by Shirley Roe
Harry appeared from behind the Lord Provost.
“It is an election year, Jenny. The Lord Provost is just playing politics. Good afternoon, Sir. Please do not speak to my wife again.” He took Jenny's arm and ushered her from the church. Jenny glanced at him over her shoulder. John Murphy was shocked. He looked around to see if anyone had overheard. Assured that the conversation remained private, he straightened his robes and went to greet his public.
“How do you know he wasn't sincere?” Jenny was a little miffed at Harry for his conduct.
“Because I know him and men like him. They have no conscience. Don't be angry, Love.”
“I'm not angry, I just think you could have been a bit more civil. No matter, let's get to the reception before Amy has my head.” Harry looked over his shoulder to see Murphy watching him from the church steps. Harry glared at him, This is not over yet.
Jenny and Harry set up house in a large manor on the hill overlooking the Firth of Forth in a most desirable sylvan setting. A driveway lined with trees wound from the gateway to the entrance porch and then round the back of the house to the extensive lawn and gardens.
The view of the river was exhilarating, and Jenny could not get enough of it. Every day she walked along the riverbank, watching the ships traveling inland to the dockyard at Rosyth. One day as she strolled along the path, she heard a faint cry. She stopped and listened. Looking in the bushes, she found a small, stray puppy. His fur was matted, and he was dirty. He looked up at her with big brown sad eyes. Jenny lifted him up and brought him home.
“Oh Jenny, what are you going to do with that beast?”
“I am going to have Cook give him a bath, and I am going to feed him.” Harry teased her that she was just like Zachariah, always bringing home strays. Jenny convinced him that a dog would be good protection when she went for her long walks. He agreed. He would agree to anything his Jenny wanted.
The dog proved to be a good companion for Jenny, and she walked him every day. She named him Hamish, much to Harry's amusement. The riverbank was her favorite walk. The huge Forth Railway Bridge loomed large on the horizon and Jenny was in awe of the engineering marvel.
The Mitchells had four servants. Harry had wanted more, but Jenny insisted four servants could handle the household chores. She had much to learn about running a large house with servants of her own. Sometimes she would think about her mother. Now I am the lady of the manor, Mother. I will always treat my servants with the utmost respect. Jenny was a very kind- hearted mistress.
The house was a large limestone construction. Eight bedrooms and several smaller rooms for servants made up the top floor. The main floor consisted of a great room, a study for Harry, filled with books, a large dining room and a kitchen. The gardens were formal and one of Jenny's favorite places to sit. Huge rhododendron bushes surrounded a large gazebo. Jenny sat with Hamish and relaxed in the gazebo overlooking the river. A book lay abandoned on her lap as she watched a large ship on the river. “Daydreaming, my Love?”
Harry came to sit with her. She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Just trying to decide if I am dreaming or if all of this is real. I love you, Harry. You have made my dreams c “You deserve all of it, Love. Amy and Gordon, or should I say, Mr. and Mrs. McDonald, will be back from Aviemore tomorrow. Perhaps the four of us will take a nice ride in the country. Would you like that?” He was always thinking of her. She loved to ride in the country and look at the beautiful Scottish landscape. Harry reached down and scratched Hamish's head. The dog looked up with huge brown eyes, content.
“I would like that very much. How was your day?”
“I attended a conference today led by Sir Joseph Lister. The man is brilliant and his work with carbolic acid as a sterilizer makes him a pioneer of antiseptic surgery. One day I would like to change departments in the Edinburgh Infirmary and practice surgery under him. It was a most interesting lecture!”
“Perhaps one day you will work with him, my darling. You are a brilliant doctor yourself.”
“You might be a bit prejudice, Love.”
The next morning plans were cancelled. Jenny was not feeling well. She assured Harry that it was just an upset stomach, but he insisted on calling one of his colleagues. Jenny was too sick to argue.
After examining Jenny, the doctor gave her some medicine to make her sleep and went to find Harry.
“You are going to be a father, my friend.” Harry stared at the doctor.
“She is pregnant? Me a doctor and I didn't know?”
