by Anne Brear
Mrs Pringle, glad to see her up out of bed, made a fuss, as did Dotty and Hilda, but Aurora sensed their unease. Mrs Pringle kept glancing at the back door and Dotty chatted too loudly.
“Is something the matter, Mrs Pringle?” Aurora asked, edging to the back door.
“Not at all, Miss.” The older woman made a great show of sieving flour.
Aurora glanced around the large warm kitchen and peeped into the scullery. “Where’s Fanny today?”
“Outside, Miss,” Dotty blurted.
“Dotty Marsh shut your gob.” Mrs Pringle threatened her with her sieve. “Get about your business or you’ll be scrubbing pans for a week, my girl.”
“Mrs Pringle?” Aurora questioned, sensing something wasn’t quite right in the homely kitchen which the cook ruled.
“It’s nowt, Miss. Fanny’s eaten something that doesn’t agree with her, that’s all.” The cook nodded sagely.
“From this kitchen?”
“Eh, no!” The wise look was replaced by an offended tone. “Never from my kitchen!”
Needing fresh air herself, Aurora gave them a quelling look, letting them know she didn’t believe a word of it and went outside into the morning sunshine. She found Fanny by the water pump. The young woman had just finished washing her face and neck.
“Fanny.”
“Oh, Miss.”
Aurora studied her, and noticed the paleness of her pretty face. She looked exactly how Aurora felt only an hour ago. “You are ill?”
“Oh, Miss.” Fanny repeated, tears welling in her red eyes to drip slowly down her cheeks.
“Whatever is the matter?”
“I have to stop working here, Miss, and I really like it here.”
“Why must you stop?”
Fanny hiccupped on a sob. “I’m to have a baby, Miss,” she whispered, horror in her voice. “I’m so sorry.”
“A baby?” Stupefied, Aurora stared at her. “But you’re not married, Fanny.”
At this, the maid wailed into her hands and Aurora could have slapped herself at her own stupidity. Awkwardly, for she had never held a servant before, she hugged the young woman to her and patted her shoulder, suddenly feeling very much older than the maid although she knew they were the same age. “How do you know you’re to have a baby?”
“I’ve missed my monthlies, Miss. Twice.” She wailed harder. “And then this morning I was sick and Mrs Pringle caught me and made me tell. I should never have lain with him. Bloody sweet talker he was. Beg your pardon, Miss.” Fanny straightened, gathering control again. “I told him, I did. I told him I wasn’t someone who’d do it. But well, it was my birthday and I got drunk on cider and he was saying such nice things to me… and I went and did it, didn’t I? And now I’m to have Jimmy’s baby and he says we can get married. I don’t want to bloody marry him!” Tears slipped over her lashes again and she wiped them away angrily. “I’m such a stupid cow.”
The breath left Aurora as if someone had punched her hard between the ribs. Half of what Fanny said didn’t register but two things did. Missed monthlies and being sick. Aurora thought of when she last had her monthly curse and couldn’t remember. Panic gripped her. When? Dash it, when?
“I’d best go in now, Miss.” She wringed her hands, eyes sad. “Mrs Pringle says she’ll inform your mother today.” Fanny started walking back to the kitchen only to turn at the door. “Thanks for listening Miss and for not judging me too harshly. I made a mistake, that’s all. Jimmy and I will be all right. He’s nice enough and I’ve made him happy. I hope you can come to the wedding, Miss.”
In a daze, Aurora watched the door close behind Fanny and she slumped against the trough beneath the pump. A baby? Surely not. How could she be? She only went with Reid once. It took more than once for a baby didn’t it? Her mother said she and father were married for two years before Aurora came along…
But Winnie wasn’t her mother.
A cold shiver rippled over her skin raising goosebumps. A baby. No. She was jumping to conclusions. Her body was reacting to her news.
But what if she was…
Black spots appeared before her eyes. She felt a funny sensation creeping up her neck. Suddenly the ground rose up to hit her in the face and all went black.
