Salting the Wound (6 page)

‘Should we let Seth know? He went into Poole early this morning to discuss business with the pottery owners he supplies clay to. He was going to attend a meeting and luncheon of the Clay Producer’s Association before picking John up from school.’

Taking out his watch Lucian gazed at it. ‘He’ll be home in plenty of time. I’ll alert the midwife, then go about my rounds and come back later. But anyway, the infant is not going to arrive in a hurry.’

Marianne followed Lucian’s tall figure down the stairs. ‘Charlotte will be all right, won’t she? Our mother died in childbirth, and I know it’s on her mind.’

For the first time Lucian looked troubled. ‘It’s better if she knows what to expect, then she can prepare herself. Breech births can be gruelling, and I cannot guarantee anything. The midwife knows her job, and I’ll do my best if any complications occur. Try not to alarm your sister in any way.’

‘That’s something you’ve already succeeded in doing, Lucian.’

He became distant. ‘Nonsense. I don’t need advice on how to do my job, Marianne.’

The reprimand was spoken so severely that she was shocked by his change of manner towards her. Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Lucian. It’s me who is rattled, I think. Will you forgive me?’

‘It will be my pleasure.’ He held her close for a moment, then kissed her on the forehead. ‘Be brave, Marianne. I’ll be relying on you to help to keep your sister calm.’

His body was warm and firm and her instinct was to snuggle up to him. But Lucian didn’t invite any intimacy and was moving away from her, both physically and in spirit.

‘You know, Lucian, you’ve changed an awful lot. ‘You’ve become really serious since you’ve become a doctor . . . and remote.’

Her observation seemed to startle him, but he smiled. ‘Have I?’

‘You know you have. Sometimes I feel as though you’re trying to push me away. Don’t you like me any more?’

‘Of course I do, Marianne Honeyman . . . I’ve always liked you.’

‘I’ve grown up, you know,’ and she felt slightly sick at the thought that their friendship must be put aside for the sake of propriety.

‘I’ve been trying not to notice.’ His smile sent her pulses fluttering, then her spirits plunged when he added. ‘But we’re both adults now, and I have to be careful not to invite too much familiarity from my patients, or cause any conjecture by my actions.’

‘First of all, I’m not your patient I’m your father’s, though I haven’t seen him on my own behalf for some time. The last time he saw me he made me hang out my tongue as far as it would go for inspection, then told me it nearly reached my feet and that was a sign that I’d live for ever.’

Lucian chuckled. ‘Then you probably will. My father is an expert diagnostician.’

Fitting a sprig of heather into his buttonhole she smiled up at him. ‘That’s to bring you luck, Dr Beresford.’

‘Thank you.’

As he turned towards the rig, she said, ‘Second of all, you’re in danger of becoming a stuffed shirt, Lucian.’

A smile flirted around his mouth. ‘The devil I am.’ He climbed into his vehicle, took up the reins and gazed down at her. ‘Miss Honeyman, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to flirt with me when I’m working. It takes my mind off the job at hand.’

‘I only see you when you’re working.’

‘Quite.’ Clicking his tongue at the horse he turned the rig and moved off in the direction of town. Marianne was left gazing with uncertainty after him. Had he paid her a compliment, or had his remarks been designed to put her in her place? she wondered.

Remembering Charlotte, Marianne’s smile faded. She hurried back upstairs, to discover her sister in tears.

‘Hush,’ she said, taking Charlotte into her arms. ‘Lucian said you must relax as much as you can to conserve your strength. A gypsy gave me a bunch of white heather to tie over your bed to keep you safe.’

‘You’re so gullible, Marianne, but I don’t suppose it will do me any harm.’

‘She tells such wonderful stories of far away places, and she says you will have an easy birth.’

‘That’s not what Lucian indicated. I have an odd feeling inside me, Marianne. As though things will not be as we expect.’

‘You’re afraid of the unknown, that’s all. Be brave. You can be if you try. Look how you held out against Erasmus and Nick Thornton.’

‘That was easy, because I didn’t love Nick in the way that he wanted me to, even though I thought I did to begin with. And I loathe his uncle. If it hadn’t been for Erasmus seducing our mother the child he planted in her womb wouldn’t have killed her, and our father wouldn’t have drunk himself to death.’

‘Hush, Charlotte. We don’t know that it’s true about the baby.’

