“Jesu help me,” Alex whispered. “What am I to do?”
“Are you sorry that he came here?”
“Oh, God in heaven, no. When I saw him all I wanted to do was take his hand and run out the door, get as far away from the cares of this place as my feet could take me, and be with him forever.”
“But you can’t do that.”
“You know I can’t. Even if I disregarded Lord Selby, which would be most unfeeling and ungrateful of me, I would give my child an adulteress for a mother. I care nothing for my own reputation, but it’s not fair to brand a child for its mother’s misdeeds.”
“So you are caught in a net.”
“Of my own making, I’m afraid.”
“They are usually the tightest traps, are they not?”
“It will be very difficult to persuade Burke to go.”
“Do you really want him to?”
“No.”
“That’s why it will be difficult. He knows you, he can tell what you feel.”
“I must talk to him tonight at dinner,” Alex said, thinking aloud. “The very least I can do is offer him a good hearty meal. He looks half-starved.”
“I fear he must have gone through quite a lot to get to you,” Mary observed quietly.
“I don’t even want to think about it.” Alex caught her friend’s eye. “He said something about the navy.”
“The navy?”
Alex swallowed. “I think he deserted.”
“Deserted!” Mary gasped. “They hang deserters, doesn’t he know that?”
“They hang them if they catch them. I don’t think he’s planning on getting caught.”
“He’s a fugitive, then.”
“Probably.”
“He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the fact.”
“He’s accustomed to it. He was a fugitive in Ireland for many years.”
“This gets worse every minute,” Mary said with despair in her voice.
“One thing at a time.” Alex folded her hands, trying to stay calm. “Would you please ask Mrs. Curry to supervise an excellent dinner, perhaps the venison stored in the smokehouse from the last deer Evans got in November.”
“I’m not sure how much of it is left.”
“Ask. And I’ll want the Rhenish wine, and some of those glazed figs Lord Selby had sent from Italy, and the honey cakes the cook gets from the beekeeper’s wife in the village.”
“I’ll attend to it,” Mary said.
“And tell her I do not wish to eat in the dining room.”
“Why?”
“I will have no appetite, surrounded by all the portraits of Lord Selby’s ancestors on the walls,” Alex said.
“I can’t tell Mrs. Curry that.”
“Tell her it’s too chilly in that great room, the heat of the fire never penetrates its corners, and I desire to be served in here.”
Mary nodded.
“And wish me luck.”
“I do so, with all my heart.”
Alex watched her friend’s departing back until the door had closed behind her.
* * * *
That evening the food was everything Alex could have wished, and Burke ate as if he were consuming a condemned man’s last meal. Alex watched him raptly, devouring the sight of him as he devoured the dinner. Shorn of the beard and the excess hair, he looked much like his old self, even though his wrists protruded from John Selby’s sleeves and the prominent bones of his face made him resemble a sprouting teenager. He finally sat back with a goblet of wine in his hand and surveyed Alex across the makeshift dining table.
“What’s all this in aid of?” he said. “Are you fattening me up for the kill?”
“Don’t joke about it,” Alex said. “I have a good idea you’re on the run from the navy, and I know what the penalty for that is.”
“They won’t find me,” he said, taking a sip from his silver cup.
“Oh, how do you know? Why do you take such chances?”
“I had little choice.” He told her about his adventures on the high seas and concluded, “So it was either spend the rest of my life on one of Her Majesty’s ships or come here and find you.”
“Does that happen all the time, vessels just kidnapping people at sea and forcing them into the navy?”
He looked at her as if she were incredibly naive. “Yes, Alexandra, it does. That’s only one of the many reasons my people were so unhappy with your queen’s government.”
“But they may be looking for you,” Alex said.
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t a very skilled seaman, I did nothing another could not do as well in my place. They’ll replace my body with somebody else’s in short order and forget me.”
“I hope that you are right.”
“So is there anything else we can talk about?” he asked. “The sun, the moon, the latest predictions of the future from Dr. Dee, the deserts of Arabia? You’ve done a fine job of avoiding the topic most heavily on both our minds.”
“I don’t know what to say about it.”
“Yes, you do. You have a speech all prepared, I’ll warrant. You’re waiting for the right moment to tell me that we must make the ultimate sacrifice. You must stay with your old goat of a husband and I must go ... to hell, I suppose.”
“Please,” Alex said, looking away from him.
“Oh, have I put it badly? Perhaps you would like to rephrase it for me.”
“You phrased it well enough.”
He stood abruptly, almost upsetting his chair. “You have turned into such a prig, Alexandra! There was a time, short months ago, when you would have done anything to be with me. Now you sit there with your little whey face, swathed in maternal stateliness like a nun in her habit, and tell me to go scratch. If I had known motherhood would do this to you I never would have touched you.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“I feel terrible. You’re more concerned with getting your husband’s fortune for the babe than you are with me.”
“My husband’s estate is entailed for his existing son,” Alex said.
“Entailed, what is that?”
