The Duchess Page 9

  “The Duke of Westerfield’s cousin? How interesting. And if she’s half French, she won’t be nearly as prim as you think.”

  “Don’t be so sure. She’s very young. And he may not care much about her, but I’m sure Latham won’t want her scattering bastards around the countryside. She’s a very well-brought-up girl. Her mother may have been lowborn, as he says, but her aristocratic breeding shows. So do find someone else, another farm girl perhaps, but preferably not one of my maids. It causes such a ruckus when you do that. Harry gets upset.” Maynard was tempted to tell her that her husband did a bit of that himself, but he thought it wiser not to, so he went back to talking about the nanny.

  “How did you ever find her?”

  “The duke and duchess sent her to me. They were very anxious to find her a job, and the Irish girl I had wanted to leave. It worked out perfectly. I already knew another baby was on the way when she arrived, but I didn’t say anything.”

  “The cousin of a duke,” he mused about Angélique. “That’s really quite amusing…and very appealing, especially since she’s so pretty. She almost ran me over today with the pram. Lovely girl.” He smiled, and his sister gave him a mock-stern look.

  “You’ll have to answer to Harry if you frighten her away,” Eugenia warned him, “and he won’t be pleased. The business with the farm girl was rather awkward. She had it last week, you know.”

  “I neither know nor care,” he said honestly with an indifferent look, as one of the footmen poured him more wine, and he’d already had more than enough. “This one is an entirely different story. Too bad she wound up as a nanny. Girls like that never have a life, they’re too good to marry one of the servants, and our kind don’t want them if they’re penniless and reduced to being maids. One can’t marry a maid.”

  “Then don’t, and don’t seduce her either. And she’s not a maid, she’s a nanny. I suppose she’ll be a governess one day. Maybe she’ll stay with us. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “Oh, it’s all too boring. I’ll have to go back to London soon to have some fun.” He grinned at his sister.

  “Yes, me too,” she said enthusiastically. She couldn’t wait. “I wish this wretched thing would hurry up. Harry wants another boy.”

  “Why? He already has three.”

  “He’s building his own army. He wants them all to go into business with him one day. He says family are the only people you can trust.”

  “He’s probably right,” Maynard said thoughtfully. “I think Father thinks so too, except for me. I’ve got no head for business at all.”

  “Neither do I,” Eugenia said with a sigh. “Harry always complains that I spend too much, but he’s very sweet about it.”

  “You’re a lucky girl,” her brother said, looking around. “I’d like to find one just like him,” he admitted to her, and she laughed.

  “Then you’d better stop running after farm girls and nannies, even if they are related to dukes. Perhaps you’ll meet a nice girl in London at someone’s ball in July. Some sweet young thing in her first Season, just coming out, with an enormously rich father.”

  “I definitely need one of those. Father has been complaining that I spend too much too. It’s such a bore.” He finished his wine, and Eugenia got up, to leave him alone.

  “I’ll let you enjoy your cigar and a glass of port. I’m afraid the cigar would make me ill. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, my darling brother, and do try to behave tonight.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and a moment later he was alone at the table, smoking a cigar and enjoying a glass of Harry’s very fine port. It was a time of day he always enjoyed. He was sorry Harry wasn’t there to enjoy it with him, but it was pleasant anyway. And when he left the table, he lingered in the drawing room for a few minutes, trying to think of what to do, and then he laughed softly to himself and headed up the stairs. He went past the second floor where he was staying, and headed up another flight until he reached the third floor and found himself in front of the nursery door. It was only nine-thirty, and he was sure she was still awake.

  Maynard gently tried the door handle and pushed, as Angélique looked up from her book. She had heard a squeak, and she saw the handle move as he worked it from the other side, but it was locked, much to her relief. She watched him continue to move it to no avail, and heard a gentle knock. She didn’t stir from her chair so as not to make a sound, and she knew that Helen was already asleep. But she didn’t need her help, she was safe.

