DeButy & the Beast

by Linda Jones

  “Who’s Nellie?” Julian asked softly.

  “None of your business,” Milton answered.

  Jeremiah shrugged his big shoulders. “I don’t mind telling him. He doesn’t seem like a bad sort.” He dropped down on his haunches. The man was inches away, and still Julian’s hands were tied behind his back. “Nellie is my wife and Milton’s sister. She’s due to deliver our first child in just a week or two, and we’re all pretty worried.”

  “Why are you worried?”

  The big man went pale. “In the past two months, every woman in our little town that’s had a baby has died. Every single one. The midwife says it’s just bad luck, but no one knows when the bad luck will end.”

  Julian met the man’s gaze. “A fever, striking three or four days after delivery?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Headache? Abdominal pain?” Julian asked quickly.

  Jeremiah gave him a suspicious and somewhat muted, “That’s right.”

  “Delirium?” he asked in a softer tone, knowing what the answer would be.

  The big, obviously frightened man nodded.

  Julian took a deep breath. Whatever these men had planned for him, it wasn’t good. He had seen their faces, he knew their names. But he wasn’t dead yet. “I can save your Nellie.”

  “What can you do?”

  “I’m a doctor. It isn’t bad luck that’s been killing the women of your town, it’s puerperal fever.”

  Denial was etched on Jeremiah’s face and darkened his eyes. “You’re making this up. You’re just trying to get me to let you go.”

  “My wife is going to have a child. Our first,” Julian said softly. “After what I’ve heard, I would ride through hell to keep her from bearing a child in your town. It’s almost certain death, and I can stop it. But only if you take me there. Kill me, and I can’t save her.”

  Jeremiah cast a silent, questioning glance to his more steadfast partner.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Milton snapped. “He’s just trying to get loose so he can run.”

  “I give you my word, I won’t run,” Julian said calmly. “I’ll make the preparations, deliver your child, and if your wife lives you let me go.”

  “If she dies?”

  “Then you can continue with your plans for me, whatever they are. Trust me, you have nothing to lose.”

  Jeremiah paced in the near darkness, never moving far from his prisoner.

  “What on earth are you mulling over?” Julian asked loudly, losing what was left of his patience. “Are you unwilling to trade my life for that of your wife?”

  All was silent for a moment, as the reverberations of Julian’s loud voice echoed in the stillness.

  “He’s got a point,” the big man finally said. “And if he can save Nellie…”

  “I can.”

  Milton shrugged in reluctant acceptance.

  A rush of relief shimmied through Julian’s body. He was not free yet, but he had arranged a reprieve. As long as he could save Nellie, he might even live long enough to see his own child come into this world. “But if she’s due to deliver in a week or two, we should hurry.”

  Jeremiah pulled a knife from the sheath at his waist, a much larger knife than the one Julian had tucked in his boot. “You promise you won’t try to run?”

  “You have my word.”

  The big man hauled Julian to his feet, spun him around, and cut the ropes that bound his wrists. The ropes at his ankles were severed next.

  Milton had to have his say in the matter. “Try to run, and I will catch you and make you wish you’d died a quick death.”

  “Understood,” Julian said as he turned about and began to rub his raw wrists.

  “And if Nellie dies after you’ve gone and gotten our hopes up, I’ll kill you so slowly you’ll beg for death.”

  Julian swallowed hard. “I’ll do everything I can.”

  The knife was in his boot, accessible and deadly. Yes, it was small, and yes, he had no desire to take a life. He was a doctor, after all, sworn to heal, not to hurt. Still, he wondered if these thieves had any honor in their malodorous souls. He might save Jeremiah’s Nellie, and then lose his life, anyway. If he were going to run, this was the time. He had the element of surprise and the darkness of the forest on his side.

  But one thing stopped him from attempting escape. In two months not a single mother had survived delivering a child in the small town where these outlaws lived. He could change that. He could stop the horrific cycle of puerperal fever.

