2 Children of the Plantation

by Faith Mortimer

She shook her head. "Very rarely. I'm pretty much hopeless at anything more than making Welsh rarebit. Besides, Ah Lee is a fabulous cook. Why should I worry?"

  "No indeed."

  They fell into a silence while waiting for their lunch. A baby wailed in the distance, and Eleanor looked around her. The birth of her baby was some time off, and she had hardly talked about it. As she heard the infant wail, a frown appeared on her face. Noticing, Hermione immediately asked her what she was thinking of.

  "What is it, Ellie?"

  "Nothing."

  "Yes there is. You look worried. I can read you like a book you know." She studied her with her head on one side. "You're worried about Winston. Look, for goodness sake, he is miles away in darkest Malaya, playing with his rubber or whatever. He can't order you around now, so relax."

  Eleanor gave a slight chuckle at the image of Winston playing with rubber. The joke was not lost on Hermione who joined in with her laughter.

  "I know he can't. It's just his family will be expecting me to stay with them. I'm to contact them as soon as the ship arrives in London. They'll send a car for me. Once I'm in their company, it's goodbye freedom. When I've stayed with them before in one of the family homes, I've felt completely restricted in what I can do. The atmosphere is claustrophobic and cloying. I would much rather make my own arrangements." She looked despondent.

  The two friends had barely touched on the subject of what they were planning on doing in England. All Hermione had divulged was that she had no ties back home. She thought about what Ellie had just said. She enjoyed her company more than she thought possible, and had been feeling depressed at the thought of their parting ways once they arrived. There was something about Ellie that played on Hermione's heart. She looked so pretty and sweet - helpless, if she but knew it. Hermione wanted to look after her, protect her from any worries.

  "So don't tell them," she said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just that. Once we arrive, simply ignore Winston's orders. You don't have to do everything he says, despite being Mrs Winston Chalcot – it's so old-fashioned. You're perfectly entitled to go where you want to, for a while at least anyway. When the baby's birth is imminent, then you can decide where and when you want to go. Has a doctor been booked?"

  Ellie sat very still and looked down at her plate. Studying her pale face, Hermione didn't understand why she looked so strained. "Winston doesn't know. No one does."

  It was Hermione's turn to look pensive. "What? Whatever do you mean?" As the penny dropped, she gasped. "You mean you've not told him about the baby? He doesn't know?"

  Ellie shook her head.

  "Well, well, you are a dark horse. Why ever not?" Her curiosity was getting the better of her.

  "Because, because….oh! I don't really know why!"

  Hermione sat back, studying her friend. Eleanor was certainly catching her unawares today. Eleanor took a deep breath before she plunged on. "Winston is desperate for a son. I know it's pretty much an archaic thing to consider, but it's my duty to produce an heir."

  Hermione gave an incredulous laugh. "An heir? My dear, this is the twentieth century not the 1850s! I can't believe I'm hearing this, not in this day and age. Anyway, that aside, so what? Why not tell him?"

  Eleanor looked away again as if she was considering how to explain.

  "I'm not sure how he'll take it if I produce another girl, or if I miscarry once again. Our doctor in Malaya didn't want me to continue with this pregnancy, as I nearly died last time."

  Hermione was furious at her confession. "How he'll take it? Ellie, he should never have got you pregnant again in the first place. This is pure selfishness on his part. Just how big is his ego, for heaven's sake?"

  Eleanor gave a mirthless laugh. "Pretty big. Anyway, I can't. I don't think I can face his family. They're nice enough in their own way, but they'll report back to Winston, and I simply can't take any more. I want to stay in England for some time." Apart from looking completely miserable, Eleanor looked white and drained as she considered her problems.

  Hermione did a little rapid thinking of her own. She had no ties, no family. She owned a small cottage on the outskirts of Guildford in Surrey. It was secluded and away from other houses. No one need know they were living there.

  "You can come and stay with me."

  "What?"

  "I own a cottage. It's perfectly secluded with no near neighbours. You can stay as long as you like." She paused while she thought this through. "But tell me about this doctor in Malaya. If he knew you're having a baby, why did he let you come back to England? Why not look after you himself?"

