Chapter 15
They were all there for the wedding breakfast, Irene included.
James Reed raised an eyebrow when he saw how subtly she had staked her claim to Jasper. He knew Jasper to be a man of the world and not easily duped. Then he decided that perhaps he and Irene were a fair match for each other after all. They certainly made a handsome pair.
He knew the Brosnans well and enjoyed their company. Henry and he had had business dealings on the occasion and he appreciated the man’s fairness and honesty. He smiled inwardly seeing how Eloïse was now struggling with everything she attempted, hampered by an enormous pregnancy. It was not easy to remain elegant at the same time, but she managed it. She was such a lovely looking woman that one didn’t dwell on her extended waist. Obviously, she hadn’t wanted to miss out on the festivities and her doting husband had, no doubt, wanted to humour her. Her easy-going mother was present, keeping an eye on the children, who were sitting at another table with Christopher and Helen. The four little friends were in a world of their own, animated and laughing.
James could see Faith’s aunt and her friend had found something in common with Eloïse’s mother. All three were discussing something with intensity and they looked as if they’d known each other for years.
Ciaran and Lydia Curzon were a delightful couple too. They didn’t appear the least bit awkward mingling with unknown people. Having their own business was certainly an advantage when meeting new people, but then the Irish accent coming from Ciaran reminded James of his origins. And since when had an Irishman ever had a problem with socialising?
His gaze was arrested by Faith. He had refrained from more than a polite smile and a word or two but he felt a tightening in his stomach, as he realised that he would have liked this woman to be his.
Yellow ribbons in her sophisticated hair style made her look soft and feminine. Her wedding robe gave her the air of a princess or someone from a fairy story. She was lovely but she was lovely even in the plainest of dresses.
He did wonder if he had ever stood a chance with her, and then wondered why he hadn’t even tried. He supposed that it was because he had sensed, from the start, the undercurrents between Quentin and her. He could see that they were devoted to each other and didn’t begrudge them their happiness. He was fast coming up to thirty, so perhaps he should start thinking of finding a wife for himself.
The children’s nanny had come to take them all away after a while. They left with no fuss and didn’t bother to look back as they were too busy looking forward to what they were going to do.
The meal was almost at its end when the contractions began.
Involuntarily, Eloïse let out a yelp before putting her hand and napkin to her mouth. If there was anything that could put an end to polite conversation, it was certainly a very pregnant woman yelping.
All eyes were fixed upon her embarrassed face, expecting some form of explanation. It came quite quickly as she grabbed her extended abdomen and moaned. There was a moment when all the men paled, perhaps Jasper more than the others. He certainly looked as though he might faint. No wonder he didn’t want children.
Henry was the first to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process and then chaos took over. Everyone was talking at once (well, perhaps not Jasper) and waving arms. Eloïse’s easy-going mother ended it all by shouting “STOP!” in a voice that showed she knew what she was doing. She’d had six children, hadn’t she?
Some of the men were quickly dispatched to get the doctor and to inform the rest of the household to be on alert. Henry was a little wobbly, but he had already endured two other births, so his sensibilities were a little more hardened than those of the other men. James Reed had come to his senses and had offered his aid in helping Eloïse to climb the stairs to the first floor.
Faith had already rushed ahead to open a spare bedroom for her. She then took one of her night rails to be used because there was now little doubt that Eloïse intended to have her baby in Marshalswick House. Irene surprised everyone by remaining quite calm once the situation had been clarified. She left Jasper to recover in a corner, placing a glass of brandy within his reach.
She followed the men and Eloïse up the stairs with a carafe of water and a glass which she deposited on the bedside table in the room that was now ready to receive the mother-to-be.
Eloïse’s contractions were coming rapidly so that her progress up the stairs didn’t go in one smooth move. Every four or five stairs, she would crisp up while a contraction took hold of her body. She managed to stifle any strong noises that might have weakened the men helping her.
They arrived.
Throughout, her mother remained remarkably in charge. She asked for old sheets, towels, boiling water and wanted the fire to be built up. Henry stayed with his wife, holding her hand and trying to sooth her. His pained expression matched that of Eloïse’s.
