Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  “Stewart!” she shrieked, as the pain hit her again.

  Wilfred looked more worried than she had ever seen him. “He’s gone out on reconnaissance, he might not be back until tomorrow.”

  The doctor took one look at Vevina and urged, “Get someone to find him, now!”

  Vevina’s pain increased, but the progress of the labour was interminably slow. By midnight she had pushed, squeezed and screamed until she was hoarse, always calling for Stewart, and wondering why he wasn’t there when she needed him most.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Finally at about dawn the next morning, Stewart came galloping into camp, with news of French troop movement coming in their direction.

  His arrangements for the protection of their key fort, however, came to a standstill when Wilfred stormed up to him demanded, “How can you stand there giving orders so calmly, when Vevina is dying!”

  Stewart whitened, and grabbed Wilfred by both shoulders. “What do you mean? What’s happened? Where is she?” he demanded, panic welling up inside him.

  “It’s the baby. She’s been in labour for hours. Doc Gallagher can’t do anything,” Wilfred whispered. “She’s been hanging on, waiting to see you before she goes.”

  An icy fist clenched Stewart’s heart. For the first time since the beginning of the war, he knew paralyzing terror.

  He went running to their tent, and saw her lying there, pale and very very still.

  Too still.

  For a moment he was sure she was already dead, and his heart leapt into his mouth.

  But then she stirred as if she sensed he was there. She whispered as she held her hand out to him, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He kneeled down and kissed her, then looked at the two people attending her.

  The Doc gave a small shake of his head.

  “Have you been giving the Doc here a hard time, Viv?” he teased, though his heart was full.

  “Please, I’ve asked him to cut me, save the baby. Stewart, I’m no fool. If we don’t do something soon, both the baby and I will die. Please, let Doc Gallagher save the baby.”

  “The feet are coming out first. Vevina’s exhausted. I don’t know what else to do if you want to save your child,” Doc explained hurriedly.

  Stewart’s jaw set. “I want you to save them both!”

  “No, Stewart, please, save the baby. I know you’ve never loved me anyway. You’ll be free, give the baby and the boys to Jeanne and Francis to take care of. Wilfred’s promised to take care of the money side of things for them. Please, save the baby,” she pleaded.

  Stewart put a finger to her lips, his hand shaking. “I have always loved you, from the minute I laid eyes on you. I’m sorry my pride has been so stung that I’ve never told you, that I’ve hurt you because I felt so hurt. Vevina, I love you, please don’t leave me. Without you I would be lost,” he confessed, as the tears began to trickle down his cheeks unheeded.

  "I can't. I can't tell the doctor to save you. Losing the baby would be a devastaing blow. But losing you would kill me, my love."

  Vevina’s heart lifted as she heard his words, and though she felt doubt, knew he was only saying what she needed to hear at the time, she felt strong enough to fight again.

  “What do you want me to do, Stewart?” she asked, her eyes full of love and tenderness as she brushed his tears away.

  “Trust me. Do as I say.”

  Vevina nodded. “I trust you with my life, I always have.”

  Stewart was not about to let her down. He called for lots of boiling water, and got Jeanne to come in to rub Vevina’s stomach with some soothing oils, while he removed his dusty tunic and scrubbed himself thoroughly.

  Then he shredded a sheet, and gently felt for the baby’s feet.

  “There has to be a way to get the baby out. We just need patience and courage. Can you bear down, my love?” Stewart asked, and got hold of both tiny feet with a bit more effort.

  Vevina was even too tired to scream, and Stewart could feel a great strength almost holding the baby back.

  “Give her some brandy, make Vevina go to sleep,” he suggested. “Then the muscles might relax?”

  Doc Gallagher nodded. "I see what you're getting at. It might work. I can try to help it along."

  Jeanne brought the brandy a moment later and resumed her position by her mistress' side.

  Vevina forced herself to drink three glasses, and within a few minutes was half-asleep.

  Jeanne’s constant rubbing of her stomach soothed and distracted her, so that when Doc Gallagher cut into her below, she hardly even noticed.

  “We can always restitch that,” the Doc said, “but cutting her open completely would certainly kill her.”

  Stewart had waded in blood up to his knees on the battlefield, but somehow seeing his wife in such pain haunted him beyond measure.

  He forced himself to continue to keep up the pull on the cords around the baby’s ankles, and soon the knees came. But he knew if the baby was very wide-shouldered, it might get stuck like a cork in a bottle, so as the little hands appeared, he tugged the left one, and heard a soft pop.

  “My God, what have you done!” the Doctor cried.

  Stewart gritted his teeth and managed to pop the other shoulder bone out of its socket as well.

  Suddenly the baby slid down, and then Doc Gallagher was tying the cord while Stewart gave the boy a sound smack on its rump and it let out a watery cry.