  "Because he, Hugh that is, wanted me to go to a clinic run by an old friend of his. Hugh said the care there was superb, and I'd not be in more capable hands."

  "I see." She pondered her next question. "Does he, Hugh, know you've not told Winston?"

  Eleanor nodded, and Hermione thought her reply spoke volumes. She was well used to the erratic and sometimes strange behaviour from her 'pregnant' charges. Having another man involved, albeit the family doctor, made things much clearer. "I take it he's in love with you."

  "He?" said Eleanor, blushing.

  "For God's sake, this is me you're speaking with, not some silly man! Hugh the doctor! That's why he's gone along with all this."

  Ellie looked away in embarrassment. "I suppose so. Yes, yes he is. But I don't love him. I don't want to get involved with any other man. One is more than enough." She turned back to look at her.

  Hermione nodded slowly. "I know exactly what you mean." She touched her face with one finger, lightly running it down the scar. Men can be quite ghastly.” Raising her glass, she gave Eleanor a toast and smiled.

  Eleanor liked this unusual new friend of hers. She was different; she spoke her mind, acted on her own impetuosity and ate with a knife in her left hand: a social anathema to Eleanor's normal circle of friends.

  "To us! You'll come and stay then? I'll take care of you. No one need ever know. It will be our secret."

  Hermione could see her friend's misery slipping away as she returned her gesture. She caught Eleanor's hand in her own as Eleanor agreed. "Yes our own secret."…

  Chapter 8

  Diana closed the journal she was reading with a sigh. My goodness what a tangle! Apparently, Lady Chalcot was quite devious and completely selfish. She had deserted her husband and children and hardly mentioned them in her thoughts at all.

  Her new friend, Hermione, sounded interesting and Di wondered if she was still alive. She would be quite old now, somewhere between her late seventies and eighty-five. Now, if she was alive, then she would have an interesting slant to bring to the story. She was a single woman and came across as very strong, the perfect person for the shallow Eleanor to rely on. Being a woman, Eleanor would have no need to fear her. It was a pity she and Eleanor had gone to England, as Diana had no way of getting in touch with her. She would ask Miss Chalcot if Hermione was alive. She might know…

  …Eleanor's baby was almost due, and the time had passed as a happy interlude for both women. Sitting in the garden in the shade of an old apple tree, Eleanor contemplated Hermione as she dug fresh carrots from her vegetable patch. She didn't know what she would have done if she hadn't met her in Aden. She thought of Winston and his family. How furious and bewildered he must be! She could only guess at his reaction to the disappearance of his wife. Thank goodness she had never told him about the baby. If she had, he would have roped in Scotland Yard to comb the countryside for his property.

  Eleanor preferred not to think about her daughters back in KL. Felicity and Emma had been eight and five years old when she left them in the capable hands of Elizabeth. Despite being satisfied with producing two healthy children, Eleanor felt little maternal feelings towards her daughters. Struck down and frequently overcome with migraine, she spent hours in her darkened bedroom lying under a ceiling fan which moved the turgid air around her. Two noisy and boisterous little girls were a nightmare to her
nerves and besides, Elizabeth or Nanny Beth was a fine substitute for games and cuddles. It was Beth to whom they ran with their grievances, cuts and bruises. She soothed away their tears and gave them the maternal comfort their mother would never have understood.

  Eleanor felt a teeny-weeny bit of remorse deserting her daughters. But knew that Winston, in spite of his failings as a good husband, would never stint on his responsibility despite the girls being girls and not what he really wanted: boys.

