Opal tried to move her hands and became aware that one of them was firmly strapped up. The other fell to her stomach and panic set in. It was soft and wobbly, so where was her baby?
‘M-my baby? Please, where is it?’ She gripped the doctor’s hand with her one good one, tears rolling down her cheeks and smarting as they came into contact with the stitches.
Looking very sad the doctor shook his head. ‘I’m afraid we couldn’t save it. You had a little boy. He was born far too soon, but the shock of the fall would probably have killed him anyway. I’m so very sorry, Mrs King.’
‘No, no!’ Heedless of the pain it caused, Opal’s head wagged from side to side. ‘It can’t be true. I want my baby. Please . . .’
She saw the doctor nod at the nurse, and suddenly she felt a sharp sting in her arm and within seconds the darkness was claiming her again and she welcomed it. Anything was better than having to face the heartbreak she was feeling.
Back at the house, Blanche Wood was humming to herself as she delivered the week’s menus to the cook. Opal had been lying in hospital at death’s door for four days, so Blanche felt it was highly unlikely she would wake, and that would suit her just fine. The timing couldn’t have been better now that she was carrying Henry’s child. With Opal gone, he was sure to make an honest woman of her, if only for the sake of the baby, and then at last she could assume what she had always considered should be her rightful place in the household. She had just left the kitchen when Henry appeared from his study and she asked innocently, ‘Is there any change in the mistress?’
He shook his head, his expression dark. ‘I haven’t contacted the hospital as yet today, but there was no change last night when I called in and the doctor did say that the longer she remained unconscious, the less likely it would be that she would ever wake up. She’ll probably just slip away in her sleep.’
Much as my son did, he thought bitterly, although he didn’t voice it.
Blanche was tempted to ask him what his intentions towards her were now that she was with child, but he had been walking about like a bear with a sore head, so she decided it was probably wise to bide her time. Best to wait till the jumped-up bitch from Rapper’s Hole was dead and gone before making her move.
‘Is there anything I can get for you?’ she simpered. She had waited on him hand and foot since the day of the accident – she wanted him to see how indispensable she was – but he merely waved her aside.
‘No, nothing. I have to get to court now. Oh, and don’t bother with a meal for me this evening. I shall be going straight out when I’ve finished.’
Disappointment clouded her face. With the upstart out of the way, she had been hoping to dine with him, but she kept her voice even as she forced a smile and answered, ‘Very well.’ She glanced about to make sure they were alone then, before whispering coyly, ‘But just in case you should feel in need of a bit of company when you get in, I shall leave my bedroom door unlocked.’
He glared at her before snatching his hat and coat from the tall mahogany coat stand that stood next to the grandfather clock, and stormed out of the house, banging the door resoundingly behind him.
In the kitchen the mood was low. ‘Do you reckon Mrs Wood might give me an hour off this afternoon so I can go to the hospital and see how the young mistress is?’ Eve asked the cook. They had both been so worried about Opal that they had barely been able to concentrate on anything.
‘You could ask; she’d have to be pretty heartless to refuse yer.’ The cook paused in the act of kneading the dough and sighed. ‘Though from what the master said, I don’t hold out much hope fer the poor soul now. God bless ’er!’
‘I’ll go and ask her right now,’ Eve decided and before she lost her nerve she hurried away.
She found Mrs Wood going through the household accounts, and as the woman glanced up Eve blurted, ‘Please may I have an hour off this afternoon to go an’ see the mistress, Mrs Wood?’
A refusal hovered on the woman’s lips, but then she thought better of it. Henry hadn’t really kept her properly informed of Opal’s condition but Eve would when she got back, she was sure.
‘Yes, of course you may.’
‘Oh . . . thanks.’ Eve looked vaguely surprised, before bobbing her knee and disappearing before the housekeeper could change her mind.
And so, just before four o’clock that afternoon, the official visiting time, Eve stood in a queue of visitors outside Opal’s ward, clutching a rather bedraggled-looking bunch of flowers. She wasn’t even sure if her young mistress would be awake to see them, but she hadn’t liked to come empty-handed.