His friend, Miles laughed. “Sometimes we are the last to know.”
“Thank you, Miles.” Harry ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. Miles laughed as he watched him go. The butler showed the doctor to the door.
“Jenny, Jenny dear.” She lay on the bed. Her face was pale. She did not look well.
“Jenny, you are going to have a baby. A baby, my darling, how wonderful.”
“Yes Harry, I know. I am very happy. Now please leave me alone. I feel horrible.” He kissed her cheek, pulled the covers up to her chin and left her to sleep. He was thrilled. She was asleep before he reached the top of the stairs. Hamish lay outside the bedroom in his position of security.
The rest of Jenny's pregnancy went well. She and Harry prepared the nursery and waited patiently for the baby's arrival. Amy was constantly arriving with gifts for the baby. “Amy, please no more. Wait until this little boy or girl arrive before you start your spoiling.”
“Aunt Amy cannot wait. Now, open this box. It was the cutest bear in the store.”
“Just wait until you are having your baby. I am going to bombard you with gifts and you will find out what it feels like.” The two friends laughed. Jenny added the large brown bear to the already overflowing box by the window.
“Abigail and Zachariah were here for dinner last night. They brought that beautiful quilt for the baby.” Amy admired the hand-sewn quilt. “They can't wait to be ‘grandparents’ as they refer to themselves. Of course, they are as close to me as my parents would be. I still thank God everyday for bringing them into my life.”
That night Harry arrived later than usual. “Why are you so late? Was there an emergency at the hospital?” Jenny sat at one end of the large walnut dining table. The young girl served the soup as Harry took his place at the opposite end.
“No, I was leaving the hospital and someone told me that John Murphy was in the emergency department. He had a heart attack. I went to see for myself.”
“Dear God. Is he alright?”
“Actually, he is dead.” Jenny put her hand to her mouth. Harry stood and walked to the end of the table to put his arm around her. “Don't cry for him, my Love. He doesn't deserve it.”
“Harry, the man is dead. Please don't speak badly of him. Show some respect. He was the Lord Provost of Edinburgh in spite of everything else.” Jenny pushed her soup away, having lost her appetite. No matter what he had done to her, Jenny still showed respect for the dead.
“The bad news is that Ian Murphy will be back in town for his uncle's funeral.” Harry returned to his chair and slurped his soup with gusto. “This is delicious. You must eat something. You only have a few more weeks before the baby arrives.”
Harry's prediction proved correct. Two days later, Jenny and Amy saw Ian Murphy coming from the Gentlemen's Club. He almost bumped into them as he staggered from the doorway. “Excuse me, Ladies.”
The two women jumped back out of the way, but Jenny lost her footing and lunged forward. Murphy caught her by the arm just as she hit the cobbles and lifted her back on her feet. She was shaking.
“Why, Miss Barstow, it has been a long time.” He stared at her through a drunken haze. Jenny wrenched her arm away and she stared at him, speechless.
“It is Mrs. Mitchell now and no one has missed you, you beast. Come on, Jenny.” Amy pulled the shocked Jenny along the street away from Murphy. He laughed out loud, mocking them. “It didn't take Mitchell long to get you in the family way I see
.”
“Jenny, come along. Are you all right? You are not hurt are you?” Amy looked at Jenny, dusting some dirt from her sleeve. “Just ignore him.” Jenny walked in silence; she could not believe the fear that she felt when she saw him. Her whole body shook. When he grabbed her arm, she wanted to scream out loud. Amy took her hand. “Come on, we will stop for tea.” Amy guided her into the café, where it took several minutes for Jenny to calm down.
“I just don't know why I reacted like that. It's been more than a year since I last saw him, but that man is such a horrid creature.” She picked up her tea, but after a few sips she put the cup back down. “Amy, I am not feeling well. I think I need to go home.”
“Of course, we will get a carriage. I don't want you walking after such a shock.” The two women took the carriage to the manor house. When they arrived, Jenny went to lie down, while Amy waited for Harry.
She sat in the drawing room. Soon the tension brought her to her feet. Amy paced the rich, deep Axminster carpets, past the velvet sofa and chairs. Back and forth her steps were light, but her mood was dark. Finally Harry arrived home.
