by Webb, Brenda
And as they made their way through the house, two sets of prayers were offered. One asked the Lord to spare the mare and colt and for the birth to be uncomplicated and soon done with so that William might get some well-deserved rest. The other contained all of that and more—a request that she be allowed to see him again tonight.
~~~*~~~
The Stables
By the time William arrived at the stables he was almost soaked to the bone. The winds were howling, small trees bent almost to the ground with the force of them, while lightning and thunder took turns astonishing the night with displays of ferocity. It had been some time since he had witnessed a storm of this magnitude, and while he was not frightened, William was very aware of the potential for damage, especially from the winds. Nevertheless, as he neared the smaller stable where the broodmares were housed along with newborn colts, the door swung open, and he ran inside to be greeted by one of the younger grooms who had been stationed to watch for him.
“Mr. Darcy, sir, I almost missed you! I watched at the window, but it is almost impossible to see anything in this downpour! If not for your great coat flapping in the wind, I would have overlooked you.”
“John, is it not?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Well, John, if not for the gravel path, I might never have found the stables!” William declared with a chuckle. “I could only see a few feet ahead of me.”
“I am sure Mr. Mooney will be grateful that you came. He is in the last stall on the left.”
While they talked, William divested himself of his great coat, hat and gloves and tossed them to the groom. “Please place them across some of the hay bales to dry.”
It was not hard to find the precise stall, as there were at least four young men standing around the one in question. They parted as he neared and then gathered again after he entered the spacious stall filled with straw, rags and water. Mr. Mooney and another groom were standing next to a beautiful white mare that his sister had christened Tatiana years before. The mare was evidently in distress, and as he was stripping off his coat and rolling up his sleeves, it laid down. That is when Mooney spoke.
“Thank you for coming, sir. I am sorry for asking your help when I know you are tired. I am just a bit hampered, what with this arm.” He tried to move his left arm which was in a sling from having recently been strained. “And without Bradford, I am finding it hard to make do.”
“I was sorry to hear about Mr. Bradford. He was a fine man, and I admired his way with horses. There is no need to apologise.”
Kneeling beside the animal, he began to run his hands over the ripping flesh of the mare’s belly. Everyone watched in silence, their murmurings ceasing as they followed every move he made. Mr. Darcy’s reputation as a horseman was well known around these stables.
After a few tense moments, William sat back on his heels, took a deep breath and let it go loudly. The others watched on in silence, as he seemed to be considering what he was going to say. Finally he stood up and spoke.
“Better have more rags and water brought in. If I am correct, you are going to see a rare sight.” Mooney’s eyes grew larger, but he did not speak. “Have you ever had a mare deliver twins?”
“Not in all my days. Have you at Pemberley?”
“Only once can I recall seeing twins born, and it was at Matlock, not Pemberley. I was just a boy, but I was there during the entire delivery, and I remember what was done.”
“And how did it turn out?”
“Both colts were born alive, but one died soon after birth. It was not as large or as strong as the other. But who is to say that will happen with this mare. We shall do our best and pray for the Lord’s help. Nothing will happen until her water has broken, so let us each try to relax until nature takes its course.”
Moving to sit on a bale of hay and leaning back against the side of the stall, he offered a silent prayer for the animal and her offspring. Then William closed his eyes, hoping for just a moment’s respite.
~~~*~~~
Chapter 34
Ashcroft Park
The Dining Room
The four people sitting at the heavily laden dinner table ate in silence, each glancing from one to the other before quickly looking away when their eyes met. All were troubled at the turn of events that kept William from joining them, but none seemed eager to discuss it, and each had their own reasons for the deafening lack of sound.
Georgiana spent the entire meal pushing her food listlessly around on her plate, quite unaware that the cook had gone to great trouble to change the menu to include some of her favourites at Lady Ashcroft’s behest, hoping it would strengthen her niece’s appetite. Greatly disappointed that her beloved brother had been called to help in the stables, Georgiana realised she would not likely see him again until morning.
Her hope had been that they would spend the evening together, allowing her to exhibit her skills at the pianoforte and that the music might dispel some of the disappointment she had seen in his eyes. She might have been more accepting of the situation that took him away had Georgiana known that it was her mare that William was attending. But her aunt felt it best not to inform her of that fact, for had she known, she would have been fretting over all three—her brother, the mare and the colt.
Elizabeth tried to feign interest in what little she ate and to give the appearance of having no disquiet. It was challenging, as she had absolutely no appetite—not with Fitzwilliam so soon torn from her arms. However, she was not blind to the covert looks that Lady Ashcroft gave Georgiana as she slid the food on her plate first one way then the other, without actually consuming any of it.
Elizabeth did not want to appear equally ungrateful for the delicious food—and what little she had tasted of it was delectable—but she just could not manage to swallow past that large lump in her throat that appeared the instant Fitzwilliam had passed out of sight at the top of the stairs. Managing to force a smile, she glanced up to see if anyone was looking, and seeing that no one was, she let the smile fade. She was not surprised to see that none of the others had eaten much either.
