The Secret Love of a Gentleman

by Jane Lark

  “What I have planned. But thank God Uncle Robert’s property is in Yorkshire; I wish to be as far away from here as it is possible to be. I wish to never see her again. I am only glad she was not there today. I have made myself her dupe.”

  His father sighed, then sipped from his glass.

  “I shall give myself a month to recover fully, and then I will leave for Yorkshire.” Rob took a mouthful of the brandy.

  “Time,” his father stated.

  “Time…” Rob questioned.

  “Time heals everything. This feeling will pass.”

  His father could be so bloody prophetic it was annoying. “Well, I wish it would hurry and go. I do not understand the poets who call love sublime, it is not sublime—it is agony.”

  “Sometimes it is sublime. Sometimes it is agony. That is true, even when the love is for a child there can be periods of agony, such as when you find your son severely beaten.”

  Rob had grown a hundred times closer to his father in the last months. Yet it was probably the first time in his life he’d spent so much time alone with him.

  “Now finish your drink and I will pour you another; until time heals the pain, let the numbness of the brandy absorb it.”

  They spoke of estate management as they drank, of the things Rob ought to be careful of, and look forward to. Then his father began sharing stories of his failures, and of funny anecdotes he’d heard told by his labourers.

  It was two in the morning when his father left.

  Rob fell onto the bed without undressing and let the intoxication claim him. He’d felt numb the night he’d walked out of the Newcombs’ ball, because losing Caro had felt like losing the middle of himself. It was that which had probably made him deaf to his attackers. He preferred the numbness of alcohol. Perhaps he would become a drinker after all.

  Chapter 37

  “Lady Caroline, Lord Framlington is here.”

  Caro stood. “Tell him to come in. I did not hear him knock. Drew!” she shouted into the hall. His footsteps struck the stone tiles in the short hallway.

  “Caro,” he stepped into the room, slightly hunched to avoid the low ceiling.

  She went over to him as the housekeeper disappeared and enveloped him, her arms about his neck, then kissed his cheek. “I am pleased to see you.”

  “I was here on business, so I thought I would call.”

  “Well, you are very welcome. Sit down. You may tell me all the gossip. How is George? How is Iris? Beth, would you bring us tea? Will you stay for tea, Drew? I believe Beth has recently made some ginger cake, certainly the whole cottage smells of it.”

  He smiled as he took a seat and removed his gloves. He must have left his hat in the hall, as he could not have entered wearing it. “George is his normal rascal self, and Iris is getting stronger on her legs. I am convinced she will walk when she will be barely one.”

  “Well, she is your child. She must have acquired your determination.”

  “Perhaps. You look well, Caro? Are you still happy here?”

  “I am content, very content.”

  “Then I am happy. Has Phillip called recently?”

  “He has, he called on Sunday. He has called every Sunday since I have lived here.”

  Drew laughed.

  “It is nothing to laugh over, and do not give me that expectant look. I have told him not to come back. He believed by calling he would encourage me to think of him romantically. I had told him all I was able to offer was friendship.”

  “Would a romantic attachment to Phillip be of any harm?”

  She had been glad to see Drew, but his words suddenly pierced her, it seemed like betrayal to even think it. “Of course…” she answered breathlessly. “And now I have made it clear to him that it will never be so.”

  Drew swallowed before he replied, “I did not simply call. There is something I wish to tell you. We had a visitor…”

  “Who?”

  “Rob.”

  “Oh.” She nearly stood, and her hands clasped together. Rob had been here, a few miles away. “Was he well? Why has he not written?”

  “He had an accident in his curricle, he—”

  “He was hurt…”

  “Yes, his leg seemed badly injured, though he did not tell us what was wrong, but when George wished to play with him, Rob was not capable of it.”

  “Oh.” Her hands held each other more tightly. She did not wish to think of Rob being ill.

  “Yet he seems to be recovering from whatever occurred.”

  “Tea, ma’am.” Beth carried in a tray and set it on the table near Caro.

  Caro looked up. “Would you pour?” Her hands would shake too much if she tried to.

  Beth handed Caro a full cup, then handed Drew one and offered him a plate and some of the gingerbread, before leaving and closing the door.

  “Rob said he has taken the tenancy of a property Lord Barrington owns. He is moving to Yorkshire.”

  “Oh.” So many miles away.

  “He seemed pleased with the idea.”

  “Then I’m glad for him. When Mary writes, please ask her to tell him.”

  Drew nodded.

  Would Rob think the comment meant she did not care if he was close or distant?

  She sipped her tea, looking at the cup, the conversation no longer flowing.

  “He seemed disappointed that you were not there.”

  She looked up and smiled. “Thank you for the reassurance.”

  “It was not that. I think he came to see you. Though I would not tell Mary that.” He smiled.

  “But there is no point in him seeing me, is there? No more point than Phillip visiting.”

  Drew’s eyebrows lifted. “Yet, perhaps next summer Mary and I might ask him if he is willing to have guests.”

