CHAPTER NINE #3
“That’s the spirit, Miss Dion,” came fondly from the large dame who held sway over the servants’ hall.
Mrs Lovedown had proved invaluable, setting the maids to keeping up the supply of hot water; ensuring there was plenty of lemonade to administer to the patient, not to mention those working to bring her through; and in general maintaining an attitude of calm good sense which did much to ease Lucy’s path.
They had been obliged to eject Paulina’s own maid, for Bannock could do nothing but weep and clutch at her mistress’s hands.
Mrs Lovedown had set her to preparing an improvised cot and bandages for the swaddling, in anticipation of the arrival of the infant.
A compromise which served to brighten her out of her gloom and take an onerous task out of the hands of the already overburdened maids.
All at once, Lucy was hit with a wave of tiredness, and she had all to do to remain upon her feet. Mrs Lovedown, who was sitting on the bed engaged in chafing Paulina’s hands, looked up.
“Why don’t you take a little breather, miss? Miss Dion and I will manage here for a little.”
Dion added her entreaties. “You have been working like a Trojan, Lucy. Do as Mrs Lovedown says, pray. Take a turn in the garden.”
The notion of a break from being in this room was tempting. “I would, but I am loath to leave her until the doctor should arrive.”
Dion came to her and bodily pushed her to the door. “Go! I promise I will run to fetch you the instant there should be any change.”
Thus adjured, and seeing Mrs Lovedown nodding and smiling, Lucy consented to leave the chamber.
But instead of taking the recommended walk, she headed for the Red Saloon.
At least she might use the time profitably to discover if Lord Sarclet had yet made his appearance.
Or whether anything had been heard of the doctor.
But when she reached the saloon, she found it empty. Casting a hasty glance about, she was conscious of a drop in spirits. She had been so busy, there had been no time to remember her own concerns. Now she realised how much she had been hoping to see Stefan.
Immediately, Lucy chided herself. Had not this morning’s events shown her how urgent it was she should remove from Pennington Manor? There must be no yearning after Stefan. He was far beyond her reach.
She crossed to the window and stood looking out upon the green lawns. If only life were not so complicated. But a few short weeks ago, she had never heard of Pennington Manor. Even less had she ever imagined the secrets it would prove to hold.
A slight sound behind her made her turn her head.
Stefan was standing just within the doorway, watching her.
The rhythm of Lucy’s heart went out of kilter.
She had forgotten it all, in the press of Paulina’s needs.
But at sight of Stefan, it swept back. The headache, which had receded into the background, and its probable cause. And those invasive dreams!
“You look tired, and no wonder,” he said.
Lucy detected awkwardness in his tone and her heart sank. What in the world had happened in his study last night? She forced a smile.
“I am all right. I was already a trifle out of sorts this morning.”
What had possessed her to mention that? She felt herself flushing and quickly turned her gaze back to the gardens below the window.
But Stefan did not pick it up. “Is there anything more I can do? You have only to say the word.”
She turned back to face him, unable to prevent the warmth within her falling into a smile. “Thank you, yes. Dion said you were within call. I am excessively grateful for it.”
“You are grateful!” He moved a step or two closer. “Good God, Lucy, it is the rest of us who have reason for gratitude! Had you not taken charge, I dread to think of the chaos.”
She laughed. “I am sure you would have managed.”
“I assure you we would not. Dion has no experience, and Corisande would be utterly useless. She has not even emerged from her eyrie, though I sent to tell her what is afoot.”
“But she might have done so had you said she was needed.”
Stefan shook his head, and Lucy melted at the caress in his voice. “You are determined to make light of it, are you not? Dion told me how Paulina reviled you. I find your conduct magnanimous in the extreme.”
Lucy laughed out. “Fiddle, if I may borrow the expression from Dion. It is only what Papa would have expected of me. Besides, the poor creature has some claim upon my conscience.”
“None whatsoever, from what I’ve been hearing,” Stefan said grimly. “But I see there is no moving you.” He came up and found her hand, bringing it to his lips. Lucy felt that little snake leap into her fingers and run again up her arm. “Permit me only to say you have my heartfelt admiration.”
Lucy ought to have been delighted with this encomium. Upon the contrary, however, she felt a profound drop in her spirits.
Stefan let go her hand and went to a side table.
“There is brandy ready for Sarclet, when he should finally arrive. I have just sent one of the grooms to discover what is keeping him.” Lucy was about to thank him for this, when he turned, a glass decanter in his hand.
“Would you care for a restorative? I should think you must need it.”
A shocked laugh was surprised out of Lucy. “After last night? You must have taken leave of your senses!”
“I was rather forgetting that,” he said slowly, and Lucy saw his eyes darken. “Though the results of plying you with liquor were intensely rewarding, my seductive Lucy.”
She was swept with instant heat, and knew the colour was flying into her cheeks. She had not dreamed it. Embarrassment swamped her. How could she have behaved in so wanton a fashion? And how dared he encourage it?
Before she could think how to answer him, footsteps were heard flying down the passage beyond the door.
“Lucy! Lucy!”
All thought of everything but the possible meaning of Dion’s call flew out of Lucy’s head. “It must be starting!”
She ran for the door and reached it just as Dion flung it open, standing breathless and panting as she hung on to the handle.
“Quickly, Lucy! We think the baby is coming!”
Stefan watched with increasing irritation the restless titupping to and fro of Lord Sarclet’s skinny legs.
The fellow was some years Paulina’s senior, and his unprepossessing appearance had more than once made Stefan wonder at his cousin’s choice.
He was squat and wide about the abdomen, and he held a round ball of a head thrust a little forward, reminding Stefan of a discontented bullfrog.
At length Stefan could stand it no longer. “Sit down, man!”
Sarclet halted mid-stride and a reproachful glare came at Stefan. “Two hours! Two hours since I got here and they told me then the infant was coming. Where is the damned quack?”
“He will be here presently,” Stefan soothed, handing him a glass of brandy. “Drink this.”
Sarclet took the glass and drank, seeming to become a trifle calmer. “Obliged to you.”
“There is no necessity for alarm,” Stefan told him.
“Yes, there is,” the other returned. “Crick says it may be a boy this time. It is lying differently or some such thing.”
His anxiety became comprehensible, for Paulina had so far produced only daughters. But Stefan applied a bracer nonetheless. “Well, that is matter for rejoicing, man. And you may safely trust to Lucy’s ministrations.”
Sarclet’s brows beetled over protuberant eyes. “Seems to me that’s just what I can’t do. Who the deuce is this Lucy female?”
Evading the question, Stefan made haste to soothe. “You have no need to fret, Thomas. She is highly competent. I am assured she has experience.”
“Is she a midwife?”
“Not precisely.”
“Then why in the name of all that’s holy is she tending my wife’s lying-in?”
This trend was dangerous. Stefan tried deflection. “She is assisting merely. You need have no fear. Mrs Lovedown is in attendance.”
This assurance appeared to have some effect, but Sarclet’s belligerence did not lessen. “It didn’t appear to me your housekeeper was in charge. That wretch of a female would not permit me more than a moment in the chamber. And your sister thrust me out at her command!”
“A lying-in is no place for a man,” Stefan pointed out.
“It should be. The quack should be here. Why is he delayed so long?”
Did all expectant fathers go through such apprehensions, Stefan wondered, watching the man resume his pacing.
Out of nowhere, a wild notion came into his head.
Of Lucy in labour with his child. A feeling of sick terror swept through him, just before he took in the trend of his thoughts.
The door opened at this point to admit the doctor, leaving Stefan no time to speculate upon why in the world he should be imagining such a thing.