Regency Bride Series: Regency Romance Box Set

by Locke, Laura

  “They come about every five seconds,” Matilda said, gasping. “Oh! Ow...” She moaned as a wave of pain seemed to rush through her. Pauline's eyes met the housekeeper's, who looked at the bed.

  “No reason to be alarmed,” the housekeeper insisted. “That's a good sign. I'll stay here. You find someone to bring up a bowl of hot water, cloths and a bandage. And fresh linen. We'll need them soon.”

  Pauline didn't even blink as the housekeeper took charge of the proceedings. She pulled the bell and summoned a maid to send downstairs. Then she paced to the window.“I'll go and wait for the doctor,” she offered, not knowing what else to do.

  “You do that, mistress. No need to stay.”

  “Pauline?” Matilda called weakly. “Come back? I don't want to be alone.”

  “I will,” Pauline promised. She hurried downstairs, pacing in the hallway, waiting for the doctor to arrive from Braxley. She had no idea whether Cornelius was still here or not and at this minute didn't care.

  “Doctor!” she positively shouted when someone arrived. She showed him upstairs quickly. “We've got towels and water and bandages,” she explained quickly. “She's feeling pains every five seconds now...the housekeeper says that's good,”

  “That's good,” the doctor agreed.

  He went in, and half-shut the door, but Pauline stopped him.

  “I said I'd be here,” she insisted.

  The doctor raised a brow, but stood back. “Highly unconventional,” he murmured, “But if you must, milady.”

  “Yes,” Pauline said levelly. “Thank you, doctor.”

  She felt worse than useless, pacing by the door, while the housekeeper and the doctor helped Matilda, guiding her through the torments that racked her. Pauline bit her lip, wishing she could shut out the sounds that tore into her own body. She hated the doctor, the housekeeper, Henry...everyone who had put Matilda through such agony. And I couldn't care less about Cornelius and his nonsense at this point.

  Her anger surprised her. Used to criticizing herself when someone confronted her, Pauline found she no longer felt that way. She was not a canary, she was an eagle. She had just never noticed it before. She was not going to let the likes of Cornelius cage her.

  I will trust my own heart on this. I will find out the truth.

  An groan of pain brought her to the present, and the scent, faintly, of blood. She turned her focus instantly to the bed.

  “...and just one more like that, my lady. We'll soon her him.” the doctor informed.

  Her sister screamed and Pauline covered her ears, striding to the bed. She felt a blind anger toward the two who stood by the bedside. Why could they not reduce her pain?

  “And I have his head...” the doctor was saying. “And...there! Congratulations, my lady.”

  Pauline stared. Ignoring the blood and mess of birth, she found her eyes drawn to a small, impossibly-fragile presence. He – or she, Pauline had no idea yet – was on his back, slippery and pinkish and so, so tiny.

  The doctor lifted him while the housekeeper tended to Matilda. He carried him to the basin of water and washed him, then wrapped him in a towel. Pauline shrank into the corner, not wanting to intrude or impose.

  “And congratulations, my lady. A healthy baby girl.”

  A girl? Pauline felt her cheeks flush with warmth and her eyes sting. Matilda had a daughter?

  “Matilda...” she breathed. She stayed where she was, though, hands clasped, not wanting to intrude on the moment when her sister met her baby for the first time. It was a beautiful thing to see. Pale, exhausted, limp hair plastered to her forehead, Matilda was nevertheless radiantly lovely. She lifted the tiny bundle slowly, looking into her face.

  “My daughter,” she breathed. She was crying, tears golden in lamplight. “My Arabella.”

  Pauline smiled. It was a lovely name. Not one from their family. Trust Matilda to be unconventional. She watched Matilda study the small, wrinkled face, tracing the head with a fingertip. Her face softened into a picture of tenderness so absolute that it tore Pauline's heart. She looked at her hands, blinking rapidly herself. At length, she looked up.

  “Pauline?” Matilda called. She was smiling at her. She looked deathly pale but radiant.

  “Yes?”

  “Come. Come and see my daughter. Isn't she wonderful?”

