Nessy's Locket

by A. W. Exley

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Cara rubbed a hand in the small of her back, urging the pain to go away. “A twinge, nothing more. The baby moves around a lot now, elbowing things out of the way and trying to make space.”

  “How long have you been feeling these twinges?” Amy asked.

  “Off and on all morning. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Cara had been trying to ignore them, but they were becoming more frequent. Letting out long, slow breaths made the rolling pain more bearable, but the last one was sharper, and longer, than any of the others.

  Amy frowned and took Cara’s hand from the bodyguard. “Brick, go back and fetch the carriage. We’ll wait here.”

  The big man looked conflicted and glanced from Amy, who issued the order, to Cara.

  Cara settled the dilemma for him. “Do as Amy asks. It’s not like I’m going to run off, is it?”

  “I won’t be long,” he promised, then the big man took off at a brisk walk back towards the Lyons’ Mayfair mansion.

  Amy pulled Cara to one side, away from the swirling pedestrians intent on their own courses. “Do you want to sit down or keep walking? Some women say moving during labour helps.”

  “Let’s walk a little farther. What do you mean, labour? I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” It couldn’t possibly be time. Could it? She wasn’t ready. Her mind baulked at the idea of being in labour. Besides, she needed Nate.

  Cara drew deep breaths as she walked. Just when she thought the pain had subsided, another wave tore around her middle. She gasped and squeezed Amy’s hand.

  “Another? They must be contractions, don’t you think?” Amy wore a small, blue-enamelled timepiece as a brooch. The little watch hung upside down so the wearer could see the time when they looked down. Her friend glanced at the delicate gold hands showing the hour and minutes.

  Cara let the pain spread through her body and dissipate. She didn’t answer until she caught her breath again. “I don’t know if they are contractions or something else, Amy. I haven’t exactly given birth before to know what to expect.”

  Amy looked up the street. “We’re not waiting for Brick, I’ll hail a cab.”

  “I suspect Nate will gallop up shortly. He’ll know something is happening.” He reached out through their bond and sent her a wave of love and reassurance. All right for him, it wasn’t his body about to be ripped apart. The echo of his heartbeat was some distance behind hers. Wherever he was, she wished he would hurry.

  Amy stepped to the edge of the pavement to wave down a hansom cab. Mechanical and horse-drawn carriages plied the roads. A man sitting high behind the carriage of a mechanical conveyance pulled a lever, and his vehicle halted beside them. It took both her friend and the driver to help Cara up and inside. At least it wasn’t a steam-driven cab, smoky things that filled the small carriages with a foul odour.

  “Where to, miss?” the driver asked of Amy.

  Cara collapsed against the worn leather seat and focused on breathing. Dear God, she thought her skin was being torn apart from the pressure. She was only dimly aware of Amy giving a Soho address, and not the closer Mayfair one.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she pushed off the seat and tried to lean forward.

  “I’m saving my friend and her child.” A serious expression drew lines between Amy’s brows.

  Cara tried to argue, but another stab of pain stole her words and she gritted her teeth until it rolled past. She gripped Amy’s hand and squeezed, the action easing the fire that ran through her body.

  “Ten minutes,” Amy said while peering at her watch. “They are becoming more regular.”

  “You will take me home,” Cara gasped. She was hot and pulled at the dress that seemed heavy against her skin. What she would give for a cool drink.

  She endured another contraction in the cab. Amy’s calm reminder to breathe through it helped somewhat. At least she wasn’t alone as fear nibbled at the corners of her mind.

  The mechanical cab stopped outside the Soho house, and Helene rushed down the path as though she had been expecting them and had hovered by the window.

  She flung open the cab door. “It’s time! How marvellous.”

  “It’s not bloody marvellous,” Cara said and refused to budge. Another wave of pain spiralled around her body, and she bit back a sob. Amy and Helene took a hand each, and Cara clutched their fingers while she breathed through the contraction.

