know about such things, your grace?” Martha said, and then she smiled at Cally. “Plenty of babies come early, and none the worse for it. Besides, ’taint that early. You had only a few more weeks to go.”
Cally looked a bit more reassured, but then she said piteously, “Aurora, do not leave me. Please! I am so afraid.”
“I won’t leave you, little sister,” Aurora said softly, and she sat down on the bed next to Calandra. “Do you know that in all the months you have carried your child, you have never once said what you would call him. What name do you favor?”
“I suppose they will want to call him after his father,” Cally said glumly. “ ’Tis tradition to call the Hawkesworth heir James or Charles. Valerian is the duke’s middle name. His first is James, like his grandfather. I don’t really care.”
“But if you did,” Aurora persisted gently, “what would you name this baby if the choice was all yours?”
“Robert, after Papa,” Cally said.
“And if it is a little girl?”
“God forbid!” Cally cried, and then, “Ahhhhh! Why does it hurt so much? I did not know it would hurt so!”
Aurora took a cool cloth that Martha handed her and lay it on her sister’s head. “I am certain it is a boy, but if it were a girl? The poor little mite must have a name, and it cannot be Robert.”
“Charlotte, after the queen,” Cally murmured, ever mindful of the social consequences of naming a daughter after the king’s bride.
The bedchamber door opened and the duke entered, coming over to the bed. “Is she in labor?” he asked Aurora.
“I think so, your grace,” Martha answered him. “Miss Aurora couldn’t know the answer to such a thing. She has never been around a woman in this condition. I have. It’s early, but not too early.”
“Dr. Michaels has been sent for,” Aurora said reassuringly.
“Should you be here?” he asked her gently.
“No, she shouldn’t,” Martha said firmly.
“Cally wants me here,” Aurora replied. “Just until the doctor comes? Please, Valerian. Cally is frightened. It cannot be good for her, or for the baby, if she is in terror.” She placed a pleading hand upon the sleeve of his dressing gown, her look importuning him to acquiesce.
“Ahhh!” Cally moaned, and she began to cry. “It hurts so!”
He nodded. “Until the doctor says you must go,” he told her. “I will await him downstairs.” He leaned over and told Cally, “You are being very brave, my dear, and I thank you.” Then he kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
“I hate him!” Cally exclaimed.
“Do not say it, I pray you,” Aurora answered her sister.
“I do! If it were not for him, I should not be in such pain. I didn’t want a child. I just wanted to be the Duchess of Farminster, and live in London, and give exquisite parties. I did not know I should have to do this. Ahhhhh!” She looked accusingly at her sister. “It is all your fault, Aurora! You did not tell me it would be like this!”
“Keep your voice down,” Aurora warned Cally. “I did not tell you it would be like anything. I didn’t know what it would be like to be the Duchess of Farminster. I just knew I didn’t want to marry a stranger. You, however, were willing to do just that in order to be a duchess, Cally. I will share the blame, if there is any blame, but I will most certainly not take full responsibility for your actions!”
Calandra turned her head away from Aurora’s gaze. They waited now in silence as the minutes ticked by, the laboring woman crying out when the pains overtook her, but there was little they could do until Dr. Michaels arrived. A kettle was brought from the kitchens, filled with water, and set in the coals of the fireplace to heat. Several stacks of clean cloths and clean linens were placed conveniently. The ducal cradle was positioned by the fireplace in readiness for its occupant.
Downstairs, the duke paced back and forth, nervously awaiting the arrival of Dr. Michaels. He was surprised when a total stranger was escorted into the house by one of his grooms. He was a tall, well-set gentleman with a ruddy complexion.
“Your grace? I am William Carstairs, doctor of medicine. I am Edward Michaels’s cousin, and his new partner. Dr. Michaels has gone to York to see his ailing father. I was given to understand that her grace was not due to deliver until the end of next month, or possibly the middle of the following month.”
“We do not even know if Calandra is in labor, but she is in pain,” the duke said, holding out his hand and shaking that of the doctor. “Thank you for coming. It is our first child, and no one in the house except my elderly grandmother really knows about childbirth. We chose not to awaken the dowager, as she has had an active day with my brother-in-law’s wedding to Miss Bowen. We had intended calling you in tomorrow at any rate, as Calandra has not looked particularly herself of late.”
The doctor nodded. “Let us go upstairs, then,” he said.
As he entered Cally’s bedchamber, Martha’s eyes grew wide with recognition. “Dr. Carstairs,” she said, surprised.
