Lady Jane (12 page)

“—and if you will all forgive me I think I must seek my bed almost at once, for I am faint with fatigue. No doubt I have only myself to blame for I
would
have that long walk.”

“Oh, dearest Caro!” exclaimed Lady Payton contritely, “of course you must be exhausted after your long journey! You must come along at once and let me put you straight to bed.”

The two ladies said their goodnights and went away and Jane and Sebastian made their way downstairs and back to their own quarters. When Sebastian entered his wife’s boudoir a half an hour later he found her seated before her dressing table having her dark curls brushed out by Betty, who promptly laid down the brush and left the room.

Sebastian seated himself in the chair before the fire and Jane came to drop on her knees before him in a cloud of blossom tulle negligee. She rested her elbows on his knees and gazed up at him with luminous eyes, feeling her glorious secret bubbling up irrepressibly, trying to think of just the right words to tell him of it.

“Do you know something?” Sebastian said, studying her intently, “impossible as it seems, you are grown even more beautiful. If you go on like this you will be an impossibly gorgeous old lady.”

“Will I make a gorgeous mother, do you think?” The words burst out unstoppably, though this was not how she planned to tell him.

He stared at her blankly for a full moment and then as the import of her words sank into his mind a look of dawning horror grew in his eyes. He sat up and grasped her shoulders fiercely.

“No! You mustn’t—I don’t want—”

“Sebastian! What on earth—what is it?” she gasped.

“I don’t want this! Are you sure of it?” he shook her shoulders impatiently.

She looked up at him dumbly, her beautiful secret smashed into pieces and lying about her. Her eyes filled with tears which ran slowly, unheeded, down her cheeks.

“Answer me! Are you sure?”

She nodded mutely, not daring to trust her voice.

“Oh my God!” He let her go abruptly and fell back into his chair, his eyes closed. Jane sank into a huddled heap on the floor, more miserable than she’d ever been in her life. Even her dreadful experience with Leach was as nothing compared to the pain of causing Sebastian to be unhappy and angry with her! The constriction in her throat rose into a convulsive sob and then she gave way completely and put her hands over her face to weep unrestrainedly.

Immediately she felt Sebastian’s arms come around her and he pulled her up against his shoulder. “Darling! Darling! Forgive me. Oh, what a brute I am to make you cry,” he said contritely.

“B-b-but—why—why d-did you?” she sobbed. “I—I—w-wanted to make you h-h-happy! I th-th-thought you would be gl-gl-glad.”

“Oh my love, I never meant to make you cry! Listen to me—listen, my darling! I am afraid, you see. It is dangerous for you—I might lose you! I—I could not bear for anything to happen to you!”

“But nothing will—” she began, withdrawing a little to look into his face.

“But it might! And nothing—
nothing
—is worth taking that chance as far as I am concerned. I simply
could not
bear to lose you!”

“Oh—oh Sebastian!” Jane cried, throwing her arms about his neck with a little laughing sob of relief. “Is that all!”

“
All!
No, no, Jane, you must listen to me, I can’t—” he pulled her arms away and held her again by the shoulders.

Jane put her fingers over his lips. “No, love. Now I will speak. I know men worry about these things, and of course bad things
can
happen. But you need not fear for me. My mother always said I was made from the same mould as herself—“and ye’ll find birthing easy when yer time is cum, Jane lass.’” Jane fell easily into her mother’s speech pattern for she could hear her mother saying it plain as day. “She was seventeen when she had me, as I shall be, and she said it was the easiest chore she ever had in her life,” Jane giggled at the memory of the story, “and I shall be just the same and very careful besides and do everything I’m supposed to do. Oh Sebastian, please,
please
don’t worry about me. The last thing I could bear would be to know I was causing you worry. I’ve wanted this so much and I want you to want it too. Say you will be happy!”

He could not withstand those tear-shiny, earnestly pleading eyes, and with a sort of groan he gathered her in his arms again and held her tightly.

“Promise me you are happy, Sebastian,” she begged, her lips moving against his neck, “and that you won’t worry about me, and I promise you nothing will happen to me.”

He wondered if it were possible to make such a promise, on either of their parts, but he could not deny her; it was quite literally the first thing she had ever asked of him since the day they met.