“All the property goes to him, with support provisions for his sister, Selby’s daughter, and a small legacy for me.”
“Then why not come with me?”
Alex put her palms flat on the table and was silent a long moment. Then she answered him with a question.
“Do you know what it’s like for a woman to bear an illegitimate child in this kingdom?” she asked. “I’m not talking about a peasant woman or a slattern, but a woman of good family, whose conduct at court, and in all of England, is watched and noticed, a woman like myself?”
He was silent, watching her.
“Ostracism is the best that can happen to her, becoming a charge upon a charity is a strong possibility, beggary is the worst. When I thought I could stay in Ireland with you, the propriety of my conduct did not matter, but when I knew I must come back here, well . . .” She trailed off. “Eight years ago,” she went on, “when one of Her Majesty’s waiting maids became pregnant by Walter Raleigh, and it seemed for a time that Raleigh would not marry her, the maid tried to kill herself. Twice. Even after they were married and the child was born, the queen sent them both to the Tower to contemplate their misdeed.”
Burke made as if to speak, but she held up her hand.
“Allow me to finish. When it was discovered that Lady Mary Grey had made a secret marriage without the queen’s permission, Her Majesty had the husband thrown into prison for three years. His wife never saw him again, and when he died, even her request to wear mourning was refused.”
“Are you telling me that your queen is a tyrant? Lady, this much I know!”
“I am describing to you the state you left me in, the state from which James Selby rescued me. I won’t forget that, no matter how skillfully you might play upon my feelings to get me to do so. If I went off with you now, he would be a laughingstock, not
to mention the effect upon the child I carry, who would never be able to live in this country without accompanying whispers of scandal. This may not be the fate I would have chosen, but it is the one which was chosen for me by my untimely pregnancy.”
“I never meant to leave you in such a miserable case, Alex,” he said softly.
“I know, and I don’t blame you. I was more eager to bed you than you were to take me.”
“I would not say that,” he replied, smiling slightly.
“Then let’s say that neither of us considered the possible consequences. Is that fairly stated?”
He said nothing.
“I had to do something to help myself. This is what I did, and I intend to fulfill my part of the bargain,” she said.
He studied her face, then looked away. “As stubborn as ever,” he said. “But this is the first time it has been turned against me.”
“I’m not against you, Kevin,” she said, willing herself not to cry. “I wish with every fiber of my being that I could do what you want. But I can’t.”
She would never forget the look on his face as he finally understood that she really, truly meant it. He stared hard at her, took a deep breath, and then bent his gaze upon the floor. In all the time she’d known him, he had not once looked defeated, but he did so in that moment.
“Do you want me to go now?”
“No!” she gasped, and stood, reaching out for him before she could stop herself.
He was at her side in two strides, pulling her into his arms and kissing her as she had wanted him to from her first sight of him that day. She responded helplessly, but as he grew wilder, trying to make up for their separation in these stolen moments, she pulled away, stumbling blindly a few steps until he caught her again.
“Don’t,” she moaned. “I haven’t the strength, don’t press me.”
He released her, easing her back onto her chair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to upset you. I’ll go.”
She caught his hand as he moved away. “You can stay in John’s room, Mrs. Curry made it up for you.”
“Can I see you in the morning?”
She shook her head, her eyes brimming. “It’s best this way.”
“All right. I’ll leave at first light.”
“Good-bye,” Alex whispered.
“I love you,” he said. “I always will.”
“Please go,” she murmured, raising her palm to her lips to seal them. She didn’t move until she heard the door close behind him, and then she buried her face in her hands.
* * * *
Alex awoke in the middle of the night with the worst backache she’d ever had in her life. She shifted position to get more comfortable and then realized the bed beneath her was soaking wet.
The fire was dying in the grate and the room was cold. She felt for the candle on her nightstand and lurched out of bed, wincing as pain spread outward through her abdomen. She lit the candle from the embers and made her way slowly to the hall, pausing every time a wave of pain engulfed her.
“Mary!” she hissed as she entered her friend’s room, sagging against the wall.
Mary stirred but didn’t wake.
Alex staggered a few more steps and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “Mary!” she said more loudly, shaking the other woman’s shoulder firmly.
“What is it?” Mary said thickly, rolling over and surveying Alex with her hair draped over one eye.
“I think the baby’s coming,” Alex said.
Mary sat bolt upright, instantly awake. “Are you sure?”
“Well, I have these pains, and I lost all this water...”
Mary threw off the covers, standing up in her shift and looking around for her robe. “Isn’t it too soon?”
“By a few weeks, but Mrs. Curry said the first one often comes early.”
“I was afraid his showing up here would bring this on,” Mary said, fastening her robe and taking the candle from Alex’s hand.
“Don’t blame Burke for this,” Alex said, seizing Mary’s arm. “Oh, my God, this can’t be happening with him here! Mary, you have to take charge of him, make sure he doesn’t do anything—” She gasped and bent double, her face going white.
“You leave him to me,” Mary said. “You must stay alone for a moment, I need to wake Mrs. Curry. Evans has to go for the midwife. Will you be all right?”
