Page 20 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)
Alice came in with a bundle of white wool in her arms, and one of the maids – Doris – hovering behind with an air of thwarted professionalism. Alice proffered the bundle to Giles, saying, ‘He’s very sweet, but piglets are prettier, I think.’
‘At this stage perhaps,’ said Grandmère, ‘but that will soon change.’
‘We had better hope so,’ said Richard, ‘or he’ll have trouble finding a wife in twenty years’ time.’
Giles took the bundle nervously, pushing away the inquisitive attentions of the dogs with his knee.
It seemed ridiculously small and light. Swathed in the folds of the shawl there appeared a tiny face, round, red, creased, with eyes screwed shut as if determined not to be woken.
Your lordship’s son . Giles had always known it was his duty one day to have an heir and secure the title, but his relationship with his own father had been cold and distant, even hostile.
He had not known how he would feel at this moment, but he was not prepared for such a tremor in the gut, such a loosening in the loins.
He looked up, shocked, and met Sebastian’s eyes.
And Sebastian smiled understandingly and said, ‘I’ve never had one of my own, but even I feel something for very new babies. Don’t worry, my dear boy, you won’t break him.’
‘But . . .’ Giles began, not knowing how to put into words the feeling of terrible vulnerability that was weakening his knees. He was responsible for this boy. Suppose he made a mess of it? Suppose in thirty years’ time this child felt as little for him as he had felt for his father?
Grandmère seemed to read his mind. ‘The past is no template for the future.’
Richard slapped him on the shoulder. ‘That I should see this day! Steady, unimaginative old Giles thrown all-of-a-heap by a little baby.’
‘Let me take him, my lord,’ Doris said, brought up on the principle that fathers could not notice their offspring for more than a few seconds at a time. ‘I should get him back to the nurse.’
But Sebastian said, ‘Let me have him for a moment.’
Doris handed him over reluctantly, but Sebastian had held a lot of babies in his time, and handled this one with confidence.
He looked down at the small face, and touched a forefinger to the perfect velvet cheek.
‘Lord Ayton,’ he murmured. ‘Such a big world waits for you out there. God bless you, child.’ And the screwed-up eyes prised themselves open just a crack, just for an instant, as if in acknowledgement.
Doctor, maid and baby departed, and Giles said, ‘I wish I had your touch.’
Sebastian said, ‘It’s the same as with horses. They know if you’re nervous. Pretend a confidence whether you feel it or not. Now then, there are practicalities to address. A telegram to your mother first of all, I think.’
‘Right,’ Richard agreed. ‘Mama will be furious enough that Pusscat dared to do it without her supervision. She mustn’t wait until she gets back to hear of it.’
‘I shall deal with Maud when she arrives,’ Grandmère said firmly. ‘She shall not upset Kitty.’
‘I’ll go up and sit with her now,’ Alice said, hastening after Doris. And the baby. Her nephew! It really was rather sweet.
Sebastian continued. ‘The parson should be sent for – there’s a christening to think about.
And the servants should be told – they’ll know already, of course, but a formal announcement is always appreciated.
’ He thought of Dory, who had laundered the ancient christening gown and yesterday had been repairing the delicate silk and lace.
‘And it’s traditional to ring the house bell when an heir is born. ’
The birth of a future earl was a public event. Giles gave a small, tight quirk of lips. ‘I’m glad you’re here to advise me,’ he said.
Giles went upstairs a little nervously, having never seen a woman who had just given birth.
Childbirth was such a closely guarded female secret, with its hints of almost religious ritual, suffering, blood and blame, that he feared he would have to witness some terrible aftermath and be racked with guilt.
But Kitty was sitting up in bed in a pretty, ribboned bed-jacket, with colour in her cheeks, looking more or less normal, and only as tired as she might be after a day’s hunting.
He crept up to the bed, wondering if some devastating damage was being concealed from him. ‘How are you?’ he whispered.
‘Oh, Giles, have you seen him?’ Kitty cried. ‘Is he all right?’
‘He’s perfect,’ Giles said, and then, driven by honesty, ‘As far as I can tell. I don’t know much about babies.
But Uncle Sebastian knows all about them, and he seems to think he’s fine.
’ He took her hand, which to his relief was not cold and clammy with encroaching disaster, but dry and warm as usual.
‘You are clever, having a boy straight off.’
‘Is he beautiful?’ Kitty asked.
‘I think so. Don’t you?’ Giles noticed at last the tenor of her questions. ‘Haven’t you seen him?’ She shook her head. ‘Not at all?’
