Daisychain Summer

by Elizabeth Elgin

  ‘What is it, then? Tell us, man. God, but you took your time!’ Elliot snapped.

  ‘Please, Richard?’ Clementina asked with more calm than she falt.

  ‘It was a boy. Sadly, he was stillborn.’

  ‘A boy!’ Clementina was on her feet in an instant, shaking with anger and disappointment. ‘You fool! You let my grandson die?’

  ‘The child was already dead when I got here twelve hours ago, Clementina. Go down on your knees and give thanks that I was able to save the mother! And in case either of you is interested, Anna is very poorly. She had a difficult labour and has lost a lot of blood. She will need a great deal of care during the weeks ahead, and most certainly,’ he looked directly at Elliot, ‘she must not, in my considered opinion, conceive another child for at least a year! And where is the monthly nurse? Why is she not here?’

  ‘Because I – because my son and I – considered a monthly nurse unnecessary,’ Clementina retorted, archly.

  ‘Why? When I had expressly advised that after two aborted pregnancies, a monthly nurse was a necessity?’ The doctor snapped. ‘Two weeks before the expected birth she was to come, I said, and stay for two weeks after! Well – it’s too late, now, though I hope you’ll both consider the fact that had that nurse been here as I suggested, so terrible a tragedy might never have happened!’

  ‘I’ll go to her,’ Elliot muttered. ‘She’ll want to see me.’

  ‘No!’ The doctor’s arm shot out, making a barrier in the doorway through which Elliot could not pass. ‘For one thing, I forbid it just yet, and for another, Anna doesn’t want to see you. She doesn’t want to see anyone – not even her mother.’

  ‘Her mother!’

  ‘Countess Petrovska is on her way. She left London, I understand, almost as soon as she learned her daughter was in labour. She could be here at any moment.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Clementina’s voice rose to a wail of torment. Her grandson, her much wanted, needed, grandson stillborn and now the Russian harpy was on her way north like an avenging Amazon! ‘I must go. I can’t bear it! I can’t!’ She gathered up her handbag and furs and hurried to the door.

  Outside, the chauffeur threw down his cigarette and covered it with the sole of his shoe.

  ‘Where to, ma’am?’ Clearly, all was not well.

  ‘To Rowangarth.’ She was shaking with angry, unshed tears. She could not go home to Pendenys; tell Edward that his grandson had not lived. And what would happen to it? What did they do with stillborn babies?

  But Helen would know. She would tell her sister-in-law all about it. Helen would know what was to be done. She couldn’t wait to hear Helen’s soft voice, feel the gentle arms around her. In Helen’s comforting presence, she could sob out her misery. Helen would listen, and understand. ‘Take me to Rowangarth, and be sharp about it!’

  The world had gone mad. Completely and indisputably mad!

  15

  Alice frowned, folding the letter carefully, returning it to the envelope. She had known the day must come, yet still she foolishly hoped that Drew would never ask.

  … Yesterday, when Drew came home from his lessons with Nathan [the letter had read], he asked me why my name is MacMalcolm and his is Sutton. Said he thought we should both have the same name.

  I told him he was called Sutton because one day all of Rowangarth would be his. It had to be Sutton, I said, because Suttons have lived at Rowangarth for hundreds of years and people had got used to them being there. Thankfully, Mary brought the tea in then, and he turned his attention to the chocolate cake.

  I was shaken, though. I told Nathan and he said Drew should be told as soon as possible. How we tell him, of course, must be up to you and me, Alice, but Nathan was adamant we must both be there when Drew learns who his real mother is.

  Nathan was right, Alice acknowledged. The sooner Drew was told, the better – but how was she to travel north or Julia come to Hampshire with all the talk of a general strike? The miners had a grievance and most people sympathized with them. The mood of the trade unions was ugly. If pit owners did not withdraw their threat of a cut in miners’ pay, the country could be brought to a standstill.

  No shop workers, no tram nor train nor bus drivers would report for work; no food would be delivered and firemen would ignore calls for help. No petrol in the pumps; no bread in the shops. Of course a general strike might not be called, though everyone she had spoken to thought it would.

