Page 22 of The Irish Gypsy

When the doctor examined Kitty, he told her that she should be delivered in about two weeks. Charles doubled his efforts at persuading her to marry him before the child was born. As the time drew closer, the housemaids filled her ears with lurid stories of death from childbirth, and Kitty began to panic at what would happen to her child if she did die. She thought seriously about accepting Charles' proposal, but it seemed such an unequal bargain to her. She would be gaining wealth, a title, security for her child and couldn't even offer love in return. She firmly rejected the idea, only to have the most appalling nightmares of living in the slums where everyone screamed 'bastard!' at her child.

Charles had to work late one evening, and when he returned he went straight to Kitty and said.

"I've been thinking how selfish it is of me to keep pressing this marriage upon you, my dear. It's so one-sided, with all the advantages going to me. I'd be getting a beautiful young wife and a child I could pass my title to, and all I'd be giving in return is financial security. There are hundreds of men who could do that, all of them closer to your own age."

He stopped when he noticed how white she was about the mouth.

"Charles, don't get cold feet, just when I was about to accept you."

"I'll send for the priest immediately, but in years to come, don't recriminate me for taking advantage of your fear and vulnerability--even though it's true."

He smiled.

In less than an hour they exchanged vows. Though she was trying to conceal it, he could tell that she was experiencing pain, so as soon as his heavy gold ring was on Kitty's finger, Charles lifted her into his arms and hurried upstairs.

"Into bed with you, my duchess; the doctor's on his way."

Kitty smiled through her tears.

She was not smiling fourteen hours later, when she still was in hard labor but had not delivered. There he was again anxiously hovering over the bed. Poor Charles! His face was haggard; his eyes clearly showed the misery he was feeling. A great surge of anger arose at Patrick. He should be the one pacing the floor in a fever of anxiety over our unborn child. I bet he's enjoying himself this very moment. She stuffed the sheet into her mouth and bit down hard. By God, I'll make him pay for this! she vowed.

When she became conscious the first sound she heard was her son screaming for food. She opened her eyes and looked at the most beautiful creature who had ever existed. Granted, there was an angry red mark on his forehead, left by the forceps, but his eyes were dark blue and he had an appealing crop of black curls. The relief showed clearly on Charles' face, the grim lines softening as his eyes rested upon mother and child.

"How do you feel?"

he asked softly.

"Tired....happy....quite brilliant, really, like I've accomplished something worthwhile."

"And so you have, my dear. Now, Katie here is going to be the baby's nurse; also, the doctor recommended a wet nurse who delivered a couple of days ago."

Her eyes were closing sleepily and she stifled a yawn.

"Whatever is a wet nurse, Charles?"

"Well....er,"

he colored slightly.

"wealthy ladies usually don't feed their babies at their own breasts, since it spoils the figure, so a wet nurse is substituted."

Kitty laughed delightedly.

"Oh, Charles, you make up the most absurd stories to amuse me."

Charles smiled to himself. She didn't even believe him, so he might as well keep quiet and let nature take its course the way it was meant to. He kissed her brow.

"Rest, my darling. I'll come back later."

She was up and about in a week. She had a new reason for being alive, which was obvious to everyone who saw her. To Charles she was a delight. She wore ruffled white dresses with vivid red hibiscus blossoms in her hair, and she sang constantly to the baby.

"Are you happy, Kathleen?"

he ventured one evening after she had put the baby to sleep in his cradle.

"Charles, I can't remember feeling so secure and content in my life."

He smiled.

"We should get him christened.

"Yes, we will call him Charles....Charles Patrick."

"You know, that would please me above all things. Are you sure?"

"Yes, very sure,"

she said firmly.

"When the baby is a month old, we'll have our wedding reception. The island society is dying to meet you. I receive questions about you every day from the planters and their wives."

"Won't it seem awkward having a wedding reception so many weeks after the wedding? I don't want to be an embarrassment to you, Charles."

