The only flaw in her pleasure was receiving a note from Reverend Morton they would not be attending, for Mrs. Morton had come down with a shockingly bad head cold. Serena made a mental note to send a basket of sweets from the ball to the rectory in the morning.
Then all thought fled as Blackwood touched her arm and she looked up into those mesmerizing eyes.
“I believe we are expected to begin the dancing.” With a shadow of his old whimsical smile, he took her hand and led her onto the floor.
His hand at her waist drawing her closer brought back a rush of memories: their first waltz, and that magical dance beside the reflection pool at Lady Sefton’s when he’d declared he was asking for her hand on the morrow. Then, it had all been like a romantic dream. Now, if he reached out to her so, it would have so much more substance, for she had grown to realize not only his true worth but her own.
As always, their steps were perfectly matched, and with a catch of happiness, she realized his leg was completely healed. If only all else could be.
The waltz was barely finished when their neighbor, Sir Henry Winston, claimed her hand. Blackwood gave her a smile of regret as Sir Henry led her into a country dance. Once again she thought she glimpsed golden glints of a new warmth in his eyes.
The evening conspired to keep them apart, although often their eyes met across the width of the room. Which was perhaps as well, for the knot inside her was nearly painful when he was near. It was as if she was holding her breath in anticipation. She refused to admit what she now yearned to happen between them, for she knew events did not always fall into place as desired.
After supper Serena was making her way to thank the chef for his brilliant effort when in the entry hall she spied Stevens scolding little Polly Brown, who stood before him, shivering, with tears running down her red cheeks.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded, rushing forward. Polly burst into tears and Serena knelt beside her. “Polly, why are you here so late?” she asked gently, taking the frozen little fingers in her warm ones.
“It be Ma,” she sobbed. “The babe’s comin’ early. Pa went after the midwife. She be visitin’ her sister up the coast. He sent me to the rectory, but the parson’s gone and his missus is laid up. I didn’t know what to do so, I came here … There’s somethin’ wrong this time. There’s so much blood,” she whispered, her eyes round with terror. “I don’t know how to help Ma.”
“Polly, don’t cry. I shall come with you to help your mother.” Still holding the little fingers, Serena stood. “Stevens, order the carriage at once, and fetch my cloak.”
If Serena suddenly declared she was flying to the moon, he couldn’t have been more thunderstruck. “But, my lady. You have guests,” he gasped. “Let me send one of the maids.”
The little fingers tightened around her hand, and Polly gazed up with tear-reddened, trusting eyes.
“I shall deal with this myself. My guests are having a marvelous time and shall continue to do so with or without my presence. Now, please hurry. Mrs. Brown needs attention.”
With stiff disapproval he snapped his fingers to two waiting footmen, and her cloak and carriage were instantly produced.
“Please inform Lord Blackwood and Lady Cecily what has occurred, but don’t cause undue alarm.”
He looked so pained, she immediately realized she’d insulted him. “Of course, I know I can count on you to do the proper thing, Stevens,” she added with what she hoped was a soothing smile.
She had no time for more. Obviously Mrs. Brown needed help.
How much help brought cold terror to clasp around Serena’s heart. The small space the Browns used for their bedchamber was taken up nearly all by a bed. Mrs. Brown lay in a pool of blood seeping into the covers.
Her pain-filled eyes widened in shock. “My lady, you shouldn’t be here.” Gasping for air, she tried to struggle up to her elbows. “Not proper you being here.”
Kneeling beside the bed, Serena stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Rest, Mrs. Brown. I will try to make you more comfortable until the midwife arrives.”
With a harsh intake of breath, she nodded. “It not be like the other babes.”
“I know. Try to relax. I’ll return in a moment.”
Stepping through the narrow doorway, she glanced up and saw seven little faces peering down at her from the loft. Polly stood by the fireplace twisting her hands together.
“Polly, boil water and gather fresh linens.”