  “That would be cruel, Drew. He did not take it well when I told him there could be nothing between us.” As nor had Phillip. “But, Caroline, how can you know how you might feel in a few weeks or months, and what is the harm in having a gentleman friend…”

  She did not need gentlemen friends. She had the companionship of women, and yet she missed Rob. Her palm pressed over her stomach as she smiled at Drew. “I think it best if you visit him, that I do not. I do not think he would wish me there, and yet he might feel he had to be polite, or, worse, deny Mary so he need not see me.”

  “Yet he called at our home, and he thought you would be there.”

  Drew’s response passed through her. Had Rob wished to see her? There had not been one single word of communication between them since he’d walked out of the Newcombs’ ball four months ago.

  Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she shook her head. There was one communication left between them. A child.

  “We will talk about it again in the summer,” Drew answered. “You may change your mind.”

  Perhaps. “Is Mary well?”

  Drew smiled sympathetically as he let her change the subject.

  ~

  Caro stroked her stomach and sang the nursery rhymes she’d sung to George when he’d been born, her fingers brushing over her cotton nightgown. She shut her eyes. She had visited Isabella and Pauline today. They’d taken a walk through the countryside because the sun had shone so brightly it had tempted them out. She was happy, and yet she was desperate.

  Every day she expected to wake up and find blood between her legs. Or even when they had been walking for there to be a sudden pain in her stomach and then for the blood to flow. Any day now she must say goodbye to her child. She had never carried for more than four months.

  She breathed in and sang the rhyme again, her palm brushing over the cotton covering her stomach in a circular motion.

  She loved her child.

  Rob’s face hovered in her thoughts. He was the other part of their child. He had an accident in his curricle. It had been two weeks since Drew had come bearing that news. The thought had haunted her. She’d wanted to go to Rob a dozen times. But to interfere with his life wo
uld be cruel.

  There was a fluttering feeling within her stomach.

  Her breath caught.

  The sensation of movement within her stirred again. She sat up, the covers slipping to her waist. She longed for someone to speak with.

  If she had been at Drew’s she would have run to Mary without caution. Mary had carried two children—she would know. It was not a sensation Caro had felt before.

  Her children had never quickened.

  ~

  Caro pulled the hood of her cloak a little further over her head, though it was almost impossible that anyone might know her. She had travelled to Tunbridge Wells to avoid anyone in Maidstone seeing her.

  She crossed the busy street, then stopped before the doctor’s house and took a breath. She’d come because she had to know if the sensations inside her were what she believed.

  She knocked the fox’s head brass door knocker.

  The door opened and a woman, who appeared to be the housekeeper, stood there. “May I help you?”

  “I have come to visit Dr Marsh. Is he at home?”

  Caro stripped off her gloves. The ring on her left finger felt awkward. But she’d put it on because she knew the doctor would ask difficult questions if she did not have a husband.

  “I shall see if he is, madam. Is he expecting you?”

  Caro grasped a quick breath to calm the beat of her heart. ”No, but I am with child and a friend recommended his skills. I have lost other children, you see.” The words gripped at her throat. For four days she’d felt the child move, and she’d begun to hope, when hope was insane. She dare not hope, because if she lost the child, then… Yet hope would not be silenced.

  “Very well, ma’am. Please take a seat.” The woman indicated the chairs against the wall in the hall.

  Caro sat as the woman walked away. She hoped the doctor was free because if she had to wait longer she was likely to expire from fretting.

  She looked about the hall. It was dark, painted in a deep green, and there were pictures on the wall of landscapes and suchlike.

  The door further along the hall that the woman had disappeared behind opened.

  Caro stood, her fingers clutching her gloves in both hands.

  “You may go in,” the woman stated.

  Caro feared she might faint as she walked towards his office.

  “Mrs…” the doctor asked as he stood.

  “Mrs Farnley.” The name was completely made up.

  “Very well, please sit.”

  An armchair stood to one side of his desk. Caro gripped the arms and sat down.

  “Miss Griggs said you are with child, but you are worried because you have lost previous children.”

  Caro took a breath. She’d tried so hard not to worry because she wished not to disturb her child, and yet for four days she had done little but worry. “Yes.”

  “How many miscarriages have you experienced?”

  “Five.”

  His eyebrows lifted.

  “I think the child has quickened. I believe I have felt it move. I have always miscarried before four months before, and now I have reached more than that and I think the child is moving, but before I… I wished to know that I am not imagining it. That all is well.”

  He nodded. “Then let me take a look. If you go through the door there, there is a bed, please undress to your chemise so I might examine your stomach. I will ask Miss Griggs to help you.”

  She walked into the room and undid the buttons securing her cloak at her chest, then put it over the back of a chair.

  A gentle knock sounded at a second door into the room. Caro presumed it was a door from the hallway. “Come in.”

  Miss Griggs walked into the room.

  Caro turned her back. “Would you undo my dress, please?” Caro had had Beth move the buttons on all her dresses to allow for the recent expansion of her waist, although her increase in size was not too noticeable. She trembled as the woman released them and then helped Caro step out of her dress. Then she undid Caro’s loosely laced corset, and when Caro sat on the bed she untied and took off Caro’s walking boots.

  Caro lay back on the bed and pulled her chemise up beneath her bottom, then lay there in silence, waiting, looking at the ceiling.