"You're not an embarrassment; you're my salvation. If you like, it can be a large dinner party, but we will know it's our wedding reception. You shall have a whole new wardrobe."

He hesitated.

"Kathleen, you aren't sorry you agreed to be my wife?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to being introduced as your wife, and after the reception I'm going to move into the master bedroom, where I belong."

"Sweetheart, there's something I should have told you, but it's such a source of shame to me that I've kept putting it off. I'd die if this information ever got about--in fact, one of the reasons I wanted a wife was to show her off to the world. Now, I have a son, and of course everyone thinks it's my child, and that's exactly what I want them to think."

"I don't think I understand,"

Kitty said.

"The thing is, I don't honestly believe I'm capable of having a child, but I wish the world to think that I am. Is that very despicable of me?"

"I'm delighted to have you as the father of my child. I've never met a kinder man, or one I liked more."

She smiled.

He took her hand.

"Kathleen, you've been married before. May I speak freely about what happens between man and wife?"

"Do you mean in bed?"

she whispered.

He nodded.

"Yes, I've had difficulty in the past. I'm hoping with all my heart that it won't be so with you, my darling. If we do have trouble along those lines, perhaps not now, but in future years, I beg you never let my dark secret out."

"Charles, everything will be just right, you'll see. We made vows to each other, and no matter what happens, I'll never break mine."

"May I hold you?"

he asked humbly.

She ran to him eagerly and he curled up with her in his lap. She smoothed the worry lines from his brow, relaxing against the warmth of him. He took her hands in his and kissed her fingertips, then her wrists. His lips traced a pattern up her throat and then quite naturally his lips sought hers. Their kisses grew bolder. Kitty was pleasantly surprised at how nice his mouth was. It was firm and dry and he made it very plain that he adored her. Charles was deliriously happy as he felt the blood surge through his veins, giving the lie to the secret fears he harbored. When he left her to her slumber, he had no doubts that everything would be fine on the night of their wedding reception.

Charles decided to hold the dinner reception at four, so that it would be over at a reasonable hour. Some of the planters' parties lasted all night. Of course, they were huge drinking binges where the women retired and left the men to it. He was determined this affair would not degenerate into such a brawl and thought a good way of keeping decorum was to make everything as formal as possible. The men would kick, but the women would adore every moment. He wanted to dispense with any dancing. For one thing, it was too hot for such exertions, but primarily he didn't want his bride danced off her feet by every loutish planter on the island. He considered setting up card tables, but rejected the idea immediately. They'd never leave once they started gambling. No, he'd have to come up with some sort of entertainment. They'd open up the gardens after dinner so people could stroll about in the evening breezes. Something to keep the men entertained; perhaps native dancers in their brief costumes. For the ladies, perhaps those fellows who walked on fire. Then something that bored them all to tears so they would take their departure.

"Collins, I hear your wife has a wonderful program of Italian opera she entertains with at parties?"

he remarked to his secretary.

The chef's helpers at Government House had all come from the island of Martinique, and the kitchens rang with a mixture of French and Creole. Kitty took great pains with the menu, begging Charles' superior advice whenever she was unsure.

"My darling, the best advice I ever received, I'll willingly pass along to you. When in doubt, do nothing! It's done wonders for my career,"

he said with a laugh.

"I'm so ignorant, Charles!"

she wailed.

"Why do you suppose I pay the chef such exorbitant wages? Because he's an expert, so just let him get on with it. What about your gown?"

"You are just trying to change the subject, and besides, it's a secret. I'm going to impress you immensely with my taste. My choice has to be impeccable, something in which the governor's wife will be the epitome of respectability."

"Respectability is bourgeois,"

he teased.

"Trust me about the gown. Now, do you think clear turtle soup would be acceptable?"

He sighed.

"Oh, love, don't you think it's a bit warm for soup?"

"Oh, please, Charles, it sounds so elegant!"

"Ah, so that's to be the criterion, is it? Then we should have ratatouille! Does that sound elegant enough for you?"