‘The nurse won’t let me. She took him away and won’t bring him back. She says I have to rest. But I don’t want to rest. I want to see my baby.’
Something practical for a man to do! Giles stood up, looking stern. ‘We’ll see about that. Don’t fret, Kitty, you shall have him.’
Nurse Belton was tall and bony, like a horse.
Giles had vaguely thought midwives would be round and cushiony and was taken aback.
And though he was not a great one for formality, he was also surprised by the undeferential way she looked him straight in the eye and called him ‘Lord Stainton’, not ‘my lord’ or ‘your lordship’.
‘Baby has been taken to the nursery, as is customary,’ she said. ‘The mother needs to rest.’
‘She wants to have him with her,’ said Giles. ‘As any mother would.’
Nurse Belton raised an eyebrow. ‘I hardly think, Lord Stainton, that you are in a position to know what is best for mother and child. New fathers are always needlessly anxious. Baby is being looked after. It is not healthy for mothers to brood over their infants. It is not done,’ she gave it as the clinching argument, ‘in the best houses.’
‘Confound the best houses!’ Giles retorted. ‘My wife wants to hold her baby. It’s inhumane to separate them.’
She was maddeningly unmoved. ‘My last confinement was Lady Stavesacre of Holm Abbey, and she did not even see Baby until three days after the birth. A very superior family, the Stavesacres. Everything done in the best style. The nursery at Holm Abbey is extremely well-appointed.’
He drew himself up, and managed, just, to overtop her. ‘Nevertheless,’ he said, ‘if Lady Stainton wants to have the baby with her, she shall. Where is he now? I will carry him there myself.’
The gimlet eyes bored a moment longer, and then, with no change of expression, Nurse Belton said, ‘There is no need of that. I shall bring Baby, if that is your wish, Lord Stainton.’
‘At once, if you please.’
She inclined her head stiffly and walked away.
Nothing in a great house goes unremarked.
Nurse Belton had only been in situ a few hours and had already made herself unpopular below stairs: her criticisms of the nursery’s appointments and the general standards of cleanliness had been faithfully reported.
Rose, the head housemaid, brought the news of her besting gleefully to Mrs Webster, who felt a little balm to her soul.
‘So now her ladyship’s to have him with her whenever she likes,’ Rose concluded.
‘All the same, she’s not wrong, that nurse,’ said Miss Hatto, who had been with Mrs Webster when Rose came panting in with the story. ‘In high-up houses they do keep the babies in the nursery, and the mothers aren’t supposed to take much notice of them.’
‘I don’t think his lordship sets a lot of store by what other high-ups do,’ said Mrs Webster.
‘You’re right,’ said Rose. ‘All that time he spent out in Egypt, mixing with dear-knows-who . . . Her ladyship will have something to say about it when she comes back.’
Miss Hatto said, ‘It’s not her that matters, it’s my lady.’
‘That’s what you think,’ said Rose.
‘All the same,’ said Miss Hatto, with something of a volteface, ‘it’s the prettiest thing you ever saw, to see her with that baby.’
‘What are they going to call it?’ Rose wondered.
‘Nothing’s been said yet,’ said Miss Hatto. ‘Not when I’ve been listening. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear. And now I must take up my lady’s warm milk.’ She got up to leave.
‘Good job she likes it,’ Rose called after her. ‘That’s a drink I never could abide. Cold is all right, but warm milk tastes of cows.’ Mrs Webster stared at her for a moment, and Rose shrugged. ‘Well, I know what I mean.’
Moss noted the set of the dowager’s lips as she re-entered the house from the carriage, and felt Rose had been closer to the mark than Mrs Webster.
Trouble brewing , was his thought – a slightly muzzy thought, since one of the bottles of the ’95 he had opened for dinner last night had proved to be past its best and not good enough to be sent upstairs, so he had been finishing it off in honour of the new heir.
A sin to waste it. And useless to send it to the kitchen for cooking wine, as happened in some houses, since Mrs Oxlea wasn’t that sort of cook.
‘Wonderful news, my lady,’ he said hopefully. ‘The staff would wish me to extend their respectful congratulations . . .’ The two long words nearly floored him.
Maud walked past him without response and headed for the stairs.
She was not sure what she felt yet about the whole situation.
It was typical, of course, that Kitty should have the baby while she was absent.
It would have been much more proper of her to wait until the child’s grandmother was present.
But could you hope for better from a girl like that? She would do anything gain attention.