On the stroke of four, a fresh-faced young nurse appeared to admit them, and as Eve walked down the ward, her heart was in her throat, wondering what she would find. However, she was delighted to see that Opal was awake, at least, even though she looked as if she had been in a boxing ring with a heavyweight champion. An ugly scar ran down one side of her cheek and her lovely face was so badly cut and bruised that Eve almost didn’t recognise her. But her delight at seeing her awake made her face glow.
Opal was propped up on pillows with one arm heavily strapped in a thick bandage, but at sight of Eve she managed a weak smile.
‘Eeh, ma’am. Yer give us a right scare,’ Eve told her, as she sat down on the chair at the side of the bed. ‘We thought yer was a gonner fer sure fer a time back there . . . an me an’ Cook, we’re so sorry about the baby.’
Tears instantly started to roll down Opal’s discoloured cheeks, and Eve could have bitten her tongue out as she reached to take the unbandaged hand lying limply on top of the bedspread. ‘Oh, me an’ me big mouth. Cook’s allus tellin’ me it’ll get me hanged one o’ these days! But how are you? Have they given you any idea how long yer might be in ’ere?’
Opal shook her head. ‘Not yet, although they’ve said it could be a while.’ She really didn’t care. In truth, she didn’t much care about anything at the minute. All she could think about was the beautiful baby boy she would never hold in her arms.
‘It were a rum do, you slippin’ like that,’ Eve said sadly.
Opal shook her head. ‘But I didn’t slip.’ Her eyes were two great pools of misery in her bruised and battered face. ‘Someone pushed me, Eve, I know it!’
Eve looked shocked, but before she could comment, someone stopped at the end of the bed and, glancing up, Opal saw Emma Dawson-Myers standing there, looking very pretty in a matching bonnet and cloak. She recognised her from her visits to the house.
She smiled at Eve. Then, rounding the bed she placed a gentle kiss on Opal’s swollen cheek. ‘Oh, my poor dear, Peter and I were so upset when we heard what had happened.’ Emma’s eyes were kindly, which made Opal cry all the harder. ‘Is there anything at all I can do for you?’
Opal shook her head. She wanted to say, Yes you can give me my baby back, but the words stayed trapped inside as Eve stood up to give Emma her seat.
‘I, er . . . ought to be gettin’ back now,’ she mumbled. ‘But we’ll look forward to havin’ you back home again, ma’am. Bye fer now.’
Opal smiled at her – a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes – and Eve’s kindly heart went out to her. ‘Thank you, Eve. Goodbye for now.’
Eve set off down the ward, her mind whirling. What could the mistress have meant? Someone pushed her! The poor soul was clearly in a bad way, so perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her? Eve could only assume so, after all, Opal was one of the kindest people she had ever met, so who would want to hurt her?
‘How was she?’ Cook asked the second Eve stepped through the door.
‘Well, she’s awake at least, but I think she’s a bit confused.’ As Eve removed her bonnet, she went on to tell her what Opal had said.
Cook frowned. ‘The only one I can think of who don’t like the mistress is Esther Partridge,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘An’ come to think of it, she were the one who told the master she’d seen the missus by the quarry. You don’t think she cou
ld ’ave had anythin’ to do wi’ it, do yer?’
Eve shrugged as she took her coat off. ‘I doubt we’ll ever know now. But one thing’s for sure, the way the master is carryin’ on he’ll never forgive her fer losin’ that baby.’
‘Hm, I think yer could be right,’ Cook agreed, turning to fill the kettle as Eve fetched cups and saucers.
It was not until the following day that Henry bothered to call in to the hospital again, and for the first time since the accident, he found his wife awake.
Her eyes filled with tears as he stared at her with contempt. With her ugly scar and disfigured face, she looked nothing at all like the lovely young woman he had married.
‘So . . . you’re awake then?’ he commented rather un-necessarily, and his face told her all she needed to know. He wished that she wasn’t.
