Emerald Desire (Emerald Trilogy)

by Lynette Vinet

  Avery nodded as she left, then he poured himself a large glass of brandy and stared intently at the amber colored liquid. “At least I have this to warm me.” He gulped the contents in one swallow.

  Shortly after Dera and Anna arrived, they sent Timothy from Lydia’s bedside and helped to undress her. The sheets were soaked with sweat and rumpled from Lydia’s painful twistings.

  ���Perhaps we should send for a midwife,” Dera voiced again.

  Lydia shook her head. “Nay, I’ll not have that filthy Mrs. Brady. She never washes and she’d be glad to see me suffer like so many of our neighbors. They begrudge us this house and are jealous of our connection with Lord Fairfax. I need you, Dera. I can rely on you.” She gasped in pain and took a deep breath. “See,” she said after a few moments. “T’will be soon.”

  Dera followed Anna’s instructions about boiling water and getting clean towels. She marveled at how well Anna took over. In reality, Anna was all Lydia needed and she felt useless. She put a pot on the hearth and filled it with water just as Timothy came in from outside.

  “Is it over yet?”

  “No, uncle.” Dera sighed. “When the baby comes, I’ll tell you first thing. No one is going to find out before you.”

  Timothy sat down and nibbled on his pipe stem. “She just looks so pale lately, not like before when her cheeks were rosy. I’m fearful, Dera.���

  Dera, too, had noticed Lydia’s wanness the past few weeks, but she tried to reassure Timothy. “All women find the last weeks to be tiring. Everything will be fine.”

  He stared at the flickering firelight warming the pot in the hearth. Dera brought the clean towels to Anna who wiped Lydia’s brow. Lydia twisted back the covers and held onto the bed post.

  ���I can���t stand this pain! Why is it taking so long?��� Lydia gasped, her eyes darting towards Anna for an answer.

  ���Calm yourself, birth takes time,��� Anna soothingly assured her. ���Breathe easy and flow with the pain instead of fighting it.”

  “But I can’t,” Lydia whined.

  Anna motioned Dera to follow her into the cooking area. Luckily Timothy had retreated outside to escape Lydia’s screams. Dera read Anna’s worried expression before the woman said a word. “Something’s wrong.”

  “She has had some hard pains, hard enough to bring that baby down, but I’m afraid the little one is having a difficult time. Mrs. Brennan doesn’t have large hips. I’ve only seen one case like this before. I helped a midwife for two days, but the baby refused to budge. By the time a doctor was sent for, he had to cut the mother open and take the baby. Both of them died.” Anna shivered at the memory, “I can’t cut her open. Is there a doctor nearby?”

  “The village is too small for a doctor,” Dera explained. “There may be one in Ballinasloe, but I don’t know how long it would take him to get here.” She was quiet for a few seconds, then she looked at Anna who took the pot from the hearth. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  Anna sighed deeply. “Just pray that the little one makes its appearance shortly and somehow the good Lord sees fit to let it be born without losing the mother.”

  Lydia’s hysterical shriek cut through the farmhouse like a sharp knife, making Dera shiver with fear.

  The night passed slowly. The bedroom grew unbearably hot in spite of the cold north wind outside. Lydia’s condition was no better. She took deep breaths and pushed when told, but the baby wouldn’t come. All three women were drenched in sweat. Dera was afraid that Lydia might die, since each contraction weakened her until she hardly had any strength left. At times, Dera thought Lydia was hallucinating. “Gavin,” she called. “I want my Gavin.” A huge sob wrenched from Lydia’s throat and tears of pain and frustration mingled together on her cheeks. At one point, Timothy poked his head through the doorway.

  The long night of waiting had lined his face even more. His red hair was disheveled and new stubble grew on his chin. “How much longer?” he asked.

  “I can’t say, uncle. Soon, I hope.” Dera wiped her wet brow with the corner of her apron. “She keeps asking for someone named Gavin.”

  Timothy’s expression changed from one of worry to one of intense pain. He mouthed the name but no sound issued from his lips. A flicker of resentment crossed his face. “The woman bears my child. Still she asks for him. When it is over, come tell me. I shall be outside.��� He turned and slammed the door behind him.