  … What are we to do, Alice? Can you be at the Post Office on Friday at ten, so we can talk about it? Shall Drew and I risk the journey south, knowing it could be some time before we could get back home?

  Alice ran her tongue round suddenly-dry lips. What they both dreaded had happened: Drew was growing up and asking questions; must be told the truth. Or almost the truth. Never would he know that Giles was not his father. It could cause him pain enough to learn Julia was not his mother; that his real mother had left him to marry again and have another child – a daughter she had not deserted.

  And that, Alice fretted, taking out her frustration on the bread dough she was kneading, led to another matter. Why was Daisy their only child, still? Drew was got with only one coupling and Daisy had been quickly conceived. Why, then, had she and Tom not had more children? Was Tom content with one little girl? Surely every man wanted a son?

  She gathered up the dough, slamming it down on the floured board. Questions, questions, questions; Tom away at the far end of the estate all day, sandwiches in his game-bag just when she needed him most, and Julia not telephoning until tomorrow.

  Mind, people hereabouts must realize Tom was not her first husband. Alice Hawthorn Sutton, widow of this parish she had been at the reading of the banns in West Welby church. But when the war ended widows were plentiful, and none in the village had remarked on it. No one asked questions about those four awful years if they could avoid it.

  Yet no one at Windrush knew of the child of her first marrying. Drew belonged to Rowangarth and it to him. Drew called her Lady; the name which had been hers from the minute his baby tongue baulked at Dwerryhouse. She could never be Mother, or Aunt Alice. Drew would always, she hoped, call her Lady – even when he knew.

  She looked up at the mantel clock. Time for their morning cup of tea. Today, it was Polly’s turn to come to Keeper’s Cottage. They had established the ten o’clock pattern of visiting the first day Daisy left for school, her hand in Keth’s. It had helped break the sudden loneliness.

  Carefully, Alice shaped the dough into a round, laying it in a bowl, setting it to rise beside the fire. Then she rinsed the flour from her hands, set a tray with teacups and plates, cut two slices of raisin cake. She did it carefully and methodically as though she were a nurse again, laying out instruments from the sterilizer, pushing her own worries always to the back of her mind, intent only on the task in hand.

  Nursing had taught her much; had dinned a discipline into her that please God would never leave her. Tom would be home for his tea at half-past five; until then she must not, would not fret over Julia’s letter. She even smiled as she heard footsteps on the path outside.

  ‘Come in, Polly,’ she called. ‘Kettle’s just coming to the boil …’

  Elliot Sutton entered his wife’s room without knocking, then stood at the foot of the bed, unspeaking.

  ‘You may stay five minutes.’ The monthly nurse fixed him with an uncompromising stare.

  Petulantly, he glared back. This one was worse than the midwife. This one, hastily summoned by Doctor James, had a mouth like a trap and a gaze that would stop a runaway horse.

  ‘The countess is far from well. In no way must she be upset. Please to remember that, father.’

  ‘And please to remember,’ Elliot spat, ‘that whilst in my house and in my employ you will address me as sir. Not Mr Sutton, not father, but sir. Is that understood, nurse?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir.’ She paused in the doorway. ‘And you and all members of your household will address me at all times as Sister Brown,
or ma’am. Five minutes only, if you please!’ The door closed quietly.

  ‘How dare she?’

  ‘Elliot – please?’ Anna’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Don’t make it worse? I’ve said I’m sorry, but I won’t take all the blame.’

  ‘And nor will I. Having babies is a woman’s work. You gave me a dead son! Three babies lost! You can’t blame me for that. I want a son. Pendenys needs one. What’s to be done?’

  ‘I don’t know. God knows I have tried.’

  ‘You were stupid, Anna.’ He moved across the room to stare out of the window, unwilling to meet her eyes. ‘You made a fuss over nothing. You got yourself upset and started in labour before your time and all because –’

  ‘Because I caught you! I saw you going into her room; heard you making love! Can you wonder I was upset?’

  ‘You threw a tantrum that would have done credit to a servant!’

  ‘Like the servant you were seducing, you mean? How long has it being going on, Elliot?’