The little girl instantly flew around the room to do her bidding.
Serena sent John Coachman back to the Landing with instructions to fetch more linens and a maid, for another pair of hands might be needed.
Then she tied an apron over her impractical gown and carried hot water and linens back into the tiny chamber.
Mrs. Brown sighed, muttering her thanks as Serena staunched the flow of blood as best she could, cleansed, and replaced the sodden linen with fresh. She was placing a cool cloth on Mrs. Brown’s hot forehead when the midwife finally arrived.
With one quick glance, she nodded. “Aye, your ladyship did right well. I’ll take over now.”
“I’ll leave you in the midwife’s capable hands,” Serena whispered, squeezing Mrs. Brown’s limp fingers.
Twisting her head, she spoke so softly, Serena had to bend low to hear. “You be a great lady” came through cracked, dry lips.
With a last squeeze to the hand, Serena took her leave. Stepping out, she found Daniel Brown standing near the fire with Polly. Their faces were identical in fear.
She wanted to reassure them. “Mr. Brown, I’m sure—”
“Your ladyship, quick! I need you!” the midwife cried, and Serena rushed back to the bedside.
“It be bad. Hemorrhaging.” The weathered old face was grim, the watery eyes staring at her appraisingly. “If I’m to save the babe, I need help. Can you do it?”
“Just tell me what must be done,” Serena returned with equal grimness.
Time ceased to exist as she did what the midwife instructed, applying pressure where it was needed, holding Mrs. Brown’s thrashing, pain-racked body, keeping up the supply of linens and hot water, all their efforts focused on saving the baby and Mrs. Brown.
But in the end, their efforts weren’t enough.
The midwife placed a wrapped bundle in Serena’s arms. “Daniel has another daughter.”
“Mrs. Brown?” Serena asked through a tight burning in her throat.
The midwife shook her head. “Best send Daniel in.”
Serena had been so young when her mother died, she didn’t have any memory of death; now, to see its mark left her with a deep sadness which settled into her chest like a cold lump and lodged there.
Holding the sleeping infant, Serena passed through the narrow doorway to find Daniel hovering outside.
“You have a daughter,” she whispered.
“Aye. Can I go in now?” he asked quickly.
At her nod, he brushed past her. An instant later she heard his hoarse cries. The cold lump inside her expanded.
Polly sat on the low couch by the hearth, tears washing her pale cheeks with red streaks. Serena carefully placed the baby in her arms. “You have a new sister.”
Nodding, she glanced at the baby and then up at Serena. “Ma’s dead, ain’t she?” she whispered hoarsely.
Slipping down beside her, Serena placed her hand over the small ones clutching the bundle to her. “Yes, Polly. But she will always be in your heart.”
“No!” she sobbed, her little chest heaving with her pain. “I need my ma here with me! We all do!”
Gathering the child close, she let the little face rest against the bodice of her ruined gown as she stroked the fine hair.
“I lost my mother when I was a little girl, but my father t
aught me she was always there if I wished. Close your eyes, Polly.”
With a hiccup, she obeyed.
“Can you see your mother?”
“No,” she moaned between sobs.
“Look really hard and she’ll be there.” Serena swallowed a lump in her throat. “Do you see her now? What is she doing?”
“She’s baking gingerbread cakes,” Polly whispered, tears squeezing from beneath her tightly closed lids. “It be Christmas and it smells so good cause Ma’s baking us gingerbread cakes and we kids are settin’ at the table waitin’ impatient-like. She be smilin’ at us.”
“What a beautiful memory.” Serena rested her cheek against the small head. “When you’re sad or lonely, or whenever you need her, you must simply close your eyes and she’ll be there. Smiling at you.”
Her own eyes burning with tears, she blinked and looked up. Through the watery haze she found Blackwood standing in the doorway, staring at her with an expression she’d never seen before.