  “Dera.��� She turned at the sound of Anna’s voice. “The child is coming.” Dera looked to see the dark head emerging from between Lydia’s thighs. “Be ready to take it while I guide it through,” Anna said.

  Lydia bore down, her strength seemingly replenished by the news that the baby was about to be born.

  “Push harder, Mrs. Brennan,” Anna ordered and kneaded Lydia’s abdomen.

  “I can’t. It hurts.”

  “You can do it, Lydia. Please.” Dera was close to tears as the little head made no more progress. She waited at the foot of the bed, clean towels in hand, ready to catch the infant.

  ���He’s just not moving. I’ve got to get that baby out or we’re going to lose them both.” Anna stood up and took Dera’s place. “Sit beside her and hold her down. I have to pull him out.”

  “No,” Lydia said weakly. The pain was intense, but she tried to sit up. “I won’t let you take it from me like that. Nothing is wrong.”

  Dera gently pushed her onto the pillows and Lydia gave in. “I’m here, Lydia. I won’t leave you.��� She gave Lydia her hand which Lydia clutched tightly.

  “He’ll be fine,” Lydia whispered through parched lips. “My Gavin will be all right.” Anna began her ministrations at the foot of the bed and suddenly Lydia screamed such a blood curdling scream that it echoed throughout the house before she fainted into unconsciousness.

  Anna held the infant in one arm while her free hand vigorously rubbed his back. He was extremely tiny and unmoving. His hair was blacker than pitch, but to Dera’s horror she saw he was an ugly shade of purple. “He isn’t crying,” was all she could think of to say.

  After a number of minutes, Anna gave up. “Nor will he. I wonder why the Lord lets a woman carry a child for so long only to have it born dead. At least, poor Mrs. Brennan will be spared seeing her son. She’ll sleep for a while. The little one suffocated on his way down.”

  Anna washed and wrapped the baby in a linen towel while Dera stood transfixed, unable to believe that Lydia’s child was dead. She had wanted it so badly.

  “I had better tell Uncle Timothy.” She left the room, unable to look at the tiny baby shrouded in the cradle.

  Dera found him outside. He sat immobile in the cold night air, his hair whipping around his head. At Dera’s approach, he stood up. “Uncle… .” she began, but was unable to say the words.

  His attention was upon her, but he was seeing through her and beyond her. “I know. The child is dead.”

  “Yes.”’

  “Damn that woman! By mentioning that man’s name, she cursed herself and the child.”

  ���Come inside. Lydia will need you when she wakes.���

  ���Nay. I shall not. She never wanted me. All she needs is her memories.��� He turned and started down the road, looking as if someone had pulled his insides from him. Dera called after him, but he continued walking oblivious to everything but his pain.

  Within the hour, Dera returned home, tired and weary. Anna had insisted she get some sleep, and Dera willingly obliged, for she knew Anna would take good care of Lydia. Practically dragging herself up the stairs as the first light of dawn shone through the landing windows, she walked down the corridor. Avery staggered from the door of his own room and positioned himself in the passageway.

  “You’re back,” he said. The smell of whiskey clung to him. She turned her head away, because his breath was so potent.

  “I’m very tired. Lydia lost her baby, and Uncle Timothy has taken off for God only k
nows where.”

  “Don’t speak to me, trollop.”

  She stared at him, open mouthed in disbelief. “What did you call me?”

  “Trol … lop,” he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol.

  “You’ve had too much to drink. Let me help you to your bed.” She reached out to take his arm, but he shrugged her hand off.

  “Don’t touch me. I … I know you’ve been with a man.”

  “I was with Lydia.”

  “Don’t lie.” He staggered a bit, and she reached out to help him, but he pushed her roughly against the wall. Turning slowly, he made his way into his room, Dera following him. He threw himself on his bed and cradled the bottle in his arms. “Been alone all night. Too tired to ar… gue.”

  She approached the bed and attempted to take the bottle from him. He swiped at her but missed. “Need this. Go away, bitch.”

