Chapter Eleven #3
‘Oh God, same as usual. Except that Batty was still full of the Donwell Organics Christmas party, although she wasn’t even there.
“Dear Mark, so generous, so attentive to dear Jane, everything a girl could wish for . . . The most wonderful syllabub for dessert, with delicious little biscuits, almost like a . . . Then carriages at one, so not too much beauty sleep lost” — and so on, ad nauseam. ’
I couldn’t help smiling; he had Batty off to a T. ‘You’re a very wicked man, mocking her like that. Ask Kate and Tom what they’d like to drink — oh, and “dear Mark” too.’ I bit my lip. ‘If he doesn’t want anything alcoholic, he can have either orange juice or lemonade, like the kids.’
Flynn did as he was told and returned a few minutes later. ‘Champagne for Tom — he says he’s got lots to celebrate — and orange juice for Kate and God’s Gift. Shall I see to it?’
‘Please.’ The less contact I had with Mark at the moment, the better.
I left Flynn in the kitchen and went into the drawing room to wish Kate and Tom a Merry Christmas.
As I watched them give the children their presents, I noticed that they were unusually restless.
Tom was shifting from one foot to the other and Kate kept glancing up at him; whenever their eyes met, they would both break into a smile.
I nudged Kate and said, with mock severity, ‘You two should be behaving like an old married couple by now, but you seem even more excited than the children, if that’s possible. What’s your secret?’
She exchanged another look with Tom and he went dashing out of the room. Then she turned to me. ‘Tom’s gone to find Flynn because he’s going to make an announcement. But I want to tell you our news myself.’ She added, with a blush, ‘I’m pregnant.’
My hand went instinctively to my stomach; then I hugged her and said brightly, ‘That’s wonderful. When did you find out?’
‘A while ago, but I’ve just passed the three-month stage so we thought it safe to go public. We’re going to tell the others once Tom’s back.’
I did some rapid calculations in my head.
Her baby would be born in early summer; whereas, if I was pregnant, mine would be due very late August. Or even September, the time for an Indian summer.
How appropriate, given who the father was .
. . I corrected myself. There was, in effect, no such person.
I would have to be both father and mother to my baby.
I squared my shoulders. ‘I’m so happy for you. You’ll be the perfect mother and Tom will have the chance to be a real father this time. Not like with Flynn.’
She sobered instantly. ‘Yes, imagine fathering a child and not being able to see it grow up. Oh, I know it happens far too frequently these days, but that doesn’t make it any easier for the man concerned. And the child, naturally.’
I felt my eyes fill with tears but, fortunately, Tom and Flynn came into the room with the remaining drinks and provided a distraction.
Kate gave me a kiss and moved to Tom’s side, while I found myself staring at Flynn.
He hadn’t turned out that badly, I supposed, but how did he feel about seeing so little of his father during his childhood?
Of course, Tom had been in the Merchant Navy, unable to interfere even if Stella had allowed him to.
Mark would be entirely different. He was a more forceful character than Tom and, worse still, he was on my doorstep.
But he was due to go back to India when George Knightley returned in February.
With any luck he’d leave promptly, giving me the time and space to work out how to run my life — and Dad’s — with a baby.
All of a sudden, it dawned on me. As my pregnancy started to show, I’d have to endure all the gossip. ‘Fancy Emma Woodhouse making that sort of mistake! But then she always thought she was better than everyone else in Highbury. Now who could the father be?’
I wondered gloomily how Dad would react. I decided he’d either get permanently bloated, in the spirit of a sympathetic pregnancy, or become obsessed with the potential risks to my health.
Then there was Izzy; she’d probably accuse me of being immoral and irresponsible and forbid me to have anything more to do with her children. And what about John? What if, for once, he agreed with her?
I was sure Kate and Tom would be supportive; but naturally, when their own baby arrived, they’d have far less time for me and my problems.
As for Batty, she would be positively unbearable.
She’d smother me with kindness and those endless pairs of pale yellow bootees she used to knit for Izzy.
I could just hear her rabbiting on at me: ‘You can’t have too many of them, Baby’s little feet can get quite chilly and .
. . Such a lovely colour, it does for a boy or a .
. . Still keeping us in the dark about its father, dear?