  Then her friends eased her from the cab and down to the pavement. Part of her wanted to fight them and stay in the carriage, but she also wanted to conserve her energy for the battle ahead. Where was Nate? He would take her back to Mayfair. The space between their beats narrowed. He was on his way.

  Amy paid the driver and issued him new instructions. He tipped his cap and the cab shot away along the road. Then her friend tried to pull her up the path, but Cara used her extra bulk to dig her heels in, even as her compressed bladder urged her to surrender.

  “We must get her inside,” Helene said as she darted back and forth, as though she were tethered to the house and couldn’t wander too far.

  “Why are you doing this, Amy? I thought you were my friend!” Cara wanted to lie down. Or stand. Or have a drink and strip off her clothes. Mostly she was desperate to use the bathroom, but that would mean venturing into the house. How could a friend betray her like this?

  Amy let go of Cara’s hand. She wiped a hand across her forehead and shared a long look with Helene. “I am doing this because I am your friend and I would do anything to save you.”

  “Please, Amy, take me home. My mother died here having me.” Cara wasn’t above begging, her voice a small whisper. She gazed up at the house. She wanted to believe it possessed a malevolent spirit that fed on young women, but Helene told her the opposite and that the women formed a ghostly sisterhood.

  Which was the truth? If her life ended here, she would find out.

  “Don’t make me die here.” Cara choked on the words as a tear ran down her cheek.

  23

  Amy stood with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face. “I love you, and I will do whatever it takes to help you and this child. If Helene says having the baby here will allow the house to watch over you both, then you can damn well bet I will make sure you are here for the birth to try it.” Amy reached out and took Cara’s hands in hers. Her tone lowered, and unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. “I will try anything before I pick up a scalpel and write your death sentence in your flesh.”

  Amy swore. Admittedly it was only damn, but that was swearing like a sailor for Amy.

  Cara wanted to cry. To scream. To fling herself to the pavement in a monumental tantrum. But she also wanted the babe safely from her body. It said something about her friend’s faith that she’d try a house with a soul before surgical intervention.

  “Did you plot with Helene to kidnap me and bring me here?” Cara never imagined Amy could be so underhanded and devious. It made her proud how far her uptight friend had come in such a short time.

  “Helene approached me through Jack and said she knew a way to ensure both you and the baby would survive.” Amy glanced at Helene, who pirouetted on the stairs.

  “My little sparrow delivered my request.” She danced with graceful swoops of her hand.

  Jackson. Should she shoot him or hug him for the betrayal? Cara managed a small smile. Being realistic, she needed all the help she could muster—dead or alive. The dice were cast now and she could only play out her fate.

  “If I die, I am going to haunt you forever.” She gritted her teeth and walked towards the house.

  “I’m sure Jack would love to have your ghost standing at the end of the bed as he tries to concentrate on his knot tying.” Amy kissed Cara’s cheek.

  Cara laughed, and then she cried as another wave of pain crashed through her body.

  “I need the midwife and Nate. Why isn’t he here yet?” Cara crossed the threshold, but baulked at the bottom of the stairs. How lon
g had it been since she last climbed those stairs?

  “I’ve sent the cab driver to fetch Gwen the midwife, and I’m sure Nate will be charging through the door any moment,” Amy said.

  Cara closed her eyes and waited for the wash of pain to recede. When she was able, she concentrated on their joined hearts. Nate’s heart was only a fraction behind hers. He was close.

  Cara grabbed Nate’s love and reassurance and clung to it as she walked up the stairs with Amy in front and Helene behind. At the top of the stairs, they turned left and into the front bedroom. Cara faltered for a second in the doorway. It was her mother’s room. The room where she had entered the world and her mother left. After Isabella’s death, her father had moved to a rear bedroom.

  The room had been aired out, and it smelt faintly of lavender and lemon. The bed was made with clean white sheets, and flowers sat in a vase on a side table.

