Chapter 23
Chapter 23
The carriages had stopped in what appeared to be one of the most squalid parts of St. Giles. When they stepped down, the men all took in their surroundings, Henry’s nostrils stung from the smell. His Jane had been held here for a week? He would kill Simon. She was increasing, for heaven’s sake! God only knows what pestilence was rampant in this filth!
Charles pointed to an equipage with the Bath crest sitting just down the kerb.
“That is Simon’s,” said Henry to an investigator. A group of them started to pick their way towards the carriage as a gunshot rang out from the building in front of them.
Before Henry could lunge for the door, Darcy grabbed him by the shoulders. “Patience.” His cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, who had dismounted a moment before, drew his sabre with one hand. In his other, his pistol appeared primed and ready as he neared the building.
“Patience? That was a gunshot! What if Simon just shot my wife?”
As the investigators approached Simon’s carriage, the vehicle lurched, and a horse neighed as it accelerated and took the corner with more speed than it should. The equipage teetered to one side but remained upright as it returned to all four wheels and continued as though it had not almost met with certain disaster.
Lord Richmond passed them the pistols they had brought with them. “Let the investigators or Colonel Fitzwilliam lead the way. If someone signals you to wait, you will need to heed their instructions.”
Henry tapped his foot in a merciless rhythm on the ground while he awaited his weapon. No sooner had Richmond handed him a piece, than he hastened forward, not heeding Richmond’s words, past the colonel to the door. He was not going to sit and wait when Janey had need of him!
“What is he doing?” “Blast it!”
He ignored the swears behind him and kicked at the door near the latch. The wood splintered with ease, and he lifted his weapon and proceeded into a small room that was dimly lit with tallow candles. A rat scurried away from eating at the wax at the bottom of one. Henry shuddered. If his wife spent days in this squalor, it had been because she was wed to him. This was all due to him. How was he to forgive himself?
Another, smaller door to the back corner came into view, and since the room appeared empty, he rushed forward. He spared no effort in shoving it open, then aimed his pistol down the stairs as someone drew behind him.
“If I had known you would run heedlessly into a dangerous situation, I would have insisted you remain behind,” said the colonel.
“I will not wait when Jane could be hurting or in pain.”
“Help! They have a pistol!”
His heart leapt into his throat at Jane’s voice. She was alive! Colonel Fitzwilliam made to shove him aside, but Henry countered the move, adjusting his aim towards her voice. By his best guess, the men who took her would be nearby.
“Jane? Are you well?” He attempted to keep his voice calm. Any demonstration of weakness could not happen.
She sobbed. “Thank God you are here.”
“We do not have a quarrel with you and will not fire.” Henry frowned. He knew that voice—it was that of the footman who had been missing since that fateful day in Hyde Park. “My associate has put his weapon on the floor.”
Henry, with the colonel and investigators behind him, tore down the remaining steps. The Runners grabbed the two men while Henry made directly for Jane, pulling her into his embrace. He held her tight to him. She was well. Thank God! She was well!
“I do not know what I would have done if you had…” He choked on the words.
“I am unharmed. Lord Bath is dead.”
She pushed at one of his shoulders and forced him to face Simon’s lifeless body, prone upon the floor in a large pool of blood. Whoever had shot him had excellent aim: they had shot him in the back, but by how much blood surrounded him, they had hit him in the heart. He had not lived long.
He tucked her face to his shoulder. “At least we never need worry of him again.”
“He had planned to kill the girls and would have killed me if they had not shot him first.”
With her in his arms, he rubbed her back and pressed his cheek to her head. “Shh, ’tis over.” He drew back and ran his hands over her face, her shoulders and back, then down to her belly. “He is well?”
The flesh under his hands hardened under his palms, and her fingers dug into his arms. While he watched, she closed her eyes and breathed, a grimace upon her countenance. Was that…? Once she opened her eyes again, she looked up at him. “He is becoming increasingly eager to meet his Papa.”
His heart began to race. She could not under any circumstances give birth in this stench and filth. “We should get you home.” Despite the agitation within, he somehow managed to maintain a calm tone. It was calm, was it not? Damn Simon to hell for endangering his wife and child so. If his brother were not already dead, Henry would have strangled him with his bare hands.
“I need a bath,” said Jane.
Her hair no longer held its usual rosewater scent, but he had cared not and would never comment upon it to her. After all, the room reeked as bad if not worse than the street above. She had been entrenched in the putrid squalor for longer than he had been and was surely aware of how she and the room smelled.
As he led her towards the stairs, Richmond stepped forward and hugged his granddaughter. “I am relieved to see you, my girl. You scared your grandmother and I horribly, you know?”