“I won’t take no for an answer, Aurora.” Her mother paced the bedroom, stopping only to cough with every other step. “Imagine how scared we were on coming home from church and being told you had collapsed outside.” Her hand fluttered to her throat as she convulsed into another fit of coughing.
Alarmed by her mother’s frailness, Aurora struggled to get out of bed. “Mother, please sit down.”
Her mother drew breath and put up a hand to keep Aurora still. “You had to be assisted to bed! We are lucky Donaldson found you when he did. What if he’d been digging in the garden on the other side of the house for hours? You’d have been lying there ... I should never have gone to church but stayed with you and called Doctor Hedley.”
“I simply fainted, that’s all.” Aurora picked at the edge of the sheet. The house had been in an uproar for the last hour ever since her family returned from church to the news that the gardener had found her on the ground. The doctor had been called and he was now washing his hands at the basin behind her pacing mother. In fact, out of the two of them, her mother looked the one who was in need of Dr Hedley’s services more than Aurora.
Dr Hedley turned, as if attuned to Aurora’s thoughts. “Mrs Pettigrew, I insist you rest. You are not yet fully recovered yourself.”
“I am perfectly—”
He held up his hand to silence her. “My word is final, Madam. Now please go and lie down. Your daughter is in no danger, but I can see you are. Do you wish to have a relapse?”
“No, Doctor,” her mother replied meekly. She, and the whole family, was in awe of this wise worldly man who had been their doctor since they moved to this house.
“Right then.” He took her elbow and assisted her out of the room. “I shall come and examine you in a moment.” He closed the door and walked to Aurora’s bedside. A sympathetic smile softened his gray eyes. “Now then, Miss.”
Aurora braced herself for what he was to tell her.
“Have you been with a man? You know the context of what I mean?”
She nodded, a guilty blush heating her cheeks.
“And do you understand the consequences that can come from such a union?”
She nodded again, feeling like a small child caught licking sugar off her fingers. A knot in her throat made it hard to swallow.
“I must say I am surprised at you, Miss Aurora. I never expected you to behave in that way.”
“I’m sorry.”
He rubbed the back of his neck beneath his short gray hair, his expression full of concern. “Don’t apologize to me, my dear. It is your parents who will need the apology. You are with child.”
The words hit like death blows.
“Please do not tell my parents,” she whispered, already feeling their pain and disappointment. How could she bear to bring such hurt to them?
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be kinder to you, and them, for me to be the bearer of bad tidings?”
“No. I’m not ready.”
“And the father? Will he marry you?”
She shrugged. Would he? Probably. Yes. Yes, he would. He loved her, she knew that, despite Hermione FitzGibbon being the perfect bride for him. But if she was honest, her feelings for him had altered after reading his unfinished letter to Hermione. Doubts of his commitment rose to mock her. Perhaps he always intended to marry Miss FitzGibbon? How could she know for certain? She didn’t know anything anymore.
And what of her background? She was a bastard. Did she want him to marry her for the child, knowing it might ruin him? His mother threatened to shame her family. Did she want to be the one who brought the wrath of Julia Sinclair down on their heads? Or be the one who made Reid a laughing stock because his wife was illegitimate and he had to marry her for the sake
of the child? Would he care? Would she? She didn’t know and the questions and uncertainty was making her feel sick again.
“Your color has gone again. I’ll leave you to lie quietly.” Dr Hedley patted her arm. “I’ll come back tomorrow, though my visit will be more about your mother than you. She needs bed rest. Her chest is not good.” He collected his bag and made for the door. “We can have another talk tomorrow. Good day.”
