His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) (37 page)

"Sorry, Miss Dakota. You'll have to move. This chair belongs in the next—" He broke off and his caterpillar eyebrows joined in a single line above deep-set eyes. "Hey, are you feeling all right? You are not going to whelp right here, are you?"

The contraction had passed. Katy smiled without pain and stood. She touched John on the shoulder and shook her head. "No, John, I am not going to—"

A small screech interrupted Katy. Donna Mae Polk pushed John at the small of his back and moved him along. "Whelping is what a bitch does," she said matter-of-factly. "And Katy here is not a bitch. Now take the chair and stop standing around asking foolish questions. Anyone can see that our Katy's going to have a baby, not a litter." She turned her back on Katy and presented an unlaced corset and the open back of her gown. "Do me up, would you, dear? I cannot find that no-account dresser of mine. Not that I care. Thanks to her I couldn't breathe through the first two acts. God, I wish intermission was longer. You are lucky you don't have to be bound up in one of these blessed contraptions. What a piece of good fortune it was to cast you for the part of Alice. 'Course, I'm sure most of the audience thinks it's pillows you've got under your gown."

"I do have one," Katy admitted.

Donna looked back over her shoulder, her baby blue eyes wide. "Go on with you," she said in disbelief. Donna Mae had deep dimples on either side of her mouth. They disappeared as her lips curved in a small O of astonishment. "Really?"

"Really. I never got very big. I suppose because I am so tall, I just—" She broke off as another contraction gripped her.

"Ooh, not so tight with the laces, dear." When Katy's grip did not ease, Donna Mae glanced back again. "Lord above! You are going to have this baby right now, aren't you?"

Katy managed a small laugh, her face colorless. "Not right now. Everyone in the company who has had children tells me the first one takes awhile. I will be able to finish the third act."

Donna threw up her hands, raising her eyes to the rafters. "Just don't drop that baby while I'm on stage, dearie. I am not going to have you stealing my best scenes."

Considering the circumstances, the third act of Hampstead Heath was carried off with hardly a hitch. On two occasions, pain made Katy mute and each time Donna Mae covered for her. The other cast members, in whispered asides, soon realized what was happening and made allowances for Katy's condition. The last act was not Hampstead Heath as the playwright intended it to be, but only the actors were aware of the changes.

Katy participated in two of the three curtain calls. By the last one, she was being led off-stage and into Donna Mae's dressing room.

"Well," Donna Mae said as she entered the room. "That was much, much too close." She plucked at the fingers of her elbow-length gloves and surveyed the people crowded around Katy. Two stagehands were holding her up; another was pacing the floor. Donna Mae's dresser was wringing her hands while yet another cast member searched Donna's wardrobe looking for something that might be of use. Behind her, players were already filling the doorway. Donna Mae dropped her gloves in her dresser's lap and immediately took charge. "Please, someone put her on the divan over there. John, there is some bed
linen
we use in the first act. Bring it down here."

"But—" The objection came from Katy as she was escorted to the low couch. She was ignored. John rushed out to do Donna Mae's bidding. The diminutive lead actress was a force to be reckoned with. She gave orders with authority of a general and tolerated no excuses from her legion of followers. Mutiny was unthinkable.

"Now, Henry, you fetch Katy's doctor. Ramsey, isn't it?"

Katy nodded. "But—"

"He is over on Connecticut Avenue. Ask someone if you can't find it. Tell him it's the baby and that her labor is not going to be a long one from the looks of it. Florence, get some nightgowns out of my wardrobe and help Katy into one of them. The ones in the second drawer will do fine. Jacob, see about some hot water. And will someone please undo the back of my gown? I swear I cannot breathe again. As for everyone not engaged in a meaningful task, take yourself off. This is one time an actress does not want an audience. Isn't that right, Katy? Honestly you would think babies were never birthed backstage before."

"But I want to have my baby at home," Katy finally blurted, her mouth set tightly against the pain.

