‘No, I want you to take over as nursemaid.’
‘Me, the nursemaid?’ Maggie’s eyes popped and her voice squeaked with excitement, making the two little girls look up at her in surprise. ‘Oh, Mrs Ogilvie, it’s what I’ve aye wanted, but what aboot Bella? She’ll ha’e somethin’ to say if I took her job.’
‘Bella will have nothing to say about it. She’s leaving us in a few minutes, and she won’t ever be coming back, so you don’t have to worry about her.’
Maggie was full of curiosity about why her cousin was leaving, but she just said, ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Ogilvie.’
‘I’ll go down and see to the supper myself after Bella goes, and we’ll sort out what’s to be done after we’ve eaten. I’ll have to find another girl to take your place downstairs.’
Bella came out of the next room at that moment, but swept past Bathie with her head in the air, her face scarlet.
Listening until the outside door banged, Bathie said, ‘Charlie, Donnie, Ellie, I want you to have your supper up here tonight, so you’ll have to help Maggie to carry the things up. I want to speak to your father alone.’
When Albert came up from the shop, her repressed emotions could be held back no longer, and he could hardly understand what she was trying to tell him through her wild sobs. When he did, his face went turkey-red.
‘Good God! I should have sacked her when . . .’ He stopped abruptly as he realized that it was probably his refusal of Bella that had made her do this out of spite. ‘I’ll go down and tan the bloody hide off that bitch right now,’ he shouted.
Shocked out of her hysterical weeping, his wife jumped up in alarm. ‘No, Albert, let it be. I’ve sacked her, and Maggie’s going to take over as nursemaid. Everything’ll settle down and be back to normal in a little while.’
His face was dark. ‘Will our Charlie be back to normal in a little while? That’s the problem.’
The same thing was worrying Bathie, but she reassured her husband. ‘He’s young, Albert. He’ll soon forget.’
‘I hope so. Maybe it’s best put behind us.’
She was glad that her husband had simmered down, but she knew that neither of them would ever forget what Bella Wyness had done, even if Charlie could.
Part Two
Chapter Thirteen
‘1900, a new century, Bathie, and we’ve started it well. Our sixth child.’ Albert Ogilvie looked proudly down at his wife, his heart contracting at the sight of her dark silken hair, damp with perspiration, spread out over the pillow.
‘I couldn’t have timed it better if I’d tried, could I?’
Bathie’s smile was weak, for her labour, although quite short, had been harrowing beyond belief. The pains had begun just before eleven on Hogmanay, strong and quick, and she had been more than glad of Dr McKenzie’s quiet encouragement as they had built up to the crescendo of the actual birth just as the chimes of the Town House clock rang out midnight.
‘But I’m sorry I haven’t given you another son, Albert.’ Her blue eyes were luminous and apologetic.
He lifted her hand reverently. ‘I’m quite happy to have another daughter. Truly, Bathie.’
The doctor stepped forward. ‘She needs to sleep now.’
Albert laid the limp hand back on the counterpane and straightened up. ‘Right, come through to the parlour and I’ll give you your New Year.’
Gavin McKenzie, about a year or so younger than Albert, followed him through and sat down by the fire. As his host handed him a full glass of whisky, he looked up. ‘Are you not having one yourself?’
‘No, I swore to Bathie, years ago, I’d never touch it.’
‘Well, here’s your health, Albert, and all your family’s.’ The doctor took a good sip, shuddered, then gulped some air to cool the fire burning all the way down his gullet. ‘This is a grand drop of whisky, man.’
‘It’s eighteen-year-old malt. I get a bottle in, now and then, to take up to the house for visitors. My father-in-law’s the man for downing that stuff, in spite of his wife putting on a face that would sour the milk in every dairy in Aberdeen.’
Dr McKenzie laughed. ‘Women never like to see a man enjoying himself with a good drink, do they? My wife’s the same.’ He paused, then said, hesitantly, ‘I have something to say to you, Albert, but I’m finding it difficult.’
‘Out with it, Gavin. We’ve known each other for at least nine years. You weren’t here for Charlie’s birth, that was Mrs Wyness, but you’ve seen all the rest of my children into the world, so there’s no need to worry about what you say to me.’
