Chapter XI
XI
In her eighth month, the weather turned fierce with cold winds blowing in from the north.
A heavy mist shrouded the diamond-paned window, obscuring her view of the sea.
Both her husband and the old rogue had been mercifully absent, but Robert was expected any day, any hour.
Bess blew out the candle, snuffing out a last flicker of hope.
No ship would be sailing in this weather. James was not coming for her.
But as she sank into her bed, she knew that this was the least of her worries. Pain split through her body. Her time had come.
She rang for Lily; by the time the bleary-eyed girl appeared, the pain had worsened and the bed was soaked with fluid.
‘Get my reticule and tell the groom to prepare the carriage,’ Bess commanded.
‘Isn’t it better if I call the doctor, ma’am?’
‘No, Lily. I must go to the inn. Only Maggie can help me now.’
* * *
She’d thought it would be a sweet pain, a God-given, sacred pain.
But pain was just a word and right now, she felt like the entire world was being ripped apart, her body cleaved in two.
Maggie handed her a pillow and Bess screamed into it with all the breath in her lungs.
She wished she could suffocate herself, anything to make it stop.
Her entire body was wet with sweat, the hair mattress soaked underneath her – with blood?
Was she dying? She both hoped and feared it was the case.
And then the pain stopped. Bess bit her tongue in a new place, drawing blood.
Worse than the maddening torment was the fact that the baby had not yet come.
Just like its father had not returned as promised.
Propped up in the bed, she could see out of the casement window to the sea.
She looked to the horizon, praying that she would see the tall masts and billowing sails of a ship.
Even at the end, she wished to know that he had kept his word.
But all she saw was sea and clouds; there was no ship, and no rescue to be had.
Soon this dismal shadow life would be over.
Maggie was worried, that much Bess had gleaned.
Already she was losing blood. Too much blood.
She’d heard Maggie muttering that the baby was breached.
All of her pain could well be for naught.
She was the last of the Trevelyns. Their name and blood would be lost to memory.
And James… at best, he would grieve and find another.
At worst, he might never know that she had waited and hoped and honoured their pledge. And the baby…
No. She would not give up now. The tiny life inside her shifted and for a second, she could feel their hearts beating as one. In this bed, on this night, she would be the one to journey through fire and storms, through death and to the ends of the earth, to see that their child lived.
Another wave of agony came over her. She screamed loud enough to wake the devil.
‘There, there,’ Maggie whispered.
Bess twisted the ties of her reticule tightly around her hand: the small bag contained the broken remnants of the miniature Halcyon that James had made for her.
‘Keep faith, maid,’ she said. ‘It’s almost time to push. Lie back now and keep drawing breath upon breath.’
‘Breath upon breath,’ Bess gasped. When the pain subsided again, she set the reticule aside, lifted her head and took one last glance out of the window.
The clouds had parted to reveal the moon, glimmering silver above the horizon. And silhouetted against the pale glow was a ship, its trio of masts tall and graceful. Her heart uncurled to greet its billowing sails as it navigated into the bay.
‘Oh, Maggie,’ Bess cried. ‘Look. He’s come!’
‘Oh my dear Bess,’ Maggie said. The older woman took her hand and squeezed it hard. ‘I do believe your prayers have been answered. Now, let’s get this little one born, shall we, so we can present your James with a healthy baby.’
‘Oh Maggie. Thank you so—’
But just then, Bess heard the sound of tuneless whistling and heavy footsteps in the hall, and the panting of a dog.
Maggie sucked in a breath and whispered a prayer.
Bess closed her eyes, but nothing could shield her from this cruel twist of fate.
James had kept his promise; he’d been true to their pledge.
But Bess knew her salvation had come too late.