The bustle in the house was comparable to that of a coaching inn.
The doctor had not been available immediately, so Quentin had returned with the midwife. She was apparently a well experienced woman in her fifties who put Eloïse and her mother at ease with little effort.
Her first step was to throw out the husband. She deemed that Eloïse’s mother had had enough experience to stay. There was a moment between contractions when Eloïse laughed out loud. The midwife had taken out and put on spectacles before examining her to see just how advanced she was.
Eloïse thought to herself that the last thing she would have done, would have been to put on spectacles. It probably wasn’t a pretty sight to examine.
The midwife, Mrs. Lang, gave them the news that all was proceeding as it should. She added that it was ‘a fortunate thing that this was a third birthing as it would make it easier for both babies and the mother. Of course, it was rare that there would be three, but one couldn’t be sure at this stage of the deliverance…’
Eloïse’s mouth would have dropped open like her mother’s if a contraction hadn’t occupied her thoughts at that precise moment.
-o0o-
Everyone had taken advantage of the disruption to leave the room and change into more casual clothing. It was the moment when Quentin and Faith found themselves, once again, reunited in their room. Before Faith changed, Quentin sat her on one of the chairs and gave her his wedding present. He stood before her, watching her remove the paper and ribbon. The look on her face as she discovered the beautiful eight-day clock was enough for him. He knew he had chosen well as her eyes brimmed with tears to run down her smiling face.
“Oh Quentin, my love, this is the perfect gift,” she said.
“It will keep time of the rest of our lives together…”
She opened the door at the back of it to see the engraving he’d had made on the brass:
‘TO MY BELOVED WIFE ~ MY REASON FOR BEING’
She stood slowly and took his hand to kiss it before holding it against her cheek. She regained her composure and placed the clock on the marble mantelpiece before turning and going to him. She pulled him towards her to lay her face against his heart.
“This is probably an ill-chosen moment to give you my present,” she said, “but I have waited until now as I wanted you to have it on our wedding day.”
His brows creased a little as he wondered about the gift.
She stepped back taking one of his hands and placing it on her abdomen.
“With Eloïse in labour, I’m afraid that you now know what to expect when our baby arrives. At least you may have had time to adapt to the idea.”
“Faith. We’re going to have a baby? Our own baby?”
He was incredulous, even knowing they’d done nothing to prevent it happening.
“That is the perfect gift!”
He pulled her quickly into his arms and bowed his head to kiss her shoulder before kissing her lips.
“What have I done to deserve you?” he whispered not expecting an answer.
“We can expect the baby in July, some time,
so we still have a long wait.”
She finished by hugging him.
“We must change because our guests will certainly be downstairs by now and I have to see how Eloïse is faring,” Faith grinned.
“I now have a baby to anticipate, Quentin. I’m so excited.”
She turned so that he could unbutton her dress. He sighed as he kissed her smooth shoulder again and the dress slipped to the floor in a rustle of silk.
Eloïse had just managed to be delivered of the first baby when Faith knocked gently at the door. She heard the baby’s first cry and felt a strange shiver run through her as she imagined the day that she would hear her own baby cry. Eloïse’s mother opened the door with a smile on her face. Faith stepped inside just enough to permit shutting the door behind her. One of the folding screens hid the part of the room where the baby had just been born.
“She has just had her first baby and the midwife is moving the second to ease its birth.”
“Two babies!” Faith cried. “Have courage Eloïse. How wonderful to have two babies in one go.”
Faith directed her comments to the bed behind the screen.
A groan answered her and then a drawn out grunt and then, a baby’s cry. After a minute she heard Eloïse say to her, “It may look wonderful on paper, Faith, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Both babies were crying and Faith wanted to, too. This had been the most extraordinary day that anyone could have experienced.
“I’m going to get Henry for you. Well, done Eloïse.”
She slipped out the door knowing that Henry would be anxious to be with his wife. He was coming up the stairs, even as she descended.
“I think you may like to see your wife now.”
She grinned without adding another word, as the surprise was not hers to reveal.