  He knocked again, and she didn’t make a sound.

  “Hello? Are you in there? I know you are. Open the door so we can talk.” She knew better than to fall for that. She sat glued to her chair and didn’t say a word.

  “Don’t be so silly,” he tried again, “let’s have some fun. I’m sure the children are asleep, and you must be as bored as I am. Open the door, come on, and let me in.” He tried several more times for ten minutes, and then he kicked the door and walked away. Angélique still stayed in her seat, in case he was waiting to see what she would do if she thought he’d gone downstairs. And then finally she heard his footsteps on the stairs and knew he was gone. She exhaled slowly, and was so glad the others had warned her about him. She had no idea what he would have done if she had let him in, but she could guess. He might have forced her, or tried to cajole her into doing something she would regret. And she had no intention of falling for a cad like him. Even in all her innocence, she was far wiser than that. She found men like him repugnant, who took advantage of young girls, like a farm girl of fifteen.

  Maynard was angry about Angélique by the time he got to his room. Who did she think she was, putting on airs and playing virtuous just because she was a distant cousin of a duke? He helped himself to another drink from the decanter in his room. He sat drinking for a while, staring into the fire. The silence of the room unnerved him, and the locked nursery door had angered him. He had two more drinks and fell asleep in the chair, thinking about what a bitch the nanny was. He would have taught her a lesson or two, to cut her down to size, if he could. But fortunately for her, he couldn’t. She had been wise.

  Chapter 6

  Maynard left the next morning for more entertaining pursuits.

  “I’ll see you in London in July,” he promised his sister. “It’s far too quiet for me here.”

  “For me too,” she said miserably, sorry to see him leave. She didn’t ask him what he’d done the night before, but his haste to leave suggested to her that he had not gone in pursuit of Angélique. If he had, he would have stayed at least another day or two. And she was relieved. She needed her nanny now, and didn’t want her brother turning her life upside down, which he had done before. And she knew her husband would be pleased, not to return to one of Maynard’s messes to clean up. But she was even more bored once he left, and anxious for Harry to come home, which he did several days later, with friends again. He promised they would only stay a few days, and Eugenia was annoyed that there were several very attractive women in the group. He told her it would be company for her, which it was. But she was in no condition to compete with them right now. Being confined at home in Hampshire felt like a prison sentence to her, and all she wanted was for it to end. While Harry’s friends were there, they played cards in the evening, and went for walks in the afternoon, although Eugenia had trouble keeping up with them. She was the largest she’d ever been, and she was sure it was another boy.

  Their friends stayed for a full week. Harry left with them to stay at friends’ nearby, and by the time they moved on, Eugenia could barely get out of bed. Angélique came to check on her one afternoon when the children were asleep. She had been on her way downstairs to the laundry room to repair a dress she’d torn while running in the park with the children. She knocked on the door, and found Eugenia lying on her bed, propped up on pillows in tears. She was wearing a lace dressing gown, and she looked like she had an enormous ball hidden under it.

  “How are you feeling, ma’am?” she asked in a g
entle voice. “Is there anything I can do? Would you like a glass of cold tea?” She saw that Stella wasn’t in the room, and she was happy to help in some way. Her employer looked miserable, as she had for weeks.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Eugenia said petulantly. “I want this thing out of me. I can’t bear it anymore.” She looked thoroughly uncomfortable, and utterly fed up. And she’d had enough, it was her fifth child in five years. “I don’t care what Harry says, or how many he wants, I’m not going to have another one after this.”

  “Supposedly, one forgets all the discomforts afterward, and is ready to do it all again,” Angélique said innocently.

  “Well, I’m not.” She frowned at Angélique. She had easy pregnancies, but they interfered with the things she wanted to do, and nothing fit. In the past few days, she’d gotten even bigger, and could only wear lace dressing gowns. Nothing she owned was large enough anymore, and when she complained to her husband about it, he had been amused and had gone off to visit friends again, while she was stuck at home.