After the door closed, Aurora laid back against the pillows. Her hands drifted down to lay on her flat stomach. A baby. It didn’t seem real. A moan seeped out between her clamped lips. What on earth was she to do? She badly wanted to talk to someone, but who? Not her mother or father, and definitely not her sisters. She had no one. No close friends. The odd acquaintances she met at dinners and parties had never amounted to close friendships. Her sisters and the Sinclair boys had been enough for her, but it was those very people who couldn’t share her secret. Sadly, she realized there wasn’t one person she could unburden to. Hot tears burned behind her eyes, but she fought them, instinctively knowing that if she cried now, she’d never stop. No one could know her secret. She was alone.
She must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing she woke to a darkened room. Out the window the sun was slowly setting, showering the countryside with a soft golden tan. A low fire glowed in the small grate in the corner of the room, not that Aurora felt cold. The door opened and her mother peeped around the door.
“Oh, darling, you are awake.” She came to the bed and kissed Aurora’s cheek. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” she lied. Everything that had been safe and hers was now insecure and alien.
“Good.”
Not able to bear thinking about Reid, she focused on her mother. “Are you rested, Mother?”
“I’m much improved. Dr Hedley left me some medicine to ease my cough.” She smiled and indeed appeared to have some color in her face. She had changed for dinner and the warm burgundy gown didn’t hide the fact she’d lost considerable weight since becoming ill at Easter. “You must have something to eat, dearest. Mrs Pringle tells me you’ve had nothing since yesterday. No wonder you fainted.”
“Silly me,” Aurora whispered with a small smile.
“I’ll send up a tray for you. Perhaps some broth and a little bit of chicken?”
“That would be nice.” Aurora reached for her mother’s thin hand and held it tight. She felt time was slipping away from her and she could do nothing to hold it back. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you never speak of your parents or sister?”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Where did that notion come from?”
“I was just lying here, thinking about things, that’s all.” Aurora shrugged one shoulder, trying to act as though none of it meant a great deal. “I don’t remember much about them.”
“Your grandparents died within six months of each other when you were about five or six. I loved them very much, but when I married your father we lived in Manchester and then came here. My parents enjoyed a quiet life north of York. Father was very involved with the church once he retired from being a schoolmaster. My mother was delicate. She had relatives in Cornwall and would sometimes go there for the warmer climate.” She smiled in remembrance. “I went there once as a child.”
“And your sister? Where does she live?” Aurora hated being so sneaky but she needed information.
“Sophia always…um…moved around a lot.”
“Oh? Why?”
Her mother cleared her throat. “She…she was a lady’s companion to a rich woman who liked to travel. We lost touch…”
“How sad.”
“Yes. We were close at one time. That is how life can be at times, full of twists and turns.” Her mother stepped away and their hands broke contact. “Now I’ll organize that tray for you.” She coughed all the way out of the room.
Aurora stared at the closed door, knowing that to tell her parents she was with child would break them. She’d done exactly the same thing as her real mother. Was she dreadfully wicked for loving one man, a man who she believed would marry her? Is that what her mother had done too?
Leaving the bed she went to the drawer of her dresser and from under her handkerchiefs took out the papers Mrs Sinclair gave her. Once more she read the details. Sophia Barton worked in a public house. Shame filled Aurora. A public house! That meant Sophia was poor, working class. Was she married? Did she have other children?
A headache built behind Aurora’s eyes. There was too much to think of and worry about. She wished it would all go away. The sun slipped lower and dusk descended. Sitting on the window seat, her thoughts returned to the mother she never knew she had. What did Sophia look like? Did she look like her? Did Sophia ever wonder about the baby she gave away? Aurora glanced down at her stomach. Now she would know what Sophia felt. But would she choose the same path?
Chapter Six
A week later, most of it spent crying and worrying in her room, Aurora felt well enough in mind and body to rejoin the family. She knew she’d been a coward. Hiding would solve none of her problems, but for a little while it had given her the opportunity to lick her wounds. Now she had to gather her strength for the ordeal ahead. Despite all the anxiety, she’d dwelt more on Sophia Barton than she had on Reid. She loved him, she knew that, but losing him hadn’t been as painful as finding out about her parentage. She could deal with a broken heart, she could even ignore the fact she was with child, but she couldn’t cope with the ghost of Sophia, an unknown woman, her mother, the one who gave her away.
