Anne Brear Read online

  “Indeed. Are you staying a while longer after the guests have gone ashore?”

  “I’m afraid not. A new governess is expected to arrive this afternoon and there are other things awaiting my attention.” She couldn’t tell him that Miss Rogers was due to give birth any day now.

  “I’m sad not to have these last few hours with you. But I’ll always have the memory that I danced in the New Year of eighteen sixty-eight with you. I’ll treasure that.” He spoke the words out over the sea, but she heard the subtle hurt in them.

  She recalled the New Year dinner and dancing party, he’d hosted on this ship only a couple of weeks ago. It’d been a grand night. “I’m sorry, Hilton.”

  “Don’t be.” He smiled down at her and tucked her hand in his arm. “Come, let us eat and be merry.”

  Much later than Nicola expected, she walked up the driveway to the Home, having paid the hansom cab at the bottom of the hill. She’d wanted a few minutes more to herself before the demands of the home occupied her. Leaving Meg and Hilton had been bittersweet, but it was over now and she wished them well. They had their life and she had hers.

  She stopped and studied the house, her home. If only she knew what the future held. Would running this house be enough? Had she made the wrong choices along the way?

  “Miss Douglas!” Miss McIntyre raced out of the front door, her skirts held up in one hand.

  “What is it, Florence?”

  “Miss Rogers,” Florence gasped on reaching her.

  “The child?” Nicola rushed towards the house.

  “Aye, Miss Douglas. Not born yet, but she’s had pains for hours.”

  “Have you sent for the midwife or Dr Armitage?” In the hall she unpinned her hat and then pulled off her gloves.

  “The doctor is away attending a factory accident and the midwife is delivering twins somewhere. She said she’d come as soon as she can.”

  “Is it terribly bad yet?”

  Florence joined her as they headed up the staircase. “Bad enough, but she’s not screaming. I’ve given her a wad of cloth to bite down on.”

  At the bedroom door, Nicola paused. “I’ve never attended a birth before, Florence. Have you?”

  “Aye, Miss. Plenty. My mother had six and my eldest sister had seven.”

  “Right.” Taking a deep breath, Nicola opened the door and pasted a smile on her face. The air in the room was stale and the closed curtains threw it into a depressing gloom. “Open those curtains, Florence, and a window. The evening is warm.” She turned to the woman on the bed. “Now then, Miss Rogers. I hear we have a baby arriving shortly.”

  Miss Rogers raised her head to nod weakly. She looked exhausted already. Her damp black hair clung to her face, which was the colour of uncooked dough, except for the two red spots on her cheeks. In the last few weeks she’d not gained much weight and Nicola feared the poor woman wouldn’t have the strength to expel the child.

  Florence stepped closer to the bed. “Miss Rogers, I’m just off downstairs to get some water and a few things. Miss Douglas is here and will stay with you.”

  “The doctor?”

  “He’ll be here soon as he can.” Florence smiled and left the room.

  Nicola sat on the chair drawn up to the bed. “How long have you had the pains?”

  “Five hours or so. But my back has ached for three days.” Her face screwed up in agony as another pain assaulted her body.

  Spying a water jug and glass on the bedside table, Nicola quickly filled the glass and put it to Miss Rogers’s lips. “This will make you feel better.”

  “I think I need more than water, Miss Douglas.”

  Grinning, Nicola placed the glass down and then took hold of Miss Roger’s thin hand. ‘May I call you by your Christian name, Penny?”

  “Yes, I would like that.”

  “Well then, Penny, you lie back and rest while you can.”

  “I have written instructions.”

  “Instructions?”

  “In case I die.” She waved feebly to the drawer by the bed.

  “Oh, you mustn’t think like that.” Fear gripped Nicola’s insides.

  “The child, if it survives, is to be adopted by a good family that I have already found.”

  “And what if you survive, which I’m certain you will, what of the child then?”

  “It is still to be adopted. In the envelope is the family I found. Mr and Mrs Walker.”

