Page 12 of Trusting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #3)

We arrived back at the house in a downpour, and after drying off, I met Harry in the parlour and suggested that we return to Godmersham as soon as possible.

‘There is no reason to delay now that Dorian is out of danger,’ I said, stretching my chilled fingers out to the fire.

‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ he replied. ‘I will choose a midwife from the applicants this minute, then inform her of the situation and of the need to be discreet. We will leave for Godmersham late tomorrow morning after I return from visiting Dorian.’

When he asked me if I wanted to accompany him for the final visit to Saffron Hill, I declined, saying that everything that needed to be said had been said.

In truth, I was feeling mightily conflicted. Overall, I felt I had made the right choice by Lucinda not telling Dorian about his baby. But there was a small part of me that felt he should know the truth, and I felt bad about it, especially as he had confessed he wanted a child.

Then again, so did Max and I. And who knew what Dorian would do with the information once he had it? I did not know. He was a wild card .

I tried to take my mind off the dilemma by writing to Jane to say to expect us in a couple of days and enquiring about Lucinda.

We will have been away for over a week by the time we return, and it is dangerously close to her due date. I pray she can hold on until we arrive with the new midwife. I do not want Mrs Busby involved in the birth!

***

The skies were dark and it was still raining heavily the next morning. But Harry insisted on going to Saffron Hill to visit Dorian. By luncheon, he hadn’t yet returned, and I was growing anxious. The midwife (a lovely lady in her late thirties who told me to call her Tilly) and I sat in the parlour, making polite conversation, but my eyes kept straying to the clock on the mantel.

Eventually, Harry turned up sopping wet with filth halfway up his trouser legs. He said that the roads were flooded and he hadn’t been able to hail a cab, so he’d had to walk back. There was no way that we could leave in such bad weather, but Harry thought it might clear by the afternoon, so we had a late luncheon and waited.

Another blow was that Harry had returned without Maurice. Apparently, he had decided to stay with Dorian until he was fully recovered but would write to me and let me know when he was coming. It was disappointing, but I could not find fault with his decision. He was a good man and knew that Dorian needed him despite him saying he could go with me if he wished.

As afternoon slowly turned to evening and the rain didn’t let up, we had to face the fact that our trip to Godmersham was a washout. We had supper, and afterwards, I helped Tilly make up the spare room for the night and saw her settled in there.

But as I lay in bed in my own room, listening to fat raindrops splatter against the windowpanes, I could not shake a gnawing feeling of unease that we were already too late.

The next morning was damp and grey, but without rain. Yet at breakfast, Harry was still undecided about leaving.

‘I think we should wait another day,’ he said, spreading marmalade thickly on his toast. ‘To be on the safe side. The roads will be in a state.’

After a restless night, I was now convinced that Lucinda had gone into labour and was calling out for me. The thought of her being alone with Mrs Busby and that woman falling into a trance was making me agitated to the point that I spoke sharply to him.

‘What is a bit of mud, Harry? We have to try! Do you not care about Lucy at all?’

It was naughty of me to say that, but I needed to get it through his thick skull that time was of the essence.

His mouth tightened, and I knew I had offended him by my words. ‘I’m sorry, Harry. I know you care. I am simply anxious,’ I said hastily.

‘I understand your concern, Fliss. But we are of no help to Lucy if my carriage gets stuck. Tilly, what do you think?’

Tilly, wisely, had been keeping out of it and concentrating on eating her breakfast. ‘I can see both sides of the argument,’ she said diplomatically. ‘Whatever you think is best.’

Finally, in the late morning, Harry could bear me pacing up and down the parlour no longer.

‘Let us go,’ he said. ‘If we drive fast enough, we may skim through the mud before it has time to bog us down.’

I could have hugged him.

‘An excellent idea! And one you shall not regret!’ I cried, running off to don my pelisse and collect my luggage. ‘Tilly! Tilly! Ready yourself! We are leaving forthwith!’

We made good time out of London, for although the roads were waterlogged, there was not too much traffic. As Harry said, ‘Who would be foolhardy enough to gad about in such poor weather?’

Who indeed? As we barrelled along the slick roads, hearts in mouths every time the wheels skidded, I envied the people who could look out of the window, debate whether they really needed to travel, decide no (they could wait a few days, even a week if they must), draw the curtains, and turn their thoughts to what to have for supper. But we were not taking a joyride—we had pressing birth business that could not wait another minute.

