Jack Chiltern's Wife (1999)

by Nichols, Mary

  They looked at each other, wondering whether to go in, but before either could do so, Dr Seward came out of the bedchamber looking grave. ‘He has sustained a wound, perhaps more than one, which was not properly attended to. I cannot be sure, but it looks as if a musket ball is lodged in his upper arm and has been there some time. The area round the wound has putrified. I have told him he must lose the arm.’

  ‘And he has refused?’ Kitty queried. ‘Is there no alternative?’

  ‘I think it will be unwise to wait. I tried to explain to him, but I fear he is not fully aware of his condition.’

  ‘Go to ‘im, Kitty,’ her ladyship said. ‘Talk to ‘im.

  Kitty crept into the room. Jack was lying on his back, his face a pale mask. ‘You still here?’ he queried weakly. ‘I had thought you would be long gone.’

  ‘Why should I go? I am your wife. This is our home.’

  ‘So it is.’ His tone was full of wry irony.

  ‘You wish me gone?’

  She waited, with her heart in her mouth for his reply. He smiled lop-sidedly. ‘That fool wants to take off my arm.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘I won’t have it. It will heal, given time.’

  ‘Jack, please, do not take any more risks. You are home now and I would rather have a husband with one arm than no husband at all.’

  ‘I am not your husband, I never have been.’

  She rose and ran from the room. He knew. He had known all along. He had arranged that ceremony simply to make her conform, to obey him. She passed the Countess, still pacing up and down the corridor, and fled to her room, where she laid herself on her bed. To have him home when they thought him lost, to see him so obviously in pain and be able to do nothing to help, to have continued to hope when all hope should have faded—surely she deserved a reward for that?

  While he had been away, she had been able to convince herself that, as soon as he came home, all would be well and he would love her and their child. She had been deluding herself. Now what could she do? Where could she go? How could she explain to the Earl and the Countess, who had both been so good to her, that her marriage was a sham?

  Jack lay back exhausted. What had made him say such a terrible thing to her? Why didn’t she understand that he loved her, that he had been to hell and back and all he wanted was the peace and quiet of Chiltern Hall, his parents and a wife who loved him and wanted him? She didn’t want him, she had not even tried to touch him when he arrived.

  He could not blame her for that; he must be a ghastly sight, but if she cared for him at all, she would have ignored that. It had been his disappointment that made him lash out. It had been the thought of being reunited with Kitty which had driven him on, helped him to ignore the pain, the hunger, the sore feet from walking miles every day, the danger of being spotted. Kitty, always Kitty. Now he was home and too weak to say and do the things he had planned.

  His mother came into the room and sat beside the bed, not speaking, just watching him tenderly. He smiled lop-sidedly. ‘I do not make a good patient.’

  ‘Are you going to let the doctor amputate your arm?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He says the ball is still in there and is poisoning your system.’

  ‘He is wrong. It was taken out. The wound never healed properly because I could not rest. And in Lyons a gendarme stuck his bayonet into it. Filthy it was, so I don’t wonder the wound has gone bad. But, now I am home, it will mend.’ He paused to gather his strength. ‘See, already I am growing stronger.’

  She sighed. ‘Why did you send Kitty away?’

  ‘I didn’t. She went. Mother, keep her away. She only stays from duty …’

  ‘I never heard such nonsense! You are delirious. Why, she loves you. She ‘as been beside herself worrying about you, worrying about the child …’

  ‘Child?’

  ‘Did you not notice? Oh, Jack, I can only think your fever has affected your eyes.’

  ‘She is expecting a child? But how could she? We …’ This was something he had never envisaged. It put a completely different light on the matter. ‘Where is she? Fetch her back.’

  ‘Later.’ She stood up as the doctor came back into the room. ‘Here is Dr Seward come back.’

  ‘With his chopper and his saw, no doubt.’ He lifted his head. ‘Take them away. You may clean the wound, no more.’

  ‘But, Jack …’ his mother protested.

  ‘You risk your life by refusing,’ the doctor said.