For some reason, that look cracked the cold lodged in her chest into a thousand splinters. Resting her cheek again upon the silken strands, she wept with all her own pain.
Never before in Matt’s life had he felt such tenderness. It filled every muscle and sinew, knitting him into wholeness. He’d rushed here after giving Stevens a tongue-lashing for not informing him immediately of Serena’s intention. Now to find her holding Polly in her arms, creating such beauty and strength out of such tragedy, made him ashamed of his own inability to do the same.
Striding into the room, he knelt beside her. “I’ve brought the maid and the linens you requested.”
Looking up, her cornflower eyes brilliant with tears, she shook her head. “It’s too late.”
“Yes. But there’s still much to be done. You have done your duty. Now I must do mine.”
Returning to the door, he issued orders to John Coachman to fetch Mrs. Watley here at once. She wished someone to care for, and now the Brown children needed her caring. Turning to the maid, he commanded her to take charge until morning. He was glad she was older and mature, not one of the flighty ones. He was reassured when, without hesitation, she removed her cloak, folded it neatly on a chest, and climbed the ladder to check on the sleeping Brown children who would awake to find themselves motherless.
Turning back, he found Serena had coaxed Polly up and they were laying the baby in the wooden cradle next to the fire.
“Mrs. Watley will be here to help you, Polly. And the maid from the Landing will spend the night. But I must take her ladyship home.”
Her little face, red and swollen with crying, looked up at him and nodded.
He was beginning to recognize the determined thrust of Serena’s chin, but he wouldn’t be put off. She looked ready to drop from fatigue.
“I be fine, my lady,” Polly said in a hoarse little voice, persuading Serena more surely than Matt could have done. “My ma’s here with me just like you told me. All I do is close my eyes and she be smilin’ at me.”
The firelight caught the glistening tears on Serena’s cheeks as she leaned forward, hugging Polly tightly to her and kissing the top of her head.
“I shall be back. I promise.”
Before Serena could protest, Matt had enveloped her in her cloak, whisked her outside, and put her up before him on his horse. He settled Serena, one arm holding her tightly to him.
“Close your eyes and I shall have you home in no time.”
And in truth the ride through the clear, cold night was on wings. Again, as on the outing to the ruin, their journey ended before he was ready to release Serena from his arms.
To his delight he discovered he didn’t have to let her go, for she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. Although he tried to shift her gently as they came to a halt at the side door, her eyelids fluttered open.
“Are we home?”
“Yes. We’re going in the back way so I can take you straight to your bedchamber.”
He leapt down and swept her off the horse and into his arms. Striding past a stunned maid at the side door, he barked an order. “Send Lady Cecily to Lady Blackwood at once!”
She bolted to do his bidding. This night he’d been uncharacteristically sharp with the servants, which would no doubt be the talk of the hall tomorrow. He would make amends. But nothing else mattered now except getting his exhausted wife safely into her bed.
“Blackwood, truly you shouldn’t. I can certainly walk,” she protested, but with none of her usual spirit.
“Yes, I know. But indulge me.” Reaching her bedchamber, he opened the door and kicked it shut behind him.
A ghost of a smile curled her mouth. “I thought this sort of behavior only occurred in novels. Truly you may put me down now.”
This time he complied, slowly lowering Serena to the floor. For just an instant she leaned into him, her palms flat against his chest as she regained her balance. With his hands still at her waist, he lowered his head, unable to resist her another moment.
The door crashed open and he jerked back, startled.
“Serena! Are you all right? The maid said you were being carried to your bedchamber!” Cecily declared, her eyes wide with fear.
A flush colored Serena’s pale cheeks. “I’m just exhausted, that’s all.”
He could hear it in her voice. With reluctance he realized now was not the time to explore his feelings, which could no longer be repressed.
“I’ll leave you then.” Unable to resist at least one touch, he lifted her hand to his lips. “Rest well, Serena. We shall talk in the morning.”
He was rewarded with a wavering smile and a nod.