  ‘Don’t blame me; blame that fool Richard James. Separate rooms you and I, he said …’

  ‘But I’d already miscarried two children. He was only thinking about the babe!’

  ‘He certainly wasn’t thinking about my needs!’

  ‘Your needs? Sweet heaven! Couldn’t you have kept yourself decent – done without a woman for just a few months? And if you couldn’t, did it have to be in my house with one of my servants? But I don’t want to talk about it. I want you to leave, now. I don’t feel well and there’s nothing more to say. Nothing can bring the little one back. It was my loss as well as yours!’

  ‘But there is something to say, and say it I will, Anna.’ Eyes narrow with anger he returned to stand beside the bed. ‘Now look at me! One more chance I’ll give you, and that’s all!’

  ‘No! Not yet? Doctor James said there must not be another pregnancy for a year, at least. Surely he told you?’

  ‘Told me? The matter is between you and me and no one else. It has nothing to do with Doctor James!’

  ‘If I have another pregnancy so soon after, it could prove dangerous – don’t you care for my wellbeing? Oh, I was a fool, I’ll admit that, now. I thought you cared for me. We’ve been married five years, yet there has never been happiness between us, nor love. Only moments of animal need. Our children were not conceived in love.’

  ‘Children? I have one child – a girl – and I need a son. Either you give me one as soon as possible or I’ll find a wife who can!’

  ‘Find a …?’ Her eyes widened with shock, her face drained of colour. ‘But you already have a wife.’

  ‘So I have. And her refusal to provide an heir is grounds for divorce, to my way of thinking.’

  ‘I have not refused! I ask only that you listen to the doctor – give me a little time?’ She was weeping again; great, jerking sobs. ‘Just leave me alone until I am stronger – it’s all I ask.’

  ‘If you refuse me your bed after your lying-in is over, I shall divorce you!’

  ‘Oh, but you will not!’ Her cheeks blazed red again, and she straightened her shoulders to face him, chin tilted. ‘For one thing, I have proof of your adultery. If this marriage is to end, it is I who will end it! But we were married in the Russian church and my religion allows no divorce.’

  ‘We were married in the English church.’

  ‘No,’ she cried savagely. ‘The first service with an Orthodox priest was the real one; the one that married us. There will be no divorce unless I want one – and I don’t!’

  ‘What is going on, here?’ The nurse stood in the doorway, her face stern. ‘Such a commotion! I heard it from the end of the passage!’

  ‘With your ear at the keyhole, more like!’

  ‘Sir – my patient is upset. I think you should leave.’ Her eyes sparked anger as she opened the door wider.

  ‘No. You will leave – now! You’re fired, in fact! Get out of my house!’ Elliot yelled.

  ‘I am sorry. Doctor James engaged me and only he can dismiss me. I am asking you again, sir, to leave this room!’

  ‘And I am refusing! I don’t take orders from menials in my own house!’

  ‘Very well.’ Calmly she walked across the room, jamming a forefinger on the bell-push, holding it there defiantly.

  In no time at all, a housemaid answered the summons. ‘Yes’m?’ she asked, fearfully.

  ‘You will please arrange to have Doctor James telephoned at once. He is to be told that the countess is not at all well and Sister Brown suggests that all haste would be beneficial. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes’m. At once’m.’ She turned to leave.

  ‘No!’ Elliot rapped. ‘There will be no need. I am leaving.’

  ‘Miss?’ Saucer-eyed, the housemaid stood her ground.

  ‘Very well. Doctor James need not be called – for the moment. You may go.’ She turned her attention to Elliot, flaying him with a look of contempt before slamming the door in his face. ‘Now, mother,’ she said softly, ‘dry those tears, then I’ll wash that poor, pretty face and give you something to help you sleep.’

  ‘I’m sorry, truly I am.’ Anna dabbed her eyes. ‘I should not have shouted so. I’m ashamed. Did you really hear me at the end of the passage?’

  ‘No, of course not. Your husband was right – or almost so,’ the nurse chuckled. ‘I was outside the door, though not quite with my ear to it. Now, I’ll tie back your hair with a ribbon and get you settled down.’