Alex nodded, unable to speak. Sweat was beading on her forehead and she could feel it running down her sides under her nightgown, despite the chill of the room.
Mary ran out, and Alex waited in a haze of pain for her return. When she came back Mrs. Curry was with her and both women hurried to settle Alex down on the bed.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, my lady,” Mrs. Curry said. “I’ve had five children of my own, and Mother Gansey, the midwife, has seen more children into the world than you have seen sunrises. You’ll be just fine, and before very long that bonny babe of yours will be sleeping in your arms.”
Alex bit her lip to keep from screaming. The pains were coming faster and stronger. She grabbed Mary’s hand and gasped, “Mary, remember what I said.”
“I will.”
“What did she say?” Mrs. Curry asked.
“It’s nothing, she was babbling,” Mary said.
“Can you stay with her? I want to see that Evans has gone.”
Mrs. Curry patted Alex’s hand. “We’ll be quite well, won’t we, my lady?”
Mary slipped from the room and scurried down the hall to Burke’s chamber. When she tapped he opened the door immediately, wearing John Selby’s too short riding breeches and nothing else.
“What’s going on?” he said. “I heard voices.”
“Burke, you must listen to me,” Mary said.
“What is it? Is Alex all right?”
“She’s started.”
“Started what?”
“The baby is coming.”
Comprehension dawned, and he thrust her aside to push past her, but Mary seized his arm and hung on for dear life. When he moved to shake her off she twined her leg with his to trip him.
“Leave off me!” he said, trying not to hurt her but still determined to proceed.
“If you burst in there now, Mrs. Curry will know that you’re the father. Is that what you want, after Alex has worked so hard to keep it a secret and ensure the child’s future?”
“But I have to see that she’s well!”
“I will keep you informed. You must stay here, and I promise I will report to you on her progress.”
They both looked up as a faint cry pierced the stillness of the winter night.
“She’s dying,” he said, agonized.
“She’s not dying, on my oath she is not dying. Birthing babies is a painful process. You must have seen your village women so engaged back home.”
“They weren’t Alex,” he said as if that explained everything. Then his expression darkened further. “Childbed fever is a great hazard, women expire of it all the time.”
“We will take strict loving care of her,” Mary said. “Most women have come through this experience as hale and hearty as combatants in a tilt-yard.”
“They weren’t having my child!”
“You must not say so!” Mary hissed. “To anyone!”
“And the infants often die, too. It is a common experience, is it not?” he said with a moan.
Mary took his hand and led him back into the room, and he followed as meekly as a child. He sank onto the edge of the bed and thrust his hands into his already disordered hair.
“You must cease this foolishness,” she said, kindly but sternly. “My care must be all for Alex. I can’t be worried about what you might do while I am attending her. I promised her that I would control you, but if I stay with you and indulge these fancies of yours, I cannot be with her. You must bear your concern in silence, and I must go to assist with the birth. Do you understand me?”
He nodded miserably, chastened.
“I�
��ll be back as soon as I am able. Give me your word that you will stay here and say nothing to anyone.”
“You have my word on it,” he said quietly.
When Mary left the room, Burke was overcome with loneliness. Fear for Alex produced such a longing to be with her that only Mary’s warning kept him where he was.
There was little mystery about childbirth for him; as Mary had said, village women had been having children practically under his nose for most of his life. But he had never been so emotionally involved before, and the thought that his love for Alex might be the indirect cause of her death drove him to distraction. The subdued cries and anxious voices floating down the hall did nothing to help his state of mind. There was a commotion when the midwife arrived, and Burke finally got up and shut the door completely to block out whatever he could of the sounds accompanying the drama.
The night seemed endless. He could not judge the time, but it seemed like weeks before dawn streaked the sky and he heard, or thought he heard, the thin, piercing cry of a newborn babe.
Mary finally appeared, and he seized her as she came through the door.
“What?” he demanded.
“You have a son,” Mary said, beaming.
“Alex?”
“She’ll be fine,” Mary said. “She’s a bit tired now, of course, but everything went splendidly well, and both she and the baby look to be very healthy.”
Tears of relief came to Burke’s eyes, and Mary patted his hand awkwardly. He seemed stunned, but that was only to be expected; women always took first parenthood more in stride.
“I want to see her,” he finally said.
Mary shook her head. “Mrs. Curry is still with her, and the wet nurse Mother Gansey brought.”
“Wet nurse? Why does she need a wet nurse?”
“Her milk has not come in yet. With the first one it sometimes takes a few days. There’s no cause for alarm.”
“But I must be able to see her.”
“She’s probably sleeping now, and in any case we’ll have to wait until Mrs. Curry goes to bed and everyone else has left. I suggest you try to get some rest, too. I’ll come back for you as soon as it’s safe for you to go in to see her.”
Burke wasn’t happy, but he saw the wisdom in what she was saying. “Lady Howard,” he began.
“Mary.”
The Highwayman Page 18