  Stifling a yawn, Eleanor's mind wandered. Struggling to stay awake, she looked at her surroundings. The day was beautiful, warm and sunny, an English summer's day at its best. Hermione's garden was a riotous mix of colour and had been allowed to grow unchecked. While she had been away, her tenant had proved useless. The grass was long, unkempt and tall, stately blue thistles competed with red hot pokers, lofty hollyhocks, and sweet-scented lupins grew in what should have been formal flower beds. The drone of bees in the undergrowth was soporific, and Eleanor eventually nodded off to the comforting sound of Hermione scraping her hoe through the newly-dug earth.

  ~~~~~

  Winston was looking furious. He stood up from behind his desk and approached her, a scornful sneer upon his face. "Another girl! Good God woman, can't you get just one thing right? I don't ask any more of you."

  She shrank against the stiff back of her chair, a hand nervously clutching her throat. "Winston, I--"

  "No more! I won't take anymore. We are finished, Madam. You can take the brat away with you and the others. I only asked one thing from you, Eleanor, and that was a son. You patently cannot fulfil that wish. You are totally to blame."

  "Winston it is so unfair and old-fashioned. We have the girls, I think--"

  "Don't think! You are incapable of thinking beyond the next piece of jewellery or new outfit. You can leave when you like. You came with nothing and you'll leave with nothing."

  Eleanor gasped, tears springing to her eyes. What ever would she do? How would she live? She gave a moan of despair…

  …"Come back, Eleanor, come back to me. It's only a dream."

  Eleanor's eyes snapped open and found Hermione kneeling down next to her chair, a look of concern upon face.

  "Sorry."

  "Was it the same one? Was Winston being a pig as usual?"

  "Mmm. I thought he was about to hit me this time." She shivered.

  "Time for tea I believe. Sit there while I fetch it."

  Once Hermione moved indoors, Eleanor was left with her thoughts. She always had the same dream, the accusations, the guilt and the ultimatum. For some reason she couldn't rid herself of it. Hermione said it was just her state. Expectant mothers often suffered all kinds of weird happenings which would disappear as soon as the baby arrived. Eleanor knew she was lucky really. This pregnancy had been her easiest and apart from the recurring nightmare, the only other problem was an overwhelming tiredness. With just weeks to go, she was almost looking forward to the birth.

  "Here we are. Ceylon's best! I've treated us to a teacake as well." Eleanor turned her head at her friend's approach.

  "I know it's hardly the weather for them, but I rather fancied something dripping in butter. I expect it's not good for us either, but what the hell. You only have one life."

  Setting down the tea tray on a small table, she juggled with cups and saucers, a milk jug, tea-pot and a plate of toasted teacakes smothered in butter. The aroma was delicious.

  "They smell heavenly and you are naughty. I've already put on more weight than I should, as you well know being my midwife. I've never been this huge before, and I'm going to find it a devil of a job shedding it," Eleanor said, eying the cakes.

  Hermione gave a laugh. "Don't you worry. There'll be plenty for you to do in the garden. Mowing the grass keeps me trim no end." She lifted the teapot with her left hand and poured tea into two cups.

  Eleanor eyed the lawnmower standing next to the garden shed with a dubious look. "I suppose so. In KL we had a couple of boys to keep the grounds in order."

  "Eleanor, we're not in Malaya now. There is no one but you and me to do the work, unless you're thinking of going back there."

  "Don't be silly. I love it here with you. It feels so absolutely right, and of course I'll learn how to do everything you show me." She gave a giggle. "Just don't expect me to dig over the vegetable patch."

  "Oh, no way! You can be assured of that. I value my veggies far too much. You'd ruin them and besides you don't know one end of a--" She stopped as Eleanor gave a gasp, clutching her stomach.

  "What is it?"

  "Just a…sudden pain. It's probably nothing – Ow!"

  As she doubled over, Hermione removed the teacup she held in her hand placing it back on the tray.

  "I think baby has decided to come a little early, my girl. Shall we get you indoors where you can be more comfortable?"

  ~~~~~

  "My word, he's keen to get out," Hermione said as Eleanor had another contraction. "You're having regular ones with only three minutes interval, and you're almost fully dilated. It's too late to get you into hospital. We're going to have a nice little home birth here. Eleanor my love, do you trust me?"

  Clasping Eleanor's sweaty hand in her own, she gazed into her panic-stricken eyes. Eleanor focused on her face, and her vision cleared as she looked at the one person she loved most in her tight little world.

  "Yes I do."

  "Then we'll do this together."

  "What if there are complications?" Eleanor said, trying not to groan as another contraction passed through her body.