“I tell you he mocked us! Jenny was so upset, she was shaking.” Amy was furious. Harry poured himself a brandy. He pointed to the bottle gesturing to her, but Amy refused.
“Did she hurt herself?” Amy assured him that Jenny said she was fine. “Where is she now?” Harry was growing agitated as the mere mention of Ian Murphy made his blood boil.
“She is lying down. She said she wasn't feeling well, and with the baby's date so close I thought we best take a carriage home.” Amy could see Harry was tense.
“Thank you Amy, I'll go to her now.”
“Yes. please give her my love. Gordon will be wondering where I am. Good Night, Harry.” Amy bid him farewell and left for home.
Harry ran up the stairs, again taking two at a time. He found Jenny writhing in pain. “Jenny, what is it?” He felt her forehead. She was burning up. He quickly put his hands on her swollen belly. The baby was coming. “Jenny dearest, it's the bairn. I will have to deliver it now. I am going to call Clara and Cook to help me. Stay calm.” She reached for him.
“Don't leave me, please don't leave me.” Jenny's face was white.
“I will be right back.” He rushed into the upper foyer screaming for Clara, the young maid. “Clara, come quick.” She appeared from one of the side rooms.
“Yes Mr. Mitchell. What can I do for you?” His bellowing frightened the young girl.
“Get me some boiling water, some towels and tell Cook to come and help me deliver my child. Hurry!” She ran down the stairs to fetch the woman everyone called ‘Cook’.
Within minutes Harry was rubbing Jenny's belly. Cook mopped her mistress' brow, while Clara set up the boiling water, towels and blankets beside the bed. Jenny was perspiring heavily; she grasped Harry's hand tightly. Her breathing was labored and Cook was very concerned that the child was coming early, especially a first pregnancy. The delivery took hours and both Harry and Jenny were exhausted. Finally, the baby was born at midnight. Jenny had lost consciousness. The baby hollered loudly at first, but then turned blue. No air escaped his tiny lips. Harry did everything he could to revive the tiny baby, but it was no use. The baby boy died in his arms. Tears poured down his face. How could he tell Jenny? He stood motionless.
Cook carefully lifted the baby's body from his arms and wrapped it in a blanket. She left the room with the bundle, while Harry sobbed uncontrollably.
Cook, whose name was Mrs. Burns, carried the tiny child down to the kitchen. She checked the child over again, confirming that he was not breathing. She put on her coat, and went out the door and into a carriage. She rode to the hospital in silence and delivered the tiny, Mitchell baby to the nurses. The head nurse shook her head sadly; “Please tell Doctor Mitchell that the coroner will have the death certificate in the morning and give him and Mrs. Mitchell, our condolences, Mrs. Burns.” Cook cried all the way home. All of the staff loved Jenny. She was kind and respectful to each and every one of them and they would be devastated to learn of the baby's death.
The Mitchell household was very quiet. Black curtains hung from all the windows, and Jenny lay in her bed refusing to get up. She had awoken the night of the birth to Harry's sobs. When he told her about her baby, she went into a deep depression for days. Even Amy could not bring her out of it. She wouldn't eat, or speak. The dog, Hamish lay outside of her room, refusing to move. Cook bought him food when she came to feed Jenny. Sometimes she would take only small sips of broth. Harry was beside himself.
“The funeral is tomorrow and we have to get Jenny up. She must say goodbye or she will never forgive herself.” Harry paced back and forth in the great room. Gordon offered him a whisky, which he took and downed in one gulp. Gordon refilled his glass.
“Amy will get Jenny ready. Stop worrying. All the arrangements are taken care of for young William.” Harry stopped pacing at the mention of the baby's name.
“Yes, William will have both of his parents at his side when he goes to meet his maker. Dear God, how could we lose him. I am a doctor.”
“It wasn't your fault. The baby was weak. He was born too soon and there was nothing anyone could do.”