“I promise, darling Jane,” he whispered.

12

“Stop that sniveling
now, girl, and get along to the kitchen for a meat broth for your mistress. She’s right as a trivet and so’s the babe,” ordered Dr. Clegg, briskly drying his hands on the towel Betty held out for him and rolling down his shirt-sleeves.

“Lady Stanier went to fetch it while I cleaned the baby,”’ Betty replied, dashing her sleeve across her eyes, “and I’m not sniveling! But I suppose there’s nothing wrong with feeling pity for the poor little mite to lose his gammer afore she can even see him, and her counting the days, and now most like to be fatherless afore he’s even opened his eyes.”

“Not so loud—she’ll hear you,” warned Dr. Clegg, “and she needs the rest. I’ll go along now and see his lordship. Keep that broth warm when it comes, and feed it to her when she wakes. I’ll send Crews along if—” he bit his lip, glanced at the bed, and then abruptly left the room, the picture hazily seen through the filmy bed curtains of the beautiful, young mother sweetly asleep with her cheek against the small, downy head of her newborn son accompanying him down the hall. He swallowed a lump in his throat, silently apostrophized himself as “a damned old fool,” and softly opened the door to Lord Payton’s bedroom.

Crews turned, and on the other side of the bed Eldon looked up anxiously at the doctor’s entrance. Dr. Clegg crossed the room and took Sebastian’s wrist. Pulse thready, breathing shallow, heartbeat—hum—he put his ear to Sebastian’s chest—very bad, poor devil, lucky to last out the night. Knew all along he might as well sign his own death certificate as sign a marriage certificate, but there, he’s had at least two happy years in as wretched a life as could be wished on a man, and he leaves a son behind to carry on his name.

Dr. Clegg pulled the coverlet back up to Sebastian’s chin. “Well, well, nothing to do but wait, I fear. If he wakes try to get a little brandy into him. I’ll go for my supper now, but call me if—”

“Yes, sir. At once, sir, you may be sure,” Crews interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of the doctors sentence.

Dr. Clegg went off to Sebastian’s study, where his supper waited on a table before the fire. Mrs. McKirk had made him a meat pie and Dorrie was mulling wine over the fire in anticipation of his arrival. Dorrie still wore the bereft look she’d worn since old Lady Payton’s death two weeks ago. She’d grown very fond of “her lady” in the few months she’d been with her, and besides, she was now expecting to be sent, jobless, back to London, and she’d no place to go when she got there and no prospects. A thought, however, occurred to her: maybe Nurse, who was due to arrive tomorrow, could use a nursery maid. A comedown to be sure, but better than nothing. Also it was possible that in the near future Betty Crews would be taking over from Mrs. Plummer and an abigail for the young ladyship would be required. She brightened considerably with this thought, and she carefully carried the wine to the doctor.

“We’m a new young master, I’m told, sir.”

“That you have, that you have,” agreed Dr. Clegg, tucking his napkin under his chin and taking a great draught of the warmed wine before attacking the meat pie.

“And Lady Jane is well?”

“Fine as five pence, no worry. Here, Dorrie, where’s my bread and butter, eh?”

Dorrie gasped, cast a horrified look at the table, and hurried off to the kitchen. The doctor continued his meal, one ear cocked for footsteps coming from the other direction. He leaned back in his chair and sipped at his wine. Damned if he wasn’t nearly run off his legs, he thought tiredly.

He had been summoned two weeks ago to attend old Lady Payton, who had suffered a massive heart attack which had taken her almost before he could reach her bedside. He’d been attending Sebastian constantly before that, watching helplessly as he grew weaker and weaker, succumbing to one bout of fever after another that drained life and strength from his diminutive frame. Lady Payton and Lady Jane hardly left his bedside for a moment and the result, a heart attack for one and a slightly premature birth for the other, could have been foreseen. Dr. Clegg had simply moved in after old Lady Payton succumbed, to support Sebastian through the obsequies, then through his inevitable collapse after the funeral, and now, tonight, to attend Lady Jane’s lying-in.

