by Laura Martin
‘I want Thomas,’ Rosa whispered. It was all she wanted right now, her husband’s reassuring voice telling her everything would be fine, his arms wrapped around her giving her strength and his lips pressed against her skin.
‘Fetch the doctor,’ Sarah ordered. ‘And send for Emma.’ Emma was the young housemaid currently acting as Rosa’s lady’s maid.
Rosa heaved herself up from the chair, ignoring the ache in her back and the taut muscles in her stomach. She suddenly felt constricted, as if all her clothes were shrinking as she stood up in them, and she grappled with the ties on the back of her dress.
‘I need to get out of this,’ Rosa panted, pulling at the material when it wouldn’t come loose.
Immediately Sarah was by her side, quickly unlacing the fabric and lifting it up over Rosa’s head. By the time Rosa’s maid Emma had entered the room Rosa was clad only in her long chemise.
‘Let’s get you to the bed,’ Sarah instructed.
‘No, I need to move. It feels better when I move.’
Rosa clutched at her bump, holding it gently as she waddled across the room. She paused at the window, looking longingly out to see if Thomas happened to be galloping down the driveway.
No one appeared, and Rosa felt the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. He couldn’t have left her, not like this, not when she needed him the most. Over the last few weeks she’d really felt as though she were getting through to him, really believed that he had started to see the benefits of them enjoying a conventional married life. She’d noticed the affection in his eyes when he looked at her. It wasn’t love, he’d never mentioned love, but it was affection, and for now that would have to be enough.
She didn’t want to cope with this on her own.
* * *
Rosa swung her legs on to the bed and grimaced as the doctor placed his cold hands on her belly.
‘Do you feel a tightening now?’ he asked, frowning as he concentrated.
‘Yes,’ Rosa panted, breathing hard as the pain built to a crescendo.
‘Good. Your body is getting ready to deliver this baby. It shouldn’t be too long now.’
‘How long?’ Rosa asked, her grip on the bedsheets relaxing as the pain began to subside.
‘Difficult to say, but I should think you will have your son or daughter by tomorrow morning at the latest.’
Tomorrow morning was a long time away, especially when she was in so much pain. Every hour the pains worsened, so much so that each time she told herself this must be as bad as they got, knowing full well it was a lie.
‘I will come and check on your progress in a few hours’ time,’ the doctor said. ‘In the meantime you know where I am if there are any problems.’
‘He’s leaving?’ Rosa asked, her voice laced with panic.
‘Hush, my dear,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s better that way. Men, even medical men, get in the way during childbirth. We women have been doing this on our own for generations.’
‘You won’t leave me?’
‘I won’t leave you.’
Rosa looked up into her mother-in-law’s eyes. ‘I wish Thomas was here.’
‘I do, too, Rosa.’
‘I think I love him.’
Sarah squeezed her hand and Rosa closed her eyes, letting out a loud, guttural groan as the pain began to build again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thomas looked down, wondering how many pages of the newspaper he’d flicked through without taking any of it in.
‘Dr Jones will see you now,’ a young and eager assistant said as he emerged from the consulting room.
‘Lord Hunter, it is a pleasure to see you.’
‘Have we met before?’ Thomas asked. He didn’t recall the man, but over the years his father and brother had consulted many doctors.
‘I knew your father well, but I think you were always away at school when I visited. How is your mother?’
‘Still grieving, but she has found a way to start living her life again.’
The doctor smiled, leaned back in his chair and adjusted his glasses.
‘So tell me, Lord Hunter, what brings you to see me today?’
Thomas hesitated. The questions he’d come to ask were difficult to formulate.
‘I wish to know more about the disease that afflicted my father and brother. And my risk of developing it.’
Dr Jones steepled his fingers together, contemplating Thomas’s request before he started speaking.
‘Your father and brother suffered from an inherited condition that affected both their movement and their memory. We know it was of gradual onset and it was progressive. They both became worse with each passing month.’
Thomas nodded, remembering coming home from school at the end of term and not knowing what state his father would be in, dreading what he would find.
‘When I first met your father we spent quite some time tracing this disease back through the family. Your father had known many of his relatives had died an unnaturally early death, but there was a lot of secrecy surrounding the illness and those who suffered from it.’
Thomas realised he was holding his breath as he waited for the doctor to continue.
‘Not everyone in the family was afflicted. Both men and women suffered from the disease, but only about half of the family members developed it. It was difficult to be sure as in some generations people had died young of other causes.’
‘So there is a chance...’ Thomas trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.
‘There is a good chance you are not affected.’
‘How can I be sure, one way or the other?’
Dr Jones shook his head. ‘Unfortunately it is impossible to be sure. The disease seems to develop at different ages in different people. Do you have any symptoms?’
‘Sometimes I think I have a tremor in my hands.’
‘Let me examine you.’
Thomas obligingly removed his jacket, feeling the tremor in his hands as he did so.