  Pauline came across to join her. Looked down into the small, wrinkled face. Arabella's eyes were closed, and she was pink and solemn, a fluff of gold hair haloing her.

  “She looks like you and Henry mixed.” Pauline whispered. Matilda smiled.

  “I can see Henry's nose,” she commented. She laughed, but the laugh turned into a cough and Pauline's heart clenched.

  “Let me take her, milady,” the housekeeper said. She had been busy tidying and now she bent to lift the baby from Matilda's arms. “I'll put her in the cradle. See? We even fetched it in. She'll be safe by the fire. You rest yourself.”

  Matilda sighed, leaning back on the pillows. She looked up at Pauline. Her eyes were alarmingly sunken, the skin around them creased with tension and the signs of fever.

  “I will rest,” she sighed, eyes closing. “I'm cold. So cold...”

  Pauline stared. She had seen fever enough times to recognize it now. She looked at the housekeeper.

  “Where's the doctor?”

  “He just left, ma'am,” the maid commented. “Soldier arrived from Upton while he was here – said he was needed at a house there. He left as soon as the babe came. Why?”

  “We need him.”

  The housekeeper blinked at her, seeming to disbelieve her. Then she glanced at the bed. Matilda was starting to shiver.

  “You're right, Ma'am. We do.”

  “I'm going to go and get him.”

  Ignoring the housekeeper's insistent protests, Pauline walked briskly from the room and down the steps. She met Henry coming up.

  “Go in, Henry. I'm going out.”

  “Pauline? I spoke with Doctor Mallory earlier. He said the babe's arrived?”

  “Yes. Congratulations, Henry. Now, go to her.”

  Henry smiled dazedly. “Thank you. But...Pauline?”

  “Yes?” she called from halfway-down.

  “Where are you going? Don't you want to celebrate with us?”

  “I have to fetch the doctor. Matilda's sick.”

  Pauline didn't wait to hear any protest from Henry. She ran down the stairs and through the front door, out into the early evening and the garden that smelled of dew.

  Chapter 21

  “I will not stop. I cannot stop. Matilda needs me.”

  Pauline chanted it to herself, a litany to keep her upright, present and going as fast as she could in the direction of Upton village. The branches lashed her, the wind chilled her. She clung on, galloping through the forest.

  “I will not stop. I cannot stop. Matilda is dying.”

  The thought spurred her to greater effort. She knew it to be true. Matilda had that unearthly glow she had seen in people close to death. She needed the doctor. She needed him immediately.

  She wanted to scream at the housekeeper, at the messenger, the soldier who had summoned him. How could they have let the doctor go away? Matilda was ill before the child was born. That was why she came early. And now...and now it might be to late.

  t was dark in these reaches of it, and she did not know her way that well. Even though it was still an hour or two before dusk, the gloom pervaded here. She shivered.

  “Jasmine?” she called to the horse. “Whoa...”

  They slowed. The trees were denser here, forcing her to slow to a trot. She looked around, feeling her heart thump nervously. There was danger here.

  “I don't like this...” she said aloud. She heard a twig crack. Jasmine, her borrowed horse, shivered.

  “I'm not frightened,” she told herself determinedly.

  She heard footsteps in the loam. Her horse whinnied.

  “Let's go!” Pauline shouted, suddenly alarmed. She nudged Pea
rl forward and they risked a canter. Suddenly, the world shattered.

  “Oh!” Pauline screamed as her horse reared and she tipped backwards. She landed on the ground, Jasmine stamping and walking back, rearing in fright.

  “Jasmine?” Pauline called. Her head hurt. Her legs ached. Her arm was bruised and her fingers sent a message of dull ache her brain ignored. “What's the...Oh!”

  She screamed when she saw the men. Three of them, dressed shabbily, moving with the lithe ease of creatures born to stealth.

  “Hello, hello,” a man grinned. “Don't yell, lass. Or I'll kill ye.”

  Pauline screamed again, unable to help it. A hand descended on her neck, forcing her down.

  “I meant it,” the man in front of her said gruffly. “Hugh, let her up.”

  The hand disappeared. Pauline drew herself to kneeling. She looked around.