  ‘Don’t leave me?’ Anna pleaded.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m going nowhere until my four weeks is up.’ Tactfully, she made no further comment, though when the doctor made his afternoon call, she thought grimly, she would suggest that her bed be moved into the adjoining dressing room. She didn’t trust that husband; not one iota, did she! ‘Now open wide,’ she commanded, offering a spoon. ‘Drink it down and you’ll be asleep in no time. And I won’t leave you, never fear.’

  She sat beside the bed, the small, frail hand in her own, until Anna’s eyelids drooped and her breathing became more gentle. Then, pressing the bell-push beside her, she walked softly to the door, closing it behind her.

  ‘Yes’m?’ The same wide-eyed servant bobbed a curtsey.

  ‘Sister’s compliments to the housekeeper, and could she spare me a minute – as soon as possible?’

  The housekeeper moved on urgent feet, sensing that the drama reported by a terrified housemaid was not yet over; pleased to co-operate with the dragon lady who by all accounts had got the better of the master.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ the nurse smiled. ‘Mrs Martin, isn’t it? I will be most grateful if you could inform anyone who might enquire – at the door, or on the telephone – that the countess will not be receiving callers at the bedside for a week, at least.’

  ‘And what am I to tell them, if they ask how she is?’

  ‘Say she is as well as can be expected, in the circumstances, and thank them for their kindness. But a week, remember!’

  ‘A week, Sister. But what about –’

  ‘No callers, unless Doctor James says otherwise. And no callers includes the countess’s mother, Mr Sutton’s mother and all others else. If there is any trouble, send for me at once and I will deal with it. I’m sorry to put you to such stress, but you and I –’ she lowered her voice, conspiratorially, ‘we understand, don’t we?’

  ‘We do, indeed.’ The housekeeper’s cheeks flushed with triumph. ‘And will you be so kind, when it is convenient, to tell the mistress that myself and all the staff wish her a speedy recovery. She is very dear to us.’

  Sister Brown nodded her approval, then quietly re-entered the room, standing beside the sleeping woman, lifting her wrist, counting her pulsebeat. Poor pretty little thing. How could that husband upset her so? She had heard enough, outside the door, to make her anxious and the sooner the doctor called the better. There were things he must be told, and tell them she would! Men – pah!

  ‘From Julia.’ Only when they had eaten a
nd Daisy was asleep in bed did Alice pass the letter to Tom. ‘Read it.’

  ‘Well – ’twas only to be expected,’ he murmured, eventually. ‘Drew’s a bright lad. I’m surprised he didn’t ask afore now.’

  ‘Me, too. I knew it’d have to be faced one day, though I’ll not worry about it any more than I have to, till Julia phones, tomorrow.’

  ‘You think they’ll come down here?’

  ‘It would be best if they did, though I ought to see Reuben before so very much longer. He’s almost eighty, remember. It’s that strike, though, that’s got me worried. Do you think it’ll happen, Tom – and how long is it going to last?’

  ‘If I knew that, lass, I’d be running the government, not keeping for a living. But if there is a strike and she can’t get back home, then she’ll have to stay with us till it’s over. It’ll be good for the girl to have a bit of a change. Can’t be much of a life for her, all on her own. It’ll be good for Drew, an’ all. He can get to know his sister a bit better – and our Daisy can get used to the fact that she’s got a brother. Daisy’s affected, too, remember.’

  ‘I know, love. But Drew is her half-brother. She’s yet to have a brother – or a sister – of her own. Tom –’ She paused until she had her husband’s full attention. ‘What I’m trying to say is – well, you aren’t being careful, are you? Daisy’s touching six – surely we can afford another bairn? There’s times when I’m on my own that I’d like another babe.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t been careful, as you call it, for a long time – since before Daisy went to school. Didn’t you tell me you wanted to get your value out of that pram? And didn’t you have a talk about babies to the district nurse?’

  ‘I did. She told me not to worry. Said worrying could stop a woman conceiving.’

  ‘There you are, then. Folk have to take what the good Lord sends, Alice, when it comes to babies. You and me are doing all the right things, so stop your worrying and happen soon you’ll be taking the dust sheets off that pram.’