He ran the last few feet before disappearing into her room in a flash.
Later that evening, after a light meal had been served, all the adults (with the exception of Eloïse, who was sleeping profoundly) were gathered in the drawing room. For a stranger, it would have been a toss-up as to which of the two men was the father, Henry or Jasper. They both had that strained look on their faces so often seen when fathers have been through the ordeal of having a child.
In fact, Henry was now the proud father of a boy followed by a girl. Being twins, they were both smaller than usual but the midwife had assured him that they were both sound. No names were given because Henry wanted to discuss them with Eloïse. This had indeed been a surprise for them both.
He had been punishing himself for allowing her to come today and the fact that the doctor hadn’t been present. Faith wiped away each of his concerns by saying that ‘all is well that ends well’, what more could one ask? The air became lighter as jokes were made about all the things that might have gone wrong in the day, starting with the vicar forgetting he was supposed to marry Faith and Quentin and finishing with Eloïse having the babies in the carriage.
By half past seven, Quentin stood and looked at everyone as he asked them to excuse him and Faith. The day had been exceptionally long and he would like to go to sleep in the arms of his wife and not in the armchair as he nearly had, not two minutes past. Surprisingly, nearly everyone had been waiting for the excuse to retire.
Florence and Nessie were virtually on their knees after such an exalting day.
Ciaran and Lydia were still as smitten as the day they’d married and wanted to sink into each other’s arms as well..
Irene wanted to get Jasper into the privacy of her room so as to reassure herself that he really didn’t want children, although a simple glance at him could have established that fact.
James Reed was about the only one who would have been happy sitting with a brandy, thinking about a woman he hoped to meet, who would warm his bed and heart.
In the space of five minutes after Quentin had stood, the room had emptied as everyone dispersed with record speed.
He was at last alone with ‘his wife’. The flickering fire in the hearth shed warm colours on the room and the two people in it. The lanterns with their large tallow candles also added to the magic of the room. Quentin and Faith were standing across the room from each other, neither moving as they took in the enormity of the day that had just passed.
“Come here, Faith, I need you.”
For a reason he couldn’t explain, he needed her to come to him. As she slowly walked across the carpet to him, he could feel himself growing hard. She had only to sway gently as she walked and he wanted her. Silly to restrict it to swaying, he didn’t even have to see her, to want her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head on his chest.
“Come, let’s get comfortable in bed,” he suggested. “If you are tired, we will sleep. This has been the longest day of my life, sweetheart.”
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. They both slipped out of their clothes and into their bed and into each other’s arms.
For no reason at all or perhaps prompted by the arrival of two new lives, Faith began singing a low, soft lullaby in her husky voice. Quentin pulled her tight against himself, his head in the crux of her neck. He couldn’t remember anyone ever singing him a lullaby. The low notes reverberated against his skin and he was purely happy.
When she had finished it, Quentin kissed her and thanked her again for her gift to him. Having witnessed a small part of the child-bearing process, he was humbled by the prospect. She rose a little and lay across his chest, looking directly into his eyes.
“Quentin Wolfe, you’ve finally got the better of me. Now that we’re married, I have lost my most profitable blackmail victim.”
He kissed her with a wolfish smile.
“Why do you think I married you?” he joked before kissing her yet again.
They slept in each other’s embrace. Consummation of their wedding vows would wait for another day.
EPILOGUE
There had been two interesting developments at Marshalswick House. The first had been the publication of a book that had been an immediate success with the upper classes and, surprisingly, had trickled down to the aspiring middle classes.
‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak no Evil’ by a Valet and a Lady’s Maid.
The title of the book referred to the qualities that were expected from a valet or a lady’s maid. But what happened when those obedient servants left the service of those rather selfish, egotistical employers? They might, just might, want a little return on all those hours that they’d been kept waiting to serve until the early hours of the morning without so much as a thank you.
A copy had been seen to be lying about the house.
Of course, it was casting a light on scandals in the ‘Haut Ton’ Society. Who would know better than a valet or a lady’s maid? They were almost as close to the people involved as their own skin, which was often seen when undertaking some of their duties. The book sold out in record time and needed to be re-printed.