‘Well, I think it’s time you stopped having children.’
A frown of annoyance crossed Albert’s face. ‘It’s not up to you to tell me when to stop, good friend though you are. Bathie agreed with me, when we started, that we’d have a big family, and she . . .’ He sat up, suddenly angry. ‘The number of children my wife and I have is nobody’s business except ours, as long as we can look after them all properly.’
‘It’s Bathie I’m concerned about.’ The doctor’s voice was quiet, but decisive. ‘Her health is deteriorating after six confinements. Each one has been that much more difficult than the one before, and with the two previous miscarriages she’s had, I strongly advise you to . . .’
‘I never realized.’ Albert ran his fingers through his fading red hair. ‘She’s not dangerously ill, is she?’
‘I wouldn’t go as far as say that, but she’s much more delicate than she was when I attended her first.’
‘This’ll be the last, then,’ Albert said, grimly. ‘I’ll never touch her again, I promise.’
A flicker of amusement came into Gavin McKenzie’s tired grey eyes as he stood up. ‘It’s hardly necessary to promise that – just be more careful. I’ll come in again tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, Gavin. You said what you did with the best of intentions, and it couldn’t have been easy.’ Albert saw the other man to the top of the outside stairs, then went back and eased the bedroom door open, just a crack.
He thought he’d made no sound, but Bathie murmured, ‘Is that you, Albert?’
His stomach muscles knotted. ‘Aye, my love, it’s me, and Bathie, I’m sorry I’ve been so coarse.’
She shook her head slightly, in contradiction, but he carried on. ‘I should never have planted six – no, eight – bairns inside you and caused you so much pain, and I hope you can forgive me. I’m deeply sorry, Bathie.’
Her eyes, which had closed a moment before, flew open. ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Albert. I wanted them as much as you, so don’t blame yourself.’ She stopped to regain her breath. ‘We’re at H now, so can we call this one Henrietta, after my mother?’
‘I was going to suggest the very same thing,’ he said, in astonishment. ‘We’ve good cause to be grateful to your mother.’
‘I’m glad you feel like that, too. I thought you might have wanted to call her Helen, after your own mother, and I wouldn’t really mind, because she’s been very good to us, too.’
‘I can’t deny that it did cross my mind, Bathie, and she’d be very pleased if we did name this one for her, but I thought again. We wouldn’t be where we are today if it hadn’t been for your mother, so it’ll be Henrietta.’
‘That’s settled, then.’ Bathie relaxed and closed her eyes again, and Albert waited until he was sure that she was asleep before he went back to the parlour.
He’d better not share the bed with her tonight. He had to have time to consider what Gavin McKenzie had said, but how could he be expected to think about being careful when he was enjoying Bathie? He’d been waiting for the day she’d be fit to be a proper wife to him again, for he still worshipped her, but he didn’t want to endanger her health. He’d just have to leave her alone until he learned how to control himself.
Lifting the poker, he stirred the dying coals, then set it back inside the fender. He undid his spaver buttons, slid his braces down, then slipped his trousers off and laid them over the back of a c
hair. After pulling his shirt over his head, he lay down on the couch, reflecting that it felt queer to be sleeping in his drawers and under again, after eleven years.
Annie Lindsay had been told to take New Year’s Day off, but went in anyway, for the mistress was too near her time to be doing any cooking or cleaning. The kitchen had been left spotless when the girl had gone home the previous evening, so she was surprised that it was in such disorder. She heaved a resigned sigh as she attacked the grey cinders with the poker, then raked them out on to a newspaper. When the fire was burning properly, it crossed her mind that she should see to the fire in the parlour as well, before Mr Ogilvie or his wife came through.
It was surprising that neither of them was up yet, but maybe they’d had visitors seeing in the New Year with them, and hadn’t got to their bed until the early hours. Having gone through the dining room to the parlour, she made straight for the window to draw back the curtains, then went over to kneel at the fireplace.
As she wielded the poker vigorously, a movement behind her made her whip round in alarm, and she fell sideways to land sprawled out on the Persian rug with her legs in the air.
‘Oh, Mr Ogilvie,’ she gasped. ‘What a fright you gi’ed me, for I didna ken you were sleepin’ on the couch.’