  Stewart laid the baby and flat, and pushed with the heel of his hand two times. Both shoulders clicked back into placed.

  Jeanne stared at him in amazement.

  He ordered, “Rub him every day, both shoulders, until the pain goes away. I think it will be all right.”

  Vevina called out, “Is he all right? Let me see him!”

  Stewart brought him over. He was small, dark-haired, with dark blue eyes.

  “Oh, I’m so glad he looks just like you!” she breathed, as he kissed her firmly on the lips.

  “I must admit I’m bit disappointed,” he jested. “I was hoping for a daughter with auburn hair and violet eyes!”

  At that instant Doc Gallagher exclaimed, “Stewart!” Vevina simultaneously gasped in pain.

  “My God, is she haemorrhaging?” Stewart asked frantically.

  “No! There’s another baby!”

  Stewart stared at him open-mouthed.

  “Well, you were a twin yourself, Stewart,” Doc Gallagher reminded him.

  "God in Heaven."

  "He certainly is bountiful, it seems," the doctor said with a wry smile.

  Then they set to work again.

  This birth was much easier, for the first baby had paved the way for the second, and it was turned around to face the right way.

  “I bet they were both jostling to see who would be first,” Stewart said grimly, thinking of his brother.

  Vevina smiled. “Well, we will treat them both equally, not play them off against each other as your father did.”

  Stewart held her hand and kissed it, his heart full of love for Vevina, and fear that he had almost lost her.

  Within the next hour, the baby crowned and was finally safely delivered.

  Stewart practically whooped for joy as he spotted the tiny head emerging.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Vevina asked worriedly, when she saw the expression on Stewart’s face.

  “I got my wish."

  "What?"

  The baby slid the rest of the way out, and he laughed so hard the tears of joy and relief began to stream down his face. "It’s a girl,” he said, and held her up for her mother to see.

  Vevina beheld an amazing shock of dark auburn hair, and stared. “Good Lord!” she cried, “a boy and a girl?”

  "We both got our wish, my love."

  She giggled weakly. "You sound surprised. I certainly have ever since we met, darling."

  He stooped to kiss her as he never had before, with no holding back. He had come so close to losing her, he vo
wed that he would never let a day go by again without telling her and showing her how much he loved her. How she was the one and only woman he had ever loved.

  He would have told her then about the mix up at the costume ball, but thanks to a relieved and joyful uncle pacing like a madman outside, news of the safe delivery had travelled throughout the camp like wildfire.

  Everyone came to congratulate the couple, and see the two amazing children. The exhausted mother got to rest, while Stewart played the proud father to a tee.

  In truth, he could hardly bear to let the three of them out of his sight.

  Calling to mind his duties now that he was sure his wife was out of immediate danger, he ordered Jeanne and Will to make sure she rested.

  "I would stay, but the French are definitely launching a new offensive. I have to get our men ready."

  Will offered, "Why not let me. You can stay and—"

  "I would love to, but I'm a Colonel now, and Wellington is counting on me, on all of us. You stay here, so I don't go out of my mind with worry. And I will do my best, and be back as soon as I can."

  Both men shook hands.

  Stewart gave his slumbering wife one last tender kiss, and once each for his new son and daughter, then went off to survey the preparations to defend the fort from the imminent French attack.

  Chapter Forty-two

  When Vevina awoke many hours later, she was still numb and exhausted, but she knew she was alive, and it had all been thanks to Stewart.

  Jeanne was napping by her side in a chair, but came awake when Vevina moved and asked for water.

  “Ugh! I don’t think I’ll ever drink brandy again,” Vevina joked.

  “Try to rest, Madame, you’ve been through a great deal. But such a husband. He must love you very much,” Jeanne sighed. “I am very glad you didn’t marry Colonel Olivier, magnificent man though he was, and French!”

  Just then Wilfred came in, dusty and dishevelled looking, “Thank God you're awake, dear."

  "Why, whatever's the matter, Will?"

  "It's the French. They're trying to retake the city. I've been doing what I can to ready the troops nearby while Jeanne's been looking after you. I know you're not well enough to get to Lisbon, but Stewart just ordered me to come back to get you to safety.”

  “Where can I go?” Vevina gasped, struggling to sit up.

  “The Irish college is taking in refugees, so you should be safe there. No, don’t try to walk, I’ll carry you,” he insisted, hurrying to her side and pressing her down by one shoulder.

  “What will happen to our fort?”

  “We haven’t got enough reinforcements or ammunition after the last big battle. The supplies haven’t been coming through as quickly as we’ve been expending them. We’ll take what we can, and get out fast,” Wilfred informed her hurriedly. He snatched up a few clothes off the chairs and bed and tied them into a bundle.