  Avery closed his eyes, and in a few seconds he slept the sleep of a contented drunk. Dera had never seen this side of him. She knew he indulged in drink, but he had never called her names before or been so disagreeable. The tipsy, unpleasant man snoring peacefully in no way resembled the haughty Lord who presided over the estate. What was happening to Avery?

  She pulled the covers over him and tried to take the bottle away, but even in sleep he held it as tightly as a lover embraces his beloved.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  In the days following the loss of Lydia���s baby, Dera and Anna tended to her in Timothy’s absence. Since that tragic night, he had disappeared, and Dera grew anxious that something terrible had happened to him. Lydia, however, didn’t seem to care whether Timothy was with her or not. Gradually, she recovered her physical strength, but Dera noticed the woman’s lack of interest in anyone or anything around her.

  For hours on end she sat in her bed, her eyes darting from side to side as if she were looking for someone. She spoke only when spoken to and gave no indication that she was grateful for the two women’s care. What upset Dera the most was that Lydia hadn’t shed one tear over her lost son.

  ���I agree with you,” Anna said when Dera voiced her fear. “Something’s not right with Mrs. Brennan. I feel it in here.” She touched her heart. “I’m feared for her sanity.”

  “I wish I knew how to help her. If only Uncle Timothy would return.”

  “Hmph! Him. I wouldn’t hold no olive branch out to a man who deserted me in my hour of need. He’d not darken my stoop again. I’d make sure of that.”

  “Oh, Anna, Timothy loves Lydia very much, but there are things between them of which we know little.” Dera took up for her uncle because she knew how badly he had been hurt. She hoped that in some way, if he returned, he could reach his wife and pull her out of the empty world she had entered.

  Two weeks after Timothy’s disappearance, Dera went to Lydia’s house and to her surprise and relief, she found Timothy sitting in the cooking area and chewing on his pipe as if he had never left. “Thank God, you’re back. Where have you been?” she asked him.

  “In Ballinasloe. Don’t ask me what I did, for I don’t wish to say.” He puffed away, the shame of his desertion and stay at a house of ill repute distressed him.

  Does Lydia know you’re back?”

  “Aye,” he answered, licking his lips. “But she has spoken no words to me.”

  “You did leave her, Uncle. In time, she’ll forget and forgive.”

  “Nay. I doubt if she even cares I have returned. She says nothing to me because I am not him. That man.”

  Dera knelt beside him, feeling his pain. “Be good to her. She needs your help.”

  ���‘Tis easy to be good to her for I love her more than my own life.” He chewed on his pipe and grew quiet. “How is Lord Fairfax?” he asked.

  Dera stood and picked up her riding crop. She smoothed down her skirt. “Fine. He hasn’t been out for a time. A bit under the weather.” Even as she said this, she lied. True, Avery hadn’t ventured outside for weeks, but not because he suffered from any malady. Most of the time he was too intoxicated to leave the manor. She hated what he was doing to himself and to her. She remembered how he had been drunk and mean one morning, saying nasty things about her virtue and accusing her of sleeping with every man on the estate. She had left and ridden Darcie to escape his acid tongue. Upon her return, she found him sprawled on the library floor in a drunken stupor.

  The incident had been repeated. At one point, he raised his hand to strike her, but was so intoxicated he fell upon the marble floor and cut his head. When Avery awoke from his unconscious state, he remembered nothing about how he had incurred his wound. So far he hadn’t hurt her, but she grew increasingly fearful for her safety.

  “Give his lordship my regards,” Timothy said. “And thank you for caring for my Lydia.”

  Though she longed to reach out and embrace him, she could not. In all her life, she had never kissed her uncle for fear of being rejected by him. She bade him goodbye and returned home on Darcie.

  When she reached the manor, she was hailed by Shamus, the gardener. He helped her from the horse and smiled shyly. She had known Shamus since her childhood days. Barely older than herself, he had married young and already had a child. She liked him because he was one of the few people on the estate who had always treated her with respect.

  “My lady, the planting is to begin next month. What will you be requiring for the new garden?”