  Cara crossed the room to the far side. The walls were papered in tones of silver and cream. The embossed wallpaper was covered in long-legged herons seeking fish among lotus blooms. She touched a bird and thought of her mother. A wave of love wrapped around her that felt different from Nate’s. This was lighter.

  The ache in her joints tugged Cara’s mind back to the matter at hand. She tossed her hat to the dresser and pulled off her short jacket. “How long have you plotted this?”

  “Ever since she suggested it.” Helene frowned as though Cara was the one speaking nonsense for a change.

  “Who, Amy? And why didn’t you talk to me?” Next she toed off her shoes and padded barefoot around the room. The restless energy needed an outlet, and so she paced in front of the window. Two wicker chairs sat where an occupant could feel the warmth of the sun or watch people go about their lives on the street below.

  “The house, silly. She said you wouldn’t understand and might say no. But the baby has to be born here so Isabella can watch over you.” Helene smiled and for a moment, her former beauty fluttered over her face as though she wore a gossamer-thin mask.

  Cara didn’t see the point in arguing as another contraction ripped through her body. She curled over her extended stomach and gasped for air.

  Amy consulted her little watch and then peered out the window. “They are becoming closer together. I wish the midwife would get here.”

  “I wish Nate would get here.” Cara rubbed her stomach and worried what would come.

  Did the pain get worse or had it plateaued? The gold pendant at her throat tingled and created a warm spot. Their diminutive queen birthed nine children. Cara just wanted to survive the one.

  As though summoned by her words, the stairs rattled with a heavy tread and Nate’s voice called out, “Cara!”

  Helene opened the door as he burst in. Concern, fear, and excitement raged across his face in an instant.

  “Are you all right?” He rushed to Cara’s side and wrapped his arms around her, showering her with kisses.

  She let out a sigh. He was here, as were her friends. She wouldn’t battle alone. “You mean apart from being in labour and feeling like the baby plans on bursting through my skin?”

  “This is labour? Good God, I thought you had got into a fight and been stabbed in the kidneys.” His eyes widened as he glanced at her middle.

  “It will get worse yet.” She tried to laugh, but the ache spread across her pelvis. Finally a man would understand what a woman endured when she gave birth, and apparently it was not unlike being stabbed in the kidneys. Although that begged the question of how he knew what that felt like.

  He swallowed and then clenched his jaw in a determined way. “You’ll not bear this alone.”

  With his help, they stripped off her dress and undergarments and slid a simple shift over her head. Cara relished the removal of her clothing. Even her full breasts hurt.

  Next to arrive was Gwen the midwife, accompanied by Faith, who was promptly set to work boiling water. Gwen examined Cara and announced, “Not even halfway yet.”

  Cara’s world narrowed to the room and the child in her womb trying to break free. When she tired of pacing, she sat on the bed with Nate behind her. With each wave that crashed over her body, she dug her nails into his forearms. She gave voice to the pain and found that let it ebb and flow.

  Amy hovered and wiped the sweat from Cara’s face with a damp flannel. The shift clung to her back as her body struggled to allow the baby out. Minutes ticked into hours. The pain came closer and closer together, until she barely had a chance to draw a breath before the next wave hit.

  “First ones always take the longest,” Gwen said to Amy as the two conferred by the bed.

  Helene sat in the chair by the window, a serene look on her face as though Cara giving birth in a possessed house was an every day occurrence. Faith wandered in and out, running errands as instructed.

  Nate murmured in Cara’s ear, lending her strength and easing her burden. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Nate lifted the pain and filtered it through his body with a grunt. She tugged the gift from the queen from around her neck and wrapped the chain around her wrist. She gripped the warm pendant in her hand and squeezed it tight. The faint tingle rippled over her palm, and Cara prayed the queen had passed on an artifact that helped during childbirth. How ironic it would be if instead it were one that ensured a long reign or that others followed your orders.

  The day passed in a haze of intense pain and fleeting periods in between where she caught her breath. Sweat drenched one shift as her body battled and for a moment, cool air caressed her skin as Amy changed her into a fresh one. Exhaustion nibbled at her mind and body and slowly consumed her strength.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she murmured to Nate in a blessed moment of peace, “I don’t want to do this any more. You take it back.”