  Jeanne took her cue from him, and did likewise.

  "Damn, I can hear them coming. We'll have to leave the rest. Come now, put your arms around me—"

  "But Will, maybe you should stand and fight—"

  "Not when my whole family is in Danger. Now come on, dear, out your arms arounf me, and let's go. Jeanne, are you ready?" he asked over his shoulder in French.

  "Oui!"

  Wilfred shouldered the two sabretaches he had stuffed full of items, and lifted his sister. Jeanne grabbed the tiny infants, and her bundle, and hurried out of the tent hard on Will's heels.

  They both ran out of the back gates and through several small winding alleyways until they came to a huge pair of well-guarded wrought iron gates, the only opening in a set of vast, twenty feet walls.

  Wilfred was let in as soon as he explained who they were, and striding through the courtyard after a bustling little monk, brought Vevina up a large winding staircase to a small, bare white washed room with two beds in it, and laid his sister down gently.

  “Stewart, where is he?”

  “Launching a surprise attack to hold them up while we get everyone out. Don’t worry, they won’t get through for the next couple of days at this rate. And not at all if we keep our heads.

  "Much as I hate to leave you, I must go now, but try not to worry. I’ll come back. And as soon as you're fit to travel, you must go to Lisbon with the children. This is no life for a new mother, dear.”

  Vevina would have argued with him, but she was too tired, and he too grim and care-worn looking.

  "What about Jack and Bob? We fled without them—"

  "They're on their way with Mitchell and Francis, never fear. They'll be here soon."

  Wilfred unpacked the things he had gathered so hurriedly, and took the empty bags with him. "I'll go back for another load if I can, and see where they've all got to."

  He was back about fifteen minutes later. "They're here, in the room next door, along with some supplies and essentials."

  "Thank God," Vevina sighed.

  Just as Mitchell and Francis came with the boys to show Vevina all was well, she heard a rumble and blast in the distance.

  She and Will exchanged knowing looks. The fighting for their fort at Salamanca had truly begun again in earnest.

  Vevina recovered slowly over the next week, still unable to travel, but at least able to get out of the bed.

  She had been fortunate not to catch childbed fever, and a kind priest at the college with a good knowledge of medicine showed her many herbal remedies. He always managed to find her a raw egg and some heavy black beer called stout to drink, in order to build her strength up.

  They also located a wonderful Spanish woman, Rosita, to act as wet-nurse to the two hungry infants, who began to thrive under the love of so many in the small, unusual family circle.

  Vevina felt cut off from the rest of the world in the college, but it was cool and serene in the midst of the chaotic heat of August and the war which raged on continually outside the walls of Salamanca. She fretted about her husband and brother, and longed to go to the hospital tent to help Doc Gallagher with the wounded,

  At the same time, she had to admit to herself that she was tired, and she had almost died giving birth to the twins. She would have for certain if Stewart had not arrived when he did.

  So indeed, she had a duty to her country, but to her husband and family too. She took in needlework by the ton so she would not be completely idle, but all the while she waited, and prayed that the French would be pushed back, and the British troops could not only take the whole of the city, but push forward as well.

  At the end of a week, Wilfred was able to return with the welcome news that the French offensive had failed, thanks to the marvellous efforts of Stewart and his men to rout the foe.

  But Vevina could sense a tension behind Wilfred’s euphoria, and asked quietly, “Where is Stewart?”

  “We don’t know," he admitted with a sigh and a shake of his head. "We saw him captured. He was wounded, and a Colonel of the Imperial Guards took him.”

  “A colonel, you say? Where were these troops from?”

  “Burgos, maybe Vittoria, I’m not sure. All I know is Stewart blew up the bridge, so they couldn’t get cross so easily, and then he crossed himself, pushed them back. He had wounds to the leg, though, and his right arm. He was definitely captured. We can only hope there’s no eager French sawbones wanting to amputate rather than try to save the leg,” Wilfred said quietly.

  Vevina nodded numbly, but within her breast there was still hope. Stewart was a Colonel, a British officer. He had been captured, not killed. And how many Colonels of the Imperial Guard could there be in this area.

  Dared she to hope Andre Olivier was the officer who would take charge of her husband? And surely it was possible for Stewart to be ransomed, or even escape and come back to her soon?

  Fate could not possibly be so cruel as to have saved her life, and then separated them through his death, she was sure.

  And as for him being injured, well, even if he was badly hurt, he could
recover, live a full life again. She didn't care if he was sans an arm or leg so long as he was alive. They could still love each other, be a happy couple, loving parents…

  "We'll find him, I promise," Will said, hugging his sister as the tears began to fall. "Stewart loves you. He's waited a lifetime for a woman like you. Believe me, Sis, he's not going to give up til he comes back to you. Just be patient."