  It was madness to hope.

  A heavier knock struck the door from the doctor’s office. “Mrs Farnley, may I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  He held a horn-like instrument, the brass trumpet that doctors used to listen for a heartbeat.

  He walked towards her smiling. “Have you seen any other doctor?”

  “No.”

  He lifted her chemise over her stomach and slid her drawers down a little. Then his fingers gently pressed down on her skin, moving across it. “All feels well,” he stated. “And you said you were past four months. I would agree.”

  She nodded.

  He lifted the brass horn, then pressed it against her stomach, and his ear to the other end.

  A flutter stirred in her stomach.

  He moved the horn to a new position, lower down, and then listened again. Then his hand pressed on the upper part of the slight bulge as he continued to listen.

  He straightened and lifted the horn away from her stomach. “Well, you may have lost children before, but this child certainly sounds healthy. The heartbeat is very strong and the child is indeed moving.”

  Oh Lord. Lord. Tears gathered in her eyes and distorted the room, and then one ran onto her cheek. She wiped it a way. I may have a child. She could no longer contain the hope.

  “I will leave you and send Miss Griggs to help you dress.”

  Caro nodded. Her hands shaking now, not with fear but with hope.

  Her child was healthy and moving within her, with a strong heart.

  When she walked out into the street she wished to catch a hold of every stranger’s arm and say. “I am with child.”

  When she reached Maidstone, she wished to ride to Drew’s and scream her excitement at Mary. But if she were to tell anyone, if the child was to live, then there was only one person she ought to speak of it to. Rob.

  Chapter 38

  Caro had never travelled in a mail coach before. But it was the only way she felt comfortable travelling to London. She was not confident enough with the ribbons to take the trap, and so at seven in the morning she waited at the Maidstone coaching inn for the mail coach to arrive, her heart racing.

  The inn’s yard was full of horses and men brushing out the stables and washing off the cobble with buckets of water.

  A part of her wished to run back to her quiet cottage, and yet Rob had told her she had courage, and she did have, and today she would use it to take him her news.

  I am with child.

  The words had filled her head in the days since the doctor had confirmed it.

  The child is healthy.

  How would Rob react? She knew he would love their child and yet there was no doubt he would be angry with her for not speaking to him before. His moral view of the world would scream at this—it would destroy everything she’d intended for him too. It would steal away his youth. It would not destroy his dreams, though. She would urge him to continue with them and she would support him in them.

  A high-pitched horn called from the high street, announcing the coach’s arrival.

  “Mind out the way, madam!” a groom called as the coach pulled into the yard through the archway.

  Caro stepped back.

  Bags were thrown from the top of the coach, and a half a dozen people climbed down from the seats. Caro had purchased a ticket to sit inside. She only hoped there was room.

  A groom held the door and a woman stepped out. Luggage was passed down from the back of the carriage. Caro looked at a groom as she stepped forward, holding out her ticket.

  He smiled at her and then held her hand so she might climb inside.

  A large gentleman slid across to take the window seat, which had been vacant, leaving Caro space to sit between
him and a large woman on the far side. The woman nursed a basket on her lap.

  The journey was cramped and uncomfortable, and most of her fellow passengers barely talked, except for a priest, who sat opposite and talked incessantly, even though no one listened.

  Out of politeness, she nodded at him and smiled in the beginning, but after a while she too turned her head to look out of the window, giving him a view of the brim of her navy bonnet.

  It was warmer today and there were buds on the trees. In a few weeks the orchards would be in blossom. She gripped her reticule as it lay on her lap and imagined a baby in her arms in the summer. Her own child.

  Would it be as petite as Iris and as active as George?

  Each time she thought of it fear grasped her breath.

  Would the child live?

  The child is healthy.

  No matter that he would be angry, she longed to be with Rob, to receive his reassurance, and that was testament to how different Rob was to Albert. She did not fear his anger at all. Rob’s anger would be just and gentle, and then she knew he would reassure her. But still, guilt made her nervous. She had hurt him in the autumn…

  When she reached the coach station in London, where a dozen carriages were disembarking, Caro’s heart beat out the steps of a wild country dance as she took Rob’s address from her reticule and related it to the driver of a hackney carriage.

  It was strange to be in London alone, to be travelling on paid transport. Some of Rob’s family must be here. The Duke, John, had not returned to his estate beside Drew’s since the summer, which was unusual.

  Caro looked out the window at the passing terraced houses and shops, her heart skipping through steps.

  There was his door.

  The driver pulled up before it. She sat still, expecting the driver to climb down to help her out. But after a moment when he did not, she supposed he would not, and turned to free the door latch herself, with shaking hands.

  The door came open and the driver called down his fare. She looked for the coins in her reticule as she stood on the street, then placed the money in his outstretched hand. He slipped it in his pocket, looking at the street ahead and flicked the reins.

  She was truly alone in the middle of London. Either she was as brave as Rob had thought her or she was entirely mad. Perhaps she ought to have brought Beth. But that would have made everything more complicated. She wished to speak with Rob in private. She had to give him this news in confidence, because she knew his reaction would be emotional. There would anger and shock…yet she hoped there was still love. She loved him still.