Everyone loves a scandal. Where the success in sales lay was in the fact that people bought it to see if they were mentioned as much as to read about others.
Quentin had had an uncomfortable moment when he thought back to that catastrophe in Cork Street. To some, it might be amusing to read about a naked man awaking in bed with an unknown naked woman. His reaction of vomiting would be surprising, when one would expect him to take full advantage of the situation. It might even cast doubt on his sexual predilection.
Where had that book disappeared to? He really did need to check that he wasn’t in it. Whittle had put his mind to rest by assuring him that he wasn’t in the book. He had then winked...
What was he supposed to think now?
-o0o-
The second development was closely linked to the first.
When Whittle found he had time on his hands and had begun his ‘memoirs’, he’d had the interesting revelation that Mrs. Christina Pierce had more than enough to write her own ‘memoirs’. Although they had both been
in service in London for a considerable number of years, they had never had the occasion to meet. Comparing notes, it became apparent that they had been at a tangent in more than one situation. If it were important for those in Society to know everyone in Society, it follows that their personal servants are going to know everyone too.
Whittle and Pierce knew all the highest-flyers in London. They had seen them come and go at all hours of the day and night. Joy of joy, Whittle had seen his scandals from the male point of view, while Pierce had seen hers from the female point of view. Two halves make an explosive whole. They did not hesitate in combining their knowledge. In fact, neither of them had had as much fun in years.
Whittle found that things that had escaped his comprehension were now explained by Pierce, who had seen the part that had been hidden from his eyes and vice versa. They became so engrossed in their discussions of past happenings that they had to drag themselves back to the pen and paper.
It was a bonus for them that the master and mistress were so absorbed in each other that they seldom interrupted the work on the ‘memoirs’.
Francis Whittle began to look forward to the moments he spent with Christina Pierce. They were amusing, agreeable moments. He may have been fifty years old but his heart beat faster in Christina’s company. She was a forty-five-year old widow who was still attractive in his eyes. Her hair was brown, although it had begun to grey a little at the temples. Her eyes were hazel with dark lashes and well defined eyebrows. They were the feature that captured Whittle’s attention. He loved those eyes and found them remarkably expressive.
Some might say that she was plump, but Whittle would say that she had a full figure which rendered her soft and round in all the right places. If the truth be known, he was secretly in love with her.
When Christina had first met Whittle, she hadn’t taken more than a passing glance at him. He was only a head taller than she and she wasn’t considered tall. He was obviously a middle-aged man although he was still trim and took care of his look. If she had passed him in the street, she wouldn’t have looked at him twice.
However, finding herself engaged at Marshalswick House, she now found herself thrown into the company of fellow-members of staff. As one thing will lead to another, she also found an uncommon amount of things in common with Whittle.
The one thing that she hadn’t expected was that he would make her laugh. He was exceptionally clever and witty with a dry sense of humour. Who would have thought it?
Perhaps the close association with nobility had rubbed off on Whittle, because one could honestly say that he acted like a gentleman when in Christina’s company. Whatever the source, there were really times when it frustrated her no end.
Sooo, she’d decided to take matters into her own hands. No point beating about the bush, she’d seized the first occasion that had presented itself. She’d leaned across the table that they were working at and had kissed him.
It is just a shame that one can’t repeat a first kiss. His expression alone had been enough to make her want to begin over and over. In that instant, he had been a young man and she had suddenly felt young too.
Middle-aged folk don’t have time to waste. So Whittle and Christina found that they had a little more in common than they’d thought. They both enjoyed being in bed together. It really was most considerate of their employers to leave them so much free time.
Whittle’s gentlemanly scruples obliged him to ask Christina to marry him. In her mind, they were already partners in business and it worked well, so why not marry? So they did, to the great pleasure of all those in Marshalswick House.
Jasper and Irene had left Marshalswick not long after Quentin and Faith’s wedding day. They had been married in Gretna Green to avoid any publicity in England that might alert Count Damiano Cuda to Irene’s whereabouts. Scotland was a law unto itself. They had spent Christmas and the New Year in Jasper’s hunting lodge in Dumfries while deciding what they wanted to do in the spring.