  Jack’s smile was more a grimace of pain as the doctor removed the bandage which had been strapping his arm to his body and peeled off the dressing. ‘I have risked my life many times in the last three years, sir. I am … used to it …’ His voice faded away as he fainted.

  ‘Good,’ the doctor said. ‘Now we can get on.’

  ‘No.’ The Countess’s voice was quite firm. ‘I will not let you do it against ‘is wishes. Clean the wound and bind ‘im again. We shall see how ‘e does.’

  Dr Seward sighed. He had seen brave men brought down when it came to amputation and many had at first refused, but when the pain and putrefaction became too much to bear they had been willing enough. The trouble was that delay usually meant the infection spread and the final cut was all the more severe; because the patient had been weakened by his obstinacy, he frequently did not survive the operation.

  ‘I will take the responsibility,’ she added, when he hesitated. ‘Tell me what we must do to nurse ‘im and we will do it.’

  Reluctantly he gave in.

  For three days Justine and Kitty nursed him in turns, never leaving him alone for a second. He grew more and more feverish and restless, tossing this way and that, crying out and mumbling in delirium. Sometimes Kitty thought he called her name.

  ‘He cannot go on much longer like this,’ Kitty said to her mother-in-law. ‘Are you sure we are doing the right thing?’

  ‘No, I am not, but Jack would not forgive me if ‘e came to ‘is senses and found we ‘ad agreed to let the doctor take ‘is arm off.’

  ‘It is better than letting him die.’

  ‘‘E did not die in France when there was no one to nurse ‘im. ‘Ere, where ‘e ‘as every attention, ‘e will survive.’

  ‘You are as stubborn as he is,’ Kitty said. ‘I think he would rather die than stay married to me.’

  ‘What? What nonsense is this? You must not say such dreadful things. ‘E came ‘ome to you. It is for you ‘e wants to get better …’

  ‘Then why is he getting worse?’

  ‘Is ‘e?’ Justine stood looking down at the form in the bed. For once Jack had stopped thrashing about, as if his soul had already accepted death and welcomed it. He was no longer fighting.

  ‘Yes. Please, send for the doctor again,’ Kitty whispered. ‘Tell him to do as he thinks fit. I would rather die myself than be the cause of his death …’

  ‘Kitty, go to bed,’ the Countess commanded. ‘You are so exhausted, you talk as much nonsense as Jack. It is not good for the child.’

  ‘Send for the doctor, please.’

  ‘Very well. But go to bed, child. I’ll send Rose to you with a tisane. I will call you if there is any change.’

  Slowly Kitty dragged herself to her own room. Jack was dying and, whichever way you looked at it, it was her fault. His innate sense of chivalry had made him offer to escort her in the first place, to try and take her to freedom, to marry her. And having done so, he had brought her to safety, left her in possession of his home and gone off again, risking his life to save a doomed queen.

  It was all her fault. He thought so too. She could not forget his words: ‘I am not your husband, I never have been.’

  Rose came into her room with a glass in her hand and persuaded her to drink the bitter draught it contained. She needed oblivion. She would not be able to think clearly until she had slept. She stripped off her gown and lay down in her petticoat. Her last conscious thought was of her child.

  How much were u
nborn children affected by their mother’s upsets? Did the little one know the anguish she suffered? Was he equally disturbed? She felt him kick, quite violently. ‘Oh, you do know,’ she murmured. ‘You are determined to punish me too.’

  Forced into sleep by the drug, she did not wake until the next day. The sun was shining through the fabric of the curtains and she could hear the church bells ringing. For a moment she was confused, wondering what day it was. Then she remembered it was Christmas Day. She rose and went to the window, pulling back the curtains to peer out.

  It had snowed a little in the night. The path was glittering with it and it hung on the branches of the bare trees and piled itself against the hedgerows, white and pure. Today was a day of purity; the birthday of the Saviour. ‘A child is born,’ she murmured, turning back towards the room as Rose came in.

  ‘I thought I heard you about, my lady. I’ve brought you hot chocolate and water to wash. Shall I help you dress?’