‘Y-yes I . . . Oh, Henry, I’m so sorry about the baby. I know how much you wanted a son. But believe me I am hurting too and—’
He held his hand up to silence her, his eyes flashing fire. ‘Had you listened to me this need never have happened,’ he spat through gritted teeth. ‘Didn’t I tell you to avoid walking that way? But would you listen? No, of course not. You knew best!’
‘Henry . . . please . . . you don’t understand,’ she cried. ‘I didn’t fall, I was pushed. I saw—’
‘Pah!’ His raised voice made the patients in the nearby beds glance towards them in alarm. ‘Just send word when they are going to discharge you and I will send a carriage for you!’
And with that he walked away leaving Opal to stare helplessly after him. She knew then that their marriage was over. Henry was never going to forgive her for the loss of their son. At the same instant a face flashed into her mind and she gasped. The dark-green cloak! Esther Partridge. It must have been her who had pushed her – who else could it be? She had been a thorn in Opal’s side since the day Henry had proposed to her. Not that she could do anything about it – she had no proof. Once again tears coursed down her face and she sobbed for the child she had lost as if her heart would break.
Chapter Forty-Three
Henry returned home late that evening to find Blanche waiting for him.
‘So, she’s awake?’ she said tartly, her hands folded primly at her waist.
He nodded as he threw his hat in the direction of the coat stand. It was clear that Blanche was no more pleased with the news than he was. She had been hoping that Opal would never wake up, which would leave the way clear for herself and her unborn child, but now she would have to rethink what they were going to do.
After following him into the drawing room, she watched as he poured a large measure of whisky into a glass and swallowed it back in one gulp.
‘What are we going to do about this child then?’ Her hand rested on her stomach. ‘This is yours just as much as the other one was, and I can assure you I shall take far better care of it than that hussy did of hers.’
Henry suddenly looked weary as he ran his hand across his eyes. ‘Do we have to do this this evening?’ he said. ‘It’s been quite a long day.’
But Blanche was not going to be put off so easily. Her hopes of becoming his wife had died when Opal woke up, but she was determined to make sure that he shouldered responsibility for their child.
‘I’m afraid we do have to do it today,’ she told him calmly and he looked at her in amazement. She had always been so pliable but now her eyes were cold.
‘It’s obvious that I shan’t be able to remain here,’ she went on. ‘This is not a condition that I will be able to hide for much longer and so I have already started to look for a small cottage. I shall have the child there and you can visit us when you can.’
Henry’s eyes stretched wide. ‘What? You are telling me that you want me to establish you somewhere as my mistress and keep you both?’
‘That is exactly what I am saying.’ Her nostrils flared as she leaned towards him. ‘At least that way we can continue to be discreet. What is the alternative? After all, you wouldn’t wish it to become common knowledge that you had put me in the family way and abandoned me and your unborn child, surely? Think of what that would do for your reputation!’
Henry was astounded. She had clearly given this a lot of thought, and the worst of it was he knew she was right. It was acceptable for a man of his social standing to have a mistress tucked away somewhere, but he would be classed as a cad if he were to turn her out with nowhere to go and not a penny to her name.
‘In that case I suppose you had better continue to look for somewhere,’ he answered.
She smiled. It wasn’t the outcome she had hoped for, but at least this way she and her baby would be sure of a comfortable life with no money worries.
‘I shall begin to make enquiries immediately.’ She inclined her head and sailed out of the room, leaving Henry feeling as if bad luck was coming at him from all directions. Once again he was to become a father, but to a child he could never lay claim to, for it would be a bastard. Life seemed very unfair.
Over the next two weeks, Opal slowly improved. The bruises faded to pale yellows and lilacs and the stitches were taken out of her cheek, although they left an ugly scar. Her broken arm and ribs still pained her, but physically she grew a little stronger with each day that passed. Mentally, though, it was another story, and sometimes she wondered how she would ever get over the loss of her child. She had started to have nightmares in which she saw Esther creeping up behind her and shoving her over the edge of the quarry. She would wake in a lather of sweat and tangled damp sheets, and the nurses would rush to give her laudanum.