“I suppose ’tis part of my lot in life to worry you—first Mr. Bingley, and now this.” Her chuckle was weak, and she sagged on him. Had they not fed her?
Her grandfather kissed her temple. “Mr. Bingley was nothing compared to the past week.”
“She is having pains,” said Henry.
The earl nodded. “She should be removed from this place without delay.”
“I thought so too, but I shall return once she is in the carriage.” The last thing he wished to do was leave her, but he had to see to the completion of this, did he not? How else was he to guarantee his family’s future safety if he was not present to witness this to the end?
Richmond grabbed him by the shoulder before he could pass. “No, you will go with your wife. We shall take care of the particulars here. Darcy brought his cousin for a reason. Trust the colonel to see this through, so you never need worry of these men again. I would trust Colonel Fitzwilliam with my life. Trust him with yours and your family’s. I swear to you he will not disappoint.”
His wife placed her hand upon the earl’s forearm. “Grandpapa, if not for these two, the earl would have killed me. The larger man, Michael, shot him before he could do so to me. While I am not saying they should be free from punishment, perhaps hanging would be too severe. Will you tell Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Her grandfather sighed and shook his head. “I understand, but we may not be able to dictate their fate. You must resign yourself to that.”
Jane nodded before Henry lifted her into his arms, carried her up the stairs, and out to the carriage. After he set her upon her feet, he made to hand her inside where Charles awaited him.
“Thank God,” said his brother upon Jane sitting across from him.
The only way Charles had been allowed to come was to promise he would remain with the carriage. As much as his brother despised not being of use, he had willingly admitted he could be an impediment without his hearing, so after he had pointed out Simon’s carriage, he had returned inside their own to await the outcome. Not being able to be of aid had to have worn on him, but thankfully, Charles was safe and recognised he had to remain so to ensure Jane’s recovery.
Henry climbed in beside his wife as another pain ripped through her, and she clung to him, her face in his shoulder while she panted. Without delay, he grabbed a walking stick propped along the wall of the equipage and banged on the ceiling.
“She is well?” asked Charles as they began to move.
“In need of a bath if you ask her and ready to begin her confinement, otherwise well. Simon’s accomplices shot him before he could kill her, thank heavens. I do not know exactly how that came to be, but I am certain she will tell us when she is able.” Signing had been tricky, but his brother seemed to follow even though one hand peeked out from where it was wrapped around Jane.
As soon as the pain subsided, she straightened with a wince. “The two who held me did not know Lord Bath planned to shoot me. Your brother told them he was seeking to exchange me for a generous ransom. Neither of his accomplices had the stomach to take my life, so Michael, the great, lumbering fellow, took Lord Bath’s first.” One of her hands rubbed circles on her belly, so Henry had signed what she said so Charles could follow.
Henry kissed her crown and buried his nose into her hair. While she was correct that she desperately needed a bath, he could not care that she smelled like that cellar. She was in his arms where she belonged, Simon was dead, and he would never darken their doorstep again. Yet, some part of him should mourn, should it not? After all, Simon was his younger brother. The disturbing outcome was that Henry could not muster the emotion in his heart. His youngest brother had been a thorn in his side—a danger to him and sometimes Charles for too long. The lone sensation of a great weight being lifted from his shoulders prevailed.
No sooner had they drawn before Albemarle House than the door opened with Adam standing in the doorway. After Taft’s dismissal, Adam, now Bates, had been afforded the opportunity to serve as butler. If he succeeded, the position was his. The young man had proved himself loyal and had fought to keep Emme and Jules from being taken. He deserved the opportunity for the promotion more than anyone.
Once Jane’s feet were on the pavement, Henry lifted her into his arms once again and carried her inside. Cheers erupted from the multitude of servants who had assembled in the hall, no doubt to ensure their mistress was returned to them hale and whole. In her short time as the Duchess of Albemarle, the servants at Hemel Hill, Clitheroe Castle, and Albemarle House had come to love their kind mistress. They had been overwrought at her disappearance. Their welcome warmed his heart.
“Bates, my wife is in need of the midwife.”
“Right away, Your Grace,” barked the young man.
Henry did not put her down but continued up the stairs while Mrs. Tanner followed behind. “Your Grace, I took the liberty of warming bathwater. The footmen will be carrying it up as we speak.
“Mrs. Tanner, continue heating water for we shall require a generous amount. My wife was not kept in the best of conditions. I wish for her to be as clean as we can manage before the child comes.”
When they reached Jane’s bedchamber, he set her back on her feet and dismissed the housekeeper as Sutton entered.
