A Debutante In Disguise. Eleanor Webster

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СКАЧАТЬ from his own wounds in the hospital when their father died. He’d dropped dead like a stone to the floor when he’d heard about Edgar’s death.

      That hurt. Even through the numbness, that hurt.

      ‘He cared a lot for George. He was happy when you married,’ he said, again because he felt that he ought to do so, that something was expected.

      ‘Anyway, I have decided to go to Beauchamp and I wanted to talk to you prior to my departure. Since Waterloo, you know, and after losing Father and George and Edgar, I stayed here to keep busy and to keep Mother company. I was afraid to be alone, afraid of my thoughts.’

      He looked down. He had been so overwhelmed with his own pain, he had failed to see hers. She’d lost her husband, brother and father. Again, it seemed that he ought to feel more and that his emotional response was inadequate. Since when had feelings ceased to be spontaneous, but become ‘shoulds’? Like one should wash one’s hands before tea.

      ‘Tony?’

      He looked up. ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’

      ‘Anyway, these days I am feeling so tired. My head aches and everything is so noisy here. And even near my house, London does not smell pleasant and vehicles pass day and night. Besides, I am not so afraid of the quiet.’ Her hand touched her belly. ‘I think I will almost like it.’

      ‘Is there a good doctor there?’

      ‘I—Yes. I think so.’

      ‘And Mother?’

      ‘She is doing well. She socialises much as she always did. She thinks the country will be good for me and will visit after the child is born.’

      ‘I will go with you.’ He spoke suddenly and felt a jolt of surprise at his own words.

      ‘You will? Why?’

      He didn’t exactly know, except that he was failing his remaining sibling and must make it right. ‘I might like the quiet, too.’

      Besides London was too filled with people and empty chairs.

      He and Elsie had never been particularly close as children. He’d been closer to Edgar. He remembered fishing with him at Oddsmore, learning to ride that bad-tempered, stout little pony, sharing a tutor, Mr Colden—except Tony had insisted on calling him Coldfish.

      He’d viewed Elsie rather as an irritant as she tried to chase after them. Indeed, it had taken a month at least to adjust to the fact that his best friend had suddenly, and without any warning, fallen in love with her.

      Still, Elsie was his only living sibling and his best friend’s widow. He should feel something... He frowned, trying to find evidence of sentiment mired within this odd, cold, numbness.

      ‘You are not going to Oddsmore?’ she asked.

      ‘No.’

      ‘It is your estate.’

      ‘Oddsmore is fine. Mr Sykes does an admirable job and doesn’t need me interfering.’

      He had not been there since his father’s death. George... Edgar... Father... Like dominoes.

      ‘Very well,’ Elsie said. ‘I will enjoy the company and you might be able to help run the estate. I have been feeling I should do more, particularly now.’ She patted her stomach again with a mixture of pride and protection.

      ‘I would imagine you should do less, particularly now.’

      ‘Perhaps. Anyway, Oddsmore is not far—’

      ‘No,’ he said.

      ‘Well, at least the country will be healthier for you than drinking your days away here,’ she said with some asperity.

      He smiled grimly. ‘I doubt the countryside will preclude me from pursuing that endeavour.’

      * * *

      The delivery of Mrs Jamison’s third child was not as easy as Letty had hoped. She’d had to reposition the baby and the labour progressed slowly so that the night seemed long within the stuffy, airless room. She’d tried to convince the family that fresh air would not cause any harm on such a warm summer night, but country folk were not ready for revolutionary thought. The fear of bad spirits still lingered.

      Letty scratched her head. The ancient, old-fashioned, powdered wig always made her scalp itch and prickle with sweat. Of course, by now she had largely got used to her ‘disguise’. She quite enjoyed the freedom of men’s trousers, loved the ability to wear her spectacles whenever she wanted, but still resented the wig.

      At least she no longer had to wear it daily as she had during her training, or rather Dr Hatfield’s training.

      The fifth Jamison arrived with a lusty cry as her mother collapsed against the birthing stool, her face wet with sweat and tears. The maid wiped her mistress’s face while Letty cut the cord. Taking the damp cloth, Letty wiped the blood from the red, wizened, angry little face. Then she swaddled the infant in the blanket, handing her to her mother’s waiting arms.

      ‘Thank you,’ Mrs Jamison whispered. There was a sanctity in the moment, Letty thought, a joy that was also pain.

      She turned away, rubbing away the sweat from her own forehead. What would it be like to bring life into the world, to be responsible for, to protect and love this fragile, new human being? She hadn’t attended many births during her training at Guy’s Hospital. Most people that came there were incurable, clinging to life by the merest thread. There had been more death than birth.

      Helping Mrs Jamison to rise from the birthing stool, she settled her more comfortably on the accouchement bed and tidied the bloodied cloths needed for the birth.

      ‘A girl. I’m that glad—Lil, my eldest, will be wanting to get wed herself and it will be nice to have someone to help out around the house, mind,’ Mrs Jamison said, bending over the child cradled within her arms.

      ‘Lil can’t be ready to marry yet?’

      ‘Well, no, she’s only eleven, but they grow up so quickly, mind. It seemed like only yesterday she was this size.’

      ‘A few years to wait yet, then. Anyway, perhaps your lads could help.’

      Mrs Jamison chortled. ‘Have you met Cedric? He’s a one. Likely burn the house down as like as not.’

      Letty smiled. She’d given Cedric stitches on more than one occasion. ‘I have indeed. He is a repeat customer.’

      * * *

      For the next hour, Letty kept busy, the afterbirth was delivered and then the Jamison family trooped in solemnly to meet their new sibling. Of course, Mr Jamison offered a sup of something to wet the baby’s head and, as always, Letty refused.

      She never lingered. With the child born, Mrs Jamison would be more likely to notice her doctor’s feminine features, too poorly disguised. She might see the tufts of red hair peaking from under the wig, the swell of her breasts, despite the binding, or that her hands were too small and delicate for a man.

      While СКАЧАТЬ