Jasper had wakened each morning and pulled Irene to him. He had not been able to believe that the day had arrived when he was happy to find he was still in bed with a woman when dawn broke.
Sometimes he had caught Irene with a smug smile on her face. She’d thought she’d got the better of him (and she had), but he would never have admitted it to her. He’d had to keep her doubting or his life would have been hell.
There had been one thing that he hadn’t been able to explain. He’d continued to desire Irene wherever he was. He could have been out in a boat, fishing in a loch, and he’d think of her and he’d want her. He could have been sunk in mud up to his shins and he’d think of her and then he’d be sunk in mud up to his shins, decidedly uncomfortable in his trousers.
He wouldn’t have dared tell her though. It would have meant handing her power on a plate.
It had been in early spring when they had received the letter from Quentin. He’d given them all their news about family, the Brosnans and their new babies, dog, house, etc. and had then happened to mention the information that his investigator had sent him from Italy.
Count Damiano Cuda had been dead for six months.
He and his family had been assassinated by a rival faction of the Camorra family. Had Irene still been there, she too would be dead now. Counting back on fingers, it had meant that he had died before Irene and he had been married. In other words, they hadn’t needed to marry to escape him.
He’d looked at Irene to see her reaction, to see possible regrets. She’d grinned and shrugged. What was he supposed to have understood from that?
It had been almost as though she had known…but that hadn’t been possible, had it? Had it?
Faith’s Aunt Florence and Nessie had been persuaded to leave their cottage and to move to Marshalswick House. It hadn’t been an easy decision as the house held memories, although they weren’t all pleasant. They’d realised that they were too isolated for women of their age. The upkeep of the cottage was becoming difficult. The thatch was in a state of disrepair that would soon need attention and then it would be something else. It was the attraction of family life that swung the balance.
Faith was an exceptional woman that they were proud to call their own, and Quentin loved the idea of filling his house with family. The two old women would never have imagined such a change occurring so late in their lives.
“How many people begin a new life at seventy?” her aunt asked with a great grin.
“I wonder if this means I might find a new man too.”
Everyone had laughed.
Their pony and donkeys joined the stables at Marshalswick house and their hives had even made the transition as well. They humbly thanked Quentin for his generosity, who responded by hugging the two old women to him.
-o0o-
He loved having all these people around him…
Jasper and Irene Coutts, Viscount and Viscountess of Wexton, were on their annual visit to Marshalswick House, where they usually stayed a month. They just couldn’t seem to keep away, in spite of the incessant activity that greeted them each year. It took them both a couple of days to re-adjust to the noise and the constant movement in the place, but they were treated as family with no obligations attached. They could get up or go to bed at whatever hour pleased them and were absorbed into the vibrating environment at will, or not.
“I think they need us to remind them that their life is heaven the rest of the year,” Faith said to Quentin. They were in the library together.
“To each man his own idea of heaven,” Quentin replied as he pulled Faith to him, her back against his chest, his arms around her middle. He put a cheek to the top of her head before laying a kiss on it. His hands skimmed over her swelling abdomen as he released her gently.
“When one has been alone, really alone, and has then discovered the happiness that belonging and sharing can bring, there is no turning back.”
He spoke almost to himself but Faith understood. She had lived a lonely life too.
> They could hear Helen and Christopher talking in the hallway. Christopher then called to Wizz.
“Come on Wizz, there are squirrels waiting for you.”
His voice trailed off as they disappeared out the side door. No doubt Wizz had followed them because ‘squirrels’ meant running free through the woods.
“Andrew should be awake from his nap. I’ll go up and bring him down,” Faith said.
“You should tell Mrs. Welby to bring him down when he wakes. You mustn’t over tax yourself, my love.”
“You are silly, Quentin. Walking upstairs is hardly going to tax me. Perhaps if I ran up…” she grinned at him.
She left the library without looking back. She didn’t see the lingering look that he lay upon her. He loved the back of her exposed neck that flowed into ivory shoulders.