  “I don’t think they are returnable,” he said.

  Damn it.

  Nan and Nessy arrived with Rachel, and Faith saw them settled in the front parlour to wait. The bedroom became crowded with so many people that Cara asked whether they were selling tickets on the street to curious passers-by.

  “So tired,” Cara muttered as she leaned against Nate. The beat of their hearts separated as hers soared wildly while his kept a steady rhythm. She was a kite caught in a storm, and only Nate’s strong presence kept her anchored. “Why doesn’t the baby come, Helene?”

  “It will. Soon. Dusk is falling and the veil will thin.” Helene pulled aside the lace curtain to reveal the sunset.

  Light faded outside with a final burst of blood splattered over the clouds. Gas lights flared into being along the road. Approaching dusk brought with it a light mist that swirled around the buildings opposite and hid them from view.

  Dread and fear mingled with the pain inside Cara as another contraction spiralled around her and drew her tight. She clutched at both Nate and necklace, praying for the trial to be over.

  Gwen peered between Cara’s raised knees, Amy looking over her shoulder. They murmured between them, and then Gwen smiled up at Cara. “Time to start pushing. With the next contraction, I want you to bear down as hard as you can.”

  Helene sat in a chair by the window, shadows playing over her form. As the light faded, she too seemed to grow insubstantial, or it might have been the sweat in Cara’s eyes blurring Helene. Cara struggled to concentrate on her friend.

  Helene turned her head and whispered, “It’s time. A life for a life.”

  “No!” Cara screamed. She wasn’t going to die, and neither was her baby.

  She squeezed the locket so hard she was certain it would leave an impression in her skin. With her other hand, she dug deep into Nate’s palm. She gritted her teeth and bore down. This child was coming out NOW, whether it liked it or not.

  “That’s it, Cara, nearly there,” Amy called from the end of the bed.

  For a moment the pain was too much to bear. Fire raced over her skin and she thought her body would be torn in half. She wanted to sob for them to make it stop. Then Nate was
there, pulling the pain away from her exhausted body and into his own.

  “One more,” Gwen said.

  Cara stared at Helene, needing the woman to take back her words, but her friend just smiled and then her eyelids fluttered closed. Cara screamed as she pushed down.

  Then blessed relief washed over her and she sobbed in the unexpected calm.

  “It’s a boy,” Gwen said.

  Cara struggled to sit up, Nate hauling her up with his arms around her. Amy and Gwen did something at the end of the bed. Faith held a bowl of warm water and a white flannel turned bloody as they washed the baby. A thin, reedy wail came from a small bundle wrapped in a soft cotton blanket.

  “A boy, Cara. You have a son.” Amy held up the newborn for Cara to see. His face was screwed up and wrinkled as he cried, and a mop of black hair was slicked over his squashed head.

  “A boy? Are you sure?” For a moment she wondered what it meant. The baby was red, malformed, and screaming like a little angry demon. What on earth would she do with him?

  Gwen chuckled. “They all look like that at first. Some get more battered than others making their way into the world. Give him a day or two, and his skull will straighten out and he’ll look angelic.”

  “We have a son,” she whispered and turned to find Nate staring at Amy as though she held out a sparkly unicorn. It was probably Gwen saying the child would look angelic when they all expected her to produce devil spawn.

  Then the pain gripped her body once more and her back went rigid. She cried out as it rippled through her in a continuous cascade.

  “What’s happening?” Nate shouted.

  The old midwife placed her hands on Cara’s tummy. She dug in with her fingers and grunted. “It would appear you’re not done yet, my lady. You have baked a surprise for us, but this one is around the wrong way.”

  Cara’s mind dwelt in a fog of pain that had descended with the dusk outside. Not done?

  “What do you mean she’s not done?” Nate asked the questions Cara couldn’t vocalise.