  “Walker?” Nicola leaned back in astonishment. “How did you find this family? You’ve not left the house since you arrived.”

  “Mr Belfroy helped me.”

  “That was his business when he visited you last week?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it to me? I would have helped too.”

  “I heard about the plans of building an orphanage here…” Penny winced and groaned. “You’d talk me out of it.”

  “But we can care for the child here. You don’t have to give the baby up if you—”

  “No! I don’t want the child here.” Another pain robbed her of breath. It was some minutes before she could speak again. “I have arranged everything, Miss Douglas. I hope you will adhere to my wishes?”

  “Naturally.”

  “The envelope, is in the drawer, will you take it? Once the child is born, will you send for the Walkers? Mr Belfroy assures me they are a nice couple. They plan to travel to New Zealand and start afresh.”

  Nicola opened the drawer and took out the pale envelope. “I’ll do everything as you wish for it to be done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Florence hurried into the room carrying towels and a large bowl of water. “Doctor Armitage’s gig just turned into the drive, Miss Douglas. All will be well now.”

  Nicola patted Penny’s hand in relief. “There now, that is good news. I’ll go and change my dress and will return shortly.” Standing, she slipped the envelope into her skirt pocket. As she left the room, she couldn’t dispel the grief weighing on her. A baby’s birth should be a joyous occasion, but not this time. Anger replaced the sadness when she thought of all the unmarried women who were taken advantage of and who would bear children they didn’t want, while the fathers continued their lives untouched.

  * * *

  Nicola put her hand up to shade the baby’s face from the dawn’s first rays of light that streamed in through the bedroom window. Behind her, Penny slept an exhausted sleep. Gazing at the baby boy she held, Nicola felt a strong urge to never let him go. His tiny face, newly washed, was a soft rose pink colour. She noted every detail; his closed eyes showed the fine fan of eyelashes, his nose nothing but a delicate bud, the purse of his little lips. Quite simply she was in awe of him. A baby. Not just any baby, but one she’d seen fight his way into the world. She had watched his chest expand with his first breath, heard his first cry. The miracle that was birth left her speechless and teary. While Dr Armitage and Florence took care of Penny, the baby had been thrust into her hands and she’d been responsible for wrapping him and keeping him warm.

  “Miss Douglas,” Florence whispered at her shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m heading off to bed for an hour or two. You should do the same. He’ll be fine in the basket.”

  “I’ll stay with him for a bit longer, but you go and rest.” She smiled at Florence, who covered her mouth as she yawned.

  Florence glanced down at the baby, moving the blanket aside to see him better. “He’s a good looking little chap, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Nicola couldn’t help but feel proud of him, as though he was her son. ‘shall I take the basket into my room?”

  “Might as well. Miss Rogers wants nothing to do with him.” Florence picked up the basket and together they left the sleeping mother and crossed the hallway to Nicola’s room.

  “Thank you, Florence, but go to bed now. I’ll see to this little one.” Nicola shooed her out the door and once alone, went to sit on the bed. Gently she placed the baby down a
nd instinctively laid along side of him. Bringing him closer into the curve of her body, she sighed and closed her eyes.

  “Nicola. Wake up.”

  Nicola opened her eyes, blinked, and stared at Frances. “Oh. Frances.”

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  Lifting her head, she looked at the tiny fellow, who was now stirring awake. “Don’t raise your voice.”

  “Raise my voice?” Frances stood, hands on hips, her usual scowl in place. “I nearly had a heart attack when I walked in. Miss Barker said for me to come up, but she gave me no inkling of what I’d find.”

  “It’s a baby, not a gargoyle.” Carefully, Nicola rose and gathered him into her arms.

  “What are you doing with a baby?”

  “He was born early this morning, to Miss Rogers.”

  “So why is he sleeping with you?”

  The baby cried as Nicola climbed from the bed. “His mother doesn’t want him.”

  Frances’s eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you are to have him?”