  “But you will allow me to write my wife a letter, letting her know I have been delayed.” He’d have to ask Anya to send someone, Seymour or Peter, perhaps, to check on Aunt Helen.

  “Sure,” Milton said with another shrug of his bony shoulders. “My wife can read. She’ll check it over to make sure you don’t say anything that might give us away.”

  “Do I have your word that you’ll let me go if I save Nellie?”

  “Sure,” Milton said, just as nonchalantly. The word of a kidnapper and thief, and possibly a murderer, wasn’t much, but it was all Julian had.

  Chapter 15

  The first petal fell. She had known the day was coming, as each morning the rose bloomed fuller, and fuller; as the petals opened wide. The first petal fell, and still Julian was not back.

  Anya clenched her fist and fought away the tears. Why was she surprised? Her husband did not like sick people. He did not want children. He had only married her for his ship and the ability to travel where he wished. One could not travel as they wished with a pregnant wife.

  She had been so worried when he did not return within days as promised, that she had asked her grandmother to send someone to inquire about Julian’s aunt. The woman must be very ill, Anya had thought, to keep Julian away for so long. Just days ago Anya had received word that Julian’s aunt had never been ill at all. She was alive and well and had not seen her nephew in months. The letter had been false, Julian’s way of sneaking away.

  At her request, Seymour checked with the head of operations of Sedley Shipping and learned that Julian had presented himself within two days of his departure from this house and demanded passage to Australia.

  Grandmother tried to be cheerful. They had known all along that Julian wished to continue his grandfather’s studies. Anya felt silly for having told her grandmother, so confidently, that she would travel with Julian when the baby was old enough. Julian had never promised her such a thing, they had never discussed the future. The matron of the house tried to put a happy face on the situation. Julian was gone, but they had a baby on the way, a child who would fill the house with joy and love.

  No one else was up and about yet, though Anya very faintly heard Betsy in the kitchen as she prepared breakfast. Anya stood in the south parlor and suffered this particular heartbreak alone, as was fitting.

  Men who promised not to leave always lied. Why had she believed Julian? Why had she let herself love him? He could have told her the truth, instead of lying so well. He could have said good-bye. To make her wait and think he would be back, to promise… it was the cruelest thing he could have done.

  She picked up the fallen petal and slipped it into the pocket of her gown. Somewhere deep inside herself she thought that maybe everyone was wrong. That maybe she was wrong. There was an explanation for everything that had happened, and Julian would be back. If not before the first petal fell, then before the last.

  In a matter of days she would celebrate her birthday. Uncle Ellis was set to arrive that day or the next, if all went well. Grandmother would be very disappointed if her son did not arrive on time for the party. She was so looking forward to seeing her only living child.

  Grandmother still had not forgiven Valerie for eloping with William, but she had invited the newlyweds to the party at Anya’s insistence. In time, she would see that the couple had been right in defying her for their love. Anya hoped that time came soon. She missed seeing Valerie every day. Her promised attendance at the p
arty was all that kept Anya on her feet.

  Julian had done his job well. When the time for the party came she would know what to say, what not to say, how to dance, how to dress… and when that day came she would be a very rich woman. She did not need Julian DeButy, or any other man.

  She angrily wiped away a tear. She would not cry, not for him. Not for anyone.

  She blindly worked the clasp at the back of her neck, and removed the necklace Julian had given her. Without studying it, she dropped the rose and chain into her pocket, where it rested with the soft petal she carried there.

  *

  The people of the small town of Miller’s Crossroads were cooperative. Milton and Jeremiah took turns keeping watch since they were afraid Julian would run at the first opportunity, but they needn’t have feared. There was much work to be done here. Since they had allowed him to pen a letter to Anya telling her that he was well and would return as soon as possible, and to ask that someone from the household check on Aunt Helen, he had quit worrying so much about the time that passed.