If one was to study Lord Landingham, it would be plain to see that he was decidedly irritated. Upset that he had not been informed of the situation at the stables in time to accompany Fitzwilliam and chafing under Audrey’s insistence that he was not well enough to be out in the present downpour, he was certain that he could have been of help to his godson, if only someone had had the foresight to tell him what was taking place. Even now as he fretted over the situation, he felt a slight twinge of pain, and his hand unwittingly rose to his scalp. Glancing to Audrey, he noted that she was watching him like a cat would a mouse, so he brought the hand back down, and once more focusing on his plate, he silently vowed not to let her assessment of his health prove correct.
I AM better! He affirmed mutely just as a sharper pain struck at the place where the bullet had begun its run through his hair. It was another blasted headache! Sighing, he began to sulk. Well, I am certainly well enough to help with a mare in foal!
For her part, Lady Ashcroft was watching Marshall carefully, equally worried about him as well as Fitzwilliam. They were both so similar—each used to pushing themselves beyond his limits. Marshall simply would not accept the fact that he had to relax in order to recuperate.
She had known of one other man who had had this type of injury, a trusted servant years before, and it had taken almost a year for him to return to his normal occupation and good health. At that time, the doctor had been adamant that he be relieved of his duties and to get plenty of rest. Coping with Marshall’s reluctance to be a good patient, her anxiety over her nephew’s relationship with Miss Bennet, and the entire episode with Georgiana was wearing thin the fabric of her sanity. And somewhere deep inside, Lady Ashcroft feared that one more provocation just might push her past the bounds of her patience and good sense.
Glancing over to see how Elizabeth was faring, the gloom written on that young face was yet another remi
nder that her nephew was in a dark, dank stable when he should have been with them. It was obvious that he had left London very early and rode hard all day to arrive when he did, thus he had to be weary. And now, while a tempest raged outside, they were all inside a safe and warm home, while he was not. She sent up a silent prayer.
Lord, please help him. If he does not get some rest before long, I fear the result!
Besides being concerned about Fitzwilliam’s health, Lady Ashcroft hated that he and Elizabeth had not had more time to talk with one another. Though they both wore a pleased expression when they exited the library, it was clear that they had had little time to discuss their situation. She dearly wished for them to make a decision before morning, when they were to return to London. She had a feeling of tormenting foreboding that something dreadful was about to happen when they returned to Town. Knowing not what it might be, she could only pray it was not as bad as the only other time she had had this feeling—the night her Joseph died.
Shaking those worrying thoughts from her mind, Lady Ashcroft quickly surveyed her guests to find that no one was eating very heartily, so she declared, “If everyone is finished, why do we not retire to the music room for dessert and coffee? Perhaps we might persuade Georgiana to play for us while we wait for Fitzwilliam to return from the stables.”
All eyes fixed on Georgiana who blushed but did not refuse. Thus, one and all stood relieved to exit the dining room. As the last to leave, Lady Ashcroft motioned one of the footmen to her side.
“Please notify Cook of our plans, and inform me at once when my nephew returns from the stables.”
A loud round of thunder seemed designed to halt any more instructions, so the footman bowed and went to inform the cook of his mistress’ orders as the lady trailed after her guests.
~~~*~~~
The Stables
Two hours later
Though it was long past time to retire for the night, none of the men who had gathered outside the stall to watch Mr. Darcy supervise Tatiana’s foaling had stirred. A few had been with the family for decades, but not a one had ever seen a horse deliver twins, and the complexity and novelty of it had kept them riveted to the spot for hours. Yet, even now that the colts had been born without major complications, they had not stirred from their post. It was quite a sight to see—not one, but two identical black colts borne to the solid white mare.
The miracle of new life was not lost on those standing about the stall—the grooms, whose lots in life were to care for the animals and the man whose destiny it was to raise them. And while Fitzwilliam Darcy would always be of a separate sphere, what he had done that night to facilitate the births of the colts had made an impression on each one in the stable. For any gentleman who cared enough about an animal to get on his knees and help deliver a colt, was the kind of man they could admire, no matter his elevated station in life.
The men who had actually assisted with the birth, Fitzwilliam and Mr. Mooney, were sitting on bales against the side of the large hay-filled stall, exhausted but elated at the results. Not only had Tatiana birthed two colts, but both appeared healthy. And the fact that each had stood soon after birth was a good omen. It had been amusing, as always, to watch the newborn colts trying to control their ungainly legs, straining to stand on their spindly limbs only to come crashing down time and again. Nevertheless, no amount of failure could discourage them from their goal, and eventually each small creature was hobbling about the enclosure before, in short order, electing to look for nourishment.
And just as the newborn colts had taken to their legs, the weary gentleman in question finally stood to his feet and stretched to relieve his aching back. The young groom, John, stepped forward, eager to address him.
“Sir, we have heated water for your use. If you will follow me, I shall take you to the room where we wash up.”