Fortunately, we arrived at Rochester without incident, where Harry said we would break our journey for the night at the Bull Inn. I was about to protest and say, ‘It is only another thirty miles. We should keep going.’ But from the tightening of Harry’s lips and the firm set of his jaw, I decided not to push my luck. He was right. It was sensible to rest and feed the horses (and ourselves) and get to Godmersham safely.

Besides, for the last few miles, Tilly had been telling us about her brother’s farm in Oxfordshire and the generous roast dinners she had enjoyed there. So my mouth was watering.

The next morning, after scoffing enormous plates of bacon, eggs, and toast, we were back on the road. But barely two miles out of Rochester, the carriage ran into some deep mud and got bogged down. We all had to get out and push.

I was beginning to think we would have to walk when, thanks to divine providence, two strapping young gentlemen rode past on horseback. Harry flagged them down. Upon seeing my condition, they were most alarmed that I was overexerting myself and agreed to help immediately. One of them even exclaimed, ‘Madam, we do not want you to pop on the roadside!’ which made me laugh.

The two men removed jackets and hats, rolled up their shirtsleeves, and put their broad shoulders to the side of the carriage. With a few heaving thrusts, it rolled out of the sticky mud. Of course, I averted my eyes and did not stare at their bare forearms or straining thigh muscles in their breeches (well, not too much!).

When Harry assured them the carriage was quite intact and we were not in need of any further assistance, the gentlemen bowed and bid us good day before mounting their horses and speeding off. It was all rather exciting, and Tilly was quite overcome!

I wished Jane and Elizabeth had been there as the gentlemen were very handsome. They would have made a couple of dashing heroes for Jane’s novels. But if Elizabeth had been with us, she would have tried to determine whether the men were single, rich, and lived near Steventon. Then there would have been a cringeworthy matchmaking attempt for Jane. Perhaps it was better that neither of them was there!

After that, there were no further incidents on the road. We made excellent time, and arrived at Godmersham in the late morning, the carriage covered in dried mud. Yet before I could unlatch the door, Jane came running out of the house and stuck her head through the window.

Her cap was askew. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hands were trembling on the sill. ‘I’ve been keeping a lookout for you,’ she panted.

I grasped her hands, which were frozen. Oh no! What have we arrived to?

‘Mrs Busby is with Lucy. We need the new midwife now! ’

I looked at Harry, whose eyes were wide. My heart thumped in my chest. I knew it—I knew it was happening!

‘Take Flissy to the house, Mr Hart,’ Jane gasped. ‘I need to do a midwife swap. Good luck, dearest! Act as if your life depended on it.’

Jane blew me a kiss, and she and Tilly sped off around the side of the house. Her words sunk in, and I realised that I couldn’t visit Lucinda too. I had to pretend I was giving birth !

My gut leapt in fright. We had not really discussed this aspect in great detail. There had always seemed enough time to do so. And Elizabeth said most births happened at night, so she would plonk the baby in my arms the next morning and tell everyone that it was an ‘easy birth—so easy, in fact, that Felicity barely screamed. I wish all of mine were like that’.

But now that it came down to it, why should I give the impression that it was easy? It was not easy, and I felt I should be letting Max down if I didn’t at least show that I had earned our baby .

The crunch of footsteps sounded on the gravel drive, heralding servants coming out to see to us and the luggage. It was my moment!

I doubled over, clutching at my stomach with a gasp. ‘Harry, I think the baby is coming!’

He stared at me blankly. ‘Pardon?’

‘Go along with it! Get me Elizabeth,’ I hissed at him and then made a loud moaning noise.

Harry nodded, cottoning on at last. He scrambled out of the carriage, and I heard him shouting to a maid, ‘Fetch Mrs Austen! Mrs Fitzroy is in labour!’

There was a hushed discussion outside the carriage, and Harry said impatiently, ‘Yes, it is definitely happening this time. Go quickly, girl!’ So I gathered there had been some element of disbelief from the maid after my last performance had turned out to be a false alarm.

Harry poked his head in and looked at me, making a show of huffing and panting. He grinned. ‘Keep it up, Fliss. Only another twelve or fourteen hours to go at least. First births are never usually quick.’

I groaned for real at hearing that, but it was too late—I was committed now!