  The midwife had been furious at his interference, unwilling to listen to his explanations about the infectious disease she carried from woman to woman. She still preferred bad luck as an explanation for the deaths among her clients. But she did join him in cleaning all her supplies, and in gathering what was needed to make sure the epidemic of child-bed fever came to an end.

  Chloride of lime was needed most badly, but he also requested turpentine and ordered a thorough scrubbing of Jeremiah’s home. He also insisted that the midwife not touch Nellie, or any other pregnant or delivering woman for at least one month.

  They were trying to keep his presence a secret—which was only natural since he had been kidnapped. Still, the midwife knew he was there, as did several of Nellie’s friends. They had all been sworn to secrecy.

  He had been living in a small house with Jeremiah and his wife, sleeping on a pallet on the floor, eating well, making plans to improve the conditions in Miller’s Crossroads. What a change from the Sedley mansion! Jeremiah’s house consisted of one large room, with a kitchen and table in one corner, a bed in another, and two faded, padded chairs by the fireplace. This home was simple and overly warm, providing only the bare necessities for its inhabitants.

  Jeremiah’s wife was healthy, young and full of life, and huge with child. She was all belly. When Julian considered slipping past his guard and away in the night, he thought about Nellie. She deserved to live to raise her child.

  But he wished she would deliver soon. He wanted to get back to his own pregnant wife.

  Jeremiah came home surlier than usual. At least this time he came alone. Julian didn’t trust Milton. If anyone saw him out of this predicament alive, it would be Jeremiah.

  “What’s wrong?” Nellie asked as she laid three plates on the small roughhewn table.

  “Nothin’,” Jeremiah grumbled.

  Nellie gave her gruff husband a smile. “I can always tell when something’s wrong.”

  Jeremiah sat down at the head of the table, more surly than ever. “Milton is going to rob this guy over on the North Road. Seems some merchant fella always comes through with a bunch of money on Monday afternoons. Milton wanted me to tie the doc here up and go with him, since he expects things might get rough, but I told him I didn’t trust the doc enough to leave him unguarded.”

  “That’s not the whole truth, though, is it Jeremiah?” Julian asked.

  The big man laid his eyes on him and scowled. “You think you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Of course not, but I do know you well enough to know that you’re not a thief at heart.”

  Nellie blushed. “I tried to tell him that when he hooked up with Milton. He’s just so sure there’s big money in being an outlaw, but Milton has been doing this for years, and he doesn’t have nothing.”

  “Worse,” Julian said calmly, “you risk your life every time you go to work. And I can’t imagine what you tell a child when he or she asks where Father goes when he leaves the house.”

  Jeremiah scowled, but it was clear to Julian that he had suffered with those same thoughts before.

  “You’re a big man,” Julian said as he reached for the potatoes. “Have you ever given thought to working the land? Raising crops or working with horses, perhaps?”

  “Takes money to buy a farm. Takes more than that to buy horses.”

  Julian smiled. “My wife’s family is wealthy. I’m sure I could arrange a loan.”

  “Really?” Nellie asked brightly.

  “I don’t want charity,” Jeremiah grumbled.

  “If you pay back the loan, it’s not charity at all,” Julian assured him. “And a farm is a fine place to raise a family.”

  Before they had finished dinner, someone pounded on the door, opening it and walking inside long before Jeremiah could rise and see who was calling.

  A harried woman burst into the room and laid her frantic eyes on Julian. “Are you the doctor?”

  “Th-there’s no doctor here,” Jeremiah said nervously. “Who said there was a doctor here?”

  “Milton, and Miss Hattie, and Nellie,” the woman snapped. She laid her eyes on Julian again. “My boy fell. His leg’s broken, I know it is. It looks just awful.”

  “It might not be broken…” Julian began optimistically.

  “The bone’s sticking through his skin.”

  He had no choice, no matter what he felt or wanted, but to see to the boy. With any luck, it wouldn’t be as bad as the woman said.