‘You are nervous,’ Dr Jones stated. ‘Understandably.’
‘My hands are shaking.’
Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, the doctor inspected Thomas’s hands, turning them over and watching the minute movements.
‘Make a fist,’ he instructed. ‘Now relax. Pick up the pen on my desk and write your name. Good.’
Thomas complied with all the instructions, writing his name, turning the key in the lock on the door and untying a knot the doctor presented to him.
‘I now need to see you walk.’
Trying to walk normally, Thomas paced backwards and forward across the consulting room, changing his gait as the doctor asked him to walk first on his toes and then as if on a tightrope.
‘Good.’ The doctor’s face was serious and his tone of voice didn’t give anything away. ‘Come and stand in front of me. Now, I need you to follow my finger with your eyes, keeping your head still.’
* * *
Half an hour later, once Thomas had been prodded and poked and undergone a rigorous examination, the doctor sat back in his chair and motioned for Thomas to have a seat.
‘You’re as healthy as an ox,’ he declared.
‘And the tremor?’
‘Anxiety. You believe you will one day develop a movement disorder, so you are more aware of the smallest movements in your hands than the general population.’
‘You can find no sign of the disease?’
‘None.’
‘But you can’t tell me I will not ever develop it?’
‘Lord Hunter,’ Dr Jones said with a heartfelt sigh, ‘I could be trampled by a horse on my walk home tonight. Does that mean I should hide away in my house and never leave it again?’
Thomas shoo
k his head. He knew exactly the point the doctor was making, but his situation was different.
‘The likelihood of you being trampled by a horse is much less than me developing my father’s disease.’
‘Very true,’ the doctor said, but didn’t appear as though he thought he had lost the argument. ‘And it is entirely your choice if you wish to squander your life worrying about something that may or may not ever happen.’
The illness had been a black cloud following him around for so many years the idea of trying not to worry about it was almost inconceivable.
‘It is not an active choice I make.’
‘And I do understand that, Lord Hunter. Just as I acknowledge I have no real idea how it must feel to have this disease, the very disease that killed your father and brother, hanging over you. But you came to me for advice and my advice to you would be to live your life, whether you have five years or fifty. Cherish every single moment because you may have less time than the average man. Find what makes you happy and keep on doing it again and again.’
Rosa. The thought flew unbidden into his mind. Rosa made him happy.
‘Stop letting this disease ruin your life before you have developed a single symptom.’
Thomas stood abruptly, the doctor’s words hitting him and making him feel as though he were seeing the world for the first time.
‘Thank you, Doctor.’
‘One more thing, Lord Hunter,’ the doctor said as Thomas shook his hand vigorously. ‘You may consider whether you wish to father any children.’
Thomas smiled. ‘This disease stops with me, Dr Jones.’
Leaving the doctor’s office Thomas felt lighter than he had for years. He knew he had been consumed by grief after his brother’s death, and that had clouded his judgement in many matters. He’d fled the country, telling himself he had to squeeze as many experiences into his life as possible as he didn’t know when it would end. Thomas didn’t regret that, he’d seen so much, experienced so many different cultures these last few years. What he did regret was his insistence that he must face the future on his own. He’d pushed away the people who loved him, first his mother and then Rosa.
Still, the idea of subjecting Rosa to the pain of watching him suffer through the terrible disease made him uncomfortable, but he knew if he abandoned her now, fled the country and continued his travels around the world, that would hurt her even more. He would be choosing to leave her.
Quickly he pushed his way through the crowds towards the inn he had left his horse at earlier that morning. It would take him nearly two hours to ride home from Portsmouth even if he pushed his horse hard. Suddenly he just needed to be home, needed to hold Rosa in her arms, kiss her lips and tell her what a fool he’d been.
A cold shiver shot down his spine as he wondered if she would forgive him his folly. Ever since he’d proposed he’d treated her badly. He’d seen her growing affection for him and tried to ignore it. He’d allowed the love between them to blossom, but at the same time told Rosa it could not last. He had treated her appallingly.
With a shake of his head he dismissed the notion. Rosa loved him, any fool could see that. She would forgive him and if she didn’t he had a whole lifetime to make it up to her.
* * *
Two hours later Thomas pushed open the front door, wondering where all the servants were. Normally a footman would be positioned in the entrance hall, ready to receive any visitors, but today there was no one to be seen.
A bloodcurdling scream shot down the stairs and stopped Thomas in his tracks for a second. Then he was running, taking the stairs three at a time. He reached Rosa’s bedroom door in less than ten seconds and threw himself inside.
Another scream nearly deafened him before he could take in exactly what he was seeing.
‘Rosa...’ he whispered, trying to make sense of the scene in the room.
Rosa was half-sitting, half-lying on the blood-soaked sheets covering the bed. His mother was standing by her side, squeezing Rosa’s hand and murmuring words of encouragement, whilst two maids hovered nervously in the background. A motherly-looking older woman stood at the foot of the bed, waiting with outstretched arms and a frown of concentration.