  “No, how could I?” She tutted, though something inside her wished she could. “He’s to be adopted.”

  “Good.”

  “No, it’s not good. He should be with his mother. Is it his fault that his father is a blackguard?”

  “Stop being naive, Nicola, for heaven’s sake. You know how the world works. You should do, you’ve seen enough evidence of it.”

  Pacing the room didn’t help soothe the baby who now was wailing lustily. “He must be hungry.”

  “Have you a wet nurse?”

  “No. I’m not sure if Miss Rogers arranged for one…” Nicola winced as the baby’s cries became piercing. She didn’t hear the knock, but was thankful when Florence entered the room.

  “My, he’s some lungs on him, Miss Douglas.”

  “Florence, he needs feeding and I have to send word to the Walkers.” Warm wetness filled Nicola’s hand through the baby’s napkin. “Oh dear, he’s wet, too.”

  “Give him here to me, Miss.” Florence deftly took the child and cradled him to her. “I’ll take him to the kitchen and see what we can do. Perhaps Mrs Walker can come today?”

  “I’ll wash and change my clothes and then send word to her.”

  Silence descended once Florence left with the baby. Nicola washed her hands in a bowl on her dresser. “I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared for your visit, Frances.”

  “A baby arriving would disrupt the best laid plans, I should think.”

  “I wish his appearance was under happier circumstances.” Nicola selected a pale apricot skirt and bodice from her wardrobe. “I wish something could be done for him to remain with his mother.”

  “Wishing is for children, Nicola,” Frances snapped.

  “Why are you in such a bad mood for?”

  Sighing, Frances slumped onto the bed. “Forgive me. I am not fit for company. I should have stayed home, but I needed to talk to someone.”

  “What has happened?”

  “My mother has sent for Nat and I to return home. Our father has died. We only received the telegram informing us this morning.”

  Amazed at the news, Nicola went to sit beside her. “Will you return to England?”

  “I will not go. There is nothing for me in England, and my mother is ashamed of me and my views. No, I shall stay here.” Frances twisted her fingers together. “I’m afraid Nat might go though, and it bothers me greatly. He is all I have and if he were to leave…”

  Nicola found it hard to breathe. Her stomach twisted like a spring. Nathaniel gone, for good? Her mouth went dry. “But he cares little for your mother.”

  “True. However, he is her son, as I am her daughter, and there is always something inside that makes it hard to turn your back on them completely. Although Nat would refuse to acknowledge it under threat of torture, I believe he’s been waiting for the day when our parents would make amends for the hurt they’ve inflicted.”

  “But he wants to make a life in this country. Your mother has your older brother for comfort.” She bit back the insane urge to shout that she wouldn’t allow either of them to leave.

  “My older brother, Gerald, is worse than useless. It seems he’s married to a woman my mother doesn’t care for. Hardly surprising. My mother writes that my sister-in-law has no intellect, is as quiet as a mouse and cannot play cards well, that alone is a capital offence in mother’s eyes.” Frances grinned. “My mother is a diligent card player. One of the best female competitors in London, of her circle, of course.”

  Unable to sit still, Nicola jerked up and paced the room. “Would he…I mean, would Nathaniel stay permanently in London?”

  “Well yes, it’s very likely. The estate goes to my older brother, but apparently Nat and I haven’t been left out of father’s will, which we imagined would happen. Our father was an unlovable tyrant, but in death, he’s been fair for once. There are businesses and houses for us, and all manner of things.”

  “But your brother left England for a reason. He wanted to start again in this country, to build a life here.”

  “Heavens, don’t romanticise it, Nicola.” Frances gave a mock laugh. “Nat came here because it was as far away as he could get from our parents.”

  “I see.” She didn’t see anything, she only felt ill at the thought of Nathaniel leaving.

  “There’s nothing keeping him here now. He knows I’ll be fine, if a little lonely.” Frances pulled out her watch from her pocket. “Oh lord, I’m dreadfully late. There’s a rally on in Macquarie Street against the new Contagious Diseases Act.”