But at last the day came when the doctors decided that she was well enough to go home.
‘Can you arrange for someone to come and pick you up tomorrow?’ one of them asked her.
Opal nodded, not at all sure that she wanted to go home – if she could call it that. The only visitors she had had were the cook, Eve and Emma. Henry had not so much as shown his face once since the evening he had blamed her for the baby’s death.
‘Yes,’ she answered dully.
When Eve visited later that afternoon, Opal asked her to relay the news to Henry. ‘Of course, I’ll let the master know,’ the good-natured girl told her. ‘But you’ll never guess what – Mrs Wood has left.’
Opal raised her eyebrow. ‘What do you mean, left?’
‘Just that.’ Eve spread her hands. ‘She told us a couple of days ago that she was going to live in a little cottage in Church Lane in Weddington and this morning a cart came and she were off wi’out so much as a backward glance.’
‘Really?’ If truth be told Opal wasn’t sorry; Mrs Wood had made her feel like an interloper in her own home and Opal wouldn’t miss her. ‘But she’s a little young to be retiring, isn’t she? Or has she taken up another position?’
‘I ain’t got no idea.’ Eve grinned. ‘But don’t you get worryin’ about it. We’ll muddle along just fine.’
Opal nodded.
‘Anyway, I’d best get home an’ get everythin’ ready for you.’ Eve could see that her young mistress was getting tired. ‘An’ I want to call in an’ see me family on the way home, so if you’re sure there’s nothin’ you need, I’ll be off.’
‘Yes, of course, thank you.’ As Opal watched the maid walk away, she was envious of her. Eve’s parents and her younger brother lived in a small two-up, two-down house in Stratford Street, and although they weren’t rich they were close, and Eve adored them. Opal blinked back tears as she thought back to the time when she too had had a family, but she had no one now and suddenly the loneliness threatened to choke her.
The next day Eve arrived at the hospital, with a valise containing Opal’s clothes, to take her home. The clothes she had been wearing on the day she fell were ruined beyond repair, and anyway they would have been far too big for her now. Eve pulled the curtains about the bed to offer them some privacy, but with Opal’s injured arm and ribs it took some time to help her struggle into her clothes and by the ti
me they were done Opal was exhausted.
‘Come on, ma’am. Let’s get you home an’ tucked up safe in yer own bed, eh?’ Eve said kindly, as she tied the ribbons of Opal’s bonnet beneath her chin. ‘The carriage is just outside, so lean on me.’
On the way out, Opal thanked the sister and the nurses for their care, and soon after she sighed as she settled into the seat in the carriage. In a strange way, she almost didn’t want to go home. She had felt safe in hospital, but now she was nervous about facing Henry again after his outburst. He clearly blamed her for the loss of the baby, and she knew she would be wasting her time if she tried to convince him that someone had pushed her. Even so, she knew that she had to go home sometime so she decided it was just as well to get it over and done with. Suddenly, she thought of Charlie and guilt stabbed at her.
‘Charlie.’ She gripped Eve’s arm. ‘He is safe at home, isn’t he?’
Eve licked her lips and avoided her arms. ‘Actually, he isn’t at home . . . but he is safe,’ she quickly assured her as she saw the fear in her young mistress’s face. ‘The master got it into his head that it was his fault you had the accident, and he wouldn’t have him back in the house. So that nice young man, Will, took him back to live with him an’ his family at the cottages. I saw him yesterday, as it happens, and he asked me to tell you that you can go and see Charlie an’ take him for a walk whenever you want.’
Opal noticed the blush on her cheeks. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, Eve was quite taken with the young man. She herself now had something else to thank him for. He had saved her life and given a home to her beloved pet. So, as soon as she was able, she would make sure he was reimbursed for his trouble; it was the least she could do. But oh, she would miss Charlie so very much! He had become her confidant and faithful companion and it was hard to imagine her life without him.
The Winter Promise Page 32