Thomas heard Rosa panting, then came another scream that seemed to last for eternity, followed by total silence.
A small cry pierced the silence, more of a gurgle than anything else.
For two seconds no one moved, then Thomas dashed forward. Rosa smiled up at him weakly and then looked hopefully at the bundle the older woman was scooping up.
‘Your son,’ she pronounced and Thomas felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him.
He leaned in, pausing to kiss Rosa on the forehead, and look down at the pink little face wrapped tightly in a blanket.
Thomas had been both waiting for and dreading this moment. This was the moment when he would know if he could truly love another man’s child as his own.
The baby opened his eyes and looked up at him.
‘Our son,’ Thomas whispered.
There was no doubt, no second guessing. Thomas felt an overwhelming surge of love and happiness looking down into the innocent child’s face.
‘Our son,’ Rosa repeated, tears spilling from her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thomas stroked the silky soft hair on his son’s head and wondered if Rosa would be offended if he compared it to moleskin. It wasn’t that he thought their son looked like a mole...although sometimes when he first woke up from one of his numerous naps...
‘Edward?’ Rosa suggested.
‘I knew an Edward with a squint once,’ Thomas said, shuddering.
‘Lionel?’
‘Scrawny child in the year below me at Eton. Think he wet his trousers during games once.’
‘Oliver?’
‘Had a dog called Oliver when I was young.’
Rosa took a deep breath. ‘Are there any names you consider acceptable?’
‘Thomas is a good strong name.’
Rosa laughed. ‘You would never know who I was referring to.’
‘There’s another benefit I hadn’t thought of.’
Rosa leant out of bed and swiped at him, missing and almost falling in the process.
‘Your mama didn’t mean to hit us,’ Thomas whispered.
‘I wasn’t aiming at our son.’
For a second Thomas stared down into the child’s face, mesmerised by the dark eyes and tiny features.
‘Michael,’ Rosa said quietly.
Thomas looked up, saw Rosa biting her lip, waiting for his response.
‘Michael,’ he repeated. ‘It suits him.’
Leaning in over the bed, Thomas kissed Rosa, smiling as he felt her arms clutching at his neck as if willing him never to leave her. In the excitement of the birth he hadn’t had time to tell her about his trip to the doctor’s office in Portsmouth or of the decisions he’d made whilst he was there. Now didn’t seem to be the right time. He had treated Rosa so badly, toyed with her heart, he felt as though he needed a big declaration, something that would make Rosa realise he meant what he said and he was here to stay.
‘Are you sure you don’t wish me to find a wet nurse?’ Thomas asked as baby Michael looked up at him and started smacking his little lips.
‘Quite sure. Did you know the children of the nobility are more likely to be undernourished than the children of the common people in the first six months?’
‘That can’t be true.’
‘Many wet nurses will feed their own infants first, meaning the children they take in often go hungry.’
‘Well, we wouldn’t want you to go hungry,’ Thomas said, bending down to kiss his son on the tip of his nose. ‘Your mother turns into a wild beast when she needs her food.’
; ‘I do not,’ Rosa said indignantly.
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow until she glanced down, muttering under her breath.
‘Anyway, Michael is my child and I will feed him.’
Thomas stood and passed her the baby, helping her to position him against her breast.
‘I will be back soon, my love,’ Thomas said as he leant down and kissed her forehead. ‘Get some rest once Michael has finished feeding.’
Quickly he made his way downstairs to his study. He was loathe to leave Rosa and their baby, but mother and child needed to sleep and he had an important event to organise. With a steady hand he penned three letters, summoning a footman to take them once he was finished. Rosa would likely be back on her feet in a few days and mostly recovered in a couple of weeks. He would plan his surprise for two weeks’ time, to ensure she could enjoy it properly.
* * *
‘We are very lucky,’ Rosa said softly, looking down at her lovely son cradled in her arms. His nose was pressed against her breast and he was suckling loudly, a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. ‘We have your father to look after us.’
Even in the midst of childbirth Rosa had noticed when Thomas had entered the room. She’d felt pure relief, his presence was the one thing that could reassure her through the haze of the pain and the ordeal of giving birth.
She’d watched warily as Thomas had approached their son, seen the uncertainty on his face as he stepped forward to see the child who would bear his name, but not his blood. There was no doubt in Rosa’s mind that Thomas had felt instantaneous love for the small child, the love of a parent for their baby, that indescribable rush you felt when you held your little bundle for the first time.
‘I think he cares about us both very much,’ Rosa continued. ‘And I think you’ve made it much harder for him to leave us both behind.’
‘Am I disturbing you?’ Sarah asked as she poked her head through the gap between the door and the doorframe.
‘Not at all. Thomas has given me strict instructions to rest, but I feel so happy I don’t think I could sleep now anyway.’
‘I won’t stay long. I just wanted to see my grandchild again.’