  Two of them were making a search of Jasmine, one holding her bridle, and she seemed to have calmed somewhat. She walked skittishly, though and Pauline, watching with the dull horror born of terror, wished she'd kick someone.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don't hurt me.”

  “I don't want to hurt you,” the man grinned, showing discolored teeth. He did not look as if he meant it well. “I want whatever you have.”

  “Please,” Pauline murmured. “Take everything. Here,” she added, taking off the silver ring she wore, reaching to unclasp her necklace. “Take it all. But leave me and the horse. I have to find the doctor...”

  “Oh?” the man whispered. Suddenly, he was before her, and the knife in his hand that had appeared so fast she hadn't noticed it, pressed her throat. “You're not moving.”

  “Please!” Pauline screamed. She felt rage and terror mix into an urgency she'd never felt. The knife bit deeper.

  “I said, don't scream.”

  “I...”

  Just then, a gunshot shattered the silence. One of the men shouted and another drew a weapon. Jasmine reared and bolted into the woods. The man on her right chased her and then screamed as another shot followed him.

  The man who knelt with her backed away. He looked up. Pauline turned. She could see horse's feet.

  “You will leave, and you will live,” a voice, strangely flat and toneless, said from overhead. “I will give you until the count of ten. One, two, three, four, five...”

  Pauline saw the man hesitate, considering the statement. She could almost read his mind as he calculated the distance to spring at the man, the chance of stabbing him before the gun went off.

  He spat. Turned and ran.

  Pauline was alone on the ground.

  She rolled into a ball and sobbed. Terror had taken hold of her and with it she was so, so tired. She rolled up, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn't think of anything in that moment – all strength had left her. All she wished was to stay here, balled up, and weep.

  “My lady,” a gentle voice said, and she heard feet walking over the leaf-mold. Someone knelt down. Arms embraced her. She breathed in. Breathing in the scent of cloves and musk and cleanness, she stared.

  “Valerian?”

  “Yes,” he murmured, stroking her hair, holding her close. “Yes, it's me. Pauline. Oh, Pauline! Thank God you're safe...”

  Pauline sobbed soundlessly, feeling yet another tear roll down her cheek slowly. “Valerian?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “We have to go...village. Upton. Fetch the doctor,” she sobbed, feeling the exhausted terror become the first edge of desperation. “We need him. Matilda's dying.”

  Valerian stared at her. Then he nodded.

  “Come, sweetling. On my horse. We'll go directly. Upton's not far. Look. There it is. Just another mile now. See the lights?” he said, helping her to stand.

  “Yes...” Pauline breathed out. She could see lights, about a mile down the path that left the woodland. She had been close.

  “Well, then. Up you get. Up onto Bruno. He'll take us there. Come, now. Not too far...”

  Talking encouraging nonsense, Valerian helped her mount his horse, then swung up behind her. They walked slowly out of the clearing. About ten paces into the woods they found her horse.

  “Come on,” Valerian called to the horse. “Walk on. Easy.”

  When she came, skittish and white-eyed, toward him, he took her bridle. The presence of Bruno steadied her, for she stood, shuddering and frightened, beside them. Then she snorted, shook her head once as if throwing off the terror, and followed them slowly.

  “There we are,” Valerian murmured. His arm was round Pauline's waist, his other hand holding the reins. Jasmine followed them without his leading. Together they walked from the woods.

  Pauline leaned back, feeling his warmth seep into her. His cloak covered them both. This close she could smell him and feel, through her back, his heartbeat. She closed her eyes, feeling safe. Very soon she was asleep.

  Chapter 22

  Pauline woke when they reached the village. She heard Valerian speak to the watchman and receive instructions as to where the doctor was. She turned to crane her neck, looking up at Valerian as they set off.

  “Where are we..?”

  “Hush,” he interrupted her gently. “Almost there. Sleep.” He kissed her hair. Pauline turned round but did not sleep.

  They reached the house and Valerian slid out of the saddle, knocking at the door. The owner of the inn appeared, and then, two minutes later, the doctor followed. Valerian explained to him what they needed and he nodded, lifting his bag and hurrying to the stables.