  “I’ll need a place to work,” Julian said, coming to his feet and rolling up his sleeves.

  “Since the inn closed last winter it’s been empty.”

  “It’ll do,” Julian said, “but I want it cleaned first.”

  Nellie nodded knowingly. “The doc is a real stickler for cleanliness.”

  “And Doc,” the woman said as together the four of them exited Jeremiah’s small house. “My sister has the most awful cough….”

  *

  From the safety of her room, Anya heard the chatter of voices below. Her family was here, of course. Valerie and William, Seymour, Grandmother, and the newly arrived Uncle Ellis, who clearly preferred life at sea to spending the week with his family.

  But others had begun to arrive. She heard them, laughing and talking in high, bright voices. They were all waiting for her. How many waiting below had been at the Mansfield party? How many had heard Margaret March call Anya a savage?

  She told herself it did not matter. If Julian stood beside her she would not be nervous at all, but he was not here. He was at sea, traveling to an exotic destination where he could study life from afar without being sullied by it.

  One last time she studied her reflection in the long mirror. Her gown was a becoming shade of sea green, her hair had been flawlessly styled, and the gems at her throat, diamonds and emeralds, were elegant and heavy. She did not look like a savage. She did not look like her heart was broken.

  A knock on her door made her heart skip a beat. A moment later it swung open and Valerie stepped inside. “Are you ready?”

  Anya nodded.

  Valerie could not hide her happiness. “Father likes William,” she revealed in a lowered voice. “He didn’t exactly say so, but I can tell.”

  “That is wonderful.” Anya tried a small, encouraging smile.

  “Come,” Valerie said sweetly. “It’s time for you to make an appearance at your birthday party.”

  “I will be right down,” Anya said. “I just need to…” Steel my heart. Gather my courage. Cry, one more time. “To fix my hair.”

  “Your hair is perfect,” Valerie said, crossing the room to take Anya’s hand and guide her toward the door.

  Downstairs, the bell chimed again as another guest arrived. How many people had Grandmother invited?

  Anya allowed Valerie to lead her down the stairs. She had never been afraid before. Why did her heart pound now? Why did she feel that Valerie was her only friend, her only al
ly? Even together, they could not fight the vultures who circled in the rarely used ballroom.

  When Anya and Valerie walked into the ballroom, heads turned in their direction. Some people smiled, others watched as if waiting for the evening’s entertainment. Anya did not smile back, and she had no intention of providing entertainment for those vultures who awaited her downfall.

  She did not care what they thought of her. They could call her savage and whore; they could laugh at her behind her back and she would not care. But she did care what they said about her child. To her child. Growing up without a father would be difficult enough without being hampered in other ways.

  This child would be accepted, where she had never been. This child would never know the pain of being different from everyone else. He or she would be welcomed in any home, in any circumstance. And that meant Anya would be on her best behavior tonight. Tonight and always.

  As soon as everyone in attendance assured themselves that Anya was properly dressed and well-behaved, they returned to their activities. They drank and ate, talked and fanned away the September heat. When the music began, they danced. Anya herself drifted through the crowd, never remaining in one place too long. Restlessly, she walked past dancers and those who visited with neighbors they saw too infrequently. When she was asked to dance, she politely declined, citing a sore foot. A lie, but Julian had told her that sometimes a kind lie was better than the ugly truth. Had he thought his own lies kind?

  The party was well underway when the door chime sounded in the distance. It was hard to hear over the roar of the party, but Anya heard. And wondered. A part of her heart even hoped.

  She was watching the doorway when the newcomer appeared. Her heart lurched in disappointment and an uneasy fear as Julian’s puta, decked out in garnet, made her entrance. It was more than Anya could bear, to have this woman in her home. She made her way to the door with every intention of throwing Margaret out. Peter would see to it, she thought, though as her eyes scanned the room she saw the butler nowhere.

  Seymour, coming from the other side of the room, reached Margaret first. He took the harlot’s hands in his, leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek.