The Marquis and I

by Ella Quinn

  Every now and then, Mrs. Connor would come up to ask questions, place experienced hands on Charlotte’s stomach, and nod. After the first such examination, Constantine began looking at his watch each time she cried out with a contraction.

  After five hours, the midwife pronounced, “I believe it’s about time.”

  Part of the way up the stairs, Charlotte felt an urge to push. “Oh, God. Hurry. I think the babies are coming.”

  Constantine swung her up in his arms, and even as heavy as she was, carried her as if she weighed no more than the cat.

  May was in the bedchamber, ready to remove Charlotte’s clothing when Constantine started to leave.

  “Do not go.” She reached out and touched his arm. “I want you to be here. My father stayed with my mother.”

  The strong planes of his face tightened, but he inclined his head. “If you wish.”

  Maids brought in hot water, linens, and ice chips piled in a silver bowl.

  Mrs. Connor pulled the birthing chair from the corner of the room. In the meantime, May quickly stripped Charlotte to her chemise.

  “My lord,” the midwife said, “please help her ladyship into the chair.”

  Constantine cocked Charlotte a look. “Grace sent it,” Charlotte explained.

  She had barely been lowered onto the chair when the urge to push came again.

  “Now then, my lady. Let’s see how much progress you’ve made.” Getting on her knees, the midwife lifted the hem of her shift. “Not long now. Once or twice more.”

  “What in the name of heaven?” The Dowager Lady Kenilworth strode into the chamber. “Charlotte, get in bed. Kenilworth, leave this room immediately, where is the—”

  “Mother, be quiet. Or leave.” Constantine’s tone was more commanding than she had ever heard it.

  Eyes wide, the Dowager Marchioness of Kenilworth snapped her mouth shut.

  Constantine winced as Charlotte squeezed his hand again and pushed. She felt the first baby slide out of her body. One of the older maids rushed forward with a wet cloth.

  “A fine boy, my lady,” Mrs. Connor announced. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

  Seconds later the second child appeared. “A girl. Now once more and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

  In what seemed to be a very short period of time, Charlotte had been washed, dressed in her nightgown, and put in bed, where she nursed the babies.

  Constantine kissed her softly on her forehead and took one of the infants from her. “I never want to go through that again.”

  “It will be easier the next time.” She was exhausted, but had never been more content. “At least we’ll be able to tell them apart. We had to mark the bottom of Alice’s and Eleanor’s feet.”

  “And you have an heir, Constantine,” his mother said. The first time she had spoken since he’d told her to be quiet. “But I do not understand. What is that chair?”

  “A birthing chair, my lady,” the midwife replied. “Doctors don’t hold with them, but they make birthing a babe much easier.”

  “My sister sent it to me,” Charlotte added. “She had it made for me. The one my mother used is at Worthington Place.”

  “What happened to the doctor?” her mother-in-law asked, apparently still confused.

  “Unable to be here, fortunately.” As far as she was concerned, he need never arrive. She had a feeling he would cause problems. He had also not agreed with the midwife that Charlotte would have twins. “I’m sure he would have argued with me and Mrs. Connor.”

  “Well, you certainly had a much easier time than I did.” Lady Kenilworth reached for the baby Charlotte was holding. “Have you hired a wet-nurse yet?”

  “No. The one the doctor sent smelled of ale, and we decided not to use her.” Constantine kissed the baby and cuddled her. “If you insist on going through this again, we shall ensure he is not invited. Especially if he is going to make this process more difficult for you.”

  Charlotte gazed up at Constantine. His support and his willingness to always listen to her continued to amaze her. “I am the luckiest woman in the world, and I love you.”

  “And I am the luckiest man. I love you.”

  Mrs. Connor curtseyed. “No relations for two months.”

  Constantine swore under his breath, and Charlotte couldn’t suppress her giggle. “Yes, Mrs. Connor. Thank you for your help.”

  Author’s Note

  Once again, I touched on the underbelly of Regency England. Kid kens were real—think of Oliver Twist—and often the children had been abandoned or orphaned. The kens took in children at very young ages. The bosses of the kens fed, clothed, and housed their charges as the children were taught to pick pockets, break into houses, and to commit numerous other crimes. Why use children? They were able to climb into small spaces, between bars, down chimneys, and through cellar windows. They were also less likely to be hanged or transported than an adult.

  Abduction was common as well. Kidnappers ranged from fortune hunters to those wanting ransom. The results of abductions were often tragic. In the case of young ladies, they were made to marry their abductor or rapist. In fact, in the United States until the 1970s, a rapist could have the criminal charges dropped if he married his victim, and I’m not referring to statutory rape. You can imagine how much pressure would have been placed on a Regency lady who had spent time alone with an abductor. Remaining single would ruin her reputation.

  As strange as it may seem, there was no police force in England at the time. Bow Street runners were confined to one section of London. Various magistrates were in charge of discrete areas of cities and counties. They frequently did not wish to be bothered, and would move a crime to another jurisdiction if they could. Victims of crimes were responsible for prosecuting the transgressions against them, which meant paying for the solicitor and barrister. Peers and peeresses charged with offenses could only be tried in the House of Lords. Justice for the middling classes and the poor was swift and brutal. Stealing almost anything was a hanging offense. If one was lucky, one was transported to what was to become Australia. However, if a lady was abducted, the case would never go to trial. It would have ruined her reputation. Those matters were always handled privately. Punishment of the offender was either death, forced transportation, or the agreement of the miscreant to leave the country permanently. You may have noticed that Miss Cloverly was not subject to the same rules or concerns as Lady Charlotte. That is because, right or wrong, they were treated differently than a gently bred lady.

  You will also have noted that, most of the time, I refer to Matt as Charlotte’s brother, Louisa as her sister and so on. Under the law at the time, once Matt married Grace (Three Weeks to Wed) he became her brother. In fact, it was illegal for a man to marry his sister-in-law. Because of that, and the close relationship all the children have with each other (not to mention how boring it is to constantly write brother or sister-in-law all the time), I refer to them as sisters and brothers. In case you’re wondering, the word “siblings” did not exist in the context of brothers and sisters until 1903.

  Before I end, I’d like to touch on Chartreux cats. They are an old French breed known for their blue fur and yellow eyes. They were hunted for their fur and food (they have an extremely diverse diet) during the Middle Ages. I was fortunate to live with one for many years and can attest to their love of travel. Raphaella was the only cat we’ve ever had who would happily climb in her carrier rather than be left at home.

  I pride myself on getting my facts correct, but I’m only human, and there will probably be some mistakes.

  If you ever have any questions, please contact me on my website, www.ellaquinnauthor.com. I am always happy to answer questions, and I love hearing from my readers.

  Now, I’m on to the next book!

  Ella

 

 

  ooks on Archive.