“Martha? Martha Jones? What on earth are you doing here?” Then his eye spied Aurora. “And Miss Aurora?”
Aurora arose from her place upon the bed. “It is Cally, Dr. Carstairs. She is in terrible pain with this child.”
The doctor nodded, and then said to the duke, “Take Miss Aurora from the room while I examine her sister.”
Cally weakly protested, but was scarcely heard as the doctor turned his full attention to her.
“How do you know Dr. Carstairs?” the duke asked Aurora as he escorted her from the bedroom.
“He came from Jamaica with us when Mama married Papa. My father didn’t want to lose another wife in childbirth for lack of proper medical attention,” she explained. “He was with us for ten years, and in that time taught several of the more intelligent slaves and bondsmen the art of doctoring so we would always have someone to attend to our needs should there be illness or injury among us. Where is Dr. Michaels? Why didn’t he come?”
The duke explained, and Aurora nodded. They stood silently for several minutes, and then the doctor joined them.
“Your wife is indeed in labor, your grace,” he announced. “It is, however, a difficult labor, and the child is not quite turned properly, so I expect it will be some hours before she delivers.” He turned to Aurora. “Go to bed, child. This is not the place for you now, although remembering your bravery, I know you would remain if I let you, Miss Aurora. I will not, however. Cally will be fine in my company, and I will keep Martha and Sally with me to help. We will send you word of your sister’s progress as it develops.”
“Let me say good night to her at least,” Aurora begged, and the doctor nodded, escorting her back into the bedchamber.
“Why did you leave me?” Cally protested to her sister.
“Because the doctor made me,” Aurora said. “You remember Dr. Carstairs, Cally? He only left St. Timothy when we were twelve. Dr. Michaels is away, and Dr. Carstairs will be delivering your baby. He will not let me stay, but Martha and Sally will remain.”
“I am going to die,” Cally said in a strangely calm voice.
“Nonsense,” Aurora replied. “You are just frightened, little one. Dr. Carstairs will take excellent care of you.”
“I am going to die,” Cally repeated firmly.
“Do not say such a thing!” Aurora begged her.
“I do not blame you,” Cally continued. “I wanted to be a duchess, Aurora. I didn’t have to do it. I do not blame you.”
“Come along now, child,” the doctor said, his hand on Aurora’s shoulder. “It is time for you to get some rest.”
“You will not die, Cally,” Aurora insisted.
“I love you,” Cally replied as her sister was taken away, and she watched with sad eyes as the bedchamber door closed behind Aurora.
“What a mean thing to say to your sister,” Martha scolded Calandra. “Having a baby won’t excuse you. Shame on you!”
&
nbsp; But Cally said nothing, instead turning her face away from Martha as she had from Aurora earlier. The hours moved on slowly at first, and then with exceeding speed. It was dawn, and then midday. The dowager came to see how Calandra was doing, speaking kindly to the girl, and then leaving, strangely disturbed.
“Why is it taking so long?” she demanded of the doctor as he brought her from the bedchamber. “The child decides to come early, and then will not be born. What is the matter, Dr. Carstairs?”
The doctor shook his head. “I do not know, your grace, but while I am concerned, the young duchess has been in labor only about ten hours. That is not really too long. We can be patient yet.”
“Indeed,” grumbled the dowager to Aurora, who had joined them. “Trust me, my dear Aurora, if it were the man having the baby, nine hours ago would have been long enough. Patience! Hummmph!”
“Cally says she is going to die,” Aurora said quietly.
“Now, now,” the dowager comforted the young woman, “that is just your sister’s fear and her sense of the dramatic speaking. By tomorrow she will be delivered, beginning to feel well again, and planning her triumphant return to London, I am certain.” But Mary Rose Hawkesworth was not certain at all. Calandra had not looked right for several days now, and this early labor did not bode well. She could easily die. Childbirth was a dangerous business.
The afternoon faded into evening. Aurora had asked twice to be allowed to visit with her sister, but Dr. Carstairs would not permit it. Dinner was a silent affair, and afterward Aurora sought her bedroom. There she found Martha, who looked quite exhausted, sitting dozing by the fire.
Aurora shook her gently. “Martha, what has happened? How is Cally? Is the baby born yet?”
“Dr. Carstairs sent me and Sally away to rest a bit, miss,” her servant said. “It ain’t good. Oh, it ain’t good. Poor Miss Calandra is getting weaker by the minute, and the baby won’t be born. She’s going to die, miss. I’m so sorry to say it, but she is!”
Deceived Page 20