***

Mrs Busby dipped the cloth in the basin of lavender water, wrung it out, and pressed it to my forehead and cheeks while I lay on the bed, exhausted after a frenzied bout of yelling. She was faring admirably well as my co-conspirator and had demanded so many buckets of hot water and towels from the servants that there could be no doubt that a birth was definitely taking place this time.

It was late afternoon by the time Elizabeth left me, declaring to the hovering servants outside my door that she needed ‘a respite from the trials of birth’. But in actuality, she had scurried to the cottage to see what was happening.

On tenterhooks, I gnawed at a ragged fingernail. It had been hours. Surely Lucinda had had the child by now?

But Elizabeth returned shortly, reporting, ‘There is no sign of it yet, Felicity. But Tilly assures me that everything is progressing nicely.’

‘How is she?’

‘Faring well. I brought her some bread, cheese, and preserves to keep her strength up. A lovely woman.’

‘Not Tilly! Lucy!’

‘Oh! Yes, of course. Well, I did not see her as she was in the bedroom with Jane, but I could hear her. She was yelling as much as you are.’ Elizabeth huffed a laugh and patted my hand. ‘She is all right. But you need to keep acting for a while longer yet.’

I sighed and readied myself for another bout of shrieking.

As evening fell, I was at my wits’ end. Acting like you were having a baby was hard work! And Mrs Busby continually poking and prodding my stomach was annoying. She did not have to. It wasn’t like I was giving birth to a real baby!

In the end, I decided that I would remove my padded corset for a bit of relief as I was sick of the thing weighing me down. But Mrs Busby said I could not. ‘What if a curious servant happens to look in?’

‘Elizabeth shooed them back to work. It’s perfectly safe to do so.’

I sat up and began undoing the laces at the front of my dress. Annie had designed it to expand so more and more padding could be fitted in. But my girth was so rotund now that the lacing was stretched to full capacity.

‘Let me,’ said Mrs Busby with a sigh, taking hold of one of the laces. ‘I can see you are quite determined.’

She yanked on it and, in doing so, somehow managed to concertina my lungs. I gasped for breath. She was supposed to be untying it, not tying it tighter!

I pushed her hands away. ‘Let me do it!’

‘I will help!’

‘I insist on doing it myself!’

‘No!’

By this stage, I was bordering on hysteria. And there ensued a short sharp fight as Mrs Busby continually tried to grasp my laces, and I immediately slapped her hands away.

If anyone had happened to see us, it would have been supremely funny, and I supposed I would laugh about it later. But I was exhausted from hours of acting and close to tears.

Then something odd happened. Mrs Busby grasped my wrists to stop me from slapping her and went completely still. I struggled and panted and begged her to let me go, but her grip was tight and strong.

‘I can’t see your baby ...’ she intoned in a strange flat voice that was very familiar. Oh no, I had caused her to go into a trance! It was exactly what she had said at the cottage, yet here she was, saying it to me. And because I wasn’t carrying a baby, it made a lot more sense!

‘There is no baby,’ I said to her, trying unsuccessfully to free my wrists from her hands. ‘Lucinda is the one who’s having the baby, remember?’

‘I can see two men in your life,’ she droned, ignoring me. Her wonky eyes were glassy, staring unseeing at a spot on the wall.

‘Yes, yes, one who will cause my downfall. I know all that,’ I said impatiently, twisting my wrists in her grip. Gosh, her hands were strong.

‘You will have a choice to make. One path leads to happiness. The other to certain death.’

I gaped at her. This prediction was getting bleak.

‘Which one leads to death?’ I whispered, feeling scared now. What if she really could read my future from my wrists?

‘I cannot tell you. You alone must choose.’

‘But that’s not fair!’ I gasped. ‘You can’t tell me something like that and not give me a hint.’

Mrs Busby’s lips moved, and I strained to hear, but it sounded like garbled nonsense. Then she said clearly, ‘Your husband will plant red roses for you.’

‘But why?’ I cried. ‘Because I’m dead? Or because he thinks I would like them? ’

‘I cannot tell you,’ Mrs Busby intoned.

Annoyance and frustration shot through me. I had let her speak nonsense long enough! Wrenching my wrists out of her hands, I gave her a massive shove, and she toppled to the floor and started twitching violently.

Well, I thought in satisfaction, you didn’t see that coming, did you?