Never mind, I’m sure we’ll be able to tell who Baby looks like when it’s born, so exciting, perhaps I’ll organise a Guess the Daddy stall at the Autumn Fayre. ’
Funny, until Kate told me her news, I hadn’t thought any of this through. It was as though her pregnancy — so straightforward, so welcome, so right — made me realise what a mess mine would be.
But this much was clear: whatever the truth of the situation, I had to tell Mark I wasn’t pregnant. I needed him safely back in India and out of my life.
* * *
~~MARK~~
I wondered what Emma and Kate were talking about. Whatever it was, it made Kate happy but left Emma quite upset. Once she was on her own, her face drained of its colour and, for a moment, I thought she was going to faint.
I frowned. Normally, I’d have gone over and probed a bit, or jollied her out of it.
But there was no such thing as normality any more, only the appearance of it.
And anyway, she didn’t need me, she had Churchill.
She certainly couldn’t take her eyes off him, which filled me with a sense of foreboding.
What if my playing it cool for the past few weeks had been completely the wrong tactic?
As a result, when Tom asked for silence so that he could make ‘an important announcement’, I broke out in a cold sweat — because I knew what was coming. Strange, though; I’d have expected Henry to do the honours, not Tom. Unless Henry didn’t approve?
My mouth went dry as I glanced across at Emma.
She looked strained rather than pleased, and there was no ring on her engagement finger.
But, of course, she’d be concerned about her father’s reaction; or perhaps Churchill wanted to put the ring on in front of everyone, like the flamboyant bastard he was.
Emily started to wail and Emma picked her up to comfort her; odd, when I’d have thought she’d need her hands free . . .
Just then, Tom cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, everybody. I’m delighted to announce’ — I closed my eyes to blot out the inevitable — ‘that in June, all being well,’ — oh, get on with it, for God’s sake! — ‘a new member of the Weston family will put in his or her appearance.’
I let out a long slow breath. In other words, Kate and Tom were expecting a baby. Why hadn’t I guessed? It was the most natural thing in the world, even if they were both getting on a bit. I opened my eyes and grinned inanely at no one in particular.
Tom drew Kate’s arm through his. ‘Please join me in a toast to my lovely wife and the safe arrival of Baby Weston!’
As we raised our glasses and echoed his words, I took the opportunity to study the faces around me.
Everyone seemed delighted, with two notable exceptions.
Henry looked apprehensive, presumably speculating on what could go wrong with Kate’s pregnancy.
And, although I couldn’t see Emma’s expression properly for Emily’s head, her eyes were suspiciously bright. They met mine, then flicked away.
I understood perfectly. Kate and Tom’s news had been a timely reminder that she might be carrying my child.
And the contrast with Kate’s happiness couldn’t be more marked.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
After the toast, Flynn sauntered over to me, lifted a rather surprised Emily out of my arms and pressed a small, square, gift-wrapped box into my hand.
‘Here’s the really nice present I got you.’ He gave Emily a wary look. ‘Hope she doesn’t throw up, this is my best shirt. Still, it looks as though I’ll have to get used to having a baby around.’
I felt my face flush with embarrassment. ‘But I haven’t got you anything!’
‘Just open it, woman.’
Inside the box was a pair of ornate sapphire and diamond earrings. Not to my taste at all and, judging by the name on the lid, horribly expensive. Grant’s of Kingston was renowned for its showy jewellery and high prices; Tom had bought Kate’s engagement ring there, against my recommendation.
With a pretence at regret, I said, ‘A very generous gift, but I can’t possibly accept it.’
‘That’s a real shame.’ But he didn’t sound at all disappointed; and he snatched the box back rather too quickly for my liking.
My eyes narrowed. ‘Did you buy these for somebody else?’
He gave a nervous laugh. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Oh, it’s my feminine intuition, it can be a real curse at times,’ I said in a friendlier tone, thinking that these monstrosities were just the sort of thing Harriet would adore — provided she thought they were fake.
He hesitated, then said in a low voice, ‘I was going to give them to a certain person we both know, but I was scared she’d hate them so I bottled out.
And Kate and Dad assumed they were for you, so I decided I’d better play along.
You see, I’m in their bad books because of all the time I’m spending away from Highbury.
’ He added, with a beguiling grin, ‘Don’t suppose you’d wear them, just while we’re here?
It’d do my credibility a power of good.’
Fortunately for him, this last revelation deprived me of the power of speech.
He went on, ‘I’d need them back, of course, but there’s no rush. How about it?’