‘Pa said it was true. He said the child was a girl and she looked like Erasmus Thornton, with her dark hair and eyes. And Nick said he thought the story was true because his uncle had told him that he adored our mother. I know I shouldn’t have punished Nick for the action of his relative, but I don’t want to be part of the Thornton family. I will never be able to reconcile myself with the events surrounding the birth of that child.

‘Nick said he was just as much in love with me as his uncle had been with our mother, and his intentions towards me had always been honourable. He wouldn’t believe that I didn’t love him, and it was pride talking. The last time I saw him he said he’d never forgive me for marrying Seth, and will find some way to take his revenge. That was nearly a year ago, just before he sailed off on the
Samarand
with a cargo for Australia. I wasn’t with child then. Seth and I were not married . . . well we were, but not . . .’

‘. . . a proper wife, you mean,’ Marianne finished for her, grinning at the blush that rose to her sister’s cheeks. She remembered the day exactly, and of coming home from the heath with John to find a very rumpled and pink-faced Charlotte in the process of moving her belongings into the master bedroom, and who, after that day, no longer treated her husband as if he was a guest in her house.

Marianne began to busy herself getting out the list of objects that the book stated her sister would need for her confinement. Thank goodness the place had been thoroughly cleaned yesterday, she thought, tying a freshly laundered white apron round her waist.

‘Yes . . . properly married, and I don’t know why I feared becoming a wife, in truth.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘I’m worried that Nick might do something foolish when he hears about the baby. If anything happens to Seth I’d never forgive myself.’

‘It won’t. Nick knows when to surrender. It was just foolish talk, Nick’s hot blood coming out. Besides, Seth looks as though he can take care of himself. Nick will find someone else to fall in love with, then marry her and have several baby Thorntons waiting for him on the quay each time he comes home from a voyage. They’ll all look like him and be handsome little devils, because they wouldn’t dare look and act like anyone else. Just you wait and see.’

Charlotte chuckled at the picture her sister painted. ‘I suppose I should apologize for humiliating him when I get the chance.’

‘It wouldn’t hurt. Now, let me prepare everything for the birthing. If you swing your legs around I’ll help you to the chair, then I’ll prepare the bed with a rubber sheet, some padding and clean linen, like the book said. Would you like something to eat? Some broth perhaps.’

Charlotte shook her head. ‘I’d probably end up being sick.’

‘Are you cold . . . shall I light the fire?’

‘It’s the middle of July,’ her sister reminded her. ‘Stop fussing.’

‘Just imagine, soon you’ll have your very own infant in your arms. Seth will be so proud.’

But Charlotte wasn’t listening. Her hands had cradled the bottom of her stomach, her eyes widened and she gave a small groan. When the pain subsided, she whispered, ‘I think it’s started.’

Charlotte was right, the birth didn’t go as expected. The labour pains came thick and fast. An hour later, a tiny red backside put in an appearance, followed by legs folded back on a skinny body, followed by a head. The crumpled little creature gave a wavering whimper of protest with her first breath. It strengthened to an outraged warble with her second.

Marianne was fascinated by her. ‘Lor, listen to it, Char, I don’t think we need to smack its arse,’ she whispered. She wiped the infant’s squashed face with a flannel and wrapped her in a linen cloth to keep her warm. It’s such a tiny baby. I don’t know what all that fuss was about from Lucian.’

Charlotte gazed at her. ‘What is it?’

‘A girl,’ and Marianne’s puzzled gaze went to the mound that was Charlotte’s stomach. ‘But you don’t look any thinner.’

‘I don’t feel any thinner . . . oh, my Lord,’ Charlotte groaned.

‘Having a girl isn’t that bad, surely?’ Marianne said, feeling the need to defend her slightly squashed-looking, but altogether adorable new niece.

‘More pains . . . I think there’s another one coming.’

‘A pain?’

‘No . . . another baby . . . you idiot.’

‘Alice,’ Marianne shouted out in sudden shock to the maid, who was fluttering like a demented moth outside the door. ‘Take the cart. Go and see if you can find us some help. Tell the doctor or midwife to hurry if you can find them. Mrs Hardy has given birth to one baby and there’s a second infant on the way.’

She returned to Charlotte, who gave a painful little yelp. It turned into a prolonged groan. When it subsided, Charlotte cried out, ‘the pains . . . are coming one on top of . . . the other. I’m frightened. I can’t stop them.’