"Of course you do," Donna Mae offered soothingly. "But I don't think that's what your baby wants." She sighed with relief as her dress and corset were loosened. "So much better. Thank you, Flo. As soon as you help Katy with her nightgown you can wait outside. Bring the sheets in when John returns, the water when Jake brings it back, and show the doctor in. I will see to anything else that our Katy needs."

Katy realized that as long as she remained an actress she would never be without family. Everyone took care of everyone else. She was not even afraid that the doctor might not come. He was a thespian from his Hasty Pudding days at Harvard and some ties were stronger than blood.

"Are you crying?" Donna Mae asked suspiciously, peeking through the yards of petticoats she had raised above her head.

Blinking back tears, Katy shook her head.

"Good." Donna finished removing her undergarments, letting them fall to the floor with a flourish. "There is no sense getting yourself worked up now. You are going to need your strength for when it starts to hurt."

"Start to hurt? But—"

"Do not think about it." She opened her wardrobe and passed her hand back and forth across her clothes. "Are you anticipating a girl or a boy?" she asked.

"I think I would like—" Another contraction came and Katy curled in a ball on the divan. Her nails dug into the plush velvet upholstery, "—a girl."

Nodding, Donna's fingers curled around a pale blue wrapper and plucked it out. "I will wear this then. No sense tempting fate by wearing pink." She shut the wardrobe door and saw that Katy was in some distress. "Try to relax, darling. And be careful not to fall off the sofa."

"Relax?" Katy gasped. Her expressive brown-gold eyes were suspicious. "Donna Mae, do you have any children of your own?"

The actress sat at her vanity and began removing her greasepaint. Katy was reflected in her mirror. "I have been married to the theatre for thirty-five years, dear. I like to think of all of you as my children."

"I was afraid it might be something like that," Katy said to herself. More loudly, she said, "Then you have never actually given birth."

Donna Mae paused in wiping rouge off her cheeks. "I have presided over half a dozen, so don't think I don't know what's to be done. I am six times more experienced than you are."

The sheets arrived then and Donna Mae stopped what she was doing to help make up the divan with a double set. Katy lay back down on her side, drawing up her knees. "I think I could have made it home," she said, thinking about the freshly painted nursery waiting for her baby. She had not thought she was so close to birthing when she left for the theatre. Ever since coming to Washington, Katy had been making plans to have the baby in her little red brick house on E Street not far from the theatre. That seemed a more fitting setting for Logan's child and Victor's heir than Donna Mae's dressing room.

Katy sighed, touching the tip of her tongue to a bead of perspiration on her upper lip. It simply was not meant to be. Donna Mae Polk, she of the generous curves and heart, was kneeling at her side now, wiping greasepaint from her face and chattering on about names for the baby.

When she left New York, Katy had some idea of what obstacles she might encounter. She was young, widowed, pregnant, and traveling alone. It was unfortunate that in combination these things worked against her, inspiring strangers to whisper after her rather than offer any sort of assistance. Still grieving for Victor, Katy bore their censure without indicating that she knew it existed. It was a blessedly short train ride to Washington.

The capital was the logical place to set down new roots. She had a passing familiar with the city even though there were many changes since she had lived there as a young girl. There were enough theatre productions to support an actress who did not want to travel with tours, and the quality of those productions compared favorably with what the Rialto offered. Katy was confident she could find work. That Washington was also the home of Richard Allen when Congress was in session was something Katy had learned to live with. She was no longer a frightened little girl—something her stepfather would discover if he ever dared approach her.

Although Katy had accepted nothing from Michael, she had gowns and jewelry from Victor that she was able to sell. The jewelry turned out to be especially valuable. She parted with everything but her wedding band in order to buy the house.