  “He's coming,” he told Pauline when he came back. He slid his foot into the stirrup, swinging up behind her. “He'll ride there directly. We can go.”

  “Oh, Valerian,” Pauline murmured, feeling too weary even to think clearly.

  She leaned against him and, as the terror wore off and the numbness with it, she became aware of the feeling of his arm around her. He drew her to his chest, making her feel warm and safe and cherished. She sighed. The feel of his heartbeat, strong and insistent, thrummed through her. She nestled against him and he held her firmer.

  “Valerian?” she whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  He chuckled. She barely heard it, but she felt the shivery breath that meant he was laughing. She nestled closer, feeling his warmth thrill through her.

  “Don't thank me,” he said gently. “I'm the one who's grateful. Thank God I found you!” He loosened his grip suddenly, relief numbing him, then abruptly tightened it as she shifted sideways.

  “I do thank God for it,” Pauline whispered, trying to make her hands grip the pommel of the saddle despite her weariness. “But thank you, too.”

  He chuckled. His breath blew into her hair, warming her. “Not at all.”

  Pauline smiled. She heard his cheeks lift and knew he smiled, too. The warmth that suffused her heart was such that she cleared her throat, feeling her face tense with tears.

  “Valerian?” she said tremulously.

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  Valerian sighed; she felt his chest push against her. He gathered her tightly in his arms, both of them wrapped around as if she was a precious cargo of Venetian glassware.

  “Pauline,” he whispered into her hair. “I have known it since first I met you. I never thought I'd have a chance to say it...I love you too.”

  His arms tightened about her and Pauline leaned back, feeling the steady beat of his heart through her clothing. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the moment flow over her.

  She felt the steady throb of her heart and heard the clop of hoof-beats as their horse joined the road and smelled the dew and the crisp green scent of evening as they rode up toward the manor. Her heart swam in warmth and melting softness and she wanted the moment to remain forever.

  When they reached the house, he stopped. She felt his arms unclasp and he dismounted, then she heard the scuff of his boots on the gravel as he leaned forward, r
eaching upward.

  “Let me help you,” he said, holding out his arms so she could, slowly, slide her feet into the stirrup and step down, into his waiting arms. She leaned against his chest. Looked into his eyes.

  “Pauline,” he murmured, stroking her.

  “Valerian.”

  They kissed. It was a tender dance of his lips with hers and when he stepped away, her heart was full of wonder. He grinned at her, a little shakily.

  “I should go,” he said softly. “I want to see you safely in, though, my dear.”

  Pauline smiled. She lifted the knocker and tapped. The door opened.

  As she stepped in past the butler, his face tense and worried, an explanation of how distressed the household had been on his lips, she turned and waved.

  “My thanks, Lieutenant Harrington.”

  “See you tomorrow?” he asked. He bowed, eyes dazzlingly-bright.

  “Until tomorrow, then,” Pauline agreed softly.

  Then, stepping past the confused man in the hallway, she mounted the stairs, heading to her chamber. At the top, she sat down, too exhausted to move. Her ears carried the sound of talk from Matilda's bedroom.

  “...and she will rest easy now. All is well.” The doctor speaking.

  Henry coughed. “I cannot thank you enough, doctor Mallory. My thanks.” His voice was raw. Pauline, hearing it, felt her own heart weep with it.

  “You don't need to thank me, milord. Glad I could help. Glad she's recovering.”

  Pauline, hearing that, felt the knot inside her suddenly unwind. She was safe. Matilda was safe. She was recovering and the doctor had done his work. All was well.

  She lay against the bannister, eyes closed. Her body was weak with the ride, the tension, and the terror. Before she even knew what was happening, she was asleep.

  She woke to the scent of herbs and someone shaking her wrist.

  “My lady?” a voice hissed – the housekeeper. “My lady! Wake up!”

  “Leave her,” Henry's voice said. He, too, sounded finished. “Let me take her up.”

  Pauline felt hands gently touch her shoulders, drawing her to her feet. She stumbled up, almost slipping on the carpet on the stairs. She held the railing and let Henry put an arm under hers.