‘You’re not supposed to stop them, and you’re beginning to panic. Remember what the book said. The pains won’t last forever. You have to suffer them bravely. Take some deep breaths.’

‘That book was written by a man. How would he know about childbirth? Let him bravely suffer, then we’ll see how clever he is.’ Charlotte’s voice rose to a scream. ‘Ouch, ouch, ouch, it hurts! I’m going to die . . . like our mother did.’

‘If you say such a wicked thing again I’m going to smack you. You have a daughter who needs you, and another child on the way. Now Charlotte, I don’t mind the odd groan and curse, but don’t you dare scream. It’s deafening and it doesn’t help, and there’s enough of that coming from little Miss Hardy. Lor, this is a messy business. What did the book say about cutting the baby from the umbilical cord.’

‘It didn’t say anything.’

‘Then we’d better leave it. It might drop off by itself.’

There was a cough at the door and Marianne turned to see the gypsy woman from the heath standing there. She wore a scarf over her hair and her face was weathered from being outdoors. ‘Can I be of help, Miss?’

‘I didn’t hear you arrive, Jessica. How did you get here? Who let you in?’

‘Your maid left the door wide open. You don’t need to fear, Mrs, I’ve closed it behind me.’ She crossed to the squalling child and said, ‘Now there’s a fuss, like a gale coming off the harbour, you are,’ and she caressed the child’s face with a roughened finger. ‘There, there . . . dear, your legs will soon straighten out and you’ll be like everybody else . . . though prettier than most with that flaming hair. ‘Now let’s cut you free. We’ll need some twine to tie the cord with.’

Marianne went to fetch some and a few moments later the infant stopped crying and fell asleep.

Marianne told the gypsy, ‘There’s another one coming. The doctor said my sister was having a breech birth and it would take a long time, but everything seems to have gone wrong and it’s happening too fast.’

A pair of earth brown eyes gazed into hers. ‘Nay, Miss, there be nothing wrong. But what do doctors know about womanly things? Let me take a look at you, lady. I’ve birthed several infants of my own and delivered many more.’

Charlotte quieted when the woman gently felt around her distended stomach. The gypsy smiled and said calmly, ‘This lad is the right way round. He’s a good size and has pushed his sister out like a cork from a bottle, so to make room for himself. Good that he did, since she didn’t have to struggle. Now he be settling himself in before he follows her out. Could be your pains will stop for a while, lady. Then he’ll get his strength up and it won’t take long. An hour or two, perhaps. In the meantime I’ll see to your sweet little daughter and you can put her to your breast so she can know her mother’s smell and voice.’

The woman took a small bottle from her pocket and handed it to Marianne. ‘Add this lavender oil to a bowl of warm water, my lovely. We’ll wash your sister in it, and the fragrance will help calm her.’

Marianne did as she was told, and the birth happened as the gypsy said, with Charlotte grunting and groaning a bit but not too painfully. The transformation in Charlotte was marked when the boy emerged with a rush and a lusty fanfare. He was detached, wrapped and was put to her other breast. There, he began to suck strongly. The afterbirths came away from her.

Charlotte laughed, her earlier pain and fright having obviously been put aside. ‘Look at him, so much like Seth. How on earth am I going to feed two of them?’

‘I daresay you’ll manage.’ The gypsy gathered up her things. ‘I’ll be going then, lady.’

‘Wait,’ Charlotte said. ‘My sister called you Jessica. Is that your name?’

‘Yes, lady, and my mother’s name before me, and my grandmother’s before that.’

‘Then I’ll name my daughter after you. Jessica Hardy she’ll be called.’

‘Thank you, lady.’

Charlotte must have noticed her own disappointment for she added. ‘Her second name will be the same as yours Marianne, and you can be her godmother.’

Marianne followed the gypsy downstairs, smiling because she was to be her niece’s godmother. ‘I must pay you something for your help.’ She pressed two shillings into the gypsy’s rough hand. ‘I can’t thank you enough. My sister was so scared. We both were.’

The woman pocketed the money. ‘Bless you, dearie, I was glad to be of use.’

The gypsy had not long left when the sound of wheels and horses took Marianne to the window. It was Lucian with the midwife. After him came Seth astride, and a long way behind him, the maid with John in the cart.

But beyond them, coming round Brownsea Island was the
Samarand
, her sails grey and shabby and flying a pale blue pennant with the Thornton Company emblem of entwined black initials flying from her mast. She looked as though she’d been sailing through a storm.