  She looked at the tilled soil, ready for planting. She mulled this over for a moment. “Roses are my weakness. Pink ones would be nice.”

  “Aye, t’would brighten things up a bit.” He looked down, growing uncomfortable in Dera’s presence, because she was no longer just Timothy’s niece. Dera sensed this.

  “How are your wife and the new baby?” she asked.

  His face relaxed. “Doing well. My Maggie thanks you for the blanket you sent our babe. Real lace, it was,” he said in awe.

  ���I���m pleased she liked it.���

  ���Aye, that she did. I���ll put your horse up,��� he volunteered.

  Dera was halfway up the stairs on the way to her room when Avery appeared in the parlor doorway. He hadn’t shaved and he wore no jacket, just a rumpled shirt and trousers.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  ���May I change for supper first?”

  His face became a thundercloud. “Come now.���

  Immediately she went to him and placed her riding crop on a chair. She wasn’t surprised to smell liquor on him.

  “You’ve been traip … traipsing around the countryside a … gain,” he slurred.

  “I visited Lydia. Timothy is home.”

  “A devoted niece. Every … every day you visit there. What else do you do?” He swayed on his feet, then balanced himself.

  “Nothing else. I help her a bit, then I return home.”

  ���Don’t believe you.”

  She could tell Avery was going to be nasty by the way he eyed her in cold contempt. She didn’t think she could endure his ravings again. “I can’t help what you think. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I saw you outside enticing the gardener. I … I know you’d like to bed with him if you haven’t already. Remember, you were no vir … gin when we married. You’re a slut!”

  Indignation filled her, but she tried to remain calm, realizing that he was drunk. Still, she did have some pride. “You’ve had a great deal to drink. When you’re sober, we’ll discuss this,” she said and headed for the stairs, refusing to take his abuse.

  “Nobody walks away from me, bitch!”

  He picked up her discarded riding crop and before she had time to react, he reached her and began to strike her. “Avery!” she cried out, trying to wrest it from him, but the more she fought, the stronger he became. The crop cut away at the fabric of her riding costume, exposing her naked flesh.

  “You’ll pay for breaking your word,” he screamed. He pushed her against the staircase and continued his a
ssault. He raised the crop high, but she dodged the blow and he landed on his knees. This gave her time to run up the stairs. But despite his drunken state, he recovered himself and staggered up the steps after her. Before Dera reached the landing, he lunged at her; his hand shot out and grabbed her ankle in a hold so tight, she found it impossible to break loose.

  Ignoring her kicks and cries, he dragged her into her bedroom. He pinned her to the floor with his weight and tore the thin fabric of her clothes away. “Stop!” she begged. “I’ve done nothing.���

  “Liar!” he screeched.

  She shook her head from side to side. “I didn���t lie. Get off of me!���

  She denied what he thought to be the truth. He wanted her to be quiet, couldn���t stand to hear her lies any longer. He doubled his fist, and with a quick jab, he hit the side of her face.

  The pain shot through her with such intensity she thought she was dying. From far off, she heard Anna’s screams and a serving man���s shouts and felt Avery being removed from atop her body. Then a sweet darkness descended.

  Dera heard a buzzing in her ears; then a droning sound she couldn’t place until she heard someone calling her name over and over, drawing her back from the darkness.

  Her eyelids felt heavy, but she managed to open them. Anna sat beside her and peered into her face. “Thank the good Lord, you’re all right. I thought we had lost you.”

  Dera looked around the room. The candles were lit and she was in her bed dressed in a clean night dress. Every inch of her body ached. She opened her mouth, but pain seared her face. Placing a hand to her jaw, she remembered.

  “Avery?” Her eyes widened and filled with panic.

  “Sleeping like a vicious lion. He’d have killed you if me and two of the kitchen lads hadn’t of pulled him off you. The man’s gone balmy with drink.” Anna patted her arm. “Never you fret, for I’m staying by your side. It will take more than a drunken lord to get past me.” She folded her arms and staunchly positioned herself to defend Dera from any further assaults. “Get some rest, dear,” Anna said, gazing at her in a motherly fashion. “Poor lamb,” she said.