“The tub is not full as yet, Your Grace.”
Jane bent over and pressed her face into his chest when the next pain took her. Sutton’s eyes widened, and she hastened over to stand behind her mistress, rubbing her lower back.
“How is that, Your Grace?”
At Jane’s fervent nod, Sutton continued until his wife relaxed and straightened. “Pray, get me out of this gown. It smells almost as bad as that horrid cellar.”
Her maid unbuttoned the back, and Henry aided them both in removing it. When Jane was free of it, Sutton held it as though it was befouled. “What do I do with it?”
“Burn it,” he said, “but outside so the smell does not infect the house.”
As soon as all of Jane’s undergarments were removed as well, Sutton rushed them from the room. A rap sounded from the door to the dressing room, so Henry guided her to the door and peered inside. The servants’ entrance clicked closed, so he helped her into the room and then the steaming bath.
While he removed his coats, she relaxed into the water. “Sutton can assist me. You need not do this.”
He cradled her cheeks in his palms. “I assure you that this is no chore, and I would do more quite willingly. Pray, do not ask me to leave you. I cannot.” His voice broke on the last.
Her eyes shone as she bent forward and pressed her lips to his. “I would prefer you stay, if it means anything.”
“It means everything,” he said. Since she had no further protest, he took the cake of soap and washed her thoroughly, cringing at the colour of the water as he cleansed her.
When Sutton entered, she blushed and averted her eyes. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I had not meant to intrude.”
“No, no. Do not go yet. I need what you use to wash her hair.”
The ladies’ maid handed him a different cake. “The housekeeper at Clitheroe makes this from goat’s milk and rosewater.”
Jane bent over with another pain. “I despise the time it takes to use egg whites, so we use this on most occasions.”
He scrunched his nose. Egg whites? He just used the soap cake he used for his body most days.
As soon as Sutton handed him what he required, she bustled towards the door. “I shall prepare Her Grace’s nightgown.”
“Wait! Have the tub in my dressing room filled and tell my valet to await my summons below stairs.”
“Your Grace?”
“The water in here is filthy. She will be in need of another bath.”
Despite the colour of the water, Henry dampened Jane’s hair and worked the soap into her tresses.
She let her head fall back into his hands as they worked the soap through her hair. “The pain is lessened some in the warmth of the tub.” He then kneaded her scalp until she gasped. “Where they struck me upon the head is still sore.”
“Forgive me.”
She took his hand and pulled him down closer, gazing up at him. “You could not have known. I thank you for this—for caring for me.”
“I require no thanks. I want to do this; I need to do this.”
“Which is why I love you so much.”
He bestowed a gentle kiss on her lips, then continued his ministrations, careful of the tender spot to the back of her crown. How hard had they hit her?
Sutton prepared the rosewater rinse for Jane’s hair, then set it where he could reach it. “The bath in your dressing room will be full soon,” she said as he emptied the contents slowly over Jane’s head.
After, he helped Jane to stand, wrapped her in a soft towelling, carried her to his dressing room, and placed her in a fresh tub.
“The poor servants,” she said. “This is a great deal of work.”
He began repeating his earlier ministrations. “And is why they are paid generously. Do not fret. I am certain they will understand. They care a great deal for their mistress.”
As soon as she was clean, he once again helped her rise and step out of the bath then towelled her dry. When she wore a fresh nightgown, he made to carry her to bed, but she stayed him.
“Now that I am at home, I need to walk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I began having small pains yesterday I believe, mayhap the day before. I lost track of day and night with the windows boarded up as they were. The midwife had said walking would bring about the birth, but since my waters had not broken, I remained seated most of the time and did naught for fear of bringing the child faster. He was safer where he was. Besides, I could not bring our child into the world in that…in that—” She shivered.
“Shh. I understand. My wish was for you to await me while I refreshed myself and changed clothes.”
“Then Sutton can aid me.”
“He brushed a damp tendril of hair from her forehead. “When was the last time you ate?”
“The larger of the men, Michael, brought me a small bowl of stew his mother made. He brought me meals every few days, otherwise, I was given bad tea and mouldy bread.”
His insides clenched and it was all he could do not to shake once again with ire. As he rang Sutton, he held Janey’s gaze. “Your hair needs to dry some. Allow Sutton to walk with you near the fire. I shall order you some food.” She opened her mouth, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “You will need nourishment to deliver this child. Pray, do not argue with me.”
When Sutton arrived, he informed her of his plans, ordered a tray for Jane from the kitchens, and rang for his valet. He would need to hurry. He could not leave Jane for long.