She was still the lovely, lithe woman he had married. It was impossible to see that she was six months pregnant from behind. It wouldn’t matter, though, even if she did lose her shape and grow plump. He would love her just as fiercely. She had been his salvation.
In the four and a half years that they had been married, the house had been transformed. It thrummed. He had been transformed too.
The large drawing room, which had once been labelled depressing by a horde of people, now had the full approval of Jasper. He had made suggestions to Faith about its restoration. Perhaps the only reason he returned each year was to make sure that nothing had deteriorated.
The room’s walls had been painted a creamy white. The upholstery on the furniture had been renewed with either green or gold brocade keeping the dark oak wood. The tables and cabinet in the room were also of the dark oak to match the parquet flooring. The enormous dark green carpet had a pattern of medallions that were red, white, black and gold. A mirror over the fireplace, nearly reached the ceiling. Its elaborate gilt frame was quite reminiscent of the Italian style. Not only did the mirror add light to the room but also an illusion of depth. The rich dark green velvet curtains were drawn back with gold rope.
Quentin didn’t place much importance on the decorations in the room. He admitted that it looked more fashionable but that was his limit in compliments. The only piece in the room that merited his attention was the painting which now hung on one of the walls. It showed them all as a family, a happy family.
He was the family head, standing just off centre with his wife seated to his left and their son Andrew (named after the son her aunt had lost) on her lap. His left hand rested on her right shoulder. Christopher was standing to his right, holding a canvas bag partially open. The artist had caught his attention as he was about to look in the bag. Quentin’s right hand could be seen curling around and holding Christopher’s right shoulder. Helen was seated on a stool in front of Christopher, leaning back into him. Wizz had been captured in the image too. He was at Quentin’s feet looking up admiringly at Christopher.
He had never seen a better painting anywhere in his life. He never went into the room without going to it and gazing up at ‘their life’ caught in a painting. He’d glanced over at another wall that looked a little bare. When the new baby arrived, they would need another picture with him in it (all right, perhaps with her in it).
Yes, there was still quite a lot of space left on walls to be filled with pictures of the family. They’d need a new one with each new baby. But wait, better not get too far ahead of himself. He wasn’t the only one involved in producing them. Although, he did have the better part of it.
His mind drifted back to that far off day in the Hatfield market.
The image was vividly imprinted in his mind as he saw the young woman in the peach-coloured robe, sitting on a stool. He would like to relive that moment when they first spoke, if he could savour it with the knowledge he had today. He would gladly live through the moments of unhappiness again knowing that Faith would be his in the end.
The irony of it all was that his life, as regulated as clockwork, would become completely spontaneous after meeting Faith, the clockmaker’s daughter!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An Anglo/American who has lived in France for over 30 years, she began writing as soon as she retired. She moved to London in 2012 and spent more than a year there with family. She has since returned to France. Her laptop has never had any trouble following her.
Before retiring, she worked at a variety of jobs. Some of the more interesting have been : Art & Crafts teacher, Bartender, Marketing Assistant for N° 1 World Yacht Charterers (Moorings), Beaux Arts Model, Secretary to the French Haflinger Association...
With her daughters, she is a vegetarian and a supporter of animal rights! She is also an admirer of William Wilberforce.
Some of the other novels, novellas and short stories by this author:
RR = Regency Romance
MR = Modern Romance
TTR = Time Travel Romance
The Insignificance of Being a Spy (RR)
The Baron & the Clockmaker's Daughter (RR)
Capturing Constance (RR)
Hope in Winter (RR)
Bed Times. (TTR)
The Timely Gift (TTR)
The Repentant Viscount (RR)
Never Love Another (RR)
The Builders' Report (MR)
Tangling with Tania (MR)
Garnets (RR/TTR)
Gold Leaf Lover (MR)
More Than a Couple of Camels (RR)
The Winchmore Hill Tales series (M & MR)
Fiction on Command collection (Mixture)
Please be sure to visit the Suzy Stewart Dubot website:
https://suzystewartdubotbooks.weebly.com
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