  ‘Yes, please. Lord Chiltern?’

  ‘The Earl sat with him during the night while her ladyship rested, my lady. I believe she went back to him after she had breakfasted.’

  ‘Has the doctor been?’

  ‘Expected any minute.’

  ‘Then let us make haste.’

  Fifteen minutes later, Kitty crept into the sick room. It was uncannily silent. The Countess sat beside the bed, watching her son, with tears raining down her cheeks. He lay very still, a hump in the bedclothes, no more. The single candle left burning all night guttered and went out.

  Kitty gasped and moved forward to fall on her knees beside the bed, her heart screaming against the outrage, but no sound came from her throat. What she felt was beyond speech.

  Justine put a hand on her shoulder and gripped it. ‘He sleeps,’ she said.

  At first Kitty did not comprehend; she thought of eternal sleep, not the sleep from which one awoke refreshed. ‘Yes,’ she said softly.

  ‘Thank God. Now he will not lose his arm. We can send the doctor away again.’ She looked down at Kitty. ‘Oh, this is so wonderful. Happy Christmas, daughter.’

  A small sound from the bed made Kitty turn startled eyes towards it. Jack was looking straight at her, his dark eyes clear and bright.

  ‘You still here,’ he murmured, just as if there had not been four full days since the first time he had uttered the phrase.

  It was a second chance. She had a second chance to frame her reply. It was worth fighting for, she told herself. If fate had been kind enough to give you what you most desired, then you would be a fool to throw it away for want of a little honesty. ‘It is the only place I want to be, the only place I shall ever want to be.’ She smiled and bent to kiss his forehead. ‘I am afraid, my darling, you are stuck with me.’

  He grinned. ‘You mean that? I cannot drive you away, however boorish I become?’

  ‘No. I love you.’

  ‘I do not know what you are talking about,’ the Countess said brightly. ‘Why should you drive Kitty away? And you are never boorish. Why, you are the most even-tempered of men.’ She paused and gave a light laugh. ‘Most of the time, anyway. I own you were dreadfully ill-tempered when you arrived, but that was because you were so ill. I am sure Kitty has forgiven you, for I ‘ave.’

  ‘Have you?’ he queried, looking at his wife.

  ‘Yes.’

  He raised his eyebrow at her. ‘For everything?’

  She knew what he meant. ‘For everything.’

  He grinned lop-sidedly. ‘Love is the strongest force of all, isn’t that what you once said to me?’

  ‘Yes, though you said it was a tyrant.’

  ‘I was wrong. And you were right. I love you, Lady Chiltern. I have loved you since the moment you berated me at the Paris barrière, a veritable fishwife.’

  ‘But you were not at all pleased with me for that.’

  ‘Oh, indeed I was. I thought you were wonderful.’ He reached out and put his good hand up round her neck, drawing her face down towards him so that he could kiss her. ‘My little tyrant.’

  The Countess crept from the room. They hardly noticed her go.

  Epilogue

  The sun was shining and the daffodils were nodding on the day Justin James Chiltern was christened. Wearing the christening robe Jack himself had worn, he was taken to the church by his proud parents in the family coach, where the ceremony was witnessed by his doting grandparents, his Uncle James, who had provided one of his names, and his Aunt Nanette, determined to be present though the birth of her own child was imminent.

  Great-aunt Anne-Marie was also present, and Great-uncle William and Kitty’s stepmother, who, unusually for her, was overawed by the grandeur of the occasion and had little to say, apart from cooing over the baby. Captain Trent and Edward Lampeter also arrived, both resplendent in uniform. And all along the way almost the whole population of Beauforth stood to cheer the new heir.

  It was a day on which to be happy and Kitty was happy. She could hardly believe there had been that appalling quarrel on her wedding night. Her first wedding night, for there had been a second that was very different.

  When Jack had been sufficiently well to speak of what was on his mind and had been on his mind ever since it happened, he had once again begged Kitty’s pardon. It was the first time he had dressed and come downstairs and, though he was still pale and a little weak, he was making rapid strides towards a full recovery. She had wrapped a rug about his knees and put a cushion behind his injured shoulder, before sitting in a chair beside him.