  “Would you like to see the children this afternoon?” she asked her, and Eugenia shook her head.

  “No, I wouldn’t. They make too much noise.” Angélique nodded and didn’t know what else to say. “Perhaps I’ll take a walk down to the lake. There must be something I can wear. Help me get out of bed.” Angélique assisted her, and Eugenia shuffled off to her dressing room, and then Angélique went downstairs. The maids in the laundry room were gossiping and exchanging local news, and Stella was ironing Mrs. Ferguson’s nightgowns, which one of the maids commented unkindly was big enough to use as a garden party tent. But at least it was the first of May, and it wouldn’t be long.

  “She seems terribly uncomfortable,” Angélique said sympathetically. She actually felt sorry for her, although ordinarily she wouldn’t. She wasn’t the kind of woman one felt sorry for, but she appeared so helpless at the moment and so unhappy. She didn’t seem excited about the baby at all, just anxious for it to be born, so she could be free of it.

  From the nursery window, Angélique saw Eugenia walking in the park that afternoon, lumbering along. She looked almost comical as she did. And she didn’t stay out for long. Angélique got busy with the children then, and never stopped until that night when they were in bed, and then she went downstairs to have a cup of tea with Sarah, and saw one of the maids with a stack of sheets and towels going up the stairs. She said it had started, Mrs. Ferguson’s water had broken an hour before, and the doctor had just come. But nothing else had happened yet.

  “That’s exciting,” Angélique said to her, wondering if it would be a girl or a boy. “Tell her I’m thinking of her, and I hope everything goes well.”

  “I hope they don’t ask me to stay,” the maid said nervously. “I’ve never seen a baby born, and my mother wouldn’t want me to, until I have my own.” She was only sixteen.

  “Did the doctor bring a nurse with him?”

  “Two,” she said, lingering on the stairs to talk to Angélique.

  “Then they won’t need you,” she reassured her, and then the girl left to deliver the linens the nurse had asked for, and Angélique hurried down the stairs to meet Sarah in the servants’ hall. Everyone was busy there. They were preparing a tea tray for the doctor, and something for the nurses to eat before they got too busy. They had said it would be a while before things got started, but they were getting ready. And the wet nurse had been called for. Mrs. Ferguson had said not to send for her husband, until the baby had been born. There was no point to his waiting around at home. It would just be tiresome for him, and she didn’t want him with her. The doctor wouldn’t let him anyway. It was too much for a man to see, and Harry hadn’t been around for the others either.

  “How is she?” Sarah asked her as they poured their tea and sat at the table. “Did you see her?”

  “Not since this afternoon. I just saw one of the girls taking sheets and towels the nurses asked for. I can’t wait to hear what it is. Poor thing, she looked miserable today. She’ll be happy when it’s over.”

  “Stella was with her last time, and said she just rolled the baby out like a bowling ball in a few minutes, without a squeak. She must have an easy time of it or she wouldn’t have so many. But it looks like a hard thing to do. I’d be scared if it was me.”

  Several of the women at the table contributed birthing stories then, their own or others’, and Angélique thought all of them sounded heroic. She was in no hurry to have children either. She had never even thought of it till now. She’d never been this close to a pregnant woman before, and it didn’t look so simple to her.

  Stella came downstairs a little while later, to get some tea for their mistress.

  “The pains are starting and she’s very thirsty.” And the cook added a plate of freshly baked biscuits for her.

  “That’ll give her a bit of strength with the tea,” she said pleasantly. “How is she?”

  “Doing well. The doctor doesn’t think it’ll be born before morning, but one of the nurses told me she disagrees with him. She thinks it’ll start to move quickly now since she’s had so many. The last one didn’t take long. We barely had time to get the sheets under her, and little Charlie was staring at us. She was very brave, but she’s bigger this time. A lot bigger. It may not be so easy.” The nurse had mentioned that to Stella too. “I’d better get back now, with her drink.” Stella left the kitchen then, and hurried upstairs while the others went on talking, and after a second cup of tea, Angélique went upstairs to the nursery, and reported to Helen. It was exhilarating knowing that the baby was coming, and would be born by morning, or sooner.