  "Darling, why should there be? You've got the best midwife in the world looking after you and he's in the right position. You've been healthy all through the summer. Don't worry."

  Smoothing back Eleanor's hair from her eyes, Hermione couldn't help a frisson of fear going through her. She had no certain way of knowing all would be well with the delivery. She would die if anything happened to Eleanor. Making a show of confidence, she checked over her midwifery bag and arranged everything she would need on a table next to the bed.

  Eleanor gave another groan. "He's coming," she said, her breath in gasps. "I need to push down."

  Hermione pulled back the sheet and peered down between Eleanor's thighs. "You're right, I can see his head. Okay, when the next contraction comes give a big push."

  Eleanor concentrated, but wasn't fully prepared for the next agonising spasm that took hold of her. Somewhere in the dim recesses of her pain-filled mind and body, she heard Hermione telling her what to do; when the time came, she gave an almighty push and her infant slipped out bloody and slippery into the world as she lost consciousness.

  Hermione gathered the infant in a warmed towel and gently massaged the little chest to coax the first breath into its lungs. As the child gave a weak cough and splutter, Eleanor let out a loud shriek.

  Satisfied that the baby was breathing on, Hermione lowered it into the waiting cradle and returned to Eleanor's side.

  "What is it my love?" she asked grasping her hand in hers.

  "Something's happening," Eleanor gasped. "I want to push down hard again."

  "Don't worry, it's only the afterbirth," Hermione said, peering between Eleanor's thighs. She stopped what she was about to say and looked startled for a moment. "It's…Oh my goodness, Eleanor darling, you haven't nearly finished yet!"

  ~~~~~

  The darkness settled like a cloak around the country cottage. The air was sweet from the smell of rose and honeysuckle, revived from a ten-minute shower of rain.

  Opening the kitchen door, Hermione spotted a vixen standing near the refuse bin. She clapped her hands, and it shot through the hedge at the bottom of the garden.

  Hermione's heart was thudding in her breast as she considered what next to do. Casting a look around, she gave thanks that the clouds scudding overhead made it a dark night. This had to be done in complete privacy.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she crossed the damp grass to the shed and picked up a
spade. A clod of earth still clung to the sharp blade from where she had been digging in her vegetable patch earlier that afternoon. It seemed such a long time ago now. She paused, still not completely certain she was doing the right thing. Making up her mind, she walked over to the newly-turned earth.

  A light breeze blew the mixed garden scents her way while she dug. The hole was to be small but deep, especially as she had just driven the fox off. Satisfied, she stood back and peered down into the soft loamy material, a sorry place for such a pathetic bundle.

  Sick at heart, but knowing they had no choice, Hermione laid down her spade and walked back into the kitchen. She picked up the tightly-wrapped package and carried it outside; it weighed no more than a couple of pounds as she gently laid it down into the hole.

  Covering it with fresh earth she scattered pebbles around and knelt on the grass. Had there been any other choice? Whatever were they going to tell him when the time came?

  ~~~~~

  The bedroom was bathed in a warm glow from a bedside lamp.

  Hermione studied the sleeping woman and wondered again at the feelings she harboured for her. True, Eleanor was beautiful and played the helpless female to perfection, but beneath that beauty lay selfishness and shallowness. Hermione possessed a strong and resilient character, calling a spade a spade and did not suffer fools. She enjoyed a healthy and active life-style. The contrast between her and Ellie was huge, and yet Hermione felt real love and passion. To herself, she made a vow always to protect her.

  Hermione felt shattered by the evening's events, and a feeling of deep sorrow settled over her. There had been nothing else she could have done.

  A snuffling from the corner broke her reverie. Putting the clean nightdress she held in her hand onto the bed, she wandered over to the crib in the corner. Lying on the soft cream cotton was Eleanor's surviving baby. An infant so perfect and beautiful that Hermione momentarily felt a pang and an ache in her breasts, knowing she would never produce an infant herself. As she watched, the babe opened blue eyes, unfocused and fuzzy and gave an almighty wail. Chuckling to herself, she drew back the light covering and picked the baby up, nestling the soft, downy head under her chin and against her chest. It sure had good lungs.