Albert raised his tousled head and looked blank for a moment, trying to remember where he was, then he smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Annie. My wife gave birth at midnight, so I slept here to let her have some proper rest.’
He swung his feet to the floor, meaning to help the girl up, and blinked in astonishment when she gave a little scream, scrambled up and ran out. What on earth was wrong with her? It took him a moment to realize that he was only wearing his under and drawers. Poor little Annie had been shocked out of her wits, for she’d likely never seen a man in his underclothes before. Grinning, he pulled on his trousers, then shouted, ‘You can come through now, lassie, I’ve got on my breeks.’
Her face was pink when she returned, and she couldn’t look at him, but devilment made him joke. ‘It would have been worse if I hadn’t had on my drawers.’ Much worse, he realized wryly, for his sap had risen at the sight of her bare thighs when she fell over.
She turned scarlet, ignored the remark and rattled the poker amongst the cinders as if her very life depended on it.
Albert went through to the bedroom, where Bathie was still asleep. Just looking at her in the bed, he could feel his sap rising even further and was ashamed at himself for being such a beast. First Annie, though he wasn’t attracted to her in the least, and now his wife, not long out of labour.
He hadn’t had release for months, that was the trouble, and, Gavin McKenzie’s warning coming back to him, he wondered if he’d ever feel safe to mount his wife again.
When Albert’s parents ‘first-footed’ them that afternoon, Nell turned on her son as soon as she came through from seeing Bathie. ‘She doesna look weel, Albert. You’re makin’ her ha’e ower mony bairns – that’s eight, coontin’ the two she lost, an’ she’s only a wee bit slip o’ a thing. You’ll ha’e to be mair careful and think aboot her, for a change.’
‘I swear there’ll be no more, Mother, for Gavin McKenzie said the very same.’ Albert felt that enough had been said, and changed the subject. ‘I hope you’re not offended that we’re going to name the infant Henrietta, but Bathie’s mother lent me the money to buy this property and start my business.’
‘I’m nae a bit offended, son. Bathie explained it, an’ I’m pleased it was her idea an’ you agreed. Henrietta Johnstone’s a fine woman.’ Nell paused, then added, ‘You’ll nae be able to name a bairn for ony o’ the grandfathers, that’s one thing.’
Seeing Albert’s puzzled expression, she went on, ‘You were the A, so Arthur Johnstone’s out, an’ your father’s Walter, an’ you’ll surely never reach W?’
He felt angry for a moment, then, catching her twinkling eyes, he laughed heartily. ‘No, I’ll never have an Arthur nor a Walter. W’s a bit too far down the alphabet for me to attempt, especially now.’ He made a face. ‘When did you find out what I was trying to do with their names?’
‘I think it was when Ellie was born, though I never said onythin’. I thought to mysel’, Charles, Donald, Eleanor, that’s C, D, E, an’ it flashed through my mind that you were an A an’ Bathie was a B. It’s been interesting seeing what names you chose, though – Florence, Grace and now Henrietta.’
She looked as if she might start lecturing him again, so Albert was thankful when his father joined them, having taken Spanny out for a walk.
‘It’s time we were awa’, Wattie.’
‘You’re welcome to have your supper,’ Albert offered.
‘No, no. There’s enough upheaval in this hoose the day, withoot us makin’ mair work. Wattie, stop fussin’ wi’ that dog, you’ve your ain dog to feed at hame.’
Her husband patted Spanny’s head and stood up, stiffly. ‘You can smell my Nellie, can’t you, lad?’
Looking at Albert, Nell gave a small chuckle. ‘At least I got a dog named for me. That’s aye somethin’.’
She walked through to the bedroom to bid Bathie goodbye. ‘Tak’ care o’ yoursel’, lass, an’ dinna try to get on to your feet ower fast, for this bairn’s ta’en a lot mair oot o’ you than you think. Maggie an’ Annie are runnin’ the hoose like clockwork, so you’ve nae need to be up.’
‘Oh, Grandma, I’ll soon be as fit as a fiddle.’ But Bathie lay back against the pillows weakly as soon as she said it.