Not that the last had given him the least difficulty, even if it had come two weeks before expected. Never seen an easier birth, he thought, though a rare plucked ’un she is for all that, with hardly a squeak out of her from beginning to end, no doubt for fear Sebastian would hear her and be upset. And come to think of it, it was probably a blessing that it had come prematurely, for now, at least, the father would have a chance to see it. Dorrie interrupted his thoughts by returning with his bread and butter.

“Missus McKirk ’as a damson pie for when you’ve finished,” she announced, panting slightly.

“Ah ha! Nothing I like better than a bit of damson pie. Now, if you’ll just pour me another sip of that—” he broke off as he heard running footsteps coming down the hall. He dropped his knife and fork with a clatter, pushed back his chair, and was nearly to the door before it burst open to reveal Crews’ frightened face.

“Doctor—!”

“Yes, yes—” the doctor pushed past Crews, “fetch her ladyship,” he flung over his shoulder as he hurried down the hall.

“But how—?”

“Carry her if you must, but fetch her. I promised him. Hurry, man.”

When Dr. Clegg reached the bedside he found Sebastian propped up by an extra pillow, accepting sips of brandy from Eldon. Despite this appearance of recovery, however, his skin had taken on an unearthly waxen pallor and the bones of his face were sharply defined through it.

When he turned his head to the doctor his eyes were clear and serene. He spoke only one word. “Jane?”

“Very well. I’ve sent Crews to bring her to you. She’s given you a fine, healthy son with no trouble at all. You can be proud of her.”

“Take care of her.”

“Don’t you fret yourself about that, my boy. I’ll see she comes to no harm. Now, don’t speak any more. Save yourself for your wife,” advised Dr. Clegg hoarsely. He turned away to the fireplace and stood there looking into the flames, blinking rapidly to hold back tears.

The door opened to admit Crews with Jane in his arms, followed by Lady Stanier carrying the baby.

“Put me there, Crews, on the side of the bed,” Jane ordered, her eyes fastened on her husband’s face. Sebastian smiled up at her. When she was seated she turned to Lady Stanier who came forward and put the baby into Sebastian’s arms.

“Here’s your son, dearest boy, and a beautiful lad he is,” she said, leaning forward to kiss her nephew’s pale forehead, and then walking away to join the doctor by the fire. Crews and Eldon withdrew to the other side of the room.

“Do you like our son, Sebastian?” Jane asked softly.

“He’s certainly a funny scrap of a thing, isn’t he?” he replied, smiling down at his son. He held out a tentative finger to touch the tiny, frail hand which immediately clutched his finger tightly. “But a good strong grip for his size!” he laughed softly. The baby’s eyes opened at that moment and he stared up, blinking his filmy blue eyes at his father. Then quite distinctly a corner of his mouth quirked up exactly as though he were returning his father’s smile. This effort obviously exhausted him and he abruptly fell asleep.

“Willing to be friends, but finds us boring on the whole,” commented Sebastian wryly. He reached a hand out to Jane, who took it in both her own, holding it tight as though she could keep him with her by force. “Was it dreadful for you, my darling?” he asked.

“Certainly not! I hope you have not been in here indulging crochets on my account. I am not so paltry a creature that I could not withstand those tiny little tweaks of pain, I assure you!” she replied with pretended indignation.

He laughed. “Ah, what a girl it is! You are such a joy to me, my Jane. Every moment with you has been pure happiness. The only happiness I’ve ever known.”

“I hope you will still be saying that in twenty years when I’ve worn you down with my whims and complaints,” she replied pertly, though her voice was tight with her efforts not to give way. She had no intention of forcing her husband to contend with her grief during his last moments. That these were his last moments it was impossible to deny.

“Complaints? You? Not possible! You are all—” he stopped as though too tired to continue, but only for an instant, “—sunshine, beloved girl.”

She forced herself to smile, “Why sir, you are a blatant flatterer!” She put her cheek against his and closed her eyes so that he wouldn’t see the tears. “But I forgive you, my darling, because I love you so much.” She whispered the words against his lips and then kissed him. For a moment he returned the pressure of her lips and then she was aware that his lips were still and she knew he was gone from her. She raised her head and studied his face, closed now to her and the world.

“Oh, Sebastian—no,” she said softly, and slid quietly to the floor into blessed unconsciousness.