Taking back the name Dakota, Katy found work in brief productions of Romeo and Juliet, Twelfth Night, and Much Ado about Nothing. Even before her pregnancy would have been evident to an audience, Katy did not aspire to command the lead roles. She preferred small character parts, playing shrews and peasants with equal fervor. With the proper padding she took on several minor male roles, and performed a feat of acting that remained unknown to her audiences.

Katy played older women—grande dames and smothering society mothers—in several melodramas that were popular with the public, although not critical successes. In January, just when she thought she would have to excuse herself from work, the part of Alice in Hampstead Heath was offered to her. It was a daring character to play because Alice Hampstead was supposed to be a free-spirited thinker, one of the Bohemians of pre Civil War Manhattan. She was unmarried, pregnant, and flaunting both those facts in front of her very staid, very circumspect family. The irony, as Donna Mae had discovered earlier, was that Katy was not large enough to flaunt anything without extra padding.

It seemed to Katy that she drifted in and out of reality as the contractions came harder and faster. There was scarcely time to breathe between them, let alone collect her thoughts. Donna Mae kept up a steady stream of encouragement and wiped Katy's damp face with a cool cloth. Henry brought the doctor just after six o'clock, and a few minutes before nine Katy delivered her baby.

"Oh, darlin'," Donna Mae murmured, placing the child against Katy's breast. "You never told me what you are going to call your little girl."

"It's a girl?"

"I'm wearing blue, aren't I?"

Katy's eyes caressed the red-faced infant in her arms. The baby's hair was so light she appeared to be bald. Her skin was wrinkled, and her mouth was opened so wide that her eyes were mere creases. Her dimpled knees were folded against her chest and her tiny fists flailed at the air. Red-faced, wrinkled, and bleating like a lamb—she was simply the most beautiful baby in all the world. Katy touched the back of her forefinger to her daughter's soft, downy cheek. "I'm going to name her Victoria," she said quietly. "After my late husband."

"Victoria," Donna Mae repeated, raising puzzled eyes to the doctor. If Victor was her late husband, she wondered, then who was this Logan person Katy called for during her labor?

* * *

New York City

Michael paced the hallway outside his wife's bedroom. He would have liked to have gone downstairs and sought refuge in his study. The disapproval he imagined Dr. Turner would level at his head kept him precisely where he was. Dr. Turner had already expressed some concerns that Michael would not let him move Ria to Jennings Memorial. A hospital! It was out of the question.

It was a place for the infirm and the dying. His wife was not sick and she was not going to die. She was too afraid of him to do that. Ria was having a baby, for God's sake. Women did it all the time, and they damn well did not have to do it in a hospital.

He stopped his wife's maid as she stepped out of Ria's room. "How is she doing, Emily?"

Emily shook her head, her expression bleak. "The baby does not want to come, sir. Miss Ria's strength is nearly sapped." She bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried on her way.

Michael swore softly and kicked at the dark oak wainscoting once Emily was out of earshot. Just once, he thought angrily, couldn't Ria do something right? He let his mind wander to Katy for a moment. She would be nearing her time; possibly she had already given birth. And she probably had done it with a lot less caterwauling than Ria. Michael vowed that if he heard his wife cry out one more time, he would go in and stuff a rag between her teeth. Did she think she was the only one suffering?

To hell with what Scott Turner wanted, Michael decided. If he was expected to endure his wife's labor, then he would endure it with bourbon.

When Dr. Turner found Michael in the study a few hours later, the master of the house was drunk. Scott ordered Duncan to bring a pot of hot coffee and do what he could to sober Michael up.

"Your wife is sleeping now, Mr. Donovan," Scott said, trying to keep disgust out of his tone. He was less than successful. "When she wakes up, she is going to need you. I suggest you heed Duncan's instructions and do what is necessary to make yourself presentable."

Michael took a belligerent step forward and did not seem to realize he was wavering. "S'what about the baby?" he asked, thrusting his chin out.

So he did remember. Scott was beginning to wonder. "A little girl," he said. He added bluntly, "She lived only a few minutes."