"Oh, yes, please. What is ratatouille?"

"Sweetheart, I'm a beast to tease you so. That means poor stew, bad stuff, a mess."

She laughed with him and he slipped his arms about her and drew her down onto his knee.

"That reminds me of the time I was invited to dinner in Lancashire--there're some incredibly bad cooks in Lancashire by the way--and believe it or not, everything they put on the table was..."

"Boiled!"

She finished his sentence for him.

"Exactly! When they brought the dessert it was a huge congealed mass of boiled treacle pudding. They eat so much treacle pudding in Lancashire, their feet stick to the floor when they walk,"

he said and laughed.

"Oh, but, Charles, when you're ravenous, nothing gets rid of hunger pains faster."

He looked at her tenderly.

"Let's go up and have a look at our son."

Kitty's gown was eggshell georgette, delicately fluted and pleated. Tiny buttons ran up the back and from wrist to elbow. Charles brought her orchids.

"You're so lovely you take my breath away,"

he whispered.

"Charles, I'm so nervous about meeting everyone, I'm terrified of making stupid blunders, and I do so want you to be proud of me,"

she said anxiously.

"Come. Our first guests are starting to arrive. I assure you that you pass muster."

"You go on; I'll be along in a moment, dear."

Katie was in the adjoining dressing room with the baby. His cradle had been moved in earlier. Kitty had moved her things into the master bedroom, and now that she was alone, she looked the room over apprehensively. The bed loomed large in the center of the room and she wondered how she was going to bring herself to share it with her new husband. The ordeal of the crowd below seemed small by comparison, so she took a deep breath and went down to meet her guests. Charles awaited her at the foot of the stairs, smiling encouragement. He took her arm and together they stood in the reception hall. Kitty was amazed when the gentlemen bowed deeply to her and the ladies curtsied and murmured a reveren.

"Your Grace."

At first the women were dismayed when they saw how beautiful she was, but when they watched her turn aside their husbands' compliments without attempts at flirtation, and when she addressed herself almost exclusively to the wives, they relaxed and included her in their conversations about servants, children, the weather, the crops and the latest fashions.

The menu she had chosen brought many compliments as the servants brought in silver platters heaped with delicacies. The wine flowed into tall goblets and she noted with surprise that Charles drank only mineral water. She thought she would do the same, since she was unused to wine and its effects. After dinner the guests wandered into the gardens to get the sea breezes. Kitty sought out Charles.

"I have to go up and feed the baby. Do you think they will miss me for a little while?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. So long as the liquor flows, your guests will be happy. We won't start the entertainment until you come down."

When she was alone she picked up her child and nestled him against her. He nursed hungrily and she gazed at the robust child with wonder. He looked exactly as Julia's baby had, with the stamp of O'Reilly all over him. He closed his eyes and his long black lashes made shadows on his cheeks.

She went quietly back into the larger bedroom and poured some scented water from the ewer to bathe her hands and face. She looked toward the baby's room and told herself over and over that she had done the right thing in marrying Charles. She picked up the lacy nightgown that had been put ready on the bed and replaced it in the bureau. Instead she took out a more modest one of heavy satin and put it on her pillow.

She went back downstairs to the evening's entertainment. It was all a colorful blur to Kitty. The music, the dancers, the costumes were all a noisy jumble; however, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Everyone came indoors when Mrs. Collins was ready to sing, and as Charles had hoped, the crowd quickly became bored, and after three selections some of the guests began to take their leave.

By ten o'clock the last guest had departed, and Charles took Kitty by the hand and led her upstairs. Katie came out of the dressing room when she heard them.

"The baby is asleep, ma'am."

"Thank you, Katie. I'm sorry you missed all the merriment. It was very kind of you to stay with him."

As soon as the door was closed Charles picked up Kitty and swung her into the air.

"You were magnificent, my darling. Everyone loved you! I'd swear you were born to the purple."

She blushed vividly and murmured.

"Please, I must check on the baby."

