A Perfect Lady, page 24
part #3 of The Mackenzie Brothers Series
Roseanne drew her wrapper, the same pearly white silk as her gown, tighter about herself. A slight furrow appeared between her eyes. “You don’t seem too happy to hear that. I thought that would put your mind at ease. Most ladies would be pleased to learn their man wasn’t with one of my girls.”
“No, it isn’t that.” Rebecca pressed weary fingers to her aching temples as hot tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t look at Roseanne, casting her watery gaze down toward the dark gray boards of the porch. Where on earth was James? Her dread mushroomed into fear, an icy cold fear that left her wanting to retch.
Apparently Roseanne didn’t concern herself with propriety, or with the icy February air, for she came out entirely onto the porch and moved to sit beside her. She slid an arm about Rebecca’s shoulders. “What is it, Mrs. McKenzie?”
“Mrs. McKenzie, we should be going now,” Amanda called from the pathway leading to the steps. She shot a cold stare at the madam. “The last thing you need is anyone seeing you sitting here with a fallen woman like her.”
If the insult troubled Roseanne, she never let on. Instead, she tightened her arm about Rebecca’s shoulders. “Mrs. McKenzie?”
Although she knew Amanda was right, Rebecca didn’t move. She just blinked furiously, trying to keep her tears at bay as her words tumbled over one another, just poured from her like water from a broken vessel. “I don’t know where he is. He left yesterday afternoon and I haven’t — ”
“Mrs. McKenzie?” Leticia Baker’s horrified gasp made Rebecca jump up from the bench as if she’d done something terribly wrong. She spun about as Leticia came clopping up the steps, skirts in one fist, her free hand reaching to wrap about Rebecca’s wrist. “What the deuce are you doing here? Miss Martin, you stay away from her. She is a lady and is not about to associate with the likes of you.”
Leticia practically dragged her off the porch, her words falling over themselves. “What on earth are you doing here? Do you know what would happen if anyone saw you here? What were you thinking and does James know you’re here?”
“Stop!” Rebecca yanked her hand free and jerked to a halt on the narrow pathway as Amanda joined them. “I don’t care what happens if someone sees me here. It doesn’t matter, as I’m not doing a bloody thing wrong. I had a very good reason for being here and to hell with anyone who thinks to make it a matter of gossip!”
With that, she stalked away from Leticia and the maid, storming toward the coach. Inside, she threw herself into the seat, wincing as the baby kicked her sharply in the ribs. “Please, little one,” she muttered, rubbing the bulge that had to be a tiny foot, “leave my insides intact. I’ve enough to worry about as it is.”
Both ladies joined her in the coach, each wearing a look of concern. “What is going on? Why on earth are you here, and so early in the day?”
“Would it be better if I came around in late afternoon?” Rebecca retorted, still rubbing her side. “More appropriate, perhaps? All I was doing was asking a question. If someone in this town wishes to make fodder of that, they should feel free. I don’t care because I have much more important matters with which to concern myself, and what some gossip says about me is not one of them!”
Just before she turned toward the window, she saw Leticia’s forehead wrinkle. “What happened, Mrs. McKenzie?”
Rebecca’s throat squeezed shut and tears blinded her again. Pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering uncontrollably, she remained staring out the window. Over the pounding in her head, she heard Amanda answer for her. “Captain McKenzie’s gone missing.”
“What? What do you mean, gone missing?”
“He went into town yesterday afternoon and no one has seen him since.”
Rebecca closed her eyes and bit back a curse as Leticia asked, “Have you gone to Eagleton’s office?”
“That was the first place we looked, Miss Baker. And he’s not there. His ship is still in its berth. He wasn’t at any of the taverns or Brookes’s Café, or even at” — Amanda lowered her voice, although they were in no danger of being overheard in the moving coach — “Miss Martin’s.”
Rebecca braced herself for Leticia’s outrage over any suggestion James might have sought the services of one of Roseanne’s ladies. That no such outrage came forth sank her spirits even lower. The hand on her belly went still as the child quieted. She was so very tired. All she wanted to do was to go home and lie down, perhaps pull the quilts over her head to make reality go away for a short while.
Leticia sighed softly. “There has to be a reasonable explanation. People don’t simply vanish, Mrs. McKenzie.”