That was enough to fire him with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He paced back and forth across the carpet of his chamber, staring at the door separating them.
After what seemed like hours, he knocked softly. As he expected, his sister answered.
“She’s asleep,” Cecily whispered, motioning him in.
Going to the bed, they both stared down at her sleep-flushed face against the white pillowcase, her ebony curls spilling around her.
“She told me what happened. Poor Serena! What a terrible tragedy to witness.” Cecily’s young face was marked with sadness. “She must have been terrified!”
“She was magnificent.” Regardless of his sister’s presence, he lifted one ebony curl in his fingers, rubbing its texture through his fingers.
“Should I stay with her in case she wakes?” Cecily whispered, touching his arm.
“No, I shall leave the connecting door open so I can hear if she needs anything.”
Before he left, he built up the fire so a bright glow lit her room. If she woke during the night and needed anything, she wouldn’t be in darkness.
He lay in his own bed for a long time, listening, but she slept soundly.
Witnessing her indomitable strength, her courage at such a tragic time, her tender offering of hope to the child, had relit some of his old idealism. The world was not a perfect place. No one should expect that. But life went on. And in the response to the tragedies and hurts, as well as the triumphs, true character was formed.
Tomorrow he would search out his answers and devise a new direction. One that would bring him to Serena…
A shout woke her.
The instant she sat up, she saw the open door and knew Blackwood was again trapped in his nightmare.
After all that had happened tonight, she couldn’t turn away from him and ignore his needs. She feared the agony he must be suffering more than she feared his rejection.
The bright firelight cast into relief his wide, firmly muscled chest tapering to narrow hips. As she’d done before, she leaned into him, using her weight to help her grip the twisting shoulders in her hands.
“Matt, please
wake up. Matt, please!” A sob in her voice, she leaned closer. No more pain tonight. For any of them. “Matt, wake up and it will end!”
His eyes flew open, the pupils expanding to study her face as intently as if for the first time.
“Serena, you’re here,” he breathed with such tenderness, she began to tremble.
“You’re cold,” he exclaimed, gathering her closer until she was spooned against his warmth.
Her heart pounded so loudly, surely he could feel it where her breasts pressed against his arm? Afraid to speak, to do anything to break this spell, she willed her pulse to calm.
“I’m sorry I woke you again. Someday I shall talk about the nightmares. Then perhaps I can vanquish them.”
With a courage that had been forged this night, she shifted so she rested on his chest to study his face in the glow from the hearth. ‘Tell me. Together, we can surely vanquish them.”
A light sparked in the dark eyes. “You’ve been through so much tonight, I—”
This time it was she who stopped him with gentle fingers on his lips.
“Above all else, I wish to share your pain.”
Clasping her fingers, he pressed a kiss on their tips and then held them tightly.
“My nightmares are of the two days my regiment was ripped to pieces. I was powerless to do anything.” A faraway look came into his eyes and Serena knew he was back amongst his men. “Higgens fell. Even though the men fought bravely, there was no hope. I tightened our line, encouraging the men. For the first time, ever, I felt despair. That’s when I scribbled my farewell to you. Then I was wounded, trapped beneath my dead horse, but they rallied to me. My own men, forming a shield around me. Even Jeffries. And for what?”
He shut his eyes and Serena felt his chest heave with remembered pain.
“The battle shifted, but Jeffries wouldn’t leave me. He was always so damn stubborn! He was shot through the heart trying to drag me to safety.
“It was all utterly meaningless.” As he opened his eyes upon her face, his voice roughened. “All those deaths! A needless waste of brave men’s lives. We were at the peace table, but we had our orders. Fight on! For what? I once thought I knew. But as I lay there with Jeffries’s lifeblood oozing over me, I realized I didn’t know anything. I had only been an idealistic dreamer seeing all as I wished, not as it was. My world and the people in it became strangers to me.”
A Soldier's Heart Page 13