She hurried into the dressing room and Charles followed her. She stood gazing down at the child and said wistfully.

"He's asleep."

"And you'd rather he was awake? Well, go on, wake him up and say hello."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't disturb him for the world,"

she said quietly.

He took her hand and led her back into their bedroom. He sat down in a large, comfortable armchair but kept hold of her hand. She stood before him with downcast eyes, for all the world like a virgin to the slaughter.

"The name Drago is Latin for dragon. Do you think me a dragon, Kathleen?"

"No, I'm not afraid of you, Charles,"

she said very meekly.

"Then you're just apprehensive about this business of sleeping with me?"

She nodded her head, miserably. He pulled her into his lap.

"My darling, don't be afraid. I promised to cherish you, and I shall. I'll always be gentle with you. I promise never to hurt you in any way. Look at me, Kathleen. Ah, that's better. I love you with all my heart."

His lips brushed her hair and he held her to his heart.

She was beginning to feel better. His arms were so protective and comforting.

"I'm just nervous. I'm sorry I'm being so silly."

"It's perfectly understandable. You're not in the least silly, but I suspect you're worn out from the rabble we've been entertaining."

He sought her lips, and when she didn't pull away, he was encouraged to kiss and caress her as he had longed to do for weeks.

"Now, the first thing we have to do is get you out of this uncomfortable gown. Turn around, love."

She turned her back to him and he undid all the little buttons down the back.

"You need something to make you relax. I'll just go down and get you a glass of wine. Put your nightgown on and slip into bed, sweetheart. I'll be right back."

She had worried so much about undressing in front of another man, but it had been accomplished without any embarrassment. Her breasts were very large and firm at the moment, and she had no idea how beautifully they were revealed in the satin gown. Charles was back before she was in bed, so she quickly slipped under the covers, but not before he had taken in every detail.

"Here, darling, this will make you sleep."

He turned the lamps low and undressed quickly. Kitty averted her eyes and drank her wine.

"It's delicious. Thank you."

He took the empty glass from her fingers and set it aside. Then he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her breasts.

"You're incredibly lovely. I've longed to hold you like this since the first time I saw you."

He kissed her slowly and made love to her so gently it wasn't an ordeal for her after all. Later, when he was asleep, she half smiled at the complete power she had over him. She would have to be very careful never to hurt him. Her heart ached for betraying Patrick. She closed her eyes to shut out the guilt she felt.

Charles slipped from the bed early in the morning and came back with a breakfast tray.

"Sit up and see what I've brought you."

"Mmmm, I can smell chocolate."

He took a long envelope from the tray and held it carefully.

"I want to give you your 'morning gift.'"

"What is a 'morning gift'?"

she asked.

"It's an ancient tradition. When a husband is pleased with his bride, he gives her a 'morning gift.' You please me very much."

She smiled at him gently.

"At first I thought of giving you jewelry, but that's such an ordinary gift. I decided to give you something that would be more meaningful to you."

He held out the envelope.

"What is it, Charles?"

"It's the deed to one of my Irish estates. It's yours free and clear, to do with as you wish. You mustn't save it for Charles Patrick, because he will get all of my lands. This is yours to keep or to sell, or even to give away, if it so pleases you."

"Why, I....I don't know what so say. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely sure."

He laughed to lighten the mood.

"Now you can leave me if you want to. You're not dependent on anyone anymore, not even me."

She was crying and in a moment he was in bed with her, holding her and laughing. He tipped back her head and kissed her.

"Charles, the servants will see us,"

she protested.

"Mmmm, I hope so,"

he murmured against her neck.

Much later, when she was alone, she vowed that she would be a good wife to Charles. She knew it would take an extraordinary effort on her part to fulfill the role of a duchess. She would start by putting away her Tarot cards. She would help her husband make decisions about their son and their life and stop consulting the cards every time she had a decision to make. It would never do for her to go about telling fortunes now that she was married to a duke. She wanted him to be proud of her and swore she'd make every effort to be a lady.