“No one has seen him.” Rebecca couldn’t make her voice any louder than a raw whisper. “He is simply… gone.”
“Nonsense,” Leticia replied. “Perhaps he called on a friend and simply fell asleep. It does happen, you know.”
“Of course it does,” Rebecca replied, giving Leticia a weary look. “As I’m certain we will all look back on this one day and laugh.”
Spots of color rose up on Leticia’s high, pointed cheekbones. “I know it sounds foolish, but you mustn’t worry. That will do you no good. Let’s get you back to Stonebridge, and then I will go from house to house if need be.”
Rebecca didn’t reply, but turned back to the window. From house to house. How foolish. To her, that seemed worse than asking a known harlot of her husband’s whereabouts. Men could visit harlots. People would snicker for a day or so, but then it would be forgotten. But if he was in some other woman’s bedroom? That would haunt her far longer, as it meant far more was invested with the lady in question.
No. She wouldn’t think about it now. Or if she couldn’t help but think of it, she’d try to keep on the bright side of it. Perhaps he had simply gone to pay a call on Mr. Tims and fell asleep after a long, emotionally taxing day.
Of course. And perhaps fairies were real and pixies would help her the next time she decided to sweep out one of the rooms.
Chapter Twenty-Four
For the next two weeks, Rebecca barely slept. She hardly ate. Her emotions ran the gamut from utter hopelessness to teary fright to bitter rage. No matter how many times she told herself it was impossible, it really did appear that James had simply vanished from the face of the earth. No one knew of his whereabouts. No one had seen him since the day of his father’s funeral. And all of them whispered about her, no doubt. She felt the stares, saw how people ducked behind muffs or around corners when she passed. Then, people began to avoid her, refusing to look at her whenever she went into town. Of course, those trips decreased in frequency as her belly grew even rounder. Eight months had passed since that fateful night at the Sheratons, when she found her way into James McKenzie’s bed, and now she couldn’t even see her own feet, never mind traipse all over Brunswick looking for a man who clearly was not there.
Those weeks were lonely, despite Amanda’s and Charles’s solicitous behavior, despite the daily visits from the Baker sisters and Elizabeth Townsend. Even Gwendolyn Peters seemed to have forgiven her for her crime of marrying James. In all actuality, they were the reason Rebecca held onto her sanity, for they did what they could to ease her burden.
Early March brought a thaw, and nearly ten days’ worth of storms. The endless rain did nothing to raise Rebecca’s flagging spirits, and made her sadness even more profound. She never dreamed she could miss anyone as much as she did James. Her heart ached for him. Her arms felt painfully empty. It seemed as if every inch of her body ached in some way, shape, or form. Her back hurt. Her feet hurt.
Finally, the storms abated, bringing sunshine and bright blue skies. Once the lawns were dry enough, Rebecca had Amanda bring out a cushion for the gazebo bench. At first, it was comfortable, but after a few minutes, the screaming pain in her lower back made sitting there impossible.
Rubbing her back with one hand, she made her way toward the house, each step a bit more difficult than the last. Halfway to the house, a slow, rolling cramp halted her mid-stride and nearly bent her in half.
“Ooooh…” The low moan came to her lips of its own accord, and she sucked in a heavy breath. The pain receded as she exhaled slowly, but when as she lifted her foot to take another step, her eyes widened in horror at the gush of water that burst forth from between her legs.
She didn’t panic, not even when the next pain hit, not even as it penetrated her fuzzy brain that the child was not due for nearly four more weeks. Still, she needed help if she didn’t wish to give birth right there on the lawn. “Miss Hastings!”
Fortunately, the maid was on the north lawn, hanging laundry to dry. Unfortunately, she wasn’t nearly as level-headed as Rebecca, her eyes widening in horror at the dark stain on Rebecca’s skirts from where it brushed her legs. “Mrs. McKenzie!”
“It’s all right. Please, I need you to help me inside.” Rebecca reached for her, steadying herself on Amanda’s arm.
Amanda’s face went ashen, and her gaze darted wildly about, as if she expected a midwife to simply appear from any direction. “You need to be inside, Mrs. McKenzie!”