  “I think it’s a boy again, she’s so big,” Helen commented, and Angélique agreed. “She was much smaller with Emma.”

  “Well, we’ll know soon. I hope someone comes up here to tell us.”

  “I’m sure they will.” And then Helen did some mending, and Angélique picked up a book. There were a number of women in the house who liked to read and they shared their books with her.

  And in her bedroom, Eugenia was complaining that her back was hurting her. The pains had gotten stronger, and they were worse than she remembered with the other births. Or maybe she forgot from year to year. They had all been so easy, but Simon had come two weeks early, Emma had been smaller, and Rupert had come so fast she’d almost had him in the library, and Charles had been easy too. This one felt enormous and like it was wedged in so tight it seemed like it was breaking her back with every pain. The nurses had helped her alter her position to make her comfortable, which didn’t change anything, and when the doctor examined her, she screamed during a pain. He looked concerned. The baby didn’t seem to be moving down at all, although the pains had gotten strong very quickly. She’d only been in labor for two hours. And last time by then, Stella remembered, Charles had been born. This time the baby was going nowhere, and it was becoming obvious that the night would be long.

  The doctor suggested she try to walk around the room with the assistance of the nurses, to get things moving, but she was in so much pain she couldn’t get out of bed, and lay down again, screaming.

  “It’s tearing me apart,” she said, sobbing piteously. “It’s never been like this before.”

  “Each time is different,” the doctor reassured her. “The baby is very large this time.” The doctor listened to the heartbeat and seemed satisfied. He smiled at Eugenia then. “The baby’s heart is strong.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, in agony, “just get it out.”

  “It’s coming,” he said calmly, as she was hit by a wave of contractions again, one after the other, and each one stronger, until she was gasping for breath and was deathly pale. Stella looked worried, and the nurses were watching closely as the doctor examined her again, and seemed pleased. “Things are moving along.”

  “I think I’m dying,” she said with a look of panic. “What if this baby kills me?” she said, sounding frantic. She wanted to run away, and there was nowhere to hi
de from the pain. It was squeezing the life out of her, and she saw stars in front of her eyes now each time she was seized by another pain in its viselike grip.

  “It won’t kill you, Eugenia,” the doctor said in a soothing tone. “We just have to work a little harder this time, both of us together.” He was very intent as he examined her repeatedly, and she seemed dazed between the pains. No one in the room was speaking, and two hours went by with her intermittent screams and agonizingly slow progress, but the doctor assured them all that the baby was coming down. Stella was almost as pale as her employer while she watched. Even the nurses looked strained, and the doctor was concentrating on what he was doing. By midnight, Eugenia was sheet white, and after six hours of labor, he could see the baby’s head. He told her the baby had dark hair, and told her to push.

  Nothing happened then for another hour, except more pitiful screams, and little progress, while Eugenia worked desperately trying to push, and began throwing up while she did. One of the nurses held a bowl under her chin, while Stella and the other nurse held her legs, and the doctor watched as the baby came toward him with every push, and then retreated when she stopped. It was coming down excruciatingly slowly, and obviously having a hard time getting through, it was so large, but all they could do was wait and urge her to keep working. She gave up several times, crying that she couldn’t, and with all of them encouraging her, she tried again. The doctor didn’t like it taking this long, for the sake of mother and child, but there was nothing he could do to speed it along, except trust to nature to do its job along with her. And then finally, with the worst screams of all, the baby crowned, and the top of its head was nearly there, and Eugenia looked like she was going to faint and was still screaming about her back and saying it was breaking. The baby seemed to be causing its mother serious damage.

  “We’re almost there, Eugenia,” the doctor urged her. “I need you to push harder now.” He wanted the baby to be born as fast as possible, it had gone on for too long, and she was fading fast.