William looked to Mr. Mooney, who nodded. “Please go ahead, sir. You did all the work, so I am barely soiled. I shall wash after you.”
William was too weary to argue, so he followed John to a small room in the back of the stables where a number of large flat stones constituted a floor. Overhead, several boards ran across the middle of the structure and held a line of large buckets. Each pail was secured in such as way as to tip but not fall and was connected to a rope that hung down in the middle of the room. A young man stood upon a ladder pouring water into one of the containers fixed overhead. At William’s pensive study of the apparatus, John began to explain.
“This was my idea! We do not have a tub so we stand here and pull the rope, which tips the bucket. It is not fancy, but it is soothing when the water is hot,” he smiled as though he had just described the finest accommodations in any manor house. William could not suppress a smile in return.
“Thank you, John. I am sure it will suffice admirably. Now where did you place my clothes?”
John walked over to one wall and opened a small cabinet that was eye level. “They are inside here, Mr. Darcy, along with a clean towel and some soap,” he responded. “Now, if you will just give me your boots, while you are bathing, I shall tidy them up for you.” He glanced up at the man on the ladder. “Trevor seems to have finished filling the pails now.”
William sat down on a small chair near the cabinet, and John helped him off with the boots, then slipped out the door, along with the other fellow. Stripping off his clothes, he positioned himself under a bucket and pulled the rope, sending cascades of deliciously hot water down, and before long, he found himself enjoying the smell of soap and the streams of steaming water. He hurried to finish, not because he thought to see Elizabeth at this hour, but because he knew Mr. Mooney was awaiting his turn, and it was not long until he was clean, dressed and ready to return to the manor house.
“I shall return to the house, John,” William offered as he stepped out of the room to find the young man waiting to give him his boots. “Thank you for the hot water.”
John nodded with a shy smile and began leading the way back to the large doors on the end of stables. As they approached, William noted that Mr. Mooney stood near the entrance with a lantern. The liveryman addressed him.
“It seems the rain has abated at last, Mr. Darcy. At least you will not get soaked returning to the house.”
All three men walked out of the stables and looked up to see that the clouds were now scattered and were moving quickly from one portion of the sky to the other, as the wind was still very strong. “I suppose the worst is over,” William sighed tiredly.
The old man handed John the lantern. “Please escort Mr. Darcy back to the manor. It is still quite dark, and the path is not well marked.”
“I assure you, there is no need. I shall be perfectly safe.”
Mr. Mooney conceded. “Very well, then. Thank you for your valuable assistance, Mr. Darcy.” Turning, the liveryman addressed the groom, “Will you please check on the animals in the main stable before you retire?”
John acceded, and as the men resumed their work, William began the trek back to the manor. Since the pathway was lined by tall trees, it was still extremely dark, and he began to wish he had accepted the light. The storm was so fierce it had stripped the trees of leaves. Small limbs and even some dead wood were strewn across the path. More than once, he tripped, almost falling flat on his face. Deciding that he must be more careful, William dropped his gaze to focus on the ground. In doing so, however, he failed to see a jagged tree limb that hung precariously just ahead— right above eye level—until he walked right into it!
The impact knocked William to the ground, and he landed on his backside. His hand flew to his forehead, and he felt the sensation of a warm liquid streaming down his face. The injury was serious; that much was certain. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it firmly to the wound. Now chuckling in frustration, he considered his situation.
Deuce take it, I should have listened to Mr. Mooney. He climbed to his feet, dusted off the seat of his pants and shrugged. I shall survive, albeit wit
h a headache, I am sure.
~~~*~~~
Downstairs
Rufus Parker had been about to retire for the night, convinced that Mr. Darcy
would likely be at the stables until dawn, when the sight of his mistress’ nephew entering the back door with a blood-stained shirt and a wound to the head left him speechless. After hearing a quick explanation of the reason for that gentleman’s injuries, Parker’s mind raced with the question of what to do first—fetch his mistress or his wife? Neither option was pursued, however, as William forbade him from waking either of them. He did manage, however, to coax the gentleman to the kitchen in order to assess the injury.
William had wearily slumped down in a chair next to a table, pulling the handkerchief back for the butler to inspect the gash. Mr. Parker’s expression at first sight of the damage did not ease his mind, no more so than the consequent clicking of the servant’s tongue in disapproval.
“I wish you would allow me to awaken my wife, Mr. Darcy. I am sure that she would insist that you allow her to stitch up this wound!”
“I do not want anyone awakened at this ungodly hour to see after a scratch! It shall be well.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but based on what I have seen over the years, I do not think it will. You have held a cloth on it for several minutes now, I assume, and the bleeding has not diminished. It is very deep, and without stitches, may not stop bleeding for some time. At the very least, it will leave a horrible scar if it is not sewn up properly.”
“I am determined that we will do it my way, Parker.”
“Then at least allow me to fetch warm water to wash the wound and your face. I am afraid that blood has run down the side of your face and neck and ruined your shirt. And, I shall also find my wife’s bag of remedies, as she has powders for headaches.”