  “What is that about?”

  “Locking up prostitutes for examination. Oh, I can’t explain it now, I’m far too late as it is.” She kissed Nicola’s cheek. “Thank you for listening, even with all you have to deal with. You’re a dear friend.”

  “You know I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

  “I’ll come again soon. Good luck with the baby.” With a final wave, Frances scooted out the door.

  Nicola gently lowered herself down onto a wooden chair by the window. She felt fragile, hollow. Only now that Frances had gone could she concede to the deadening pain that squeezed her chest. Nathaniel gone. How would she survive never seeing him again?

  No, he cannot go.

  He said he loved me.

  His mother rejected him, she cannot have him back.

  But then, she had rejected him also.

  Why had this happened? The pain grew unbearable and she pressed her fist into her chest hoping to ease it. God almighty. No, she couldn’t…surely not… Did she love Nathaniel West?

  How could she care for him? How could she overlook his drinking and whoring, his uncharitable views on women? How could she respect such a man?

  But she did love him. Somehow there must be something worth loving within him for she was not the only person who cared for him. Frances adored him. He couldn’t be all bad, could he?

  She wanted to smile at the relief of finally being able to admit what she felt. A tear fell onto her hands, and then another. What a cruel twist of fate, for it was all too late.

  The baby’s cry reached her, growing closer. Quickly she wiped her eyes and went to the bed for her fresh clothes. She had responsibilities, duties to carry out. People depended on her. In her mind, she listed all the good things about her professional life. Yet, in her heart, she cried for the fool that she was. Nathaniel would go and she would remain and it was no one’s fault but her own.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Excellent shot, Miss Clarke.” Nicola clapped before moving into position to hit her ball through the hoop. She hadn’t played croquet for some time and was delighted that the latest governess to arrive, Miss Clarke, had asked if it was possible for them to create a croquet lawn at the side of the house.

  Nicola’s aim was off and the ball missed the hoop. She laughed softly. “I need to practise I think. You are far too good for me.”

  Miss Clarke, a small dainty woman of t
wenty-eight years, looked bashful. “My previous employers enjoyed the game very much and encouraged me to let the children play as often as lessons allowed. I’m afraid I rather have the knack for it.”

  “Then we shall have regular games of it. I think we all need the exercise.” Nicola gestured over to the other women seated on chairs around a table groaning under the weight of afternoon tea treats. Florence hovered around them, unable to sit still for a minute. Miss Barker was poring over the newspaper, reading out snippets to Miss Golding. Misses Shaw and Peacock were chatting, sipping their tea and Miss Bent was reading a book of poetry.

  Smiling, Miss Clarke played another shot. “The women here are most kind. We are lucky to have such comfortable accommodation.”

  “Indeed.” Nicola looked up at the bedroom windows of the upper floor and noticed Penny standing at her window, watching them. The Walkers had collected the baby boy four days ago without Penny even seeing the child. Nicola sighed, recalling how upset she was when the Walkers left the house, carrying their new son. Thankfully, they seemed nice people, but she couldn’t help feeling the loss of the baby.

  “Miss Douglas, who is that man?” Miss Clarke nodded towards their visitor.

  Nicola’s heart somersaulted as Nathaniel stopped to announce himself to the women at the table. “That is Mr West.” She drew in a laboured breath. “He is a friend of mine.” A friend? She groaned inwardly at the statement. Their kind of friendship was such unlike any she’d experienced before. How did one turn friendship into something else, especially when one has refused the other before?

  While Nathaniel chatted with ease to the women, she watched him unobserved. Once again, he’d filled her with confusion. In equal turns he’d been able to anger, frustrate and irritate her, yet at the same time captivate and fascinate her. Now his presence brought out other emotions, concern, secret joy at his nearness and fear - fear of him leaving. At last he turned in her direction and lifted his hand in acknowledgment.