Fortunately for Amanda, another pain seized Rebecca, or else she’d have let loose a tongue lashing. But the pain didn’t render her completely mute, as she growled, “Which is why — ” She sucked in a sharp breath as the pain peaked, and squeezed Amanda’s arm. All sound seemed to die away, the air seemed to be sucked from the earth as she waited for the agony to subside. Then, she exhaled with a slow, gritted “ — why I need your assistance.”
“Can you take another step?”
Sweat beaded Rebecca’s upper lip as she nodded. Even thinking took more effort than she thought possible. “Yes. But let’s be quick, since I have but minutes before the next pain comes.”
“Of course.”
Step. Step. She gritted her teeth as she ticked off each step. Sweat prickled along her back, trickled down between her breasts, and as they reached the drive, a pain swept through her with such fury, she cried out as she hunched over.
“Mrs. McKenzie?”
“One minute.” Rebecca gritted her teeth, let her fingernails bite into Amanda’s arm, and moaned, “Oh… God…”
“Can you continue?” Amanda asked with a wince.
Rebecca held up a hand, her breathing short and shallow until the pain mercifully receded. Then, she nodded. “Yes.”
“Should I fetch Mr. Charles?”
“No! Dear Lord, he’s the last person I wa — oh!” She bent in half, fighting to stay on her feet when all she really wanted was to lie down and die right there.
“We’re almost to the house, Mrs. McKenzie,” Amanda urged, sliding her free arm about Rebecca’s waist. “Come along, one more step.”
Step. Step. Breathing through the pain helped at first, but by the time they reached the house, even that didn’t help. It was slow, tedious going, with having to stop every few minutes to let the pain course through her, then recede.
She stared up at the staircase. “Oh, Miss Hastings… I don’t thi — oh!” She grabbed her belly, leaning heavily on Amanda. “I can’t… I can’t…”
Hot tears stung her eyes. Damn it! This was not how this day was supposed to unfold. James was supposed to be here, and yet he wasn’t. And she didn’t want to do this alone.
“Easy, Mrs. McKenzie,” Amanda murmured, rubbing her back gently. “We’ll go slow and stop whenever you need to, but we need get you above.”
Gritting her teeth, and dragging a ragged breath into her lungs, Rebecca nodded. Each step was a battle, requiring her to reach deep down into strength reserves she didn’t know she had, and when she crossed the threshold into her room, she let her tears flow.
“There now, almost done,” Amanda assured her. “We need to change your clothes and then you’ll be able to lie down.”
“Please… I need to lie down now.” Rebecca clung to the bedpost, pressed her cheek into the cool wood. Still, she managed to let Amanda help her out of the sodden gown and into a fresh gown. She wept as she was finally able to lie down.
Amanda wadded up the soiled gown and stuffed it into the basket in the corner, keeping her back turned until Rebecca stopped crying. “Mrs. McKenzie, please let me fetch Miss Peters for you, she’s the midwife and a fine one. She’s helped nearly half of Brunswick bring their children into the world.”
Before Rebecca could answer, her entire body tensed with the next pain, the urge to push growing stronger. Dear God, she couldn’t possibly do this with only Gwendolyn Peters for company. Damn it! James was supposed to be here for this!
But he wasn’t coming. And she didn’t want to be alone. “Very well. But fetch Miss Baker as well. I don’t care which one, either.” She twisted her fingers into the sheet to keep from screaming. “But be quick!”
Hiking up her skirts nearly to her knees, Amanda darted from the room, tossing, “Yes, Mrs. McKenzie!” over her shoulder as she clopped down the stairs.
Tears stung Rebecca’s eyes as the pain passed to leave her limp and breathless. This was worse than the long, empty nights alone in the house. Worse than the empty space in the bed beside her. Worse than wondering in whose arms her husband passed his nights. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone.
And alone was terrifying.
Even her father would be welcome at that moment.
Anger displaced her pain. Anger at James for disappearing and leaving her. Anger at her father for forcing her into this marriage. Anger at her mother and sister for dying and leaving her to face this on her own. Anger at the world in general.
“Oh!” Her insides twisted sharply, that need to push even stronger now. No. She had to wait for Gwendolyn, for someone who actually knew what she was supposed to do. She squeezed her eyes shut, although the tears still leaked from their corners.