The Johnstones arrived after suppertime, and Henrietta couldn’t hide the pleasure she felt on hearing the baby’s name.
‘It was very thoughtful of you, Albert. Thank you.’ Handing her a small glass of sherry, he said, It’s the only way we could thank you properly for all you did for us.’
Arthur raised the large glass of whisky he’d been given. ‘May 1900 bring happiness and prosperity to you and all your family, Albert. And good health,’ he added.
Henrietta’s smile faded. ‘I thought Bathia was looking quite ill, Albert.’
‘It is not twenty-four hours since the child was born,’ her husband reminded her. ‘She has not had time to recover.’
‘I am well aware of that, but I hope this will be the last one, Albert, because Bathia is not as strong as you think.’
Albert nodded. ‘It’s definitely the last one.’
Unexpectedly, it was Arthur who stepped in to save his son-in-law a further homily. ‘Were you very busy in the shop yesterday?’
‘It was like Paddy’s Market.’ Albert rose to fill Arthur’s empty glass. ‘We were packed out with folk, right to eleven at night. Then I closed the door, because Maggie came to tell me Bathie’s pains had started.’
‘It was not a long labour, then?’ Henrietta sounded very surprised. ‘Bathia said that the baby was born at midnight.’
‘An hour.’ He couldn’t tell them of his wife’s terrible ordeal during those sixty minutes. It had riven him apart just listening to her screams. Gavin McKenzie had put him out of the room eventually, and had told Maggie to see that he stayed in the kitchen.
He lifted his head with a start when Arthur spoke his name, and was rather disconcerted by the look in his father-in-law’s eyes.
‘Henrietta has gone through to speak to Bathia again.’
Arthur accepted another very large whisky and took a few sips, then decided to say what was on his mind and shifted his gaze to a large vase on the mantelpiece. ‘Albert, I do not relish telling you this, but I, too, am very disturbed by the number of Bathia’s pregnancies. You seem to be a stallion, but my daughter is not a brood mare.’
‘The doctor told me to be careful, but I forget everything when I’m inside her.’ Albert stopped, looking ashamed. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying anything like that to you.’
Still keeping his eyes averted, Arthur’s slurring voice became little more than a whisper. ‘Perhaps it would be better for you if you . . . found another outlet for your needs.’
>
Albert found it difficult to believe what the man seemed to be suggesting. ‘Are you saying I should take a mistress? My God, I never thought I’d hear you telling me that.’ After a moment’s pause, he asked, ‘Did you have a mistress? Is that why Bathie was an only child?’
Arthur’s pained eyes met his briefly. ‘I didn’t take just one mistress. Henrietta used to be a frigid woman, but she had a succession of maids who were quite willing to oblige me.’
Great God, Albert thought. What could he say to that? What was he expected to say? It was disgusting to think that this man – a respectable banker, a pillar of society, Bathie’s father – had bedded his wife’s servants, but he wouldn’t be saying these things if he hadn’t had too much to drink.
‘Mind you,’ Arthur continued, ‘I have not availed myself of any of them for some years, because my wife . . .’ A little flustered, and perhaps regretting what he’d already said, he went on, ‘My wife came to her senses and now grants me my conjugal rights, though she does not excite me nearly as much as her servants did.’
Looking at the thin, dapper man with barely concealed contempt, Albert suddenly recalled how very near he’d come to bedding Bella Wyness. If Bathie had ever refused him, he’d have taken Bella with no qualms, and if the brazen hussy had stayed much longer beside him that night, he’d have done it anyway, qualms or not. His eyes softened. If Henrietta had refused Arthur as he’d said, it wasn’t surprising that he’d found his comfort with her maids.
If the man was as drunk as he appeared to be, though, he would have no recollection of this conversation when he was sober, and Albert had no intention of reminding him.
When Annie brought in a tray, Arthur smirked to Albert, as if to say, ‘What about this one?’
Frowning, Albert shook his head. Annie’s bare thighs had certainly made his sap rise a little, but that was only because he’d been in an emotional state anyway. He’d never given a thought to her charms, or lack of them, at any other time. He was very relieved when Henrietta came through again, even when she looked reprovingly at him through her new steel-rimmed spectacles.
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