Dr. Clegg and Lady Stanier hurried forward, the doctor motioning to Crews to come forward, while Lady Stanier bent to take the infant who still slept serenely within the crook of his father’s arm. She stood for a moment looking down upon her nephew, then gently caressed his cheek in farewell and turned to follow Crews, Jane across his arms, back to Jane’s boudoir.

Miss Gilbert stood on the doorstep, a determined light discernible in her eye. She had called to pay her condolences to Sebastian upon Lady Payton’s death, but had been met by Lady Stanier who told her Lord Payton himself was too ill to receive visitors and young Lady Payton could not leave his bedside. Whereupon Miss Gilbert offered to relieve “the poor child” in the sickroom, explaining that she had a great deal of experience with invalids. Lady Stanier had politely, but firmly, declined the offer, and within moments Miss Gilbert found herself being shown out. Undeterred, however, she called each morning to inquire about Lord Payton’s health, but never managed to gain admittance again, for Crews, on Lady Stanier’s instructions, informed her that visitors were not being received at this time.

Word had reached Miss Gilbert that Lady Stanier had been suddenly called away soon after Sebastian’s death to the bedside of her own daughter who was soon to give birth, and she had arrived at Larkwoods this morning confident of achieving her goal. Crews’ attempt to turn her away she ignored, walking past him into the front hall.

“I’ll just step in for a word with Lady Payton, Crews. Since Lady Stanier had to leave so suddenly, I’m sure Lady Payton will require the support of a gentlewoman, and as I am the only one in the vicinity who had even made her acquaintance, it is clearly my duty, as my father agrees, to be at her side during this difficult time.”

As she spoke she marched firmly across the hall, opened the door to Sebastian’s quarters, and continued down the interior hall to Jane’s boudoir, for all the world as though she’d made the trip many times, though it was, in fact, the first time she’d ever penetrated Lord Payton’s side of the house in all the years she’d been visiting Larkwoods.

Crews was at something of a nonplus. Although he was aware that Lord Payton had never received Miss Gilbert, old Lady Payton
had,
and it was true Lady Jane was alone here except for the servants. Besides, Miss Gilbert
was
Quality and he could hardly use force to keep her out. Therefore he could only trail ineffectually after her, and she had reached Jane’s door without any means of stopping her presenting themselves to Crews’ mind. She boldly opened the door “without so much as a knock for politeness sake,” as Crews related indignantly to the staff belowstairs.

Nurse Watkyn, thinking it was Dorrie, turned with an admonishing finger to her lips, enjoining silence. Her eyes widened in astonishment. She had never seen Miss Gilbert before and was at a loss to explain this unannounced visitor to m’lady’s bedroom, especially now while the baby was being fed.

“It’s quite all right, Nurse. I’m an old friend of Lady Payton’s. Ah! The darling baby! How beautiful he is!”

Nurse Watkyn, though shocked at the woman’s boldness and by the fact that she did not withdraw at once when she saw that Lady Payton was in a state of undress, still felt her animosity melting at this praise of her charge, and hesitated. Before she could quite make up her mind what to do about the situation, Miss Gilbert crossed the room, pulled up a small gilt and brocade chair to the bedside, and sat down beside Jane with a great air of cool confidence.

Jane, her trancelike gaze on her baby’s face, didn’t look up. Indeed, she seemed unaware of Miss Gilbert’s presence altogether. Miss Gilbert slowly removed her gloves, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Jane’s full, white breast. Her hand went out to touch the arm so near her and when Jane didn’t react, continued to caress it. Presently, the baby’s mouth released its hold on the nipple and Nurse came to take him away to his crib. Miss Gilbert jerked her hand away, flushing darkly under Nurse’s curious stare.

“Well, my dear, now we can talk. I didn’t like to disturb you while the child was—er—. How well you are looking, and the dear babe blooming. We shall have to arrange some drives in the carriage soon. I’m sure you would benefit by some fresh air.” She babbled on, eliciting no response whatsoever from Jane, who fastened up her gown, stared blankly at Miss Gilbert for a brief instant, and turned away to the window. “Well, my dear, I mustn’t tire you. I’ll call again tomorrow. Must keep my eye on you for my dear old departed friend, as I know she would expect of me.”