Some of her anger and fear left at the sound of footsteps just outside her door. The floor creaked, and Leticia’s voice came soft as she slid her hand into Rebecca’s. “Easy, dear. Everything will be just fine.”
“Thank God.” Rebecca couldn’t hold back her tears as Leticia patted her hand. Forcing her eyes open, she swallowed her rising sob as Gwendolyn offered up a gentle smile.
“Listen to Miss Baker,” she said, stepping up alongside Leticia. “We’ll get you through this. Mrs. McKenzie.”
“Please…” Rebecca breathed, still struggling to calm herself. “I think, given the circumstances, I prefer a little less… formality.”
Gwendolyn paused, glancing first at Leticia, then down at her. “As you wish, Mrs. Mc — that is, Rebecca.”
“Thank you.” Rebecca sniffed. “And now, I’m going to go back to worrying that this is far too soon for this baby to be born.” She tried to smash her rising panic with a bit of levity, but failed as her voice wavered.
“Nonsense. Only a baby knows when the time is right,” Gwendolyn assured her, patting her leg through the sheet. Then she moved to tuck several more pillows behind her back. “Lydia is downstairs, preparing some tea for you. Elizabeth will be here as soon as she can.”
“I only wish she had James with her.” The words were out before Rebecca could stop them.
“You need to focus only on this now, Rebecca.” Gwendolyn’s voice was stern. “Can you do that?”
She nodded slowly, her grip on Leticia tightening as the next pain rumbled through her. A fine mist of sweat rose up to prickle on her skin. Every muscle tensed, the pain burning through her, growing in intensity. Leticia sucked in a sharp breath, but shook her head. “Pay me no mind. Draw blood if you must.”
“I’m sorry — ”
“Don’t be sorry,” Leticia scolded with a gentle smile. “Squeeze as hard as you like, whenever you need to. And someday, you will return the favor. God willing.”
The hours passed slowly, crept through on broken legs. The light in the room shifted and faded to twilight. Much to Amanda’s chagrin, Elizabeth brought up tea and cakes for everyone, although Rebecca refused more than a sip of tea.
The pains were stronger now, and relentless, coming every minute or so to twist her body into tight knots. Her muscles tensed and burned as she bore down to push at Gwendolyn’s urging. Sweat soaked her gown, dampened the sheets, made her hair stick to her forehead in wet strings. “I can’t do this,” she groaned, sinking back into the mound of pillows.
“You can.” Gwendolyn smiled over her drawn-up knees. “And you will. Ready?”
“No. Please…” Her head lolled from left to right even as the wave built. It hurtled toward her to seize her in an agonizing fist. Whether she wished to push or not, her body was demanding that she do so. “Dear God… I can’t do this… I can’t.”
“Deep breath,” Gwendolyn urged, nodding. “One… two… three!”
“Augh!” Rebecca’s jaw ached from her teeth grinding into each other. Elizabeth and Lydia urged her on, and Leticia squeezed her hand back. The pain was relentless, sharp and stabbing, yet she couldn’t stop pushing, couldn’t give up.
The scream tore itself free as a blindingly white light flashed before her eyes. Then, as quickly as they came, the pains receded and she sank back into the pillows. Everyone went silent. Then tears came at the first shrill cry of life.
“It’s a boy,” Leticia managed to choke out as tears spilled over her lower lashes.
“Please… let me see him.” Rebecca struggled to sit up, only to be halted by Lydia.
“Here he is.” Gwendolyn came around to place the flailing, screaming red infant on her chest. “You did it. Congratulations.”
As she looked down into the scrunched red face of her squalling son, a wave of love washed over her, so powerful it threatened to wipe her from existence. The boy had a shock of thick dark hair and the fattest arms and legs she’d ever seen.
He was perfect.
His red, wrinkled face blurred from the tears she couldn’t hold back, and she sobbed as she cradled her son to her breast.
Gwendolyn brought over swaddling clothes to wrap him, while Leticia shooed everyone else from the room to help Rebecca into a dry gown, then quickly changed the linens. When she was settled back beneath the quilts, Leticia bent over to whisper, “We will be below. Amanda is going to stay outside the door. Let her know if you need any of us for anything.”