Heavy summer rainstorms had drenched the countryside while she stayed indoors but the sun was out as she made her way downstairs mid morning on Saturday. The house was quiet and after searching the rooms she found her father in his study, writing.
“Father.” Aurora tapped lightly on the opened door.
“Darling, come in.” He dropped his pen and walked around the desk to hug her. “You’re up and about. Excellent, excellent.”
His loving attention brought tears to her eyes. She was going to hurt this wonderful man and her heart grieved already. She swallowed back the ever present tears. “Where is everyone?”
“Out, my dear. Shopping in Leeds, I take it, for Bettina’s birthday next weekend.” He sat again behind his desk and Aurora drifted over to the window.
“It is a lovely day outside.”
“That it is. We should be out in it while it lasts.” He took his glasses off and wiped them with a soft felt cloth, his smile tender and loving as he gazed at her. “Your mother will be so happy to see you up and about.”
“I might go for a ride. Princess will be missing me.” She didn’t add it might be the last time she ever did.
“Indeed she will my pet, but are you strong enough?”
“Oh yes. Fully recovered.” She smiled to reassure him. Actually, the odd morning had her retching still, but once she was over that, she found nothing much else was wrong with her and she’d regained her appetite again.
“That is good news. Everyone has been so worried. Young Tom has been here daily to see you.”
She winced at the mention of Tom. “I didn’t mean to cause such trouble.”
“You can’t help being ill, can you?” He sat behind his desk again. “Well, you enjoy your ride, darling. Perhaps I’ll meet you for some lunch. About one o’clock? We’ll have it in the garden, what do you say?”
“I’d like that. I’ll make sure I am back in time.”
The soft lushness of summer seeped into Aurora, soothing her as she rode the lanes around the house. A part of her still felt fragile but she knew she must overcome it. Slowly she was gaining some of her old self back. The blow of Sophia, the baby, and losing Reid had beaten her badly, but life kept moving forward whether she wanted to go with it or not. She had important decisions to make and being holed up in her bedroom wasn’t going to help. However, riding Princess with the warm sunshine o
n her back, her mind went blank and she just enjoyed being outside again. The time would come later for resolutions.
After her ride, she lunched with her father. It’d been a long time since she spent time alone with him. His pleasant intelligent conversation was relaxing as they sat in the shade beneath a chestnut tree at the side of the house.
Her father filled his pipe bowl with tobacco as Dotty cleared away the debris of their ham salad lunch. “You didn’t eat much, my love.”
Folding her napkin, Aurora flashed him a brief smile. “I wasn’t very hungry.” She reached for the teapot. “More tea?”
“Yes, thank you.” Her father lit his pipe and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “I received a letter from John Sinclair this morning.”
Aurora, absentmindedly watching a butterfly drift over the roses, felt her heart turn over in her chest. “Oh? Is he well?”
“He’s had a few setbacks. Had a bad case of pneumonia, poor fellow, which hasn’t helped his recovery.” Josiah sucked on his pipe. “He’s asked me to watch his boys for him.”
She sat up, giving him her full attention. The grip on her teacup tightened. “Why?”
“Young Tom is having his birthday bash tonight, you see. One he’s arranged himself from what I’ve heard. I take it he’s invited most of his Oxford pals. I dread to imagine the state of the Hall by morning.”
“Are none of the family coming home to share in his celebrations?” Despite everything, she was dying to hear news of Reid.
“Not that I’m aware of, which is sad really. The boy is a bit wild, but harmless, I think. His banishment is a touch harsh in my opinion. No doubt the army will sort him out though.”
“I agree ...” She slumped back against the chair. “Poor Tom.”
“Well, I might pop over later tonight and check they aren’t smashing the furniture, but apart from that I’ll leave them to it.”
“Yes, I don’t think Tom will thank you for interfering.”