“You are right. It wasn't my fault. It was that damn Ian Murphy! He frightened Jenny, causing her fall. She wasn't due for three weeks. Yes, it was Ian Murphy, who caused her to lose our son.” Gordon didn't like where this was going. He tried to convince Harry that it was no one's fault, but Harry seemed strengthened somehow by having someone to blame. Gordon left it alone.
The next morning, Jenny came down the stairs dressed in black. Her eyes were sunken and her skin was gray. Harry held her arm, assisting her down each step carefully. He was thankful to Amy for finally talking Jenny into getting dressed. She hadn't spoken to him since he knocked on her door early this morning, but he was relieved that she was up. One step at a time, Jenny. We will get through this.
The Mitchells buried their son, William on a sunny spring afternoon. Harry stared stonily at the coffin with his jaw clenched. His hatred of Ian Murphy overshadowed his grief. He took a deep breath, before glancing at his wife. She stood erect, composed and quite still, clinging to Harry's arm. Her face was paper white behind her veil. Birds chirped in the trees, flowers bloomed in the gardens and Jenny saw none of it. All she saw was her tiny son's casket being lowered into the ground. Goodbye my William. Mommy loves you. Tears fell from her eyes; her heart was broken.
Abigail came to stay in the manor house. Jenny asked her to have the staff empty the nursery. Abigail was in tears as she watched them pack up all of the clothes and toys. Harry buried himself with work. He cried alone in his office, his grief welled up in his chest threatening to choke the life from him. He needed Jenny, but she was lost in her own grief and pain.
Zachariah took Hamish for walks. As soon as they returned to the house, the dog would run up the stairs to Jenny. She seldom left her bedroom and Harry was worried sick. It took several weeks before she started to recover. One afternoon he arrived home as usual. He expected Jenny to be in her room, where she spent all of her time now.
“Hello, Love.” She stood in the foyer waiting for him. Her hair was arranged carefully on her head, she wore a new green gown and she looked like his Jenny again. Hamish sat at her feet wagging his tail. Harry ran to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Hello, Jenny my Love, I have missed you so.” Together they held each other tightly. “We will get through this together Jenny. I love you.”
“I love you, Harry and I am sorry. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what, Love?”
“For killing our son.” Harry felt as if a dagger had been thrust in his heart.
“Jenny dearest, you did not kill our son. It was not your fault.”
“I fell. It was my fault and I am so sorry.” He kissed her, and then putting her at arms length, he looked into her tear filled eyes.
“Ian Mu
rphy killed our son.” Jenny stared at him in shock.
“But…” She didn't know what to say. It couldn't be true.
“You did nothing wrong, Jenny. I never for one moment thought that you did and I don't want you to ever say that again.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “Ian Murphy caused your fall, and frightened you. All of this caused you great stress and it is he and he alone that is responsible.” Harry handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her face. Harry turned and taking her hand walked silently toward the dining room. The servants stood in attendance; they were elated to see Mrs. Mitchell back with them. Dinner was on the table and Jenny took her seat, but Harry's words echoed in her mind. “Ian Murphy killed our son.”
She spoke to Amy about it the next day. “That is what he said, that Ian Murphy killed our son. Oh God, Amy, what are we going to do? Harry meant what he said. He believes that Mr. Murphy is responsible.” Jenny was beside herself, so very worried that Harry was going to do something to Mr. Murphy.
“Hopefully that beast is on the boat back to Dublin, where he will be safe. Not that he deserves to be.” Amy took Jenny's hand. “Don't fret. Gordon said that Harry just needs to blame someone, and who better than Ian Murphy.”
“But what if he does something to him. He could go to prison. I couldn't bear to lose him as well.” She put her head in her hands. “When will we ever be free of the Murphys? I am sick to death of this.”
1907
Chapter Sixteen
Tim McKitterek held his son Brian in his arms. The youngster was a year old and growing bigger every day. He was taking tiny steps now. “Bring Brian in for his tea, Tim.”
Elizabeth appeared at the window of the cottage. Tim picked up the toddler and headed for the kitchen.
“I have to go into the store for an hour this afternoon. We received a large shipment yesterday and I need to put it away before the rush on Monday.”