  ‘I was so sure you wanted an annulment and that was the last thing I wanted,’ he went on. ‘It made me feel so frustrated and confused, I wanted to lash out against it, against the circumstances that had brought us to such a pass, at myself for being such a fool as to think I could win your love after we were married when I had not succeeded before. It was a feeling that was new to me and I suppose I needed to prove I was my own master. Instead, I lost control.’

  ‘Why did you not say so? It was a strange way to ensure the marriage endured. And so unnecessary. I would have given myself to you willingly.’

  ‘I did not know that. I thought you had agreed to the marriage simply to help us get out of France and keep your reputation intact.’

  ‘Jack, that was how you put it to me when you suggested it. It was not what was in my mind. I wanted a true marriage. And when you … when you …’ She could not bring herself to put into words the horror of that night.

  ‘I must have been out of my mind, there is no other explanation. And I knew, as soon as it was over, that I had forfeited your love for ever. Nothing I did afterwards could redress the wrong.’

  ‘So, instead of trying to work things out, you brought me home and disappeared again. Jack, we were so worried about you and, when the War Department as good as said you must be dead, we almost lost hope.’

  He smiled wryly. ‘Only almost?’

  ‘I could not bring myself to accept it. I had this strange feeling that we were joined in some way, and that if the thread that bound us had been severed by death, I should know it when it happened. I know that sounds fanciful, but I was right, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, thank God. When I found you still here …’

  ‘Where else would I be? I am your wife. This is our home. It will be the home of our child.’ She paused. They had to be open and honest with each other, or any doubts they had would never be quite erased. ‘But the question is, do you want to be bound to me?’

  ‘Do you need to ask? My bonds are easy to live with. I loved you in France, I love you now, I will love you in a hundred years if we should live so long.’

  ‘Oh, Jack, how I have longed to hear you say that!’

  ‘In spite of what I did to you?’

  ‘I cannot believe the marriage bed is always like that.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, it is not. If only you would forgive me, then I could show you a very different husband, one who cares deeply for you. I would hope, in time, to expunge t
he memory of that dreadful wedding night.’

  She looked at him shyly. ‘Jack, it was a proper wedding, wasn’t it? Legal, I mean?’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked at her sharply. ‘You surely do not think I contrived it to—’

  ‘Now, don’t fly into the boughs, all I meant was that we could make doubly sure. It was your papa put the idea into my head. He said we could have a second ceremony, here, in Beauworth church, and then there could never be any doubt about it.’

  ‘And you would like that?’

  ‘I should like it very much.’

  ‘Then, this time, I must do the job properly.’ He flung the rug from him and slipped from his seat to kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in his. ‘My darling Kitty, I adore you, I cannot live without you. Will you make me very happy and consent to become my wife?’

  ‘La, sir,’ she said, entering into the spirit of the occasion. ‘I shall have to think about it and give you an answer later.’

  ‘How much later?’

  ‘Oh, I think thirty seconds will suffice.’

  He waited the prescribed time, his eyes dancing with happiness, while she smiled down at him. ‘And your answer?’

  ‘Yes, of course, silly. And do get up, you will soil your beautiful clothes.’

  He stood up, drawing her to her feet to kiss her very gently, very tenderly, afraid of being too forceful. ‘When, my love? Tell me when.’

  ‘As soon as maybe.’ She laughed. ‘After all, our child must be born in wedlock.’

  The ceremony, witnessed by Lord and Lady Beauworth, took place a week later, a year almost to the day since they had first met. And that night, in spite of her ungainly bulk, he had taken her in his arms in their bed and kissed her tenderly, beginning with her face and working his way down to her throat and breasts, putting his hand to her swollen stomach and laughing delightedly when he felt the baby kick. ‘I am half afraid to touch you,’ he murmured.

  She lifted his head in both her hands and smiled at him. ‘He is tougher than you might think. He will not mind.’

  ‘You are sure it will be a boy?’