Chapter 34
“Isuppose I have only myself to blame,” Bridget said. “I have made it quite apparent to Lewis that I did not care to marry him. How can I expect him to believe that I have truly changed my mind?”
“So, you do want this marriage now?” Dorothy asked.
The sisters walked alongside one another through the gardens, which were in full bloom and lovely.
Gerard was with them, although he remained several feet ahead of them, speaking with the head gardener.
Bridget could not hear their conversation from this distance, but occasionally, Gerard would gesture with his arms, emphasizing some point.
That was for the best. Asking her sister for advice about marriage was embarrassing enough; she hardly wanted her brother-in-law’s opinion on why Lewis had rejected her affections. The matter was…personal and impacted Bridget more than she wanted to admit.
“I would not say that I want this marriage,” Bridget said. “I mean, not with absolute certainty. It is just that I care more about it than I anticipated that I would.”
“I see. Why do you think that is?”
Bridget sighed. “I suppose it is because of his grandmother. I care about her and want to see that she is happy.”
“You wanted your husband to remain in bed with you because of his grandmother,” Dorothy said. “Bridget, I do not understand your point.”
Bridget sighed. “I suppose I began to perceive Lewis differently after realizing how much he cares for his grandmother. It is harder to dislike the marriage now that I have seen he is a good man.”
Dorothy hummed. “Perhaps you ought to ask my husband for his thoughts. Having a man’s perspective might be helpful.”
Heat flooded Bridget’s face. “I am not going to discuss my—my affection for my husband with another man.”
“You do not need to share all the sordid details with him,” Dorothy said, sounding amused.
Bridget had not exactly shared all the details with her sister either.
The gardener bowed to Gerard and then walked hastily away, seemingly off to accomplish whatever task Gerard had given him. Bridget bit the inside of her cheek, as they reached Dorothy’s husband. Maybe a man’s perspective would be helpful.
“Are you enjoying your walk, my sweet?” Gerard took Dorothy’s hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Are you certain you do not need to rest?”
“Entirely certain,” she said, dropping a hand to her stomach. “You need not worry so much.”
“The baby will arrive any day,” he said, placing his hand over Dorothy’s. “Most women would already be abed.”
“Since when have I been like most women?” she asked.
Bridget looked away, uncomfortable. It was as if she was intruding on a private moment between her sister and brother-in-law. Beneath the discomfort, there was a newfound ache. Longing.
She wanted someone who cherished her. Bridget had been so very foolish by allowing herself to think that perhaps Lewis had changed.
Maybe he had warmed to her. She shook her head dismally.
Her husband had shown her a different side of himself.
But knowing a bit more about his character still was not enough.
“Bridget was speaking to me about a matter. I believe you might be able to offer her a man’s perspective,” Dorothy said.
“Oh,” Gerard said. “Of course. What is the matter, Bridget?”
Bridget sighed. She could not summon any real irritation for her sister’s interference. Dorothy was only trying to help her, just like she always did.
“I fear that I am developing feelings for my husband,” Bridget said.
Gerard furrowed his brow. “That is…fortunate?”
“Not exactly,” Bridget said. “I might be developing some tender feelings for Lewis, but he made it apparent that he feels nothing for me.”
“Precisely how did he make it apparent?” Gerard asked. “Did he say that he feels nothing for you? Those exact words?”
“He said that I need to remember that we have a marriage of convenience and that I will only cause problems if I become genuinely fond of him,” Bridget said. “That is close enough to saying he feels nothing for me.”
“What problems?”
Bridget fidgeted with her skirts. “He seems to believe that any fondness between us would be destined to wither away over time, so he does not feel like it is worth even trying for something more.”
“Then, the problem is not that he feels nothing for you. It is that he fears feeling more for you,” Gerard said thoughtfully. “Perhaps the situation is not as hopeless as you believe.”
Bridget hated the little spark of hope that burned in her chest. “Really?”
Gerard nodded. “It makes sense that a man would be wary of developing genuine feelings in those circumstances, especially one like your husband, who feels as though he must be in control of every aspect of his life. It can be frightening to relinquish that control for something as irrational as love.”
“Irrational?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes,” Gerard said, his face softening. “Because love requires you to consider someone else’s needs before your own. For a man with a title and responsibilities, that is a terrifying notion.”
“I suppose so,” Bridget said. “That certainly sounds like Lewis. But how do I persuade him that some mutual fondness is beneficial to us both?”
“You have only mentioned the possibility to him the once, right?”
“Yes.”
“Give him time,” Gerard said, as though that was the easiest thing in the world. “You are suggesting something which may change the nature of your marriage. Of course, he is hesitant.”
“I will try,” Bridget replied. “Thank you.”
Dorothy suddenly stumbled forward. Gerard caught her in his arms. “Dearest?”
Dorothy gasped for air and buried her forehead into Gerard’s shoulder. She dug her nails into his jacket and sobbed, the sound piercing Bridget’s heart. “The baby,” Bridget said.
“The baby?” Gerard asked. “Dorothy, are you—”
“Oh!” Dorothy cut in, her breath coming in uneven pants. “Gerard, I—I think the baby—I think it is here!”
Gerard froze, staring at her with wide eyes. “The—”
“She needs to go back to the house!” Bridget exclaimed. “I will go ahead and fetch the physician.”
Dorothy sobbed, sounding wounded. Bridget turned on her heels and ran, prepared to sacrifice dignity for finding her sister aid as quickly as possible.
Her heart thundered against her ribs, but she buried the fear and uncertainty that rose within her.
The baby was coming, and Dorothy needed Bridget’s help.
So, Bridget would force all her worries down and focus on the present.
Bridget threw open the doors of the house, startling the maid who stood there dutifully cleaning the banister.
“Fetch the doctor,” Bridget said. “At once. The baby is coming.”
The wide-eyed maid curtsied and darted away. That was the doctor sent for—onto the next task. “Halls!” Bridget shouted, sweeping into the foyer.
Where was he? Bridget searched the corridors, looking for someone with authority. If she could not find Halls, the housekeeper would do.
“Your Grace!” The butler emerged from Gerard’s study, sounding as though he had lost his breath. “How may I be of assistance?”
“My sister’s baby is coming,” Bridget said. “We will need a bedchamber prepared. The doctor will want boiling water and clean cloths.”
Halls bowed. “I shall arrange it at once, Your Grace. If I may make a suggestion, there is a bedchamber behind the stairs. It is seldomly used, but it may be easier for Her Grace to reach than her usual room.”
Dorothy’s agonized shout split the air. Gerard had finally managed to bring her into the house.
“Good thinking, Halls,” Bridget said.
She hurried to the doorway. Dorothy clung to Gerard, her face red and her breath coming in harsh pants for air. Gerard held her waist tightly. His expression was so panicked that Bridget might have laughed if the situation had not been so dire.
“Halls has suggested that we take Dorothy to the bedchamber beneath the stairs,” Bridget said. “It will be easier to access in her condition.”
“Yes,” Gerard said, sounding dazed. “Of course.”
He stumbled along, coaxing Dorothy along with him. Her face twisted in pain and sweat covered her brow. “It is coming,” she breathed. “The baby…”
“I know,” Gerard whispered. “I know. I know.”
“You can do this,” Bridget said, rounding to her sister’s side. “Everything is ready for you.”
Bridget took her sister’s hand, Dorothy’s grip painfully tight. “Bridget!” Dorothy exclaimed.
“I am here.”
“Please, do not leave me,” Dorothy said.
“I will not.”
By the time they reached the bedchamber, Dorothy heaved for air. Bridget hurried to the bed and threw the counterpane onto the floor. Dorothy braced herself against the mattress, Gerard hurrying to help her lay down.
“Y-you should go,” Dorothy said. “It would be improper for you to watch the birth.”
He squeezed her hand. “Not until the doctor arrives. My love, I must know that you are safe.”
A maid entered, her arms laden with clean linens.
“Place them here,” Bridget said, gesturing to the nearby table. “We will need to light the fire, and the medicine chest needs brought down.”
The doctor would likely bring medicines of his own, but it was best to be safe. If he had forgotten something or if unexpected complications arose, it would be good to have all the medicine at hand.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the maid said, curtseying.
Bridget glanced at her sister. At the moment, she seemed content with her husband’s company. Gerard remained crouched at her side, whispering soft encouragements in Dorothy’s ear.
What else needed to be done? Bridget frowned, thinking.
She knew very little of childbirth. Bridget had never seen a birth, and she had only read one treatise about childbirth in her life.
Halls entered, bowing deeply. “I see the cloths have been brought in. I have set the maids boiling water.”
“Good,” Bridget said. “Look for the doctor. Once he arrives, bring him here with all haste.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
The butler retreated, and Bridget went to the pile of cloth again. She took one and wet it from the nearby pitcher. Bridget wrung it out over the basin and climbed into bed beside her sister. Dorothy tossed her head back, her eyes darting to Bridget’s face.
“God, it hurts.” Dorothy’s words were ragged and uneven, as though it cost her all the air in the world to speak.
Bridget gently dabbed the cloth along her sister’s brow. “I know,” she said. “I know.”
Dorothy winced as sobs tore from her.
“My dear,” Gerard murmured, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “The doctor is coming. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
Bridget continued wiping her sister’s brow. A lump rose in her throat. Panic clawed at her chest, threatening to pull her under once more. She had never seen Dorothy look so distraught before. For Bridget’s entire life, Dorothy had been a pillar of stability.
Bridget inhaled deeply and forced the thoughts back. It was almost a pity that Lewis was not there. He would have been pleased to see her acting like a proper duchess, like someone who knew the right thing to do.
“You are finally going to be a mother,” Bridget said, “like you have always wanted.”
“Yes,” Dorothy said. “Yes, finally.”
“Take deep breaths,” Bridget said. “I will count for you. Breathe in and hold. One, two, three.”
Dorothy inhaled, and Bridget heard the effort that it took to hold the breath.
One, two, three.
“And out,” Bridget said. “Nicely done. Again.”
They continued that way for some time, with Bridget counting the breaths and Dorothy struggling to do as she was asked. Then, Dorothy screamed, her back arching from the bed.
“Dorothy!” Gerard exclaimed.
Footsteps thundered on the floor, and the doctor burst into the room. His face was calm, and he swept to Dorothy’s side with practiced ease. “Your Grace,” he said, his eyes fixed on Gerard. “It is time for you to leave. I shall tend to the duchess.”
Gerard rose slowly. All the color had drained from his face. There was a new tension in his limbs, like a phantom of some long-felt emotion. Bridget did not understand why he reacted that way, but she sensed that he wanted to argue.
“Gerard,” Bridget said. “I will stay with her.”
He took a shuddering breath. “Take care of her, Bridget.”
“I will.”
He gave Dorothy’s hand a final squeeze and left hurriedly, as though he did not trust himself to depart unless he did so as quickly